Explorer

"Here, my friend, come, you ride with me." Mohammed slid a box off the bench seat of his golf cart and motioned for me to sit. Our destination was not far, but rather than jog at his side in the mid-day heat of a "black flag" (temperature alert) day I accepted his offer. As we worked our way through the maze of chain link fence draped with sniper net, I continued to film Guantanamo's librarian while he drove.

As we neared Camp 4 I stepped off and watched through the viewfinder as Mohammed maneuvered his cart through the outer gate and into the sally-port. Stacked on the back were two plastic bins he had filled with books from the library that morning. Following on foot, I continued to shoot, silently greeting the guards as they methodically locked the gate behind us. By now these guards were familiar with our crew and barely acknowledged my camera. After shuffling through his ring of oversized brass keys, Sally - the anonymous name given to any gatekeeper - found the right one, swung open the inner chain link divider and motioned us through.

Mohammed, a heavy set Egyptian with a broad smile, waved a thank-you and drove into the central yard, stopping his cart along the inner fence opposite a low building. As I stepped into the yard, camera off, my hand conspicuously placed across the lens, two dozen bearded men in loose fitting white clothes watched my every move.

Explorer

You don't get to Guantanamo by calling a travel agent. You're ordered there by your commanding military officer or you're an enemy combatant, detained by the U.S. military in the war on terror. Or you're - like us - a guest of the military. I got a sense, after a few days in sunny Guantanamo (a climate best described as "Tuscon on the Caribbean") that of the thousands of people inhabiting the base, our film crew of six must have been the only people who felt lucky to be there.

It was a year-long negotiation to bring National Geographic cameras "inside the wire" - military slang for the detention center, separated by armed gates and concertina wire from the rest of the business of "Gitmo." The Bush Administration was torn about allowing cameras into the intimate spaces of the base - all the way to the last second. On the very day we were to fly to Gitmo, after background checks, online anti-terrorism training, two scouts and permissions granted all around, still we sat on a gassed and ready private plane on a tarmac in Fort Lauderdale as one last dissenter unexpectedly pulled access. And just as unexpectedly permission was re-granted. It was definitely a dramatic entrance to the island we'd studied for months.

"And the fight at Gitmo has changed a lot in eight years. The detainees are the only ones on island that know just how different life is - they've been there longer than anyone, and as commanding officers remind the troopers every day: they know the rules better than anyone."

The journey to Guantanamo - both philosophically and geographically - is complicated. Cuba is just 90 miles from Florida, but since American planes may not fly in Cuban airspace, it's a three-hour flight. Given the coldness between Castro and America, the first natural question is exactly how the US military came to house suspected terrorists from the Middle East so close but decidedly not on US soil. It's a good question. The only easy answer is about the territory itself; we've had a very generous lease for over a century for 45 square miles. We pay just approximately $4,000 - checks Castro has refused to cash - and the treaty cannot be resolved unless both parties are in agreement. Castro is stuck with us.

"So much of what defines us as a nation in the last decade is crystallized at Guantanamo. And whatever you think about Guantanamo ... it will soon be gone."

-- Director Jon Else

As reported today in the news, the military prison at Guantanamo Bay is something of a controversial topic. Over the past eight years this military prison has been a lightning rod of controversy.

Allegations of torture, illegal incarceration and human rights abuses have turned this military detention center on the island of Cuba, created following the September 11 terrorist attacks, into a potent symbol of America's war on terror. Now facing closure, "Gitmo's" legacy -and the fate of its estimated 250 remaining detainees -- remains in question.

As President-elect Barack Obama discusses options for shutting it down, National Geographic Channel's Explorer offers viewers a surprisingly intimate portrait of the detention center at Guantanamo Bay in its twilight. In a special two-hour episode premiering in April 2009, Explorer: Inside Guantanamo goes behind the razor wire to document what life is really like for the detainees and the military personnel who guard them.

Explorer's crew spent nearly three weeks inside the prison, documenting the pressurized interaction and contest of wills among soldiers and detainees, as well as briefings and operations that have previously been off-limits. The film includes candid interviews with troopers at Guantanamo, top officials who believe there is an active al-Qaida cell in the facility, a former interrogator and former detainees, as well as attorneys representing those still being held.

Have an opinion of whats going on in Guantanamo?  Tell Us.  Sound off in our Explorer forum.

Biologists Mark Young looks me straight in the eye, sizing me up, wondering if I am prepared for what he is about to say. We are standing, in a barren landscape, a wasteland. Steam pours from the ground, blanketing us, and there's a strong stench of sulfur in the air. Nearby hot springs gurgle and churn with water that can reach in access of 200 degrees Fahrenheit, and some pools are so acidic that they would instantly burn human flesh. Young is a virus hunter. And he and his hunting partner, chemist Trevor Douglas, venture to some of the most extreme environments on Earth in pursuit of their quarry.

I anxiously wait for Young to speak; he draws a deep breath, and then says, "Look, I think it's really easy to come to the conclusion, and I've come there, that we are viruses."

Humans are viruses? What could that possibly mean?

Young's statement isn't the only shocking declaration I've heard lately. I'm producing a film that investigates a startling new idea that posits that viruses are a major driver - and perhaps the major driver--in the evolution of life on Earth.

As we drive out of Washington DC early one sunny September morning, endless green fields spotted with trees and farms begin to meet our eyes more and more as the city's buildings start to disappear. It is always an interesting feeling leaving the city; as if you're escaping some kind of entrapment and entering into a whole other world. We are so lucky to have such a beautiful, bright morning to start our day! Our Director, our Associate Producer and I are on our way to Louisa, VA to meet the rest of our crew to film and interview a former Vietnam sniper on his shooting range.

In the car, I can't help but think what this day is going to bring. This was my first shoot and my thoughts were scattered. I was trying to stay focused by asking questions, getting advice and a little background on the project and on our character, Vernon Harrison. I knew we'd be filming him shoot his rifle, however; I was not even nervous about that fact. My dad is a hunter and I grew up with guns and therefore know how to handle them and interact with them safely. What I did not know, was how a shoot would go with the crew. Ironically, I was more nervous about being as useful as possible without screwing up on the shoot rather than being nervous about a highly powerful rifle being shot at targets. I was familiar with guns, but not with cameras.

We reached Vern's house and were greeted by his wife, a couple of barking dogs and of course, his gun paraphernalia. After we introduced ourselves and were made comfortable in his cozy home, he showed us how he constructs his own bullets. His mild manner and soft voice, while he guided us though the precise bullet-making details, caused me to think of how he lived his life as a sniper in Vietnam. After experiencing this first go at filming him, you begin to understand how he has a sincere and compassionate appreciation for this machinery.

To say that I was nervous as I placed the protective earmuffs over my head and adjusted the safety glasses on my nose would be an understatement. In truth, I was shaking like a leaf, and though I'm no expert, I'm pretty sure that that is not the best condition in which to fire a gun. I had fired a weapon once before, but despite the best intentions of my concerned husband, the experience was borderline traumatic for me. This was my second try at the shooting range, only this time with an entire camera crew (and eventually, all of America) as my audience. My hopes for this being a less traumatic experience were wavering.

I had come here as a result of an unsettling home break-in some months before, during which I realized how vulnerable I could be in a dangerous situation. There are few things more terrifying than thinking you could lose your life and be unable to protect either your children or yourself at the hands of a violent attacker. I had decided that it was time to stop being the victim, and to learn to protect myself with the best tool for the job, no matter how much I feared it: a gun. But my resolve didn't make the process any easier.

"There are few things more terrifying than thinking you could lose your life and be unable to protect either your children or yourself at the hands of a violent attacker."

As I stood in the narrow space of the stall with my patient instructor, Adam, a former bounty hunter, I'm sure that my expression behind the glasses must have given me away, because his verbal assurances were becoming more and more frequent. He went over the basics with me again while we waited for the go-ahead from the director. Finally, it was time.