02x03 - Labrador

[bunniefuu]

Go, Shiloh.

Go, Shiloh.

Go, Shiloh.

Ha!

h*!

h*!

h*!

Just what's the best way to grab on to the
last blast of winter in the far north?

Do it by dog team.

The traditional Inuit sled dog is the
toughest of all the dog sled breeds.

Up here, they call it the Labrador Husky.

Running sled dogs is not all about hopping
on for an easy ride.

These dogs are hardcore and hard work.

The dogs can be difficult to handle at the
best of times.

They may seem happy and friendly,
and towards humans they are.

But turn your back on them for one second
and they can start a dog fight that will

convince you they are
only one evolutionary

step away from being a
ravenous pack of wolves.

For my survival odyssey
this time, I'm taking my

dog team into the rugged
land known as Labrador.

Scrub forest, craggy
mountains, and deep ocean

fjords make up Labrador's
vast 113,000 square miles.

All of Great Britain can fit into this
barren land.

The average yearly temperatures in
Labrador are below freezing.

From here, there is nothing but empty land
all the way to the Arctic.

My safety crew and I first travel in more
than five hours by snowmobile.

They'll spend a week
camped in the bush while I

dog sled further up the
coast into the barrens.

Even though I'll have no contact with
them, they are my only link to help.

All right.

You gentlemen all good?

All good to go, man.

Stay safe.

For the next week, it'll be just me,
my cameras, and the dogs.

There are a few places on
this planet where the name

alone will conjure up an
image of challenge and survival.

And Labrador is one of those places.

It's late winter up here now.

The nights are still cold and dangerously
damp.

And the days are getting long.

They offer up a mixed bag of weather.

It'll be sunny and pleasant one day and
have a brutal storm the next.

Snowmobiles are still the main mode of
travel up here now.

But dog sledding is still alive and well.

For the next seven days, I'll travel
through the subarctic forests of Labrador

until I meet up with my crew.

I'll film it all myself.

And except for my dogs, I'll be completely
alone.

That's it, over the cross.

I've only been able to spend the last two
days getting to know these dogs,

and they won't want to perform for me
until they respect me.

They're only used to their
owner's voice, and unless they

know I mean business, they
won't listen to their commands.

It's an aggressive activity.

I have no more trouble from them.

I can slowly let myself cool down,
dry the sweat.

Whoa!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G!

That's it, that's it!

Good, Bob!

Good, Bob!

It would be simple enough to use right and
left, but dog mushers still prefer to

stick to G for right and ha for left as
commands.

Ha!

Ha!

No!

No!

No!

That's what it's like, trying to run dogs.

It can be tough.

Really tough.

Now I'm sweating.

Almost lost the sled there.

That would have been a bad way to start
off the week.

When they took off on
me like that, I jumped on,

and for a while there,
they were dragging me.

My hands were grabbed on, but my legs were
behind the sled sliding in the snow.

Go on now.

Go on now.

Hey!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G!

G, Cien!

G, child!

I can see this.

Go on, G!

My team is made up of
both male and female dogs,

but the females typically
make better leaders.

For my pair up front, there is Shiloh and
her daughter, Cien.

Behind them, the slightly neurotic Gus,
who needs to travel alone.

Followed by the up-and-coming male,
Chance.

Beside the timid female, Hilok.

As the wheel dogs, which is the position
closest to the sled, we have the two big

brothers, Jack and Gulok, to round out the
team.

That's it, good pups!

I put up with about 15, 20
minutes of getting the chills,

cold wind on me, but at least
now it's dried all my sweat.

And, uh, put some warm clothes on,
it won't be much to get warm again.

But when you're soaking wet with sweat,
very, very dangerous.

That's how people die.

I think I'm gonna pull you over,
girls.

I think we're gonna go right in there for
the night.

I've been travelling all day now,
and I've got to get in close to the bush

and out of the wind, but the dogs are
confused.

They think I want to return, so they keep
heading me back the way we came.

I could easily fall off the sled at a time
like this and lose them.

It's a very dangerous situation.

If I can't get them in close
to the bush and on their night

chain, the possibility of a
dogfight becomes way too strong.

Shiloh is insisting on going back home, and
keeping her straight is exhausting work.

Then the worst happens.

The only way to stop one of these
dogfights is to become as angry and as

tough, and in fact, tougher than the dogs
themselves.

If I don't, they may rip apart each other
into a bloody mess, and in some cases,

have even k*lled their own.

No musher can afford to let that happen,
and my soft rubber boots amount to a slap

on the wrist for these extremely tough
dogs.

Now that the worst is
over, I'm drenched with

sweat at the most
dangerous time of the day.

Every effort must be made to dry my body
out, so that I don't attempt to sleep on

top of eight feet of snow with a damp
chill running down my spine.

I'd be hypothermic within minutes.

This happens when my body core temperature
drops below 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit,

and my natural and
normal body functions like

shivering are unable
to bring it back up.

Simply put, hypothermia can k*ll you,
sometimes in less than a day.

Working out here without a shirt off.

It's not so I can look tough in the winter
cold.

It's because trying to get these guys
hooked up took everything I had,

and I was just pouring with sweat.

And it's getting late in the day,
so I'm just trying to dry my body off,

cool down and dry all the sweat off,
before I have to put some more clothes

back on and try to stay warm for the
night.

This is old butchers throw away meat,
fit for the dogs, but not for me.

This whole first day seemed like such a
rush.

Hooking up the dogs,
yelling at them constantly

to either keep going
or to take the right trail.

Stopping them from ripping each other
apart in dogfights.

The activity of running dogs has extremely
high highs, but also very low lows.

It's emotionally draining and physically
exhausting.

I still have to consider my
situation and think about how

I am going to get food in
this barren land wilderness.

Well, I'm in it now.

The middle of Labrador, during what is
probably one of the most dangerous seasons.

The period of time at the
end of winter and beginning of

spring, when just about anything
could happen weather-wise.

So, I've got to look at my priorities
first, my immediate priorities.

Get out of the wind, which I've done
enough, I think, I hope, for the night.

The 24-hour priorities are to take a look
at everything that I have, and I'm set up

pretty well with what I need for dog
sledding, which is quite a bit of

equipment, and figure out what I can do
with what I've got in terms of survival.

And then I have my seven-day set of
priorities.

My goal is to follow the edge of the fjord
out and find a trail to the interior.

From there, I'll need to circle back to
the safety camp.

It's many miles, and I'll have seven days
to do it.

I wasn't going to do this.

I was just going to sleep on the sled,
but the wind's cutting across the lake,

so I'm going to come closer into the bush
here and sleep with the dogs, I guess.

Tonight, the wind is picking up on the
ocean, so sleeping in the sled,

although it would be comfortable,
is not an option.

I figure I'm making a simple bow bed.

If that ought to do.

Just something to get me up here and out
of the wind.

Hey.

After a full day of running
dogs and dealing with

fights and wrong turns
on the trail, I'm exhausted.

I'm hoping I can do without a fire for the
night.

This time, I have the
luxury of an old sleeping

bag and an axe to get
me through this week.

It could be an awful mistake not making a
shelter, but sometimes, the lack of energy

can dictate just how much I can
accomplish.

Then it comes down to
hoping that Mother Nature

is kind and gives me
just this one break.

Well, you can see, obviously, one of my
survival items is an axe.

There's two reasons for that.

Number one, is that no
self-respecting dog sledder

would ever go out in
the bush without an axe.

Number two, is that whether I'm making a
Survivorman show or not, you won't find me

out in the Canadian North in the winter
without an axe.

Not a chance.

I'm gonna try something different this
time.

I'm gonna survive with an actual survival
kit.

I'll show you what's in this tomorrow when
daylight hits.

Well, there's one dog up just looking at
me.

The rest of the dogs
are all curled up in

little ba*ls in that
classic sled dog style.

Stars are starting to come out,
which is a good sign.

Most of the sky is overcast.

I'm really hoping it's not gonna rain
tonight since I'm exposed here.

Just sort of laying out on this bed of
boughs.

It's below freezing.

Hopefully this sleeping bag will keep me
warm.

Night number one in Labrador.

It's been nearly 24 hours of eating snow.

A pot of hot water now will do the trick
to lift my spirits and give me some warmth

and energy, since there will be no food
going into my stomach this morning.

It's morning.

And I'm having a hard time pulling myself
out of this sleeping bag.

The wind is, uh, moving.

Moving a bit this morning, making it
pretty cool.

If I build the fire right on
top of the snow, I can keep it

burning and get it to burn, but
it'll end up just dropping down.

I mean, I'm up above about eight feet of
snow here.

It'll be a mighty deep hole by the
time the fire started burning down, so...

I'm just gonna build myself a little
rotted wood platform here.

Just some petroleum jelly.

Now, I have this here because of the dogs.

Put it on the dogs' feet to protect them.

Especially when the
snow gets crunchy and icy

like this, it can cut
their feet and hurt them.

Also helps to keep them a little bit
warmer.

And, in the little mini first aid kit,
some cotton ba*ls.

Petroleum jelly.

Taken and mixed in with the cotton.

Take a flint sparker here.

Look at that.

Cotton takes the flame real well.

Holds it.

Birch bark comes in.

And I've got myself a very fast fire.

And I put a bunch of snow into this coffee
tin.

This coffee tin is actually part of the
survival kit.

You'll find out why when I get into it.

That's nice.

Oh, yeah.

That's well worth it.

Labrador is one of the most raw and
unforgiving landscapes I've seen.

Its rocky mountains are dotted with icy
lakes, marshes, and cut by long fjords.

An obstacle course of water.

At this time of year, it can go from
bone-chilling cold one minute to a warmth

that will turn everything to slush the
next.

From the very first time I began surviving
in remote areas and sharing it on film,

I've been asked to do it with a fully
stocked survival kit to show how it can

help or to show how tough it still can be,
even with the advantages.

You've already seen me use an axe.

In addition to that, I've brought along
just a simple .22 r*fle.

It's also a survival kit in itself.

And I'll show more on that later.

I use the coffee tin to boil water in.

And I find the coffee tins work great.

One thing, it's got a plastic lid to it.

So now I've got it full of water, put my
lid on top, and I can carry water with me.

This is quite a robust pack of fishing
supplies.

Space blanket, orange garbage bag.

Rope is always k*ller in survival.

Something that's always
been key to me personally,

when I'm out in the
wilderness for survival, is a saw.

I've made the survival kit up myself from
scratch.

And it, of course, wouldn't be complete
without fire-starting implements.

With it, I'll make my
way across this harsh

landscape searching for
good survival locations.

Places to fish or catch game animals.

The dogs will do the leg work,
and so the food stays with them.

But all eight of us will have to deal with
whatever weather comes at us.

And this morning, it's already threatening
to make travel and survival tough.

All right, it's decision time.

I was planning on sticking to the lake and
traveling along the shoreline.

But, as you can see, a whiteout has moved
in.

I can't see a thing now.

I can't see the other shore.

I can see this shore, and that's it.

But if the dogs go out too
far and I have to fight with

them to keep them close to
the shore, that could be tricky.

I've decided to trust my senses and try to
follow the shore during this whiteout.

I can just make out the shoreline through
the snow when the dogs get out too far.

But the truth is, I don't
think the dogs like the

idea of being out in a
blizzard any more than I do.

One of the most dangerous times for
running these dogs is getting them to jump

across cracks in the sea ice or through
slush.

If the leader is timid about it,
she may stop on me all of a sudden,

causing a traffic jam and
bunching the dogs altogether in

a tangled line of jaw-snapping,
fur-flying, bloody mess.

That's it, girls.

Good boy, Gus.

That's it, Chance.

That's it.

Good boy, Chance.

Chance, look ahead.

Look ahead.

Up, Chance.

By far, the greatest danger is falling off
the sled or losing the dog team.

If I let go for a second,
this pack will be

long gone, and I will
be completely stranded.

There's no way I could catch up to a dog
team in full run.

I.

gotta get off this lake, guys.

I'm freezing out here.

Take me somewhere into the trees.

We can get warm.

Good girls, good girls, good girls.

That's it, that's it.

After a full day of overheating and even
sweating on the inside of my clothes,

while my fingers and toes deal with frostbite,
I finally make it to the bush trail.

My chance to get out of the wind and off
the ocean ice.

I think we found our trail.

Go on, boys.

That's it, Gus.

That's it, Jack.

Good boys.

That's it.

That's it.

Don't mind the slush, girls.

Don't mind the slush.

These Labrador bush trails
go for miles and miles through

the frozen subarctic, and many
people have perished out here.

Recently, the government
began constructing small survival

cabins spaced out along
the trail for emergencies.

And this time, I'm the lucky
survivalist about to take advantage

of a cabin they had built
on this trail only a month ago.

The skies have a strange
look to them, and I'm betting the

weather will continue to
change constantly while I travel.

Good pups.

They're all good.

Well, if this cabin was built for people
who need to survive, I figure I qualify.

I've been two full exhausting days without
an ounce of food, woke up to a blizzard,

yelled at, ran after, and
looked after a team of dogs,

not to mention breaking
up dog fights constantly.

And the weather coming in doesn't look all
that promising.

So for now, I am without
food or fresh water, but

at least I can escape
the elements for a night.

I can't take the food from the dogs.

They need that food to pull me.

Now, in times of survival, it's happened.

Guys will start to ration the dogs down,
eat some of the dog food.

And Robert Perry on the way
to the pool, he had it timed out

so that all of the dogs would
carry their own weighted food.

Once they got down through the dog food,
then he would start k*lling off the dogs

one by one, and feeding one dog to the
rest of the dogs.

Kind of a brutal way to go, but it is
survival.

When I first went out hunting,
the snow was as hard as pavement,

so I left my snowshoes behind.

But as the day warms
up, the snow gets

punchier, and now I'm
many miles from my cabin.

Making snowshoes out of the bush will get
me back to safety without exhausting

myself trying to walk on top of eight feet
of punchy snow.

Oh, we got a few items here.

All right.

Got a meal.

Reindeer moss.

Well, I didn't find any ptarmigan or grass
or snowshoe here.

But I didn't find this old tin,
though.

And this will come in handy later.

The only sign that anyone had
been here since the cabin was

built was a small bottle of
hand sanitizer, of all things.

But even this has a surprising use.

It's also a fire starter.

It only stands to reason that
creams and liquids with enough

alcohol in them might be
flammable enough to catch a spark.

A good thing to know when I'm down on
matches.

All right.

Some simple hand sanitizer and a spark.

And we've got fire.

Both the Labrador tea and the reindeer
moss have the double advantage of giving

me various vitamins, or
starches, and also simply lifting

my spirits and making me
feel somewhat human again.

Nothing does that when you're hungry and
cold like a flavorful hot drink.

Mmm.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, man.

There's nothing like hot water.

Mmm.

Still hot.

There's my reindeer moss.

Mmm.

Nothing special.

Kind of bland.

But starch and nutrients.

Simple wild edibles have been the savior
of many a lost victim.

But now I want to see what I can make out
of that old fuel can.

I'm trying to make a little stove for my
travels.

I can bring in a
source of heat right into

just about any shelter
without burning it down.

And the confined metal space of the can
will help to keep hot coals longer,

so I can use small sticks to keep myself
warm.

I've got myself a portable little wood
stove.

I've got my hobo stove.

I need to play a hobo song.

I may be sheltered from
any bad weather that comes

in thanks to the survival
cabin, but I have no food.

So it's time to do a local
patrol to see what kind of

game animal activity I
can find in the frozen bush.

When the snow is hard crusted,
I can walk on it forever.

The downside is that no animal leaves a
trail.

They can walk on it too.

And the usually easily snared
snowshoe hare runs across

this hard packed snow
without leaving a single Mark.

You know, they say in Labrador you can go
through all four seasons in one day.

I'm beginning to believe it.

I still think that your best survival kit
is what you can have in your pockets.

But if you hunt, your r*fle can be a
survival kit as well.

It looks like an ordinary r*fle,
but let me show you.

Take the butt end off.

All I did was take a drill and drill out
some holes in the stock itself.

If you want, you could drill
out a few holes and actually

kind of gouge it out until you
have more of a compartment.

I've just got a few holes.

Okay.

And in there, got some extra b*ll*ts.

I'm able to fit about ten extra b*ll*ts in
these holes.

Which are good, because you don't want to
run out of b*ll*ts.

The other thing I have in there,
from a Q-tip, some cotton tinder.

And then as well, a little fire striker.

And you've got a little survival kit built
right into the butt of the g*n.

And it's a good thing you know.

I've been out walking on the hard-crusted
snow for hours.

And I haven't seen a sign of a single
ptarmigan or snowshoe hare or anything.

I know they're out here,
but I've been walking

for hours and I haven't
seen any signs at all.

So it just shows you.

I might have a cabin
to keep me out of the

elements at night, but
survival up here is tough.

This time of year, it's real tough.

The weather is holding out
with blue sky and sunshine

so far, after dealing with
that first blizzardy morning.

And the snow has a hard
crust until late in the day,

thanks to a cold, cutting
wind, making travel easy.

But whatever the weather, the dogs have
food and I don't.

And I'm getting hungry.

Is that Grey Jay back again?

I'll call him dinner before this week's
up.

Hi guys.

Hey.

How's it going?

Okay, I'm going fishing, guys.

Wish me luck.

It's day three of my survival odyssey in
Labrador.

As tempting as it is to eat the dog food,
the dogs themselves need it for survival.

They burn a lot of calories, pulling the
heavy-laden sled.

I'm still not that far from the ocean
since the trail paralleled the shoreline.

And I know the Innu people
who survive up here fish the

seal holes along with making
their own holes in the ice.

I passed a number of them when the dogs and
I traveled the ocean ice in the blizzard.

This is where a small, simple fishing kit
comes in handy for survival.

You can see a lot of old skidoo tracks.

From the Inuit hunters.

People traveling these lands, fishing and
hunting.

Hunting for seal, usually.

Guess I really wouldn't want to fall
through the ice out here now, would I?

That would be trouble.

But I'm guessing it's pretty safe this
time of year.

Of course, on the other hand.

I punched through the ice on the way out
here.

This is what happens when you're tired.

I'm out here.

I'm out the seal holes, the fishing holes.

I forgot my axe.

Oh.

So, I'll see if I can punch through.

Oh, man.

That was stupid.

These holes are often covered over by
branches or marked with Poles,

so they're easy to spot when the people
travel through this region.

That'll do.

Yeah, that was easy.

I didn't even have to carry my axe all the
way down here.

Bonus.

Just some sinkers.

Hook.

And line.

Easily carried in a small packet.

Small survival kit.

In your pockets.

Just gonna put on a bit of dog food for
bait.

Cause that's what I have.

Here's my hole.

There it goes.

I've tried using the tiny scraps of dog
food as bait.

I've even tried using some of the lures in
the kit.

When you're fishing from a small hole in
the ice, there's no real trick to it.

I'm still trying.

Here, fishy, fishy, fishy, fishy.

Either you're lucky and the fish are near,
or they're not.

I know you're there.

Well, I thought I had a couple of bites
there for a minute.

But nothing.

Fishing is not exactly a spectator sport.

Well, the sun's going down.

As you can see.

No luck.

No fish.

And no game while I was out hunting.

That's the way it goes, you know.

I mean, you've got hunting, you've got
fishing just to...

When you're just relaxing, you're camping
or cottaging.

And not see a thing.

No different here.

It's just that when you're trying to
survive, it's a little more heartbreaking.

I'm gonna do this.

I said I wouldn't do it.

But I'm gonna do it.

I'm gonna steal some food from the dogs.

That's my boy.

Well, truthfully, I never thought I'd see
the day I'd be doing this.

Stealing food from a dog.

Oh, man.

I was gonna just take a whole rib.

But there's dog poop on the other side.

So I'm not going to touch that other side.

I have no way of knowing how old this food
is.

How good it is.

It was reserved for the dogs, after all.

Hey!

The grossest part of
this was that the dogs

have dragged this meat
through their own feces.

Something I'll have to get past if I'm to
put some food energy into my system.

So, I'm going to take my dog food,
cut her up.

Put her in.

Pull it into my pot.

It's there.

It looks good.

I'm gonna boil it up.

Quite a bit, actually.

Boil the heck out of it.

Hopefully k*ll any germs.

Get that dog hair out of there.

The headlamp was in the survival kit.

Another huge advantage for surviving.

Especially if I have to travel or if I get
injured during the night.

Let's see how that boils up.

One of the best ways to stay warm at night
is to eat just before I bed down.

The process of digestion heats up my body
while I sleep.

That's still hot, but that's good.

So it's all the caribou broth now.

Mmm.

That's gotta be good for me.

I hope that the meat's okay.

No, in truth, we can eat a lot more than
we give ourselves credit for.

And that includes, sometimes, rotten meat.

I know, that sounds kind of gross and
disgusting, but...

our stomachs aren't as weak as we think
they are.

Now, the problem with
getting tainted meat and bad

meat is when you get
stuff that's store-bought.

Sits on a shelf, goes in a truck,
travels the country, sits on another shelf.

That's when you run
into all of your poisons

and meat and problems
and stuff like that.

But... We can eat a lot
of meat, actually, raw.

And we used to.

We just got away from it.

You know, there are stories of people
who've taken their mukluks and...

cut them apart and boiled them up and
eaten that.

Those mukluks are made out of moose hide
or caribou hide or sealskin.

Mmm.

So...

There you have it.

Stolen dog food stew.

Mmm.

I have no choice now.

If I'm to try to make it back to the
safety camp, I've got to leave the

relative comfort of this cabin and keep
moving.

Not looking forward to this.

I can't afford to wait any longer.

I've got a lot of ground to cover.

Easy.

All I can do now is hope for the best when
it comes to this weather.

This is the most unstable time of year for
weather patterns.

One day sunny, and the next it's a
blizzard.

Or worse, freezing rain.

Holy mackerel.

That's it.

That's it.

Alright, alright.

Woo!

You got me sweating, girls.

Not a good day to get me sweating,
boys.

Girls.

Okay.

Go on.

Go on.

Oh yeah.

Atta girls.

Right up the hill.

Way to go.

That's the worst part of the day,
guys.

Hooking you up.

Worst part of the day.

I know you're happy, but I'm sweating.

That is cold wind out here.

Go on, girls.

So I've got a couple of things to concern
myself with here.

One is how wet I got while I was hooking
up the dogs.

I got pretty sweaty, so
I've kept my jacket open

to dry the sweat on my
back throughout my body.

But it makes me pretty cold and chilled.

Number two, once I stop in a few hours,
I've got to worry about shelter.

These are the barren lands now.

Well, at least they call these the
barrens.

It's a sparse bush, but it's cold and
windy here.

That's it, guys.

Let's find some place sheltered.

Let's get out of here.

Alright.

I'm at the ocean again.

That's going to be cold.

I'll have to travel it for
a bit, but then I'm going

to have to tuck in
somewhere protected for sure.

I was traveling for a while, even with the
fly of my pants undone, so I could get

some air circulating all through my body
to dry off the sweat.

It's chilly to do that, but better to get
dry.

Open water, guys.

Open water.

I can do without the open water,
girls.

There are no other survival cabins for me
to take advantage of, and I don't want to

spend the night exposed out on the ocean
ice.

So I'm keeping my eyes open for any kind
of gully or closed-in area where I can

build a small shelter and get out of the
wind.

The dogs are remaining aggressive with
each other, and I have to watch ahead

constantly to make sure they don't take
wrong trails.

One small mistake when running a dog team
can lead to a major disaster.

Alright, keep the jacket open, try to let
some of this sweat dry in the cool weather.

I'm going to try something a little crazy
here.

I've emptied stuff out of my sled.

And...

I'm just going to simulate what actually
happens.

Okay, guys.

You're on your own.

And that's easily how it happens.

There isn't a dog sledder out there who
hasn't found himself lost without the dogs.

Doesn't put down the snow hook properly.

The dogs take off.

There's even stories of the dogs going as
far as a hundred miles back to town,

leaving the musher stranded out there.

And that's my case now.

Alright,

there's my stuff.

To add to my problems, mild, wet, and
windy weather is coming in on me quickly.

Oh.

Oh.

The snow's getting soft.

Well, I've come to this spot.

It's a lot more protected than where I was
when I let the dogs go.

The dogs will be fine.

They're going to follow the trail out.

As for me, I've got about six hours of
daylight left.

And by the looks of the sky, I should
expect some bad weather.

So I can't just sit out by the fire
tonight.

I'm going to have to make some kind of a
shelter.

This is the worst time of year.

Rain, freezing rain during the day,
cold at night.

It's a real bad time for hypothermia.

Yeah, I guess here it'll have to do.

I'm just going to create a snow trench.

And I think that will suffice.

Maybe even keep me warm.

It's so vitally important that I don't let
myself sweat now.

Extremely important.

You sweat.

You die.

Maybe only just another couple of feet
here.

Two feet and I'm done.

They call the snow trench, but it's a lot
like making a coffin.

Yeah.

That'll do.

Warmer temperatures during the day is
nice, but it also makes survival harder.

Everything becomes wet and heavy.

I begin to punch through the snow when I
walk.

I think I'm going to get rained on.

The dampness begins to seep into my bones.

And this is the worst time of year for
hypothermia.

Orange garbage bag.

Thermal blanket.

So that's home for tonight.

All right.

Got my water on to boil.

And there's still some
leftover caribou fat that

it solidified and was
on the insides of the pot.

That's great.

It's going to make it a bit of a broth for
me.

But this time I'm going to add in some
spruce.

And as well, I'm going to throw in some
Willow.

Willow is actually also good if you've got
a headache too.

Slowing down whenever I can helps to
conserve my energy.

But it also gives my body a chance to cool
down too.

So refueling with hot bush tea will make a
big difference.

Hmm.

This has got some residual caribou broth
in it.

Spruce needles and Willow twigs.

And it's healthful and it makes me feel
fantastic.

That's all I can say.

I should put some bowels over top of my
shelter in case it snows.

Sleeping in this kind of claustrophobic
shelter is near t*rture.

You have to contort your body and move
like some kind of bound up caterpillar.

All the while with your face only an inch
from the snow wall.

And the lack of oxygen is frustrating and
leads to small moments of panic.

Ah, I got my sleeping bag backwards.

Okay.

So here I am in my little snow trench.

With any luck at all, I won't wake up
shivering.

And I'll be fine in here for the night.

I didn't make it long enough though.

My feet are kind of sticking at the end.

Put an orange garbage bag over top of
them.

Ugh.

Oh boy.

Diff, diff, diff, diff.

Night in this claustrophobic little
shelter.

Stay dry in here.

Sort of.

I mean, damp beyond belief, but not
getting rained on.

The lens is all fogging up, it's so damp
in here.

Crawling out of the shelter backwards into
the freezing rain is maddening.

So I'm going to try to expand
the shelter to see if I can

get more than an hour
combined sleep during the night.

Constantly improving my shelter and my
surroundings increases my chances of survival.

Even just physiologically, I feel like I
am always improving, getting somewhere.

I feel better about myself and my odds of
surviving.

This is the weather that kills epithonia
at this time of year.

It's the most dangerous thing to go out
the doorway.

It's starting to rain harder.

And did I mention that it's kind of like
freezing rain since it's late winter?

But I gotta, I gotta fix this stupid
shelter.

I need more room.

I'm going to put up a bit of a structure
in the front here.

Give myself some more room.

And, I can do that.

Maybe I can even set it so that I can have
a fire inside.

Wouldn't that be novel?

This is the perfect situation finally for
using my hobo stove.

I can bring heat inside with me without
burning down my small shelter.

It'll help to keep the damp chill out.

Stop raining!

After working on this shelter
all day, I get the biggest

surprise yet of any survival
ordeal I've gone through.

All this freezing rain and warm weather
has devastated the sea ice.

One of the crew attempted the long trek
back to the small ocean village and nearly

lost his life going through the ocean
slush that up here they call slob.

The usual five hour
trek took him twice that,

avoiding increasing
dangers all the way.

The safety crew have themselves become
stranded from civilization by miles and

miles of six feet deep slush and water on
top of ocean ice.

I am a further hour into
the bush from the safety

camp, but they risk the
trek to give me the news.

The deteriorating conditions mean that I
will be stranded as well.

We only have one chance to get me back to
safety camp for evacuation before the

distance between them and I becomes
impassable by slush.

Surprised me of the situation.

Are they slushy or what's the deal?

We had to scow all the way around the side
this morning.

We couldn't get as rain we have here now.

You're going to have at least,
you know, maybe six, eight

feet slush, which is going
to make that ice heavier.

You don't think we'll get across?

For example, that
little river there this

morning, you know, that's
wide open this morning.

We had to go all the way around it.

And this compression is pushing it down
and driving the water up on top.

Nearly losing the sleds
and the slush ourselves on

the way back, we finally
made it into the safety camp.

And with the ocean gone to slush between
here and the small northern village,

the only way to rescue the entire crew and
myself was by helicopter.

Well, here he comes.

Can't believe we all have to be choppered
out of here.

But that's the nature of sh**ting a
Survivorman show.

We take our chances.

We're way out in the middle of Labrador
here.

And what's happened is the ocean and all
the rain, all the waters come up,

and it's just slush between
here and a four and a half

hour drive on Snow Machine
back to safety, back to town.

We can't make it.

We can't get back.

We're stuck out here.

We got to helicopter everybody,
all the machines, everything out of here.

And that's why they had to come and get me
too.

Well, I may have survived Labrador.

And my safety crew, they were doing all
right.

But the weather here has decided
differently for us.

It effectively stranded me from my safety
crew and my safety crew from civilization.

I was a full hour beyond my production
team into the Labrador wilderness.

But I have to hand it to the crew.

To pull off filmmaking like this,
even they have to take their chances.

It's a tough job for all of us.

But that's what it takes when it comes to
real survival.