Survivorman's Secrets of Survival s01e02 Episode Script
Shelter
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Some scenes may contain graphic content, language and nudity which may not be suitable for all audience.
Viewer discretion is strongly advised.
To be lost and alone is hard enough.
To be cold, wet, and exposed to the elements can be deadly.
These are the secrets of survivorman's shelters.
ONE MAN ALONE NO FOOD NO T.
V.
CREW Survivorman Secrets of Survival: Shelter In every "survivorman" ordeal I've ever had to live through, I've had to make or find some kind of shelter.
What people don't realize is that, often, I have to spend so much time filming the making of the shelters, that I have little time left to make a really good shelter.
It doesn't seem like a big deal until the middle of the night when I wake up because I spent so much time filming and not making, my shelter has bad insulation, terrible roof, and I'm cold or wet.
During the filming of "survivorman" over the last 12 years, I've had to build dozens of shelters just to survive.
It's the one part of survival I actually dread.
It's exhausting.
It eats up all of my energy reserves and leaves me in a state where sometimes it's even hard just to think.
One man's toxic sludge is another man's potpourri.
This is gonna be a long week.
Yet, shelter building that's going to keep me warm and dry can actually take a lot of mental energy.
Let's just see what I can do with this guy.
The variables on what kind of shelter I should make can be as many as the different types of environment there are to get lost in.
What you're about to see are my top five methods for making a shelter in a survival ordeal.
Oh, it's gonna feel a little strange sleeping in here.
But before we get to that list, let's take a look at some of the basics of shelter building.
[ Sighs .]
The philosophy of shelter building is pretty much the same no matter where you are.
You've got to kind of think like you're making a house.
One exception is, you're starting from your bed.
You've got to get a good, solid bed as the first part of the foundation.
Set it up so it's nice and comfortable, and it actually fits you.
This looks like it could be a good spot for a shelter for me.
I've got a nice, smooth kind of rock situation here that's fairly level for making my bed on.
I've even got a cubby hole here where I might be able to put a little fire inside.
In the year 2001, in northern ontario, this was my very first time ever filming survival.
Yet, I still consider this to be one of my best shelters ever.
Too often, people making a survival shelter, they get the roof up quick 'cause that's their primary concern.
They go to crawl inside, and all they've got to lay on is the cold, damp ground.
That can get to you really quickly.
So, the best thing to do is to get your bedding down first.
You're gonna want to use a lot of boughs because, basically, three feet of boughs, when you get in, gets compressed down to about six inches of bedding by the time morning comes along.
The secret to a good spruce bough bed is to lay on it while you make it to make sure that it fits you, and then make it as thick as you can.
And you just got to cover yourself with a roof.
The roof should be nice and strong, and there's got to be enough room to move around.
The roof needs to be insulated to keep the heat in.
The roof needs to be shingled to keep the rain out.
As far as I can tell right now, I've got a thunderstorm coming in on me fairly soon.
I've got to find a way of making that shelter dry, and I don't have a tarp.
So, anything can work, and you can find lots of different barks, or a big pile of leaves also works really well, too, to shed the rain, but there is nothing that works as well as birch bark, and this guy is a beauty.
This is when you're really happy you've got a knife, I'll tell you.
You can make a split right down the center.
Follow it, and that's gonna peel off as one big shingle.
What happened for me here was a bit of luck.
Making this kind of shelter relies heavily on what kind of vegetation is close by.
And for every time in the north woods I've found dead birch trees like this one, there are 100 times that I didn't.
And a special nod needs to be given to the type of tools that I have handy.
A knife is better than nothing, and a saw or axe are better than a knife.
Ha ha! Look at that.
It's got to be remembered that materials like this have to be gathered, and sometimes carried from hundreds of yards away through thick bush.
If I'd had a simple tarp, an entire day's hard work wouldn't have even been necessary.
I can flatten these out just by getting some heavier logs and laying them down on it to try to get a better pitch, better angle to this roof.
You don't want it too flat.
The water just percolates through.
You want it to drain down.
I think for the most part, shelters are a little too overthought when it comes to a survival situation.
If I had it my way, I'd never build a shelter.
I'd find great places to be and to make it through the night.
When you have to build a shelter, you have to spend a lot of energy.
You lose a lot of calories, and most of the time, that shelter's only for one night.
Once you've got the roof secure for rain -- or at least you think you do -- after that, I usually put on a couple of heavy, rotten logs to deflect more rain and to weigh down the shelter.
Keep these guys flat.
I've been sweating profusely all day doing this.
That's the downside of when you make a shelter.
You start burning up a lot of valuable, valuable calories, and you've got to be careful.
But at the same token, to be caught out in the elements is -- is worse.
Later that day, my effort paid off.
The intense heat wave I had to work through brought thunderstorms with hail and torrential downpours.
Were it not for how I had made my shelter, I would have been caught out in it all and likely become hypothermic.
Everything about the thick bed of spruce boughs on top of logs and the big sheets of birch bark as my roof bore themselves out as good ideas.
When the storm hit, there were no more secrets to survival, only getting through it all.
Thunder's cracking pretty good, lightning.
But it's really coming down out there.
At least I know I'm fairly low and not out on a point or attached to a big, tall tree.
Pretty important since lightning's been hitting pretty hard.
It's a good thing that I raised this shelter up on top of some rotted logs and then put the spruce boughs down 'cause already, I've got a river flowing underneath me.
You have no choice in a situation like this but to hold tight.
Right from the very beginnings of "survivorman," I knew that not every shelter would have the romantic appeal of being made out of spruce boughs and birch bark because, the reality is, all I really want to do is be warm and dry and not have to deal with the elements too much.
And in survival, everything is fair game.
I try to make use of just about anything at all that might be lying around.
It's not so bad.
[ Playing harmonica .]
My only hope right now is try to outfit that airplane in a way that I can survive the night in it.
If my shelter keeps me warm and dry, protected from the wind, perhaps even predators, and gives me a safe place to sleep, then it's done its job.
So, what it's made out of never matters, so long as it does these things.
Let's see what I can get out of this guy now.
There.
Good night.
When I spot something as significant as a boat or even a large piece of plywood or plastic, I give a big sigh of relief.
Beachcombing score.
One old hunk of plastic saves me a lot of waterproofing.
Something as simple as a garbage bag can save me half or even a full day's work trying to waterproof the roof.
There's no room for being a purist when it comes to staying alive.
In a survival situation, anything is usable.
Nothing is too small or insignificant.
I think the first thing I'm going to use is this crowbar.
Once again, just like it is with a shelter made out of the bush, tools matter.
Knives, axes, even screwdrivers can make a huge difference when crafting a shelter to make it through the night.
It's otherwise impossible to pull apart wood and metal or undo screws.
And here in the cook islands, I was able to turn a completely exposed boat into a refuge from the rain.
You have to clear your mind when it comes to preconceived notions of how to build a shelter.
Those pictures in books mean nothing when it comes to the real world of survival.
Out here, what matters is only your well-being, your safety, your security and comfort, even if it means, as it did here in norway, that I need to bring along pieces of a car to help me get through the night in the snow.
If there's one pet peeve I have in survival instruction, it's that picture in every classic textbook of the perfect tree with the perfect hole underneath created by the boughs and the branches, and you can get in and have three feet or four feet of snow all around you for insulation.
I've seen one in many, many, many, many years being out in the winter bush.
They're just few and far between.
You can't count on them.
I'm gonna go get some of that ready-made shelter material, courtesy of the car.
Insulation from the ground is everything, but conduction through touching the ground and getting cold that way is pretty powerful.
I've had better shelters, but this one's pretty solid.
I'm up off the snow.
That's the main thing.
Beats curling up in the snow.
It's true.
Anything beats curling up in the snow, and over the years, I've tried just about anything to survive through the night.
Up next are my top five survival shelters.
How I've decided which ones made the cut and in what order has come from years of being cold, wet, and sleepless.
These are my top five survival shelters, counting down to my favorite of all.
This first one comes from far too many times being caught out with the sun setting and night coming.
The number five top shelter for survival is no shelter at all.
And this is the hard-core reality of survival -- finding yourself outside and exposed with no shelter anywhere in sight.
At least in arizona, the weather leaves some room for forgiveness if you have to go the night under the stars.
This grass should go a long way towards helping me stay warm.
Even where there are no trees, there is always something for insulation.
I've got my blanket with my grass.
I use this kariso cane for my mattress, I hope.
And I was hoping to turn this bed into something comfortable.
Who knows? Might even be -- might even be warm.
The whole idea of sleeping out depends entirely upon the climate of the area.
In the arctic, it'll all come down to clothing.
It's great how this caribou fur -- it's incredible.
It doesn't hold the snow at all.
Just falls off of it like dust.
My secret to sleeping out without a shelter is that my clothing is my first line of defense.
It is, in fact, my main shelter.
If I can stand out in the rain, or in the case of the arctic in the cold and be sheltered only by my clothing, I'm way ahead of the game.
But sleeping out completely exposed requires something else -- confidence.
So, we got this tree and that tree over there I'm gonna use for my hammock.
Here in africa, I had to muster up all the courage I had to sleep in a hammock with lions and leopards not far away.
Now, this is survival.
I think this is gonna be one of those prop up the backpack and sleep sitting up nights.
You don't sleep much.
There definitely is some mind over matter to keep myself from remembering just how exposed I am on nights like this.
Well, I banked up all these stones and made myself a little sort of pad here.
I'm gonna sleep underneath this juniper tree.
It's a great place to sleep.
It keeps the dew off you at night, and there seems to be some sort of residual heat that stays underneath these trees.
They're a great place to sleep underneath when you're out here.
Having knowledge of local vegetation is one of my secrets to sleeping out the night without a shelter.
One tree can make all the difference.
Just up from the river there is this big, huge, massive spruce tree, and it's very dry right here.
Now, it was raining for a good week, solid, before I stepped foot on the mountain, and it's been raining ever since I have been on the mountain, and look at this.
It's bone dry.
It's not gonna be comfortable at all, but this is as good a place as any to hold up for the night, anyway.
It's night number three.
I think it's gonna rain again.
Actually, it is starting to rain again, but this is pretty cool.
One little spot under this tree, and it's just so dry.
So, I'm just gonna huddle beside the tree tonight and see what I get tomorrow.
And that's the thing to remember.
It's usually about just getting through to the next day.
But the ground is always cold at night, even in the australian outback, and one secret that works just about anywhere you can find flat ground is simply to heat it up first, take the chill out of it.
This time, I'm gonna do something a little different.
I'm going to heat up this ground, so by the time I sleep on it, it'll be nice and warm.
The worst part of the night is waking up in the middle of it with chills ripping down my spine from laying on the cold ground.
I've felt it more times than I care to remember.
So, even without a roof overhead, spending a bit of time on the bed can be a lifesaver.
Now that the ground's cooled down, I'll just put the greenery on top of it, and that bit of foam that I got out of the airplane, roll on top, and I will be toasty warm all night long.
It works really well when you do it right.
Just got to do it safely, 'cause otherwise, you burn yourself.
I did melt the bottom of my shoes.
There are places in the world where sleeping under the sky conjures up romantic images of watching shooting stars and breathing fresh, cool air.
The amazon jungle is not one of those places.
In fact, exposure here means something else entirely.
Ah! Hmm.
That's not working out so well.
On this night, sleeping out meant laying in this little dugout canoe knowing that there were bats that can lay on my face while I sleep and actually bite and get blood from me without waking me up.
Inches below me were the waters where 100-pound river otters with bad attitudes lurked, ready to defend their territory.
Here we go.
Night number one in the jungle.
Although sleeping out takes the least amount of energy, it's also the most dangerous.
Next is a step up from being completely exposed to the elements.
My number four survival shelter.
All right.
[ Grunts .]
Well This may not look very comfortable.
That's because it isn't, and night is coming in, and I don't want to get caught.
This big rock here, at least I'm out of the wind, and if it rains, I'm even out of the rain.
This is it.
This is where I've got to do my first night.
Oh.
Ooh, yeah.
This is gonna be fun.
The number four top survival shelter.
Finding a cave.
Caves can be cold and damp, and more often than not, the flooring is jagged and rough.
I've found them best for daytime escaping of the elements, but not so great for the nights.
But there are some exceptions, and one secret is remembering that rock itself is helpful in survival in that, if you can heat it up, it'll retain that heat and then give it back to you through the night.
Here in mexico, I found my most ideal cave ever.
Well, there's lots of caves.
I can spot them.
All sorts of little caves along here.
Good shelter from the sun.
Don't need it from the rain, but I don't think I'll go any further.
I do see a cave just over there.
I'm gonna go check out that cave.
That looks awesome.
I can get out of the sun, and it's close to some water.
That sounds like a shelter location to me.
In the desert, caves can be much more ideal than most other places, and often, right after searching for a good water supply, it's a cave that I'll go looking for.
Home, sweet home.
Fire, water boiling, good protection from the sun in the heat of the day.
Finding a cave is a very elusive thing in a survival situation.
When it happens, it's a stroke of luck based on the area I find myself lost in, and they're not always obvious.
Hidden in cracks and crevices on the sides of small hills, it can be a tight squeeze.
On the other hand, some of them you can drive a car into, but rarely are they warm and dry.
However, what's best about them is that they're usually, at the very least, the best place to get out of the wind, and of all the elements I have to deal with in nature, it's the wind that can be the toughest.
Everything stops when the wind blows hard, which is why even an ice cave can be a refuge.
This may look like a pretty cool shelter, and for one night, it'd be all right, you know? But you got to think about things like earth tremors, and the fact is, all around me are fallen pieces of rock.
So, maybe a one-night quickie shelter is fine, but this rock is really cold on my body, and I wouldn't want to be in here for a long time.
I think this cave is ready for an extreme makeover.
I don't have a lot of nerve when it comes to staying in caves.
I worry a lot about rocks fracturing and falling on me while I try to sleep out the night.
Here in utah, I made use of caves that had been used for hundreds of years, and in the not-too-distant past, were also the refuge for outlaws.
I've leveled out the floor inside here.
I've put up a rock wall and area for a fire on the inside here.
Then what I need to do is get a fire going in there and start to warm up the cave very gently, very slowly.
I knew once I got my fire going that I'd probably want a big one just to get some good coals first.
So, I thought I'd set my fire up in a little flat area there, get a big fire going, and I can transfer some coals over to here and start a small, low fire to help warm up the cave.
You got to be really careful.
This is a deadly situation.
It wouldn't take much to thermal crack this wall and have a cadillac-sized rock come crashing down on top of me.
And now just try to get a good night's sleep with that on your mind.
Fire rocks just blew up on me.
Sent big coals right into my bed and burned my finger trying to clear it out.
Oh, it's gonna feel a little strange sleeping in here.
I'm sure I'll be thinking about this rock over my head constantly.
Caves do, indeed, save me from a lot of effort when it comes to shelters.
Still, though, my next way to escape the elements can be achieved just about anywhere on the planet.
The world's forests can provide all that's needed to stay warm and dry in a survival ordeal, but it's never easy.
Stroud: It's been a long night.
Sleepless.
Reduced to 10 minutes, maybe 20 minutes at a time.
Waking up with the chills.
It's a brutal night like that when you're soaking wet, and you're stuck out in a shelter.
You've heard of the proverbial being stuck between a rock and a hard place? This is what it looks like.
My number three shelter -- bush shelters.
For me, a so-called bush shelter means any kind of shelter made from anything natural I can find in the wilderness -- from leaves and branches to trees and rocks, mud, and even snow and ice.
The secret is choosing a location close enough to all the materials.
I tuck in here, and just make myself a little quickie shelter, help me get through the night.
This is not gonna be anything fancy, just something quick to keep me out of the rain.
Jungles offer the advantage of soft trees and leaves to cut through, so with the right tool -- in this case, a machete -- I can gather what I need in fairly short order and get busy making the structure.
And the secret here is that all I really need is a roof.
With rains that come hard every day for six to ten hours, a roof is vital to survival.
Now, the beauty of what I'm doing here is this -- this greenery that I'm working with is really easy to work with.
And I've got probably a rain-tight shelter here.
It's amazing what you can do with a bit of nylon rope and a machete.
The classic lean-to style of shelter can work well, but it all comes down to available material, and here in the georgia swamp, there was plenty to work with.
This is the shelter so far.
I stuck a couple of forks in the ground and then tied supports across it.
Even tied the poles off, as well, at the top, stuck them in down at the earth at the bottom.
I started weaving them in from the bottom.
Just down the bottom, line, line, line, all the way up to the top to try and create a nice, little kind of shingled roof effect here.
No matter where I found myself, I quickly learned the secret of using the traditional bush methods of the original inhabitants of the area.
Knowing which types of trees or rocks would work best and ways of finding roots or vines for lashing often resulted in much better shelters.
They had to survive here year-round and all through their lives.
So the simple techniques I could learn from them would go a long way towards aiding in my own survival.
In the jungles around the world, the best-kept secret is palm leaves.
The edges of these are razor-sharp, so you've got to be really careful when you split them.
I'm just gonna put all of these palm leaves on here, just like shingles.
All right.
This is home.
These spruce boughs actually shed the rain really nicely.
I like to actually kind of poke the branches in so that they're nice and smooth like this.
You don't really have to.
You can just throw them on, but this way, all the rain sort of goes with the flow of the boughs.
There's no question that the secret to a good roof is the angle of the pitch.
The steeper it is, the better it'll shed rain.
Sometimes so much so, that I can keep a fire protected inside for my nighttime warmth.
Well, there's something I wasn't counting on.
While I left to get some more boughs and some more firewood, I came back, and all the underside of the tree roots here were on fire.
They were all -- there was flames coming up, and I had to quickly grab a rock and scrape them all down to put out the fire.
That's the last thing I want here, even though I want to be warm tonight.
That's not the kind of warm I'm talking about.
So, I'm gonna have to make use of some of the dirt that's here and pack this in and put some -- a bigger rock -- a couple of big rocks there to protect this whole underside from catching on fire again.
You got to remember that, man, what I'm making here is one big, gigantic tinder bundle.
Just staying alive can be dangerous.
In the very first season of filming "survivorman," I ventured to the far north, the canadian arctic.
It was truly the fulfillment of a lifelong ambition, and so it was only natural that I assumed I'd be able to make an igloo.
How hard could it be, I thought.
And to stay with my mandate of survival, I used only what I had handy from my tools, which in this case was some plastic from a broken down snowmobile.
But it became heartbreaking.
The process is so detailed that, without years of practice and training, there was no way I'd be able to just plop myself down in the arctic and make an igloo from scratch, whether my survival depended upon it or not.
[ Sighs .]
Well, folks, this is it.
I really thought that I'd put on the time-lapse and give you a work-of-art igloo.
But being that this is the first time I ever tried to make one, and according to the local inuit friend of mine, actually, sam omik, the snow is the worst type of snow to try to make an igloo with right now.
And then I just realized that I've been going all night.
I have no idea what time it is, although I'm sure it's close to morning already, and I'm exhausted.
Put all those factors together, and you got a crappy igloo.
[ Laughs .]
So, I'm gonna try and sleep.
Years later, I'd finally do the right thing and take the time to learn from the masters of arctic survival.
So, we're gonna head up and look for a good spot to find the right snow for our igloo.
The art of igloo making has not died with the inuit people.
It's still fairly strong and alive, but mostly with a slightly older crowd, and even my guy, chayte.
Mostly, if he can rely on a tent now, he does.
But still, hunters get caught out, still need to know how to do this, how to make an igloo.
I can expect to survive out here, so.
You like this spot? Snow is right? Yeah.
Good, let's get started.
Stroud: Brian, what did he tell you to cut? How are you cutting? Well we are going to cut this way Yeah? Just straight down? No.
Slight angle? So when you pick it up it won't get stuck It's like this and straight.
The first secret I learned about igloo making is that the hole that I cut the blocks out of will actually form the lower part of the inside of the igloo itself, saving me a lot of work.
Like so many other shelters, this can be an exhausting undertaking.
This is a lot warmer work than it might look like.
Pretty sweaty doing this.
They used to use bone saws, and then they went to regular steel saws that we have.
Now we switch to the wood saws.
Works perfect.
[ Grunts .]
Consistency of the snow is a lot like styrofoam.
Not very romantic, but that's what works.
Like any skill, the more you do it, the better you get at it, the faster you can do it, and with much greater ease.
But at first, the effort is great, and my adage of, "you sweat, you die," is never more important than in the high arctic.
There's far more detail in making an igloo than I could have imagined.
Each block is often reshaped and cut to size.
Each level of blocks is smoothed over on top and prepared to receive the next layer.
Each side of each snow block has a slight angle to it because, if it didn't, the cone shape would never form, and you'd be left only with a wall of snow and no roof.
This is a lot more extensive than the snow shelters we build in our driveways as kids.
You can see, there's still a lot of daylight.
That's all got to be filled in all the way around, but it's just a beautiful work of engineering.
Perfect.
Still cold in here, though.
Truth be told, if I never had to make a shelter, I'd be happy.
Which is why my next way of escaping the elements rates so high on my list.
It's not just wilderness travelers that find themselves in a survival situation.
Some of us can get lost just going from "a" to "b," but at least we're lost with a ready-made shelter.
The number-two top survival shelter -- your vehicle.
Sleeping in a vehicle is a huge advantage.
One thing about it, it has an air of familiarity that helps in a survival situation tremendously.
Usually the first thought in your mind is, "well, at least I can stay protected in the car.
" Ahh! See, here we go.
In the kalahari desert, the car is great for the night, but it's a sweat box during the day.
[ Engine stops .]
Aah! That's it.
When the sun goes down in the desert, it's instant relief.
That sun is relentless.
For me, I have to think about my priorities now.
First priority is just to get through this night in the back of a pickup truck.
At first, being able to stay inside my vehicle can be a huge advantage to survival.
There's nothing for me to do other than crawl inside and wait out the night, but I've got to be aware.
This comfort can be fleeting.
The secret is to always remember that, at this point, my vehicle is nothing more than a survival shelter, and sooner or later, I'll need to abandon it.
I'm sitting in here in the car, and it's blowing like crazy outside.
The wind is whipping by.
It's turned all gray and cloudy, and the snow is blowing off the trees.
I'm much better off inside the car.
In norway, while the wind howled outside, I could turn the heater on once in a while to take the chill off the cold air inside.
Another advantage.
But each time I did, I used up a little more gas, and sooner or later, the tank would run dry.
This is a far more common scenario around the world than you might think.
And eventually, the car begins to feel horribly claustrophobic and like a trap.
I find I have to turn the engine over about once every hour and a half, two hours just to take the chill out of the inside of the car and get another hour and a half sleep.
I think I get it now.
If I were 60 miles, 70 miles, or a few hours drive into a road like this with the wind blowing the way it is and the snow and only a pair of hikers, and my mind is thinking, "someone's gonna come along and plow this road," I wouldn't want to leave the vehicle, either.
You know those times when you get in your car when there's a winter storm on the outside? You just go, "oh, finally," when you're inside? Oh, that's times 100 when you're in a situation like this.
It's blizzarding out there at this point.
It's a whiteout.
Can't see across the fjord.
Wind's blowing.
Snow is blowing, and it's a bit of a wet snow.
I'm not going to keep starting the engine.
I haven't started it for quite a while because I've been moving around, so I'm warmed up.
There's no point in trying to be all cozy and comfortable.
I'll just start it up when I really, really desperately need to take the chill out of the inside.
I had no way of anticipating just how claustrophobic I would become being stuck in that car.
I could have gone outside anytime I wanted, but then it was cold and wet out there.
And even in this situation, I found myself wishing I could get this over with quick.
Like a survival shelter, once stuck inside a vehicle for long periods of time, there's no way to lie down, no way to stand up, no way to truly feel comfortable or myself again.
Even under a roof of metal and on a seat of cushion, it still becomes survival, and I still want out.
This isn't surviving.
This is just being trapped.
[ Sighs .]
I need to find a way to make a move, get out of here.
Or they'll be coming to haul this car away with a skeleton inside of it this spring.
Cars are not the only vehicle people have to survive in.
Pilots, too, are often faced with being broken down or otherwise stuck and stranded, and their first place of refuge is the plane.
First thing's first.
Got to get this thing tied down and secured for the night.
Wind starts coming in.
Even more so than a car, a plane can quickly become claustrophobic without any way to straighten legs or keep blood moving throughout my body.
Well, wind's still howling out there.
And I'm just gonna huddle in here inside the plane and try and get some sleep through the night.
Sleeping through the night.
That is, after all, the ultimate purpose of a shelter.
[ Laughs .]
I can see a cabin.
What's my favorite survival shelter? Something I don't have to build.
Something easy to get warm in.
Something I can cook food inside.
Somewhere that rescuers might think to look first.
And my number one top survival shelter -- a man-made shelter, ready to go.
You got to see this to believe it.
Check it out.
Hello! Hello! Hello! It's a big, old house, barn.
I don't see any signs.
I don't see any footprints.
Cut firewood.
You know what that means.
It means there's got to be a wood stove in here somewhere.
Finding cabins or cottages, or in this case, an actual house that I can break into, is a nice bonus, but it still has its own issues.
There's no food.
There's still no water, and no one can see me while I'm inside.
I think we found our trail.
In some places, like here in labrador, survival shelters are actually built and left entirely for the purpose of aiding people lost or stuck out in the wild.
Finding a dwelling like this takes out of the equation one of the most labor-intensive parts of survival -- shelter building.
And when they're meant for survival, they'll often come complete with wood stoves and firewood, and if I'm lucky, food supplies.
Sooner or later, I may still have to leave the security of a found dwelling.
The secret is to consider places like these to simply be base camp for continuing on in survival.
[ Laughs .]
I can see a cabin.
In fact, I see a couple of cabins.
What I'd really like now is to see some smoke coming out of a chimney.
Hello! Hello! Nothing.
Not even a dog barking.
Hello! I hope there's a wood stove, and these aren't just storage sheds.
These buildings look old, very old.
Probably the '30s or '40s.
But I know I'm gonna be in one of these buildings tonight, wood stove or not.
Huh.
That's the first building.
[ Grunts .]
Huh.
Well, that's a good little building.
Come in here if I have to.
I want to see where the tracks lead.
A compound out in the woods here.
I can't tell if the tracks are snowed over from this current snow, or they're just older.
Hello! I see firewood.
That's a good sign.
Hello! This is pretty sweet.
I think I hit the jackpot.
Check this out.
Look at this.
But this is -- this is a reality sometimes.
I always say, in a survival situation, you come across a cottage or a cabin, it's actually legal in most places to break in and not be charged with it if you're in a survival situation.
Obviously, they're norwegians.
And this place looks beautiful to me right now.
The snow's just coming down strong.
I'm gonna start a fire and get warmed up.
There's matches and candles, sleeping bag, beds, wood stove.
There's even a radio.
Oh, this is gonna feel so good.
It'll be getting dark very, very soon.
I couldn't be in a better place at this point.
The radio doesn't work, but the bed sure does.
I got this one coming to me.
A shelter is my refuge in a survival ordeal.
It's where I sleep, get warm, stay dry.
And in survival, it's always anything goes.
So if I've got to break and enter somewhere, well, it's better to be tried by 12 than carried by 6.
The ultimate goal in survival is not to build fancy log cabins or pretty bush shelters.
It's to go home.
Because your home, after all, is your greatest shelter.
Some scenes may contain graphic content, language and nudity which may not be suitable for all audience.
Viewer discretion is strongly advised.
To be lost and alone is hard enough.
To be cold, wet, and exposed to the elements can be deadly.
These are the secrets of survivorman's shelters.
ONE MAN ALONE NO FOOD NO T.
V.
CREW Survivorman Secrets of Survival: Shelter In every "survivorman" ordeal I've ever had to live through, I've had to make or find some kind of shelter.
What people don't realize is that, often, I have to spend so much time filming the making of the shelters, that I have little time left to make a really good shelter.
It doesn't seem like a big deal until the middle of the night when I wake up because I spent so much time filming and not making, my shelter has bad insulation, terrible roof, and I'm cold or wet.
During the filming of "survivorman" over the last 12 years, I've had to build dozens of shelters just to survive.
It's the one part of survival I actually dread.
It's exhausting.
It eats up all of my energy reserves and leaves me in a state where sometimes it's even hard just to think.
One man's toxic sludge is another man's potpourri.
This is gonna be a long week.
Yet, shelter building that's going to keep me warm and dry can actually take a lot of mental energy.
Let's just see what I can do with this guy.
The variables on what kind of shelter I should make can be as many as the different types of environment there are to get lost in.
What you're about to see are my top five methods for making a shelter in a survival ordeal.
Oh, it's gonna feel a little strange sleeping in here.
But before we get to that list, let's take a look at some of the basics of shelter building.
[ Sighs .]
The philosophy of shelter building is pretty much the same no matter where you are.
You've got to kind of think like you're making a house.
One exception is, you're starting from your bed.
You've got to get a good, solid bed as the first part of the foundation.
Set it up so it's nice and comfortable, and it actually fits you.
This looks like it could be a good spot for a shelter for me.
I've got a nice, smooth kind of rock situation here that's fairly level for making my bed on.
I've even got a cubby hole here where I might be able to put a little fire inside.
In the year 2001, in northern ontario, this was my very first time ever filming survival.
Yet, I still consider this to be one of my best shelters ever.
Too often, people making a survival shelter, they get the roof up quick 'cause that's their primary concern.
They go to crawl inside, and all they've got to lay on is the cold, damp ground.
That can get to you really quickly.
So, the best thing to do is to get your bedding down first.
You're gonna want to use a lot of boughs because, basically, three feet of boughs, when you get in, gets compressed down to about six inches of bedding by the time morning comes along.
The secret to a good spruce bough bed is to lay on it while you make it to make sure that it fits you, and then make it as thick as you can.
And you just got to cover yourself with a roof.
The roof should be nice and strong, and there's got to be enough room to move around.
The roof needs to be insulated to keep the heat in.
The roof needs to be shingled to keep the rain out.
As far as I can tell right now, I've got a thunderstorm coming in on me fairly soon.
I've got to find a way of making that shelter dry, and I don't have a tarp.
So, anything can work, and you can find lots of different barks, or a big pile of leaves also works really well, too, to shed the rain, but there is nothing that works as well as birch bark, and this guy is a beauty.
This is when you're really happy you've got a knife, I'll tell you.
You can make a split right down the center.
Follow it, and that's gonna peel off as one big shingle.
What happened for me here was a bit of luck.
Making this kind of shelter relies heavily on what kind of vegetation is close by.
And for every time in the north woods I've found dead birch trees like this one, there are 100 times that I didn't.
And a special nod needs to be given to the type of tools that I have handy.
A knife is better than nothing, and a saw or axe are better than a knife.
Ha ha! Look at that.
It's got to be remembered that materials like this have to be gathered, and sometimes carried from hundreds of yards away through thick bush.
If I'd had a simple tarp, an entire day's hard work wouldn't have even been necessary.
I can flatten these out just by getting some heavier logs and laying them down on it to try to get a better pitch, better angle to this roof.
You don't want it too flat.
The water just percolates through.
You want it to drain down.
I think for the most part, shelters are a little too overthought when it comes to a survival situation.
If I had it my way, I'd never build a shelter.
I'd find great places to be and to make it through the night.
When you have to build a shelter, you have to spend a lot of energy.
You lose a lot of calories, and most of the time, that shelter's only for one night.
Once you've got the roof secure for rain -- or at least you think you do -- after that, I usually put on a couple of heavy, rotten logs to deflect more rain and to weigh down the shelter.
Keep these guys flat.
I've been sweating profusely all day doing this.
That's the downside of when you make a shelter.
You start burning up a lot of valuable, valuable calories, and you've got to be careful.
But at the same token, to be caught out in the elements is -- is worse.
Later that day, my effort paid off.
The intense heat wave I had to work through brought thunderstorms with hail and torrential downpours.
Were it not for how I had made my shelter, I would have been caught out in it all and likely become hypothermic.
Everything about the thick bed of spruce boughs on top of logs and the big sheets of birch bark as my roof bore themselves out as good ideas.
When the storm hit, there were no more secrets to survival, only getting through it all.
Thunder's cracking pretty good, lightning.
But it's really coming down out there.
At least I know I'm fairly low and not out on a point or attached to a big, tall tree.
Pretty important since lightning's been hitting pretty hard.
It's a good thing that I raised this shelter up on top of some rotted logs and then put the spruce boughs down 'cause already, I've got a river flowing underneath me.
You have no choice in a situation like this but to hold tight.
Right from the very beginnings of "survivorman," I knew that not every shelter would have the romantic appeal of being made out of spruce boughs and birch bark because, the reality is, all I really want to do is be warm and dry and not have to deal with the elements too much.
And in survival, everything is fair game.
I try to make use of just about anything at all that might be lying around.
It's not so bad.
[ Playing harmonica .]
My only hope right now is try to outfit that airplane in a way that I can survive the night in it.
If my shelter keeps me warm and dry, protected from the wind, perhaps even predators, and gives me a safe place to sleep, then it's done its job.
So, what it's made out of never matters, so long as it does these things.
Let's see what I can get out of this guy now.
There.
Good night.
When I spot something as significant as a boat or even a large piece of plywood or plastic, I give a big sigh of relief.
Beachcombing score.
One old hunk of plastic saves me a lot of waterproofing.
Something as simple as a garbage bag can save me half or even a full day's work trying to waterproof the roof.
There's no room for being a purist when it comes to staying alive.
In a survival situation, anything is usable.
Nothing is too small or insignificant.
I think the first thing I'm going to use is this crowbar.
Once again, just like it is with a shelter made out of the bush, tools matter.
Knives, axes, even screwdrivers can make a huge difference when crafting a shelter to make it through the night.
It's otherwise impossible to pull apart wood and metal or undo screws.
And here in the cook islands, I was able to turn a completely exposed boat into a refuge from the rain.
You have to clear your mind when it comes to preconceived notions of how to build a shelter.
Those pictures in books mean nothing when it comes to the real world of survival.
Out here, what matters is only your well-being, your safety, your security and comfort, even if it means, as it did here in norway, that I need to bring along pieces of a car to help me get through the night in the snow.
If there's one pet peeve I have in survival instruction, it's that picture in every classic textbook of the perfect tree with the perfect hole underneath created by the boughs and the branches, and you can get in and have three feet or four feet of snow all around you for insulation.
I've seen one in many, many, many, many years being out in the winter bush.
They're just few and far between.
You can't count on them.
I'm gonna go get some of that ready-made shelter material, courtesy of the car.
Insulation from the ground is everything, but conduction through touching the ground and getting cold that way is pretty powerful.
I've had better shelters, but this one's pretty solid.
I'm up off the snow.
That's the main thing.
Beats curling up in the snow.
It's true.
Anything beats curling up in the snow, and over the years, I've tried just about anything to survive through the night.
Up next are my top five survival shelters.
How I've decided which ones made the cut and in what order has come from years of being cold, wet, and sleepless.
These are my top five survival shelters, counting down to my favorite of all.
This first one comes from far too many times being caught out with the sun setting and night coming.
The number five top shelter for survival is no shelter at all.
And this is the hard-core reality of survival -- finding yourself outside and exposed with no shelter anywhere in sight.
At least in arizona, the weather leaves some room for forgiveness if you have to go the night under the stars.
This grass should go a long way towards helping me stay warm.
Even where there are no trees, there is always something for insulation.
I've got my blanket with my grass.
I use this kariso cane for my mattress, I hope.
And I was hoping to turn this bed into something comfortable.
Who knows? Might even be -- might even be warm.
The whole idea of sleeping out depends entirely upon the climate of the area.
In the arctic, it'll all come down to clothing.
It's great how this caribou fur -- it's incredible.
It doesn't hold the snow at all.
Just falls off of it like dust.
My secret to sleeping out without a shelter is that my clothing is my first line of defense.
It is, in fact, my main shelter.
If I can stand out in the rain, or in the case of the arctic in the cold and be sheltered only by my clothing, I'm way ahead of the game.
But sleeping out completely exposed requires something else -- confidence.
So, we got this tree and that tree over there I'm gonna use for my hammock.
Here in africa, I had to muster up all the courage I had to sleep in a hammock with lions and leopards not far away.
Now, this is survival.
I think this is gonna be one of those prop up the backpack and sleep sitting up nights.
You don't sleep much.
There definitely is some mind over matter to keep myself from remembering just how exposed I am on nights like this.
Well, I banked up all these stones and made myself a little sort of pad here.
I'm gonna sleep underneath this juniper tree.
It's a great place to sleep.
It keeps the dew off you at night, and there seems to be some sort of residual heat that stays underneath these trees.
They're a great place to sleep underneath when you're out here.
Having knowledge of local vegetation is one of my secrets to sleeping out the night without a shelter.
One tree can make all the difference.
Just up from the river there is this big, huge, massive spruce tree, and it's very dry right here.
Now, it was raining for a good week, solid, before I stepped foot on the mountain, and it's been raining ever since I have been on the mountain, and look at this.
It's bone dry.
It's not gonna be comfortable at all, but this is as good a place as any to hold up for the night, anyway.
It's night number three.
I think it's gonna rain again.
Actually, it is starting to rain again, but this is pretty cool.
One little spot under this tree, and it's just so dry.
So, I'm just gonna huddle beside the tree tonight and see what I get tomorrow.
And that's the thing to remember.
It's usually about just getting through to the next day.
But the ground is always cold at night, even in the australian outback, and one secret that works just about anywhere you can find flat ground is simply to heat it up first, take the chill out of it.
This time, I'm gonna do something a little different.
I'm going to heat up this ground, so by the time I sleep on it, it'll be nice and warm.
The worst part of the night is waking up in the middle of it with chills ripping down my spine from laying on the cold ground.
I've felt it more times than I care to remember.
So, even without a roof overhead, spending a bit of time on the bed can be a lifesaver.
Now that the ground's cooled down, I'll just put the greenery on top of it, and that bit of foam that I got out of the airplane, roll on top, and I will be toasty warm all night long.
It works really well when you do it right.
Just got to do it safely, 'cause otherwise, you burn yourself.
I did melt the bottom of my shoes.
There are places in the world where sleeping under the sky conjures up romantic images of watching shooting stars and breathing fresh, cool air.
The amazon jungle is not one of those places.
In fact, exposure here means something else entirely.
Ah! Hmm.
That's not working out so well.
On this night, sleeping out meant laying in this little dugout canoe knowing that there were bats that can lay on my face while I sleep and actually bite and get blood from me without waking me up.
Inches below me were the waters where 100-pound river otters with bad attitudes lurked, ready to defend their territory.
Here we go.
Night number one in the jungle.
Although sleeping out takes the least amount of energy, it's also the most dangerous.
Next is a step up from being completely exposed to the elements.
My number four survival shelter.
All right.
[ Grunts .]
Well This may not look very comfortable.
That's because it isn't, and night is coming in, and I don't want to get caught.
This big rock here, at least I'm out of the wind, and if it rains, I'm even out of the rain.
This is it.
This is where I've got to do my first night.
Oh.
Ooh, yeah.
This is gonna be fun.
The number four top survival shelter.
Finding a cave.
Caves can be cold and damp, and more often than not, the flooring is jagged and rough.
I've found them best for daytime escaping of the elements, but not so great for the nights.
But there are some exceptions, and one secret is remembering that rock itself is helpful in survival in that, if you can heat it up, it'll retain that heat and then give it back to you through the night.
Here in mexico, I found my most ideal cave ever.
Well, there's lots of caves.
I can spot them.
All sorts of little caves along here.
Good shelter from the sun.
Don't need it from the rain, but I don't think I'll go any further.
I do see a cave just over there.
I'm gonna go check out that cave.
That looks awesome.
I can get out of the sun, and it's close to some water.
That sounds like a shelter location to me.
In the desert, caves can be much more ideal than most other places, and often, right after searching for a good water supply, it's a cave that I'll go looking for.
Home, sweet home.
Fire, water boiling, good protection from the sun in the heat of the day.
Finding a cave is a very elusive thing in a survival situation.
When it happens, it's a stroke of luck based on the area I find myself lost in, and they're not always obvious.
Hidden in cracks and crevices on the sides of small hills, it can be a tight squeeze.
On the other hand, some of them you can drive a car into, but rarely are they warm and dry.
However, what's best about them is that they're usually, at the very least, the best place to get out of the wind, and of all the elements I have to deal with in nature, it's the wind that can be the toughest.
Everything stops when the wind blows hard, which is why even an ice cave can be a refuge.
This may look like a pretty cool shelter, and for one night, it'd be all right, you know? But you got to think about things like earth tremors, and the fact is, all around me are fallen pieces of rock.
So, maybe a one-night quickie shelter is fine, but this rock is really cold on my body, and I wouldn't want to be in here for a long time.
I think this cave is ready for an extreme makeover.
I don't have a lot of nerve when it comes to staying in caves.
I worry a lot about rocks fracturing and falling on me while I try to sleep out the night.
Here in utah, I made use of caves that had been used for hundreds of years, and in the not-too-distant past, were also the refuge for outlaws.
I've leveled out the floor inside here.
I've put up a rock wall and area for a fire on the inside here.
Then what I need to do is get a fire going in there and start to warm up the cave very gently, very slowly.
I knew once I got my fire going that I'd probably want a big one just to get some good coals first.
So, I thought I'd set my fire up in a little flat area there, get a big fire going, and I can transfer some coals over to here and start a small, low fire to help warm up the cave.
You got to be really careful.
This is a deadly situation.
It wouldn't take much to thermal crack this wall and have a cadillac-sized rock come crashing down on top of me.
And now just try to get a good night's sleep with that on your mind.
Fire rocks just blew up on me.
Sent big coals right into my bed and burned my finger trying to clear it out.
Oh, it's gonna feel a little strange sleeping in here.
I'm sure I'll be thinking about this rock over my head constantly.
Caves do, indeed, save me from a lot of effort when it comes to shelters.
Still, though, my next way to escape the elements can be achieved just about anywhere on the planet.
The world's forests can provide all that's needed to stay warm and dry in a survival ordeal, but it's never easy.
Stroud: It's been a long night.
Sleepless.
Reduced to 10 minutes, maybe 20 minutes at a time.
Waking up with the chills.
It's a brutal night like that when you're soaking wet, and you're stuck out in a shelter.
You've heard of the proverbial being stuck between a rock and a hard place? This is what it looks like.
My number three shelter -- bush shelters.
For me, a so-called bush shelter means any kind of shelter made from anything natural I can find in the wilderness -- from leaves and branches to trees and rocks, mud, and even snow and ice.
The secret is choosing a location close enough to all the materials.
I tuck in here, and just make myself a little quickie shelter, help me get through the night.
This is not gonna be anything fancy, just something quick to keep me out of the rain.
Jungles offer the advantage of soft trees and leaves to cut through, so with the right tool -- in this case, a machete -- I can gather what I need in fairly short order and get busy making the structure.
And the secret here is that all I really need is a roof.
With rains that come hard every day for six to ten hours, a roof is vital to survival.
Now, the beauty of what I'm doing here is this -- this greenery that I'm working with is really easy to work with.
And I've got probably a rain-tight shelter here.
It's amazing what you can do with a bit of nylon rope and a machete.
The classic lean-to style of shelter can work well, but it all comes down to available material, and here in the georgia swamp, there was plenty to work with.
This is the shelter so far.
I stuck a couple of forks in the ground and then tied supports across it.
Even tied the poles off, as well, at the top, stuck them in down at the earth at the bottom.
I started weaving them in from the bottom.
Just down the bottom, line, line, line, all the way up to the top to try and create a nice, little kind of shingled roof effect here.
No matter where I found myself, I quickly learned the secret of using the traditional bush methods of the original inhabitants of the area.
Knowing which types of trees or rocks would work best and ways of finding roots or vines for lashing often resulted in much better shelters.
They had to survive here year-round and all through their lives.
So the simple techniques I could learn from them would go a long way towards aiding in my own survival.
In the jungles around the world, the best-kept secret is palm leaves.
The edges of these are razor-sharp, so you've got to be really careful when you split them.
I'm just gonna put all of these palm leaves on here, just like shingles.
All right.
This is home.
These spruce boughs actually shed the rain really nicely.
I like to actually kind of poke the branches in so that they're nice and smooth like this.
You don't really have to.
You can just throw them on, but this way, all the rain sort of goes with the flow of the boughs.
There's no question that the secret to a good roof is the angle of the pitch.
The steeper it is, the better it'll shed rain.
Sometimes so much so, that I can keep a fire protected inside for my nighttime warmth.
Well, there's something I wasn't counting on.
While I left to get some more boughs and some more firewood, I came back, and all the underside of the tree roots here were on fire.
They were all -- there was flames coming up, and I had to quickly grab a rock and scrape them all down to put out the fire.
That's the last thing I want here, even though I want to be warm tonight.
That's not the kind of warm I'm talking about.
So, I'm gonna have to make use of some of the dirt that's here and pack this in and put some -- a bigger rock -- a couple of big rocks there to protect this whole underside from catching on fire again.
You got to remember that, man, what I'm making here is one big, gigantic tinder bundle.
Just staying alive can be dangerous.
In the very first season of filming "survivorman," I ventured to the far north, the canadian arctic.
It was truly the fulfillment of a lifelong ambition, and so it was only natural that I assumed I'd be able to make an igloo.
How hard could it be, I thought.
And to stay with my mandate of survival, I used only what I had handy from my tools, which in this case was some plastic from a broken down snowmobile.
But it became heartbreaking.
The process is so detailed that, without years of practice and training, there was no way I'd be able to just plop myself down in the arctic and make an igloo from scratch, whether my survival depended upon it or not.
[ Sighs .]
Well, folks, this is it.
I really thought that I'd put on the time-lapse and give you a work-of-art igloo.
But being that this is the first time I ever tried to make one, and according to the local inuit friend of mine, actually, sam omik, the snow is the worst type of snow to try to make an igloo with right now.
And then I just realized that I've been going all night.
I have no idea what time it is, although I'm sure it's close to morning already, and I'm exhausted.
Put all those factors together, and you got a crappy igloo.
[ Laughs .]
So, I'm gonna try and sleep.
Years later, I'd finally do the right thing and take the time to learn from the masters of arctic survival.
So, we're gonna head up and look for a good spot to find the right snow for our igloo.
The art of igloo making has not died with the inuit people.
It's still fairly strong and alive, but mostly with a slightly older crowd, and even my guy, chayte.
Mostly, if he can rely on a tent now, he does.
But still, hunters get caught out, still need to know how to do this, how to make an igloo.
I can expect to survive out here, so.
You like this spot? Snow is right? Yeah.
Good, let's get started.
Stroud: Brian, what did he tell you to cut? How are you cutting? Well we are going to cut this way Yeah? Just straight down? No.
Slight angle? So when you pick it up it won't get stuck It's like this and straight.
The first secret I learned about igloo making is that the hole that I cut the blocks out of will actually form the lower part of the inside of the igloo itself, saving me a lot of work.
Like so many other shelters, this can be an exhausting undertaking.
This is a lot warmer work than it might look like.
Pretty sweaty doing this.
They used to use bone saws, and then they went to regular steel saws that we have.
Now we switch to the wood saws.
Works perfect.
[ Grunts .]
Consistency of the snow is a lot like styrofoam.
Not very romantic, but that's what works.
Like any skill, the more you do it, the better you get at it, the faster you can do it, and with much greater ease.
But at first, the effort is great, and my adage of, "you sweat, you die," is never more important than in the high arctic.
There's far more detail in making an igloo than I could have imagined.
Each block is often reshaped and cut to size.
Each level of blocks is smoothed over on top and prepared to receive the next layer.
Each side of each snow block has a slight angle to it because, if it didn't, the cone shape would never form, and you'd be left only with a wall of snow and no roof.
This is a lot more extensive than the snow shelters we build in our driveways as kids.
You can see, there's still a lot of daylight.
That's all got to be filled in all the way around, but it's just a beautiful work of engineering.
Perfect.
Still cold in here, though.
Truth be told, if I never had to make a shelter, I'd be happy.
Which is why my next way of escaping the elements rates so high on my list.
It's not just wilderness travelers that find themselves in a survival situation.
Some of us can get lost just going from "a" to "b," but at least we're lost with a ready-made shelter.
The number-two top survival shelter -- your vehicle.
Sleeping in a vehicle is a huge advantage.
One thing about it, it has an air of familiarity that helps in a survival situation tremendously.
Usually the first thought in your mind is, "well, at least I can stay protected in the car.
" Ahh! See, here we go.
In the kalahari desert, the car is great for the night, but it's a sweat box during the day.
[ Engine stops .]
Aah! That's it.
When the sun goes down in the desert, it's instant relief.
That sun is relentless.
For me, I have to think about my priorities now.
First priority is just to get through this night in the back of a pickup truck.
At first, being able to stay inside my vehicle can be a huge advantage to survival.
There's nothing for me to do other than crawl inside and wait out the night, but I've got to be aware.
This comfort can be fleeting.
The secret is to always remember that, at this point, my vehicle is nothing more than a survival shelter, and sooner or later, I'll need to abandon it.
I'm sitting in here in the car, and it's blowing like crazy outside.
The wind is whipping by.
It's turned all gray and cloudy, and the snow is blowing off the trees.
I'm much better off inside the car.
In norway, while the wind howled outside, I could turn the heater on once in a while to take the chill off the cold air inside.
Another advantage.
But each time I did, I used up a little more gas, and sooner or later, the tank would run dry.
This is a far more common scenario around the world than you might think.
And eventually, the car begins to feel horribly claustrophobic and like a trap.
I find I have to turn the engine over about once every hour and a half, two hours just to take the chill out of the inside of the car and get another hour and a half sleep.
I think I get it now.
If I were 60 miles, 70 miles, or a few hours drive into a road like this with the wind blowing the way it is and the snow and only a pair of hikers, and my mind is thinking, "someone's gonna come along and plow this road," I wouldn't want to leave the vehicle, either.
You know those times when you get in your car when there's a winter storm on the outside? You just go, "oh, finally," when you're inside? Oh, that's times 100 when you're in a situation like this.
It's blizzarding out there at this point.
It's a whiteout.
Can't see across the fjord.
Wind's blowing.
Snow is blowing, and it's a bit of a wet snow.
I'm not going to keep starting the engine.
I haven't started it for quite a while because I've been moving around, so I'm warmed up.
There's no point in trying to be all cozy and comfortable.
I'll just start it up when I really, really desperately need to take the chill out of the inside.
I had no way of anticipating just how claustrophobic I would become being stuck in that car.
I could have gone outside anytime I wanted, but then it was cold and wet out there.
And even in this situation, I found myself wishing I could get this over with quick.
Like a survival shelter, once stuck inside a vehicle for long periods of time, there's no way to lie down, no way to stand up, no way to truly feel comfortable or myself again.
Even under a roof of metal and on a seat of cushion, it still becomes survival, and I still want out.
This isn't surviving.
This is just being trapped.
[ Sighs .]
I need to find a way to make a move, get out of here.
Or they'll be coming to haul this car away with a skeleton inside of it this spring.
Cars are not the only vehicle people have to survive in.
Pilots, too, are often faced with being broken down or otherwise stuck and stranded, and their first place of refuge is the plane.
First thing's first.
Got to get this thing tied down and secured for the night.
Wind starts coming in.
Even more so than a car, a plane can quickly become claustrophobic without any way to straighten legs or keep blood moving throughout my body.
Well, wind's still howling out there.
And I'm just gonna huddle in here inside the plane and try and get some sleep through the night.
Sleeping through the night.
That is, after all, the ultimate purpose of a shelter.
[ Laughs .]
I can see a cabin.
What's my favorite survival shelter? Something I don't have to build.
Something easy to get warm in.
Something I can cook food inside.
Somewhere that rescuers might think to look first.
And my number one top survival shelter -- a man-made shelter, ready to go.
You got to see this to believe it.
Check it out.
Hello! Hello! Hello! It's a big, old house, barn.
I don't see any signs.
I don't see any footprints.
Cut firewood.
You know what that means.
It means there's got to be a wood stove in here somewhere.
Finding cabins or cottages, or in this case, an actual house that I can break into, is a nice bonus, but it still has its own issues.
There's no food.
There's still no water, and no one can see me while I'm inside.
I think we found our trail.
In some places, like here in labrador, survival shelters are actually built and left entirely for the purpose of aiding people lost or stuck out in the wild.
Finding a dwelling like this takes out of the equation one of the most labor-intensive parts of survival -- shelter building.
And when they're meant for survival, they'll often come complete with wood stoves and firewood, and if I'm lucky, food supplies.
Sooner or later, I may still have to leave the security of a found dwelling.
The secret is to consider places like these to simply be base camp for continuing on in survival.
[ Laughs .]
I can see a cabin.
In fact, I see a couple of cabins.
What I'd really like now is to see some smoke coming out of a chimney.
Hello! Hello! Nothing.
Not even a dog barking.
Hello! I hope there's a wood stove, and these aren't just storage sheds.
These buildings look old, very old.
Probably the '30s or '40s.
But I know I'm gonna be in one of these buildings tonight, wood stove or not.
Huh.
That's the first building.
[ Grunts .]
Huh.
Well, that's a good little building.
Come in here if I have to.
I want to see where the tracks lead.
A compound out in the woods here.
I can't tell if the tracks are snowed over from this current snow, or they're just older.
Hello! I see firewood.
That's a good sign.
Hello! This is pretty sweet.
I think I hit the jackpot.
Check this out.
Look at this.
But this is -- this is a reality sometimes.
I always say, in a survival situation, you come across a cottage or a cabin, it's actually legal in most places to break in and not be charged with it if you're in a survival situation.
Obviously, they're norwegians.
And this place looks beautiful to me right now.
The snow's just coming down strong.
I'm gonna start a fire and get warmed up.
There's matches and candles, sleeping bag, beds, wood stove.
There's even a radio.
Oh, this is gonna feel so good.
It'll be getting dark very, very soon.
I couldn't be in a better place at this point.
The radio doesn't work, but the bed sure does.
I got this one coming to me.
A shelter is my refuge in a survival ordeal.
It's where I sleep, get warm, stay dry.
And in survival, it's always anything goes.
So if I've got to break and enter somewhere, well, it's better to be tried by 12 than carried by 6.
The ultimate goal in survival is not to build fancy log cabins or pretty bush shelters.
It's to go home.
Because your home, after all, is your greatest shelter.