Alaskan survival

A guy from my city decided to head into the Alaskan wilderness. It did not go well.
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Bruised, exhausted, and nursing a broken arm, Robert Faber started to write his will.
The 39-year-old Toronto man thought about his parents. He wrote that he loved them. He told his brother that he would miss his friendship. He said goodbye to his nephews. He scratched the words on the only piece of paper he had — his map. And then he prepared to die.
Trapped in Denali National Park and Preserve in the Alaskan wilderness, Faber had injured his back after falling more than 20 feet the day before. It was so cold during the night that his body had been covered in a white layer of frost. His lips were parched. He considered just drifting off to sleep and never waking up.
After his rescue and eventual return to Toronto, Faber is still trying to digest the events of last month. His arm is in a sling, but it is healing.
"I really learned about the importance of family and friends, the kind of awful impact that you can have on the lives of others because of the decisions you make," says Faber. "I was so lucky in so many ways."
Denali was made famous by the book Into The Wild, about the adventures of 24-year-old Christopher McCandless. The Virginia man died after abandoning his worldly possessions and hiking through Alaskan tundra. His journey fuelled another generation to see the state as a kind of giant, glorious Walden Pond.
Faber would be rescued on Sept. 5, on the eve of the 17th anniversary of McCandless's body being found in an abandoned school bus at the edge of the park, He was within 40 kilometres of the now famous icon for the No Logo set.
With one of his last few matches, Faber set a small birch tree on fire. It immediately ignited. He rolled out of the way as the forest started to smoke.
At the same time, National Park Service rangers were in a helicopter after returning from a moose poaching investigation. Within the hour, Faber could hear the distant hum of a chopper. His heart beat faster. He started to wave his yellow jacket with his good arm.
After two attempts, the helicopter landed beside him and the encroaching fire.
The pilot shouted at him to beware of the blades. He stayed where he was. Two rangers retrieved him. Trying to sit inside the chopper proved excruciating, but he was ecstatic. He was alive.
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about starting the fire," he blurted out.
The paramedic asked him how he felt. Faber wanted to give him the thumbs up, but he saw the thick pillows of smoke below and felt elated and sad at the same time.
Over the headphones, the pilot radioed that two acres were covered with visible flames. Four acres would eventually go up in smoke.
Before he left on his trip, most of his friends would ask Faber if he had read Into the Wild. He had, many years before, but he would later be embarrassed by the comparisons to McCandless.
"I think he was just a very mixed up confused kid. He was this anti-social personality that burned all his money to prove a point," he said. "I really didn't see myself in him."
Faber was a risk taker, but felt he was taking a calculated risk. His nurse friend gave him a refresher course on first aid. He went to Mountain Equipment Co-op in downtown Toronto to brush up on map reading, and he had traveled solo before.
Once out in the bush, Faber soon realized how tough the conditions were. This was Jack London's Alaska, beautiful, severe and unforgiving. It rained virtually every day for the seven days he was outside. In the mornings, it snowed.
Returning back to the camp welcome centre at the end of the week, he applied for a second weeklong permit. The park guide told him about a favourite trail. Faber decided to take it.
On the third day, he started his hike at 6:30 a.m. It had been a full moon and there were no trails to follow. He had to trust his map.
He followed the path suggested by the park guide, taking the south side going down, not the north.
The path consisted of loose stone and a steep drop. He measured it with his compass. It was on a 50-degree slope.
As he progressed, the path became more and more difficult to manouvere. He soon realized it was the wrong exit, but he was already a quarter of the way down. He had taken the north descent.
Soon he arrived at an impasse. He could go through a waterfall, a steep shelf with loose shale on the left, or a deep cliff with rougher stone on the right. There was a bulge in the rock he thought he could grab on to. He went right.
To this point he had been calm and unafraid, but now he was gripped by anxiety.
On the third try, he reached for a rock ledge and slipped, plummeting 20 feet. He landed in the fetal position.
He opened his eyes. He could see his hat and water bottle. He thought he was in a dream.
He reached out to get his bag, and excruciating pain shot through his arm. With 65 pounds of gear, he realized he wouldn't be able to lift it.
He took out a raincoat, a vest, a lighter and matches. Cutting through a nylon rain cover, he fashioned a sling. He put his cap back on and picked up a ski pole to support himself.
He took a picture of where he fell and noted that it was Sept. 4 at 6:30 p.m. The food was too heavy in the bear-proof container, so he left it behind.
For the next 12 hours, he would hike through the night under a full moon. The tundra was tough. His legs would be bruised from bumping into gnarly brush. His sling would get caught in branches, causing an intense blast of pain.
Somewhere he lost his water bottle. His shoelaces became untied, but he couldn't reach down to tie them.
Worried that he had a concussion, he kept himself awake by singing 80's tunes. He stopped once and closed his eyes briefly. His teeth started to chatter.
He got up and moved on. At daybreak, he started to realize how injured he was when he could barely stand after sitting down.
By noon, he was exhausted and dehydrated. He licked leaves to get water.
And then he thought of the unthinkable. He decided to light a fire.
"It was a tough decision. I didn't think I was going to make it," says Faber. "But it was my last hope."

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"The monkeys are throwing stuff at me again."
-Survivorman in Costa Rica

wow,good story and thats exactly how quick things can go wrong scary stuff

Good find BR Cool

A great tail of how a person that thinks " Nah ! it cant be that tough ! ?? .... can it Shocked

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A Knifeless Man is a Lifeless Man
Canadian To The Core
Carry Less by Knowing More
Knowledge Weighs Nothing

Wow, great story. Cool

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Using dial-up is like riding a tricycle at Indy.

Faber seems to be an experienced outdoorsman who knows how to use a map and compass. Yet he found himself going down the north side of a hill when he knew he must go down the south side. It just goes to show us that even a competent hiker can make a mistake.

Here is a photo of him being airlifted out in a helicopter:

And here is a photo of the fire he started to draw attention to himself:

And here are 2 excerpts from a slightly longer account in today's paper:
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As a graphic designer at architectural firm KPMB, the lanky and articulate Faber,
who is half-German and half-Chinese, looks more urban-hipster than backpacking
hippie. He rides a Ducati. He sports Prada sunglasses. But he is most at peace
when alone with a tent and a compass.
Unlike McCandless, Faber had not renounced materialism before heading into the
wilderness. And the experienced outdoorsman once spent four months in a tent
with his older brother, living off the land.
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On his first day he saw moose. Giant, beautiful animals, they could also be deadly.
He stayed away, but admired the perfect vistas. And there was an advantage to
travelling alone: He was so quiet, he blended in with the environment.
One morning he awakened to find himself surrounded by a herd of caribou. On his
second day, he encountered a bear. On the third day, he started hiking at 6:30 a.m.
There were no trails to follow. He had to trust his map.
The day was gorgeous. The damp had lifted. Climbing up a path, he decided to have
lunch. Below were dozens of white Dall sheep with their distinctive, curved horns.
He reached the hilltop and could see pristine glaciers melting below.
He continued on the path suggested by the guide, who had told him to take the south
side going down.
The path consisted of loose stone and a steep drop. On his compass, he measured
a 50-degree slope. He started his descent, but something didn't feel right. As he
progressed, the path became more and more difficult to manoeuvre. He soon realized
he had taken the wrong exit, but he was already a quarter way down. He was on the north descent.
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"The monkeys are throwing stuff at me again."
-Survivorman in Costa Rica