In this day and age, you might be thinking a survival story is a waste of good literary space. After all, in the event of a forced landing, why wouldn’t you just use your helicopter’s satellite phone to call for help? With a sat phone and a GPS, you could easily call your ops manager, give him or her your position, and another helicopter could be sent to pick you up… right?

Sure, but let’s say for the sake of argument your engineer/mechanic used the phone the night before and forgot to charge it.

Okay, you respond, but aren’t most machines equipped with some form of satellite tracking system that would notify your ops manager when you were overdue? 

Yes, but what if that same engineer was doing a six-month inspection on the system, which incidentally happens to be with the calendar due date for your emergency locator transmitter, and pulled them out and sent them away for refurbishment?

The scenario continues: you encountered inclement weather heading home and deviated from your route to follow a river, hoping to reach your destination. It’s late fall, but because your engineer has not had the time to install your snow scoops, your engine snuffs out due to lack of air. It’s the worst day of your flying career, yet you manage to walk away from a hard landing.

Of course, now is not the time to be wondering what’s in your survival kit and whether you know how to use it. Nor is it the time to find out whether your survival kit is actually suited to your operating environment. Interestingly, these are thoughts rarely discussed among pilots and ops managers, and consequently this article could be a real eye-opener – even for engineers, who frequently follow ships to bush jobs (and aren’t really to blame for everything).

If you’re flying in a remote wilderness setting like Canada’s boreal forest, you owe it to yourself to take a winter survival course – there are numerous ones available. The course I attended was put on by Essential Helicopters/Canadore College in North Bay, Ont., which is about four hours north of Toronto in the lush wilderness of the Canadian Shield. The course is part of the curriculum at Canadore College, where I did my own flight training back in 2000-2001.

As mentioned in this issue’s Gadgets & Gear column (see p.100, Oct-Nov’10 Vertical), I found myself with a half-dozen sleeping bags and some winter parkas that I had to test out, so I thought this four-night “all inclusive” winter survival course would be the ideal setting. Elan Head, our adventurous editor-in-chief, volunteered to come along. To simulate an actual aircraft misfortune, we decided to arm ourselves only with what you’d typically find on board a helicopter during the winter season.

Now, most pilots I know always carry a sleeping bag, a personal backpack with a few essential survival tools, good warm clothes and perhaps a firearm. Most helicopters operating in the bush are also equipped with a first aid kit, and usually an axe and a bow saw. In every aircraft in Canada, you should also find a Transport Canada (TC) approved survival kit.

We had all of this, plus a few other things you’d find in a helicopter, such as aircraft maps, seat cushions, a limited quantity of jet fuel and winter covers. The key to survival is being resourceful and imaginative in finding ways to utilize all available resources.

Our first day was a full day of classroom instruction at the Canadore College aviation campus, located at the Jack Garland Airport in North Bay. Lead winter survival instructor Murray Doucette, an ex-Canadian-Forces officer who holds a helicopter pilot license, taught the classroom portion. Doucette taught us about such things as proper gear selection, different types of makeshift shelters, fire starting procedures and techniques, and proper time and energy management. One thing he emphasized was the order of survival priorities: 1) treat for first aid if necessary; 2) prepare some form of shelter; 3) start a fire; 4) provide for water; and 5) think about food.

To help simulate our aircraft-down scenario, I had procured a TC-certified four-day/seven-person survival kit from Braidner Survival Kits of Vancouver, B.C. Braidner general manager Andy Nieman provided the kit for testing purposes, with the understanding that it was designed to meet TC requirements and that, in today’s technologically advanced world, few people would not be forced to rely on it for more than a day or two.

The Braidner kit (see sidebar) was the kind you’d typically find aboard a light, single-engine helicopter like an AStar or LongRanger. It came in a nice, bright-yellow, hard plastic case and presumably contained everything we would need for a couple of days. However, upon having a really good look at this kit over our lunch break, Head and I decided it might not be a bad idea to have a few back-up supplies with us – mainly some actual food. After the end of our very intense day of classroom instruction, we did a bit of shopping, then it was off to our respective motels for a good night’s rest and a last check of our equipment.

The class reconvened at 7 a.m. at the aviation campus, where we were given a GPS and our marching orders -the latitude and longitude of our individual survival campsites. Then, we were driven 45 minutes into a rural area and dropped off. We were told that our gear (which, in my case, included a pick-up truck’s worth of products for field testing) would be waiting for us in camp.

TentPak Systems of Burley, Idaho, had supplied me with a backpack-tent combo to try out (see sidebar), so I filled it with a couple of water bottles and the survival kit. Then, off we went, strapped firmly into our snowshoes. As the weather was still relatively moderate, 25 degrees Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius), the accompanying rain and mist made for a very gruesome and tiring trek – I think I lost 10 pounds on this hike!

The long exercise was an eye-opener, though. It taught us that you might have to be quick when setting up your camp if your misfortune happens close to nightfall. It also reminded us that you might already be exhausted when you build that shelter if you’ve already been doing physical labor all day.

Sticking to our downed-aircraft scenario, we made an improvised lean-to shelter out of spruce and pine boughs and the tarp from the survival kit. We laid down about a foot of spruce and pine boughs inside the shelter to insulate us from the frozen ground and act as a bed (it’s more comfortable than you might think).

Next, we gathered some “dry” wood for our fire and started melting snow for our gourmet dinner: a few bouillon cubes and some macaroni pasta, followed by some delicious coffee and hot chocolate. While Head claimed our heaviest-duty sleeping bag and the lean-to, I decided to try out the TentPak tent – and it was comforting to have a tent with snow coming down for a good portion of the night. It took me about 14.6 seconds to fall asleep after this long day.

I was awoken by some of the other survival students foraging for firewood near our camp. Once out of the sleeping bag, I got into my Canada Goose parka and matching pants – which are kind of like a warm, mobile sleeping bag.

Getting a fire started was a breeze, we used some old visual navigation charts and a cup of jet fuel (things you’d be able to scavenge from your aircraft). Next, Head and I worked as a team to make our campsite more enjoyable and find dry wood to burn.

During the course of the day, we were treated to a visit from local trapper Dave Simpson, who showed us how to set snares for rabbits and small mammals, and how to clean and prepare your catch for consumption. “Trapper Dave” as we came to know him, also shared some useful tips regarding gear to have with you in the backcountry. First, he recommended a good quality multi-tool (see p.120, Vertical, April-May 2010). Next, he suggested carrying a large, orange, Glad-type garbage bag that can serve as an improvised rain poncho and as a highly visible signal for search-and-rescue crews. Lastly, he suggested snare wire – which is not only good for creating snares, but binding anything together, such as the vertical poles of a lean-to shelter.

After this informative session, the students were sent back to the business of surviving. Head and I, meanwhile, made the rounds of the survival camps with Doucette and Dave Ross, one of Essential’s flight instructors. They took us visiting in their Argo amphibious all-terrain vehicle. At each camp, we were welcomed with open arms and usually offered tea or coffee. I was quite surprised at how much innovative thinking went into some students’ survival shelters. Some of the lean-tos even had working doors and were completely closed off from the elements, except for the holes that served as chimneys.

Finally, Head and I went back to our campsite to enjoy another fine meal of noodles and bouillon cubes, with some granola and chocolate for desert, and a cup of hot cocoa to take with us to visit instructors Doucette, Lavern and Dave Ross, and Chuck Hodgkinson. Seeing these four enjoying a nice steak dinner and a roaring wood stove really made us envious, so, before we gave in to the temptation to join them, we headed back to our lean-to.

The “outside” temperature when we headed to bed was a balmy 6 F (21 C). Once again, sleep came very easily.

As the sun rose on the fourth day, it began to get quite cold and windy. My sleeping bag performed flawlessly, and I really didn’t want to get out of it, but managed to drag myself out and into another winter parka I was testing. This great parka from Helly Hansen, with its matching pants, got me warm in minutes, and I was quickly up and at ’em, cutting and splitting firewood for the day ahead.

Soon, we were visited by Doucette, who said he was surprised to see us doing so well, considering Head is from New Mexico and I’m a “crazy Frenchman.” He offered us some hot coffee, and I couldn’t help but think that by this point surely Canadian Forces Base Trenton’s search and rescue squadron could have done an airdrop of supplies if the weather was still too bad for another helicopter to rescue us. So I caved in and had some coffee.

After Doucette’s departure, we decided to try the “food” in the survival kit. This consisted of a mixture of wheat flour, sugar, vegetable shortening, salt and coconut. What we came to call “bush candy,” can best be described as tasting like coconut-flavored sawdust.

After recuperating from this meal ordeal, we were all brought together for another lesson, this time on signaling passing aircraft. We learned how to construct teepee frames and attach pine and spruce boughs to create smoke. (The frames have a platform that is heaped with birch bark to ignite the fire.) We were also shown pyrotechnic flares, how to properly use a signaling mirror and various international signs for distress.

Before calling it a day, Lavern Ross gave us some good news: since everyone was doing so well and all the lessons had been covered, he had decided to end the training a day early. While that meant we would only have to face one more night in the cold, it was the one that gave the sleeping bags a run for their money – the temperature plummeted to 24 F (31 C) that night.

With the last bone-chilling night behind us, we awoke to bright sunshine, the sound of chirping birds and the smell of smoke from nearby fires. My sleeping bag performed beyond all expectations and I really didn’t want to exit it at this point – with the temperature still hovering around 17 F (24 C). But with my pick-up truck waiting for me and my hot tub at home calling my name, into the Canada Goose parka I went.

Head and I had a quick cup of hot chocolate and then put out the fire and packed up our gear. Essential Helicopters had brought a JetRanger out for emergency evacuations – so Head bummed a flight back with Dave Ross while I got stuck hauling all the gear out.

Back at the staging area, my truck, which had spent four days unplugged in the frigid cold, squeaked and moaned and finally came to life with the last few cranking amps left in its battery. After saying our farewells, the great instructors at Essential and I parted ways.

With the heater in my truck blowing full hot, I drove back to my home in Timmins, Ont., already thinking about what gadgets and gear I would be bringing with me to the course in 2011.

I’m not going to lecture you on the benefits of a winter survival course, they should already be apparent. What I will say is that if you’re going to do any amount of remote helicopter flying – in the cold regions of the Arctic or the warm humid climes of the Amazon rainforest – you owe it to yourself and your passengers to be prepared for the worst. If you find yourself in a survival situation, you’ll be forever grateful you know what to do.

I’d like to thank the staff at Essential Helicopters, including Elaine and Lavern Ross, Dave Ross, and Chuck Hodgkinson, with a special thanks to Murray Doucette. I usually end Gadgets & Gear with “Fly safe and keep the shiny side up,” but here I’ll say, “Remember the snow always falls to the east,” but don’t take this literally.

Vertical Magazine and I are dedicating this article to the memory of two young pilots who lost their lives this summer on the way to their first job as commercial helicopter pilots. On July 23, John Tumchewics, age 21, of Yellowknife, NWT, and Ethan Boucha, age 19, from the Rat Portage First Nation Reserve near Kenora, Ont., were en route to give helicopter rides at a festival in Kapuskasing, Ont. In marginal visual flight rules conditions, their helicopter struck an unmarked, unlit fire lookout tower that had been converted to a communications tower in Ontario’s Elk Lake region. Our deepest sympathies and condolences go out to the Boucha and Tumchewics families. The void in the skies will never be filled.

When I received a call from Mike Bench of TentPak Systems asking Vertical to test out his innovative tent/backpack combo, I couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be up to the challenge of a winter survival expedition. I was wrong.

What makes the TentPak system innovative is that the tent is part of the bag. If you were to go out and buy a quality, four-season, two-person tent and a 60-liter (2.1-cubic-foot) capacity backpack, you’d spend around $500 US. The TentPak Adrenaline 60 sells for $260. It’s a grab-and-go design, which means it would be ideal for survival and emergency situations.

The TentPak system uses products from High Peak (Simex Sport) to manufacture its system, and all materials have a limited lifetime warranty against manufacturers’ defects. There are seven models to choose from, which you can only buy factory direct (www.tentpak.com). I liked the TentPak Adrenaline 60 so much I decided to purchase my test sample to carry in the helicopter. It makes for a real quick shelter in a hurry and has ample room for other survival gear. The TentPak Adrenaline 60 gets five stars from me. Nick Gagnon