Inside it's warmer - there are a trio of bunk beds, some drawers and a table. No answer, but I try the door and it's unlocked.

Loping down the hill, I knock on the door of the first trailer. Downhill a little are some trailers - perhaps there's someone there that I can speak to. I've no idea how long I've been unconscious, but the sky is a bright orange so it must be either dawn or dusk. I'm unhurt - my parachute is tangled in the trees above but a snowdrift broke my fall to the ground. Now I'm somewhere in the Canadian wildernerness in the worst possible state for a cartographer to be. In vain, the pilot hunted for a safe landing site, but when the fuel ran low we were forced out of the door with a few basic survival supplies and a parachute. But while in flight, the anomaly grew larger and the plane's navigation systems failed. My skills were needed to map the affected area - I've been a cartographer for fifteen years. I was on a plane - a plane flying into the far north of Canada to study an odd geomagnetic anomaly that had appeared close to the magnetic pole.

But no, after a few seconds the whiteness fades into shapes. What is this place? Am I dead? If I'd known that heaven would have been this chilly, I'd have brought a thicker jumper. I open my eyes, and I'm blinded by bright light from all directions. The first sensation is one of bone-chilling cold. We sent Duncan Geere to explore its icy landscapes for Survival Week, and he came back with a tale of a single day in the life of a lost cartographer, trying to map the wilderness as it slowly kills him. The northern parts of Canada portrayed in early-access survival adventure The Long Dark, that is.

The long dark logging camp trailer key