Seventy-one million Americans enter the wilderness each year - and an increasing number of them can't find their way back out. Staying alive requires more than starting a fire without matches. To survive, you must break the enemy within.

Anyone can get lost. But surprisingly few of us are genuinely prepared to live through the experience.

The late William G. Syrotuck was one of the first search-and-rescue (SAR) experts to conduct systematic research on the behavior of people who become lost in the wilderness. Syrotuck analyzed a group of 229 search-and-rescue cases (of which 11 percent had ended in fatalities) and concluded that almost three-quarters of those who died perished (generally from hypothermia) within the first 48 hours of becoming lost. As sketchy as these figures may be, they suggest that those who die do so surprisingly quickly. But no one knows what the odds are that a particular individual will survive an episode of being lost.

In fact, the more I investigated the subject of survival, the more I was struck by how little research has been done on the topic. The few statistics that do exist show that growing numbers of people are taking a wrong turn in the wilderness and end up in a full-blown battle for survival.

In 1995, SAR teams responded to 3,725 incidents in the National Park System. By the year 2000, that number had risen 31 percent, to 4,869. One reason is the boom in outdoor recreation. Between 1994 and 2000, the number of American adults who participated in adventure activities (including hiking, backpacking, rock climbing, and off-road driving) increased by 55 percent. In 1999, some 44 million people went mountain biking 23 million went backpacking. Almost 71 million people visited wilderness or primitive areas.

Another reason for the increase in the number of SAR incidents is technology: ATVs, snowmobiles, mountain bikes, and fat skis are carrying relatively inexperienced people deeper into the wilderness than ever before. All it takes is the malfunction of a minor part to turn a 30-minute ride into a three-day walk.

In Rocky Mountain National Park alone there were one hundred SAR operations last year, and six involved fatalities.

It's easy to get lost. I've asked people on the trail with me to point out where they are on a map at any given moment and they are usually wrong. Whenever you start looking at your map and saying something like 'Well, that lake could have dried up' or 'That boulder could have moved,' a red light should go off. You're trying to make reality conform to your expectations rather than seeing what's there. In the sport of orienteering, they call that bending the map.

There are five general stages for being lost:

1. You deny that you're disoriented and press on with growing urgency.
2. You admit you're lost, you begin to panic.
3. You calm down and form a strategy.
4. You deteriorate both mentally and physically as your strategy fails to get you out.
5. You become resigned to your plight as you run out of options.

So, you got yourself lost and are verging on panic. Taking things one step at a time is the essence of modern survival technique. A survival situation is like a ticking clock. You have only so much water, so much energy, so much emotion stored inside you. Every time you exert yourself, you're using them up. The heart of survival teaching is learning to be stingy with those scarce resources. What should you do:

1. STOP: Stop. Think. Observe. Plan. Fight panic by taking things slow. Have a positive mental attitude. Be a leader, not a victim.
2. First Aid: Urgent medical needs are your first priority.
3. Shelter: Staying dry and comfortable will help you think more clearly.
4. Fire: Good for warmth, visibility, and feeling secure.
5. Signaling: Get audible (use your whistle) and visible (mirror, smoke, bright colors).
6. Water: Important, but don't sweat away more that you can find.
7. Food: Worry about this only when everything else is under control.  

The question to stay put or go back is not a trivial one. If I was ever faced with that decision, I like to think I would remember first to sit down and quiet my mind. I would make sure that I was rested, fed, and hydrated. I would go back over my actions to see if they fit the pattern of denial, panic, strategy, and so on. And only then, I hope, would I consider trying to backtrack. I would try to mark my trail as visibly as possible. 

That life-and-death decision could be the most difficult one you might ever face, and you would be forced to make it at a time when your own mind is deeply unreliable. Think about it: If your predicament begins with an inability to interpret information correctly, how can you trust yourself? Therein lies the Zen paradox of survival.

Rarely do we take true responsibility for our actions. We live in a culture of lifeguards, of insurance and lawsuits, where someone else is always responsible and someone else is always to blame. But take one wrong turn in the woods (or, more aptly, in the mind), and we go directly to the Stone Age. With our survival at stake, we're suddenly called to account for the long arrears of our inattention. Then it's up to us to find our place in that Stone Age.