Thank you, Morgoth. My point exactly.
The one time I was actually lost in the woods, a GPS would have been of more use to me than all the knives mentioned in this thread put together. This was long before the civilian version of GPS was available, and yes, I had a compass, and yes, I knew how to use it. But I was hunting, not orienteering. These days, if I'm out of sight of the car, I have my GPS.
As has been mentioned, getting lost in the woods could mean a lot of different things, but I will suggest some things it's likely to mean. You are tired. You are thirsty and probably hungry. You were planning on being back at camp, or your truck, before long, but it isn't happening. You are dazed and confused, trying to figure out how it is that just a few minutes ago you were having a grand time doing whatever it was you came to the woods to do, and now two and two don't make four and you're not where you thought you were, and the day is getting on. Getting lost doesn't just happen to you, it's something you do to yourself, as you suddenly discover, and so you're at least a little annoyed at yourself and, truth be told, more than a little nervous.
Now, the standard fantasy calls for our intrepid woodsman to draw his trusty blade and provide himself with a modest but snug log cabin, a few pieces of rustic furniture, a bow and a dozen or so arrows, a spear for fishing, and a half cord of fire wood. By mid-afternoon. Then the only decision that confronts him is trout or venison for dinner, after which he will settle down in his bed, nicely tired from his labors, and fall asleep congratulating himself on his selection of the perfect blade for this "survival" chore.
Bull.
The reality is that our intrepid woodsman is distracted to no end, not to say scared sh**less. The last thing he needs to do is "make chips fly." Even if he were inclined to do this, it would be stupid of him. He needs to conserve energy, not waste it.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I posted the reference to Aron Ralston and his ordeal to make a point. Young Mr. Ralston had a hell of a job to do, and he did it, not with some megablade costing hundreds of dollars but with a no-name cheapo multitool blade that nobody who posts on this site would be caught dead with (perhaps that's an unfortunate turn of phrase), that was DULLED by his own attempt to free himself. Yet he did it. The moral of the story is, a sharp mind and a dull blade beats a dull mind and a sharp blade every time.