The old Doctor had refused the weapons. Really, he was an old man (even if by Gallifreyan standards he could still be considered a youth), how would he even manage a knife? It was too big and unweildy for him to trust himself with it for smaller things. The gun would've been easier, but he remained firm in his refusal until they gave in. The rest he took, slinging the pack over his shoulder. At least they didn't expect him to carry a tent; he was already concerned with his ability to keep up with the rest of the group with what he did have to carry.

He followed the others out of the cave, toying with the compass and, once the sun hit, was glad of his tendancy to dress more conservatively. Once he caught a proper view of the terrain, well. He'd seen similar, and simply shrugged off the desolation, getting his bearings easily enough with that compass. "This will come in handy, won't it?" he commented to himself, a smug smile forming across his lips.

Hearing Gabriel's comment, the Doctor glanced over and approached the man, brow quirked with obvious curiosity. Gabriel wasn't one for books, so unless the man had caught pictures of the place elsewhere... "How is it supposed to look?" he asked.