Revisiting this raw conversation from Apr. 5 2022 feels like unearthing a time capsule from a very specific cultural moment. The world was just beginning to stretch its legs again and the collective hunger for travel adventure and genuine escape was ravenous. Into that void stepped Josh Gates, a figure who had already built a career on vicarious exploration but whose stock had skyrocketed during a period of global confinement. He wasn't just a TV host anymore; he was a portal.
Every adventurer needs a trademark and for Gates it’s the hat. But looking back at his thoughts on it reveals something deeper than a simple branding choice. It’s a knowing nod to the Indiana Jones archetype that looms over the entire field of archaeology, an icon so potent it spooks the very people it represents. “When you go out in the field and work with archaeologists, they're always sort of afraid to wear that hat because they always think they're gonna look like a poser,” Gates explains. “They're out there in the sun. They're under the baking heat. They're doing the work and they're afraid of the hat.”
And so Gates settled on his own distinct outback style, a rugged companion that became as much a part of the show as the mysteries themselves. He even lamented its recent demise. “The one that I had for many years has finally died its death,” he says. “It was so beat up and just broken that, finally, it just looked horrible.” The search for a replacement was on, a micro-expedition running in parallel to his televised ones. It’s a perfectly humanizing detail for a man who spends his life chasing legends.
This conversation underscores that the true engine of Expedition Unknown was never just about finding a lost artifact. It was about bottling the feeling of a place. Gates was adamant about avoiding a sterile mission-first approach. He wanted the texture, the grit, the flavour. “We wanna feel a taste of the country and the place that we're at and have a little geography and a little culture in the show,” he says. That philosophy is precisely why the series connected so deeply. It wasn't just a history lesson; it was sensory immersion.
For our corner of the world, the Canadian angle was particularly revealing. When faced with the blunt question of whether he secretly disliked his northern neighbours, he was both diplomatic and genuinely effusive. He recalled hosting his old Sci Fi channel show Destination Truth and being invited to the Vancouver Olympics. “It was just the most magical experience and I truly fell in love with Canada,” he recalls. “I fell in love with Vancouver and British Columbia.”
But he didn't stop there. He immediately pivoted to the other side of the country, connecting his personal history to the landscape. “We're going to Newfoundland for the first time, a place I had never been to before, but I have roots there. I have family that are Newfoundlanders,” Gates says. “So how could I hate Canada? I'm—it's in my DNA.” It was a masterful answer that felt less like a media-trained soundbite and more like a genuine appreciation for the country's vastness and diversity.
At the time of this interview, he was preparing for a live show at Detroit's Masonic Temple Theatre, a stone's throw from our Windsor readership. He framed these live events as a crucial extension of the show’s ethos. “I kind of liken it to a good kinda campfire evening of gathering around and telling stories,” he says. It was about closing the loop, turning the one-way broadcast into a two-way conversation, sharing tales that didn't make the final cut and connecting with the audience that kept him on the road more than 200 days a year.
That audience had grown exponentially during the pandemic, a fact Gates was acutely aware of. The phenomenon was so pronounced it even reached the ears of Norwegian rock royalty. He loved the story of Ronni Le Tekrø from the band TNT who became so addicted to the show during lockdown that he named his new album Bigfoot TV. “A lot of people who've been at home have been yearning for a way to travel, a way to push outside of their boundaries of their living room,” Gates notes. “And it's been really heartening to experience that.”
When you go out in the field and work with archaeologists they're always sort of afraid to wear that hat because they always think they're gonna look like a poser. They're out there in the sun. They're under the baking heat. They're doing the work and they're afraid of the hat.
The pandemic also forced him to innovate. Grounded for the first time in 15 years, he launched Josh Gates Tonight, a talk show that kept him connected to his base in a completely new format. It was a savvy move that showcased his versatility, proving he was more than just an explorer. He was a natural communicator, a storyteller who could find an audience whether he was in a forgotten tomb or a studio chair talking to celebrities over Zoom.
Of course, the central critique of Expedition Unknown has always been that the primary 'mission' often ends in a respectful dead end. They don't always find object x. But Gates’s defense of this formula is the entire point. The goal isn’t necessarily the destination but the quality of the journey and the people you meet along the way. “The goal can't be to dig up object x,” he states plainly. “If object x is the holy grail, you're doomed.”
Instead, the show’s success is measured in ancillary discoveries and the inspiration it sparks. He points to an episode where they were searching for a Maya king’s tomb. They didn't find that specific ruler, but they did uncover another incredible Maya burial and used LiDAR scanning to reveal an entire pyramid previously hidden by the jungle. “I mean, that's a big win in my book,” he says with infectious enthusiasm. “Like, who finds a pyramid? What a thrill to be on hand for that discovery.”
His reverence for these moments is palpable, especially when he talks about El Mirador, a remote pre-classic Maya site in Northern Guatemala. Getting there requires a 30-minute helicopter flight over endless jungle. What you find is a landscape of mounds and hills, each one a pyramid or temple yet to be excavated. “This place has roughly the square footage of the size of Los Angeles. And there are thousands of buildings that nobody's ever seen,” he marvels. For Gates, places like El Mirador are the ultimate rebuttal to the modern cynicism that there’s nothing left to find.
That sense of wonder is something he learned from the experts he profiles, like Maya epigrapher and linguist Stanley Guenter. Gates describes being in a museum with Guenter who could read ancient glyphs as easily as a modern newspaper. Guenter’s passion started when he was 10, reading a National Geographic article about undeciphered Maya script. “He said, ‘One day I'm gonna be the guy who can read those.’ And he did,” Gates says. “For me, that's like my secret wish is that there's gonna be some 10-year-old kid out there who goes to find object x.”
Perhaps the most surreal pop culture collision in his career was taking a 90-year-old William Shatner shark diving in The Bahamas for a Shark Week special. The story is pure gold. “We were like, ‘You know, he's 90 years old. I don't know if he's gonna wanna go shark diving,’ ” Gates recounts. But Shatner’s team confirmed immediately. “Yep. Bill would love to do it. Wants to go diving.” Gates spent a week with the icon and came away deeply impressed. “He is a guy who is genuinely curious. He came shark diving with me because he'd never done it... He is so game for adventure at any age because that's what keeps him young.”
That spirit of fun is baked into Gates’s own DNA. He admits to being the class clown in high school, discovering the power of making people laugh. That comedic timing and penchant for a terrible pun is what makes the dense history in his shows so digestible. He’s not a stuffy academic; he’s an enthusiast inviting you along for the ride and he's not afraid to be a goofball while doing it.
In 2022, he found an entirely new and unexpected stage for that humour: TikTok. He started posting short videos of himself reacting to ludicrous answers on game shows like Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. The clips exploded. “It had 50 more times more views than anything else I'd ever posted,” he says, bewildered. “My following on TikTok has like quadrupled in a month... I guess that's it for me now. I'm gonna hang up the adventure hat and just make fun of game show fails.”
While his persona is front and centre, he’s also made a conscious effort to pull back the curtain and show the team that makes the magic happen. He learned from Destination Truth that audiences love seeing the crew, the shared hardships and the behind-the-scenes chaos. When a camera operator slips in the mud or a sound guy gets drenched, it makes the whole experience more authentic, more relatable. “Suddenly it's like, ‘Oh, I'm there. Like, I see the whole thing now. I'm not just seeing one side of it.’ ”
And the risks are very real. This isn't a soundstage. He recounts a harrowing flight in Romania where the roof of the airplane he was in ripped off mid-flight. “I always say, ‘If you're in a plane and then suddenly you're outdoors, something's gone wrong with your flight,’ ” he says with the dark humour of someone who has cheated death a few times. It’s a stark reminder that beneath the jokes and thrilling discoveries lies a profession with incredibly high stakes.
Ultimately, this conversation captures a host at the peak of his powers, perfectly aligned with the cultural zeitgeist. Josh Gates became the ideal guide for a world relearning how to explore. He blends the gravitas of a historian with the wit of a comedian and the relentless curiosity of a true adventurer. He sells not just a location but the very possibility of mystery itself, a commodity more precious than any golden idol.
519 Magazine Archive: We are thrilled to officially unearth the 519 Magazine Digital Vault. This isn't just a re-post; it's a high-fidelity restoration of a pivotal era in music journalism. By pairing original print dates with modern retrospectives, we’re bridging the gap between historical rock-and-roll grit and the lightning-fast performance of today’s web. These stories—once locked in physical print and lost URLs—are now back, fully searchable, and optimized for a new generation of fans.
We are thrilled to officially unearth the 519 Magazine Digital Vault. This isn't just a re-post; it's a high-fidelity restoration of a pivotal era in music journalism. By pairing original print dates with modern retrospectives, we're bridging the gap between historical rock-and-roll grit and the lightning-fast performance of today's web. These stories—once locked in physical print and lost URLs—are now back, fully searchable, and optimized for a new generation of fans.
