DesoLIT: Tearing up the Silk Road

Tearing up the Silk Road: A modern journey from China to Istanbul, through Central Asia, Iran, and the Caucasus was written by Tom Coote, who provided an excerpt from his book as a guest blog post on this site. His book can be purchased through Amazon by clicking here (here for Kindle) or on the image below. Tom can be reached at tom@tomcoote.net, and his website is www.tomcoote.net. The review below is by Desolation Travel's Jane Keeler. 

Author Tom Coote had 9 weeks of freedom left before returning to the UK and the daily humdrum of working life. He was returning to the UK from East Asia, and decided to make the trip home by land along the route of the old Silk Road, taking only public transportation. As anyone who has traveled in that part of the world knows, doing something like that in nine weeks is a daunting task - especially if one wants to see something of the countries one is passing through. Coote did an admirable job of it, making it to China, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Iran, Armenia, Georgia, and Turkey during his whirlwind trip. As someone who used to live in Kyrgyzstan, I was disappointed that he didn't make it to my favorite 'stan due to his arrival at the border during the time of the 2010 Kyrgyz revolution - although surely had he offered the border guard a large enough bribe he could have gotten in!

As Coote only has a short amount of time to spend in each location, he is only able to give the reader a superficial glance into the cities, towns, peoples, and cultures he encounters along the way. That being said he does give a good description of the realities facing travelers along the Silk Road, from difficulties arranging transportation or finding adequate lodging, to the lack of hygienic toilet facilities. (I will say he goes into a lot more detail about toilets and bathrooms than we perhaps needed - although when I lived over there these were often topics of conversation among my expat friends, so I definitely understand his desire to discuss such things. Coote also makes it to the main tourist attractions (some of them delightfully desolate and iffy) along his route. This book would make an excellent guide of things to do - and, perhaps, not to do - for anyone planning to attempt to follow the route of the Silk Road in our modern era.

Kitsch on US-1

by Jane

US-1 was the main north-south highway in the eastern US prior to the construction of the Interstate Highway System. Interstate highway I-95 roughly parallels US-1, but it is far enough away from it that the hotels, motels, bars, and restaurants along US-1 have all but faded into the underbrush. US-1 is still traveled, but typically only by people going short distances. Long haul travelers usually take the Interstates. My mom and I had popped down to Jacksonville, FL from our home in Waycross, GA the other day, and we took US-1 there and back. The stretch of US-1 between its intersection with I-10 in Jacksonville and the Florida/Georgia border is dotted with the remains of old motels.

(The map's a tad backwards - pictures start at B and go towards A)

At the intersection of US-1 and I-10

At the intersection of US-1 and I-10

US-1, between Callahan and Hilliard

US-1, between Callahan and Hilliard

US-1, between Callahan and Hilliard

US-1, between Callahan and Hilliard

US-1 in Hilliard

US-1 between Hilliard and the GA border

US-1 between Hilliard and the GA border

Desolation Americana: Forgive us our Trespasses

by Jane

There is a forest in Southeastern Georgia (in the US, not the country of Georgia), located in Appling County, called the Moody Forest. It’s owned jointly by the Nature Conservancy and the State of Georgia. This forest contains the last stand of old growth, virgin, long-leaf pines in the state. It also has two hiking trails. There isn’t much information about Moody Forest available on the internet. My mom and I found the most information here and here, and decided to take a trip to Appling County to visit the Moody Forest. We also thought about checking out the Hatch Nuclear Power Plant, as it’s located there, too, and I have rather an absurd interest in traveling to nuclear power plants. (This one, admittedly, is safer than the Chernobyl reactors, which I visited back in August.)

As the Nature Conservancy site didn't include directions, we copied the following directions from OhRanger.com, and set off for Moody Forest:

From Baxley: Go 7 miles north on U.S. 1. Turn right on Lennox Rd, go 4.2 miles. Turn left on Davis Landing Rd., go 2.3 miles. Turn left on East River Rd., go 0.8 miles to kiosk.

Now, as you see, these directions are very specific. There’s no “approximately two miles” – instead it’s “go 4.2mi.” Unfortunately, at the 4.2 mile mark, there was no Davis Landing Road, or any other road. It was close to a Penny Morris Road, but not exact. We did eventually find Davis Landing – about three miles from its specified location. From there on out, the directions did match what we saw in real life… however, when we finally came to the “kiosk” it was nothing more than a small board with a bit of an overhanging roof, with a clipboard attached to it. The clipboard read ‘Moody Forest Turkey Shoot Sign In.’ Next to this “kiosk” was an open gate. We drove through it, and down the winding, narrow track (which passed through young planted pines – certainly not virgin old growth) until we came to the power-lines (the lines running from the Hatch Plant cut a rather big swath through the countryside down there, as the plant provides a lot of power). Next to the power-lines was a fenced off area (preventing one from driving on) and a sign that said ‘parking’ and nothing else.

Mom: “This is IT???”

Nothing looked like a trail. There were no maps or brochures or informative signs. There certainly weren’t any old growth long-leaf pines. Only young slash pines and power lines.

We decided to drive further down the road. Even though we’d found our “kiosk” on the right at exactly .8mi down East River Road, it really did not seem to be the right place. So, we kept driving down East River Road. We passed numerous areas which were being logged. We also passed the crumbling remains of an old homestead. After eventually deciding that there really wasn’t another kiosk any further down the road, we turned around and decided that, since we were there, we’d explore the remains of the homestead.

The first step in this process was climbing over a locked gate. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, right? Teehee. There was a crumbling old farmhouse (surrounded by poison ivy), a fairly newish barn, and a crumbling old barn. Definitely fun to poke around in and photograph.

Eventually we climbed back over the gate, got back in the car, and decided to head for the Altamaha River. Davis Landing Road would have a boat landing, surely? Well, the “landing” turned out to be a private fishing community, surrounded by tons of ‘no trespassing’ signs. We drove on in. The community consisted of numerous trailers (in varying states of disrepair) up on stilts. It was incredibly photogenic, but I didn’t take any photos as it looked very much like the sort of place where one might get shot.

Back at the intersection with East River Road, we decided to head east. This merely took us to the Appling County Landfill and a Baptist church with a fairly interesting old cemetery.

Having explored in all three directions from the intersection, we pretty much gave up, and began heading back the way we came. Heading back down Lennox Rd, no longer concentrating on the search for Davis Landing Rd, we noticed a bright red building and slowed down to check it out. The sign on it read ‘Ten-Mile School 1929-1958.’ We parked the car and got out to take a look. Then, as the gate wasn’t locked so well (forgive us our trespasses?), we wandered on in. And as the building itself wasn’t locked….

Old Blackboards!

About a quarter mile (or maybe even a little less) down the road from the school was another old homestead, surrounded by brush and obviously abandoned. We pulled over and poked around.

Then a fellow (late 50s early 60s) rode up on a three-wheeler.

Mom: “Is this your property? We were just taking photos.”

I always let my mom do the talking when we get caught trespassing. Really.

The guy turned out to be quite nice – and fairly interesting. We talked to him for a good hour. He told us about the house (it had been his grandparents’ house), and about the school (which he had attended for two years before it closed). He told us a little of the history of the Moody Forest and Swamp, and he gave us directions to the Moody Forest which he wasn’t completely sure were correct as he hadn’t been down there in a while, but which went in the opposite direction from the ones mom and I had followed earlier in the day. Also, he was retired from the Hatch Plant – so he gave us directions to it as well. Of course I told him I’d been to Chernobyl, so we discussed nuclear reactors, containment vessels, and the current state of the sarcophagus covering the Chernobyl reactor. Because when you get busted for trespassing by a guy on a three wheeler, these are the things you talk about.

After saying goodbye to this fellow, we set off following his directions. They weren’t entirely accurate (we needed the second intersection with a tree in the center of the road, not the first), but hey! It lead us there. (At the second tree, when we were thinking we were totally lost, we asked two people who were riding past on four wheelers; they told us go left for the Moody Forest Conservation Center, go right and take our first left to get to the river.)

We went left – and hadn’t gone far at all – when we saw a sign at a driveway that said ‘Nature Conservancy,’ as well as the remaining buildings from the old Moody farm. We were thinking Whew! Finally! as we pulled up to the Nature Conservancy building. There were at least six cars parked next to it. The light was on. The door was locked. Peering in, we saw that lunch was literally on the table. On the back porch, a glass with the dregs of cola sat on the table, next to a pair of sunglasses. A water glass sat on the hood of a State of GA truck. No one was around.

This was the point where I started feeling like we’d fallen into the Twilight Zone. Or like we were in the beginning of a cheesy horror flick. It was unbelievably eerie. There should have been people bustling about. It looked like they’d just dropped everything and left – although they would’ve had to have left on foot (or perhaps on ATVs), as all their cars and trucks were there. Additionally, even though there had been the one sign stating ‘Nature Conservancy’ there were no other signs, maps, pamphlets, brochures, information…. Nothing. The only reason we knew that the old buildings were part of the old Moody farm were because the man who busted us for trespassing had told us that the old Elizabeth Moody house was located next to the Nature Conservancy office.

Elizabeth Moody House

We looked for trails. We finally found one – unmarked – behind one of the storage sheds by the office. We walked down it a ways, finding only one or two old pines, a lot of young pines, and some mutant oaks with scary gargantuan shiny leaves. Must be the radiation. Eventually we came to a place where the trail was crossed by a wide swampy stream. We decided to turn around at that point.

It's shaped like an oak leaf. It has oak bark.... but I have NEVER seen oak leaves that size. Or that shiny. Must be the radiation. Unless, of course, this isn't an oak.

We got back to the car, and I was convinced it wasn’t going to start. Had this been a horror movie, it wouldn’t have. Luckily, it started right up. We decided to get the hell out of there (as it was really starting to creep us out) and head for the river. Take the right fork and then the first left to get to the river… well, you know where that first left was located? Right across from that gate we’d climbed over earlier in the day. We were going in circles. I should mention that the entire are around the old homestead (where we climbed the gate) was being logged. We began to wonder if there really were any virgin old growth longleaf pines, or if they’d all been logged. It would certainly explain the inaccurate directions – keep people away, they’ll never know how we’re making our fortune! Bwahaha!

Logging...

We were almost to the river when we saw a sign saying ‘River Trail’ and pointing us to the right. A short drive later, we found a parking area, a kiosk, maps, and brochures. Woohoo! If only it weren’t so late in the day. We hadn’t had lunch yet, and neither of us was up to a two mile hike on an empty stomach. We’d have to come back.

We kept on driving towards the river. We eventually found it, but there wasn’t anywhere to park, so we drove on a short ways… only to find a rather hard-to-read sign stating “Leaving Moody Forest” – Really?? We’d yet to see an elderly longleaf pine. Shortly past the sign was an area where I could pull off the road to park. Mom and I got out, planning to walk back to the river so I could get some pictures. However, at this point, another fellow (probably late 50s) rode up on a four wheeler and asked if we were lost. Mom asked told him about what we’d found at the Moody Forest office, and how we’d been looking for the two trails all day and had only just located the River Trail. She asked if he knew how to find the other trail, and of course he did. Better yet, his house was in that direction, so how about we just follow him, and he’d show us where to go. We decided we’d check out the river some other time, and got back in the car to follow him.

He headed right back towards where we’d come from. We decided that if he turned into the Nature Conservancy office area we weren’t going to stop, and were just going to drive off as quickly as possible like a couple of madwomen. Luckily, he drove past the office. Eventually we came to some more homestead remains (according to this fellow, they were of the Wade Moody house), another parking area, and another trailhead with a kiosk, sign, brochures, and maps.

At this point it was definitely too late in the day to do any hiking. We talked to this fellow for a while (he told us about how he used to know Wade and Elizabeth Moody before they died, about drawing water from the well for them – which he warned us not to fall into – and about how the land had become part of the Nature Conservancy. He also assured us that there really were old growth long leaf pines down this trail (Tavia’s Trail), and that the area that was being logged was not part of the land owned by the Nature Conservancy.

After he left, mom and I explored the buildings by the trail head (and found the well, which we didn’t fall into), found the cemetery in which Elizabeth and Wade are buried, and again decided that it was DEFINITELY too late in the day to go hiking.

Wade Moody House Remains
Elizabeth Moody and Wade Moody

At this point, we followed the directions from the second man – keep following the road we were on westward, and we’d come to US 1. Really, access to the main area of Moody Forest really is that simple: Drive north from Baxley about 8 miles on US 1. Turn right on East River Road (yes, this was East River Road again). The park is on your right. Period. Easy. Simple. Not like our crazy ass directions to the middle of nowhere.

Instead we went and drove past Plant Hatch. I really wanted to get a picture, but cars on that stretch of US 1 were just flying by, and I didn’t want my little two door Toyota to get pummeled if I tried to slow down and pull off to the side of the road. I did, however, manage to get some nice shots of the amusing no trespassing signs surrounding Plant Hatch. Apparently they don’t forgive trespassers; they shoot them.

Peace, Hope, Nature... DMZ?

by Jane

The border between North and South Korea lies roughly along the 38th parallel. The demilitarized zone – the DMZ – extends roughly 2km (1.2mi) both north and south of the actual border. I don’t know what the northern edge of the DMZ looks like, but the southern edge is fenced, heavily fortified, and dotted with barracks and bunkers.

While I haven’t yet been able to visit the northern side of the DMZ, I’ve now been to the southern side twice. In 2004 I visited Panmunjom; the second trip was last Sunday. This time, instead of visiting Panmunjon, I went to two different areas along the DMZ: Imjingak/Dorasan and Cheorwon.

(The only place we visited that I couldn't locate for certain with Google Earth was the Second Tunnel of Aggression. It's location is an estimate; all other locations are accurate.)

DMZ trips aren’t something you can just do on your own. Even if you’re in South Korea and have your own car, you can’t just decide to pop on up to the border. You can make it close, but to reach Panmunjom, the observation platforms at Dorasan and Cheorwon, or any of the tunnels dug under the DMZ by the north, you must have permission granted in advance. As such, the best way to go is part of a tour group. My trip last Sunday was coordinated by the Discover Korea / WINK group.

Our first destination was Imjingak, a bizarre and almost resort-like spot located two and a half miles from the southern edge of the DMZ, and roughly three miles from the actual border between North and South. (You can visit Imjingak easily from Seoul without being part of a tour group.) Unfortunately, when we arrived at Imjingak, it was pouring rain. We spent about 30 minutes there, getting completely drenched despite our umbrellas, and (as a result of the nasty weather) seeing very little of what Imjingak had to offer. I caught a glimpse of the Bridge of Freedom – the bridge across the Imjin River that POWs crossed when returning south in 1953 – as well as a war-era train, riddled with bullet holes. I also saw an amusement park and a sodden field full of tents and tour buses as a ginseng festival was held there last weekend. Imjingak is a strange place.

Our soggy group re-boarded the bus and set off for the Third Tunnel of Aggression. As be drove northward towards the tunnel, the clouds lifted, and by the time we arrived outside the tunnel, the day had blossomed into one that was quite beautiful. Next to the entrance to the tunnel is a small museum, where we were shown a video claiming that the DMZ was “a symbol of peace, hope, and nature.” Really? The most heavily fortified border in the world, the result of a war that technically has not yet ended? Really?

The clouds began to lift on our way to the tunnel...

By the time we arrived at the Third Tunnel, the day was gorgeous.
This small park sits atop the tunnel.

But on to the tunnel. The Third Tunnel of Aggression was discovered in 1978, and extends about one mile under the border and into the Southern half of the DMZ. It’s a little surreal, as you enter through a gift shop, then you don a hard-hat and descend into the nether regions of the DMZ, and are able to walk nearly all the way to the actual border. (There are a series of barricades at the underground border, so you can’t walk all the way to the actual border itself, although you can see it through a series of small windows in the barricades.) For the most part, the tunnel is barely over five feet, five inches in height, often dropping down to five feet. This proved to be quite a problem for many of the members of the group (who definitely got good use out of their hardhats!), whereas I only had to duck a handful of times. The planned North Korean invasion force must be pretty short.

Photography is forbidden inside the tunnel, although I’m really not too big on rules. While I had to leave my DSLR on the bus, my smartphone fit nicely inside my pocket…

After our underground trip to the border, we re-boarded the bus and set off for the nearby Dorasan Observatory. As a photographer, this was the most disappointing part of the trip. The day was clear, and from the observatory you can easily see both the Kaesong industrial complex and a North Korean city. What fantastic photographs could be made from that point… Unfortunately, you have to stand rather a great distance from the observation deck if you wish to take photos, and there are military guards there to make certain that no one sneaks their DSLR (or even their smartphone) over the yellow line.

Stupid yellow photo line :-(

However, if you have a good zoom lens – and if the hordes of Chinese tourists* will stay out of your way – you can get a shot of two of the north, albeit not the best.

Woohoo, zoom lens. Not the best shot, made from a distance between two tourists at telescopes.

*Oddly enough, most of the tourists in the Imjingak/Dorasan area were Chinese, and there were literally hundreds of them. Apparently this is a hugely popular destination for Chinese tourists, which seems rather odd to me, as there wouldn’t be a divided Korea had China not entered the war…

After leaving the Dorasan Observatory, we went to Dorasan Station – a modern Korean train station from which trains can depart headed for Pyeongyang. Notice I said they “can” not that they “do.” The station is also under military guard, although the guards here were very pro-camera, and seemed to quite enjoy posing for pictures themselves.

We left Dorasan Station, and drove approximately two hours east, to the Cheorwon area. We stopped for lunch about ten miles south of the border, at a beautiful area near the Hantan River.

After lunch, our next destination was the Second Tunnel of Aggression, discovered in 1975. This one is located in a much more remote area, and we were the only tourists. Again we donned hardhats and walked under the DMZ, nearly to the border. This tunnel was both wider and taller than the Third Tunnel, although the taller members of our group still had a tough go of it. And again, photography is forbidden inside the tunnel.

We left the Second Tunnel, and drove to the Cheorwon Peace Observatory. (Again with the ironic names! How can an observation platform designed to view the most heavily fortified border in the world be a “peace observatory”??) In theory, locations for photographs from the Cheorwon Peace Observatory are restricted in a similar manner to the Dorasan Observatory. However, while Dorasan contained numerous military guards who were quite vigilant in their efforts to prevent photos, no one at Cheorwon said anything to us – not even when we climbed the scaffolding to the rooftop for the best views of the DMZ and the North.

The DMZ and North Korea, as seen from atop the Cheorwon Peace Observatory.

The DMZ and North Korea, as seen from atop the Cheorwon Peace Observatory.

The DMZ and North Korea, as seen from atop the Cheorwon Peace Observatory.

After leaving the Cheorwon Observatory, our final stop of the day was the memorial to the Battle of White Horse Ridge. The ridge was strategically important for maintaining the Southern position; had it been lost, the border would no doubt be located further to the south. The ridge changed hands between Northern forces (mostly Chinese troops) and Southern forces (mostly Korean troops) 24 times in ten days. Due to the severe shelling of the ridge, following the battle it was completely devoid of vegetation, and apparently looked like a white horse. Thus the name.

Monument to the Battle of White Horse Ridge

Monument to the Battle of White Horse Ridge

At this point we re-boarded our bus to return to Seoul.

To view the complete set of nearly 200 photos from my trip along the border,
CLICK HERE.

Adventures in the Chernobyl Dead Zone

by Jane

I remember when the Chernobyl disaster happened. I was in first grade. I clearly remember drawing pictures, showing how we needed to keep our windows closed to prevent radiation from coming in. I was living in Florida at the time, so that was probably somewhat silly, but then again, I was seven years old at the time – it’s a wonder Chernobyl was even on my radar.

Of course, I didn’t really think about Chernobyl much at all after first grade. It was something I knew about, something I was aware of, but – despite spending my undergrad years studying the former Soviet Union – I gave it very little thought whatsoever until 2004.

In 2004, I came across that semi-hoax website, Kidd of Speed. (I call it a semi-hoax, as the photos are genuine, but initially the author had this long, involved story, about having been given permission to ride solo through the Zone on her motorcycle; this wasn’t true – she had gone to the zone as part of a tour.) Looking at the photos on the Kidd of Speed website, I immediately became hooked on the notion of going and seeing what was left of the Chernobyl reactor and the nearby city of Pripyat for myself. It wasn’t until August 2011 that I got the opportunity.

Back in 2010, several of us from over here at Desolation Travel decided we should meet up somewhere good and desolate. While we all would have loved to have returned to Kyrgyzstan, flights there were simply too expensive. We tossed around several ideas, before settling on meeting in Kiev in August 2011, and trekking out to Chernobyl.

Chernobyl is – allegedly – safe to visit. Allegedly, the dose of radioactivity one receives while on a day trip out of Kiev is equivalent to what you’d get from a long-haul overseas flight. Of course, in the space of six weeks I’ll have taken three such flights, gone to Chernobyl, and had dental x-rays, so I’m pretty sure I’ve exceeded ‘proper’ radiation levels. Meh. No physical harm.

You can’t just stroll on into the Zone whenever you want. You have to have permission from the Ukrainian government. The easiest way to visit the Zone is via a tour agency. There are several agencies out of Kiev which book tours to the Zone, and which arrange all the necessary paperwork. It can be done fairly quickly (assuming there’s space available), and with very little hassle on the part of the tourist. This costs between $150-$200, depending on what agency you use. We used Solo-East. If you have the time and money, you can apply for your own permit. I’ve heard it can take about three weeks to process. You’ll also have to arrange your own transportation and hire a government approved guide/monitor. I don’t see much reason to do that, myself, as it would end up being far more expensive, and you’d probably see exactly what you’d see as part of a tour.

The trip from Kiev to Chernobyl takes between an hour and a half and two hours, depending on the traffic in and around Kiev. The tour ‘bus’ (a mini-van) we were on had a television, which showed the documentary The Battle of Chernobyl – and excellent documentary, which you can watch in its entirety here for free. I highly recommend it to anyone who is even remotely interested in Chernobyl, nuclear power, and/or the former Soviet Union.

The movie finished just a few minutes before we arrived at the first checkpoint. The first thing that struck me was that farmland – active, arable farmland – went right up to the border with The Zone. It’s not like radiation just stops and says ‘oh, here’s the edge of The Zone, I’d better not flit across this line and contaminate those cows.’ But I guess you have to draw a line somewhere. Or in the case of Chernobyl, two lines – one at 30km from the reactor, and one at 10km.

The first checkpoint is located 30km from the reactor, at the entrance to the exclusion zone. No photos allowed. (Hah.) Here you will have your passports checked against the list of people who have been approved for entrance into the zone.

First checkpoint - no photos allowed! :-)

The small town of Chernobyl is located within the 30km exclusion zone – a pleasant, green swath of countryside, which looks as though it would be a wonderful, peaceful, rural place to live. Roughly 4000 people currently live in the town of Chernobyl. Most are there as part of the ongoing maintenance of the #4 reactor (the one that exploded), although others are there to maintain the other three reactors – two of which remained functional until 2000. When you see how close they are to reactor #4, you’ll find this fact utterly mind-boggling. There are also plenty of scientists living in Chernobyl, conducting experiments on the effects of radiation on the local wildlife and whatnot, as well as support staff… and quite a few elderly folks who returned after having been ‘resettled’ following the accident.

In an office building in the city of Chernobyl, we were required to sign a waiver, essentially saying that if we get fucked up in any way on account of having visited the Chernobyl zone, we cannot sue the Ukrainian government. Okeedokee.

After signing the waiver, we got back in the bus and headed for the 10km line, demarking the Zone of Mandatory Resettlement. No one legally lives within the 10km zone, although there are squatters, scavengers, and elderly people who have returned to the villages of their youth. Sadly, we were unable to meet any of these folks. That is something that I would really like to do at some point, although I’m not sure how feasible it is.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect from our tour. I’d kind of expected a highly monitored tour, with lots of ‘stand here and look at this’ and ‘stand here and look at that.’ I didn’t expect to be allowed to run free at any point. I also didn’t think that we’d be getting anywhere close to the #4 reactor itself. As such, when we came upon our first glimpse of the reactors, I took a TON of photographs. Little did I know that I’d be getting MUCH closer! I’ll just post a handful of those I took:

Yep, that's me. And reactors #1 and #2? They remained in operation until 2000. That is mind-boggling to me on so many levels. I mean, if Pripyat (the town 3km away) was abandoned, how could it have possibly been deemed a good idea to keep people working just a few hundred meters from reactor #4?

Same scene, sans goofy tourist

From the same vantage point, this could be seen. It would have been reactor #5. It was under construction at the time of the explosion at reactor #4, and was never completed.

From there we went to Pripyat. For those who don’t know, Pripyat was built in 1970, for the sole purpose of housing workers at the Chernobyl nuclear plants, their families, and all the people necessary to support them (teachers, store clerks, etc). Depending on your source, Pripyat was home to between 43,000 and 50,000 people at the time of the explosion at reactor #4 in April 1986. The town was located a mere 3km from the reactor, and yet was not evacuated until the third day following the explosion. Residents were told that they would only be gone for a few days… yet the evacuation was permanent. The town has been slowly reclaimed by nature over the years.

It’s weird, visiting Pripyat. A town of 43,000-50,000 people is fairly large… but in this case, it’s difficult to actually see how large the town would have been, as so much of it is now obscured by tree growth. It’s also bizarre to imagine that the town was evacuated in order to avoid the devastating effects of radiation. Plant life, at the very least, is teeming. (The Zone is supposedly rich in wildlife as well, although unfortunately we saw only spiders, pigeons, and catfish.) There is nothing about Pripyat – other than its emptiness – to give any hint as to the disaster that befell them. If one were seriously lost, and somehow stumbled upon the city, it would be a thoroughly bewildering experience. It just seemed so normal. Except that it was empty. Like roughly fifty thousand people just left one morning and never returned.

I had expected that we would be very limited in terms of what we could do and where we could go while inside Pripyat. That was not the case at all. While we were taken on a somewhat organized route through the city (main square, amusement park, palace of culture, Hotel Polissya, sports center, school), we were allowed to essentially go wherever and do whatever we wanted. The only rule was ‘Don’t step on the moss!’ as apparently moss holds far more radiation than asphalt or dirt or grass. Or so we were told anyway.

Pripyat is a photographer’s dream, especially if you’re someone who is into photographing desolation, decay, or urban blight. I am, and I loved every minute of my time there. I mean no disrespect to those who used to live there or their families by this. I truly feel that images of what can happen if/when nuclear power gets out of hand MUST be shown to the world. This is something that everyone should see – especially proponents of nuclear power. It’s a grim, serious, and depressing reality. But as a photographer, I loved it. I have far too many photos from Pripyat to post below. To see my complete set of Pripyat photos, CLICK HERE.

Palace of Culture "Energetic"

Inside the Palace of Culture

Inside the school

Also inside the school

More from the Palace of Culture

Left: a gymnastics horse from the sports center
Right: Irradiated negatives from the Hotel Polissya

A tour like this would never be legal in the United States, where both safety concerns and the potential for lawsuits are huge. Not only were we 3km from the world’s most famous nuclear disaster, but as you can tell from the photos, we were exploring decaying – and not entirely safe – buildings. Broken glass was everywhere. Rotted floorboards were common. As were piles of what looked suspiciously like asbestos. And sketchy things dangling from – and dropping from – ceilings. I loved it. And it would so never fly in the US.

After thoroughly exploring Pripyat, it was time for lunch. We were taken to the cafeteria that’s located on site to feed those working at the power station, where we ate *quite* a tasty lunch of locally produced food. Safety, shmafety. Before we were allowed into the cafeteria proper, we had to pass through this lovely radiation detection device:

No one ever said what happens if you register ‘contaminated’ though!
Like I said, lunch was delicious, and very typical Ukrainian/Russian:

One fellow on the tour was a vegetarian, though, and he had a bit of a rough go of the lunch. Very much an Everything is Illuminated kind of moment. How do you make beef soup vegetarian? Scoop out the chunks of beef. Hah.

After lunch, our next stop was to feed the radioactive catfish. I find fish kind of boring, and while there were a couple of behemoths that surfaced a handful of time, for the most part, they just looked like fish. Yawn. On to the reactor!

Between the catfish feeding and the reactor, we passed a sign on a building that said NUKEM. Sadly, none of us was prepared to snap a picture. NUKEM? Talk about a seriously bad choice of name. It’s a German/American civil nuclear fuel company, that’s apparently involved in the maintenance of the facility.

Okay, okay. On to the reactor!

We were able to stand approximately 100m from the sarcophagus covering reactor #4… and the thing is, it all seemed so normal. There were people working at the other parts of the facility. There were buses ferrying workers about, people walking, driving. The weather was gorgeous. It looked just like any factory anywhere might. Get out of the developed world, and there are plenty of places that look much worse yet are still producing whatever it is they produce. This didn’t look dangerous at all. It just looked… normal. That was what made it creepy. If no one told you what it was, you’d have no clue. It wasn’t pulsating or glowing. It didn’t emit a smell or a sound. And yet it was emitting radiation. We weren’t allowed to stay in that spot too long.

Left: A monument to those who died, which appears to be holding a TARDIS.
Right: The reactor, up close and personal.

To see the complete set of my Pripyat photographs, CLICK HERE.
To see the complete set of all my other Chernobyl photographs, CLICK HERE.