A special report from the Exclusion Zone
I find myself standing in a ubiquitous town square surrounded on all sides by thick greenery the kind rarely seen this side of the Carpathians. To my right, a hastronom, just like the one I pass on my way to work in Kyiv; in front of me, a multi-story hotel, and to my left, a lamppost. Gazing skyward, however, I notice the lamppost is adorned not by the usual shining beacon of guidance, but one straight out of the last century: a hammer and sickle. Then I notice the tall apartment building in the distance is topped by an even larger hammer and sickle and a large banner extolling the virtues of the Party of Lenin.
“Lenin’s Party, the strength of the nation?” Did I fall asleep again and suddenly become the Orwellian protagonist of a workplace daydream? Not quite, but spending time in the Chornobyl exclusion zone does take you back some 20 odd years to the twilight years of Soviet Ukraine.
A mere two hour drive from Kyiv one finds the exclusion zone guarding the site of the world’s worst nuclear accident, a 30 kilometer radius of land stuck in the mid- to late-1980’s.
At 1:23 a.m. on April 26 1986, human error and technological backwardness caused the number four reactor of the V.I. Lenin Chernobyl Atomic Energy Station to explode skyward, expunging massive plumes of radioactive material into the night sky. Thousands of tons of radioactive cesium, strontium, and plutonium were scattered across the territory of northern Ukraine, Belarus, and northern Europe. Contrary to the emerging policies of glasnost, the Soviet Government attempted to conceal the catastrophe, only beginning a massive evacuation of the 55,000 residents of nearby Pripyat 36 hours later.
Residents were advised of a three-day temporary evacuation, and left their homes with only the essentials, but many never returned to reclaim personal belongings. Life froze in the apartments, hotels, shops, and schools of Pripyat, the bedroom community of Chornobyl plant workers.
21 years after Chornobyl experienced the world’s worst nuclear fallout – many times worse than both Hiroshima and Nagasaki – tour operators offer the opportunity for extreme tourism.
Whether you’re a daredevil, thrill seeker, historian, anthropologist, just plain nuts, or just plain interested, many Kyiv-based tour operators offer guided tours of the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone. Call it extreme tourism, call it ecotourism, but a trip to the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone is not for everyone, although it can prove to be a soul-searching, reflective, informative, awe-inspiring, and heavy experience.
Getting in
To gain admittance to the zone, one must apply for permission to the Ministry of Ukraine of Emergencies and Affairs of Population Protection from the Consequences of the Chornobyl Catastrophe; although it is possible to apply personally, without a middleman-tour operator, it will prove to be much easier and less expensive to acquire permission through a travel agency.
SoloEast Travel (www.tourkiev.com) offers year-round guided tours of the Zone, and prices are dependent on the season and number of participants. Single participation tours can reach up to $400, while groups of more than 20 offer lower rates of approximately $100 each.
SAM Travel Agency offers special rates of $95 for groups of seven or more. Packages include return transportation Kyiv to Chornobyl, a guided tour of the Zone, and a hot meal.
Leaving Kyiv for the 100 kilometer, two-hour bus ride to Chornobyl one has plenty of time to reflect on the tragedy itself, the incredible audacity of the attempted Soviet cover-up, and the health implications of such a catastrophic meltdown. Unavoidable comparisons to the partial meltdown of Three Mile Island float unpleasantly through my head; although I know little about the 1979 near-catastrophe, I can’t help but think of what could have been…
These disagreeable thoughts vanish from my head, however, as the bus crawls to a stop at the first checkpoint to the Zone. Checkpoint “Dytyatky,” or children, marks the beginning of the 30-km zone which is circumscribed by barbed-wire fences replete with the international symbol for radiation, for those disoriented visitors just waking from their morning bus naps. A guard meticulously checks over all required documents, including a valid passport and permission for entrance to the Zone. Entrance without proper documentation is strictly forbidden; at the very least you will be turned away from the checkpoint with nothing more than a forceful farewell. Adventurers found within the Zone lacking proper documentation face criminal responsibility according to a new Cabinet of Ministers law passed this year.
The checkpoint was one of many photo opportunities within the Zone, and I used the opportunity to my advantage, snapping shots of the guards, maps, and scenery, knowing that this, my second visit, would probably be my last to the Zone. Within the entire Zone, photography is only prohibited near objects of national security, which we were told included the four decommissioned reactors, although pictures are allowed at the observation deck by the fourth reactor.
Entering the Zone, many visitors are struck by the dense natural vegetation stretching as far as the eye can see. Although nature was affected by the mass doses of radiation, plant life has begun to reclaim the cordoned expanse.
Since the mass human migration from the contaminated area in 1986, animal life has reclaimed the area as its own; large catfish, wolves, wild boars, bears, and horses have multiplied unabated. The Chornobyl Zone also serves as a de facto preserve for the Mongolian species of wild Przewalski horses. Roughly 20 of the stocky, muscular horses were re-settled into the Zone in 1996 as part of an experiment to view the effects of radiation on animals. The Zone proved to be a perfect habitat for the species, and the Chornobyl herd now numbers over 200. In my first two excursions to the Zone, I have yet to spot a Przewalksi horse; perhaps third time lucky?
The first stop on the tour was at the Chornobylinterinform office in the town of Chornobyl, a mostly depopulated town marked by Siberian tundra-style above-ground gas pipes, which in Chornobyl are due to the high levels of radiation in the ground. Chornobylinterinform is an agency within the Ministry of Emergencies of Ukraine which is ultimately responsible for scheduling excursions and for the safety of visitors to the zone, a job they take quite seriously.
As always, the foremost question regarding any excursion to the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone pertains to safe levels of radiation. The popular version currently floating around is that a visit to Chornobyl is no more harmful than a transatlantic flight or time spent in the Rocky Mountain High city of Denver, due to high altitudes, and therefore increased radiation.
No one I have spoken with has been able to confirm or deny that fact, but the truth is that most of the traditionally travelled areas of Chornobyl are quite harmless in terms of radiation, registering no more than a couple hundred micro roentgens per hour. I was slightly, irrationally disappointed: the Geiger counter wasn’t even beeping. For comparison, 500 Roentgens (one thousand micro roentgens equal one roentgen) in a five hour span is considered a lethal amount of radiation for humans.
Exclusion Zone
Arriving at the observation deck no more than 100 metres away from the fourth reactor, I grew sombre, reserved, and reflective. Staring at the huge grey block is truly an awe-inspiring experience, especially trying to imagine the unimaginable horror of firefighters sent to battle uranium fires with little or no protection. My moment of reflection was shattered by an incessant beeping. Before I could turn around and comment on my colleagues’ lack of mobile etiquette, I realized the beeping was not coming from a cell phone, but rather from the Geiger counter held aloft by our tour guide, which was registering 3.17 roentgens per hour. I made a mental note to keep my mouth closed and face away from the wind, rationally cognizant of the fact that this irrational action was completely ridiculous, but nonetheless I stuck by my one act of self-preservation.
In terms of safety, the general rule is this: listen to the tour guide. When advised to avoid radioactive moss, heed the warnings since these highly absorbant quasi-neon patches caused the Geiger counter to skyrocket to levels higher than those alongside the reactor.
The visit to the reactor is one of the high points of the trip, along with a romp in the ghost town of Pripyat. Once a thriving community of 55,000 and a desirable place to live in the former Soviet Union, Pripyat is now a “museum-town” where nature is finally allowed to live in harmony alongside symbols of the uber-industrialist Soviet Union. Soviet insignia, party propaganda, and communist literature are rife in Pripyat, where life is virtually frozen in 1986, a few days short of the traditional May Day celebrations.
The town has been heavily vandalised however – broken windows and strewn belongings are not testaments to the power of the explosion, but perhaps to the shortcomings of the Soviet way of life, and the pervasive legacies which continue to this day.
Within the Zone of Exclusion, other points of interest include the Red Forest, a swath of forest tinged red by a particularly heavy dose of plutonium; the buried village, distinguished by rolling grassy knolls staked with radiation warnings where homes were covered with dirt to minimize the fallout; the plethora of abandoned, overgrown villages; the vehicle junkyard, a metal-museum of original vehicles used in rescue efforts; and the many memorials to hero-firefighters and victims found throughout the zone.
For many visitors, the prospect of a meal within the Zone is perhaps most nerve-wracking, but the tour operators are quick to note that all products are trucked in from outside and are entirely safe for consumption.
The Chornobyl experience is not complete without a trip to Slavutych, the town built to encourage workers to return to the not-as-yet decommissioned three Chornobyl reactors. Slavutych was built shortly after the disaster in 1986, with eight neighbourhoods built to resemble eight of the 15 republics of the former Soviet Union, symbolizing the unity of Soviet citizens in the face of such a horrible disaster. Although hotels are nonexistent within the Zone of Exclusion, the European Hotel in Slavutych offers a pleasant stay and a chance to kick back, relax, and reflect on the day’s experience. Manhattan Restaurant on the main square is a great place to curb the hunger pangs of anyone who had decided to skip the in-Zone meal. Finally, pop over to the nearest bar for a few glasses of red wine, long prescribed as a cure for radiation.
For additional information, documentaries, and re-enactments, head over to the Chornobyl museum back in Kyiv.
So, as a seasoned veteran (I’m not bragging) of the Chornobyl Exclusion Zone, I offer you, respected reader, several pieces of advice:
1. Avoid the radioactive moss, stay on the beaten path, lift your feet, and resist the urge to grab any souvenirs, you’ll regret it one way or another.
2. If only for your own sanity, keep your mouth closed and turn away from the blowing wind. Ridiculous, I know.
3. Befriend the tour guide, it may lead to a few snippets of extremely interesting information not included in the general tour.
4. Charge the battery on your digital camera. Take three extra sets of batteries. Running out of batteries on both of my trips to the Zone may lead me to a third excursion.
5. If, on your way out of the Zone, the radiation control checkpoint flashes red instead of green, empty your pockets of the souvenirs and try it again. Red again? All the best.
SoloEast Travel (www.tourkiev.com; 12 Travneva, 406-3500, 8050-381-8656)
SAM Travel Agency (40B Ivana Franka, 238-6020)
National Museum of Chornobyl (1 Provulok Khoreviy, 417-5427)
