Chernobyl Life: Part II
As the sun rose over the cooling lakes there was just four of us left awake in the Chernobyl administration. Feeling in need of my own home comfort: I messaged a photograph of this scene 1,700 miles across Europe to my wife. The reply came almost instantly “Have you been taken hostage somewhere?”
I was rudely awoken an hour later by the familiar Ukrainian shouting of my guide. I can’t begin to describe how rough I felt. The natural instinct of opening my mouth under a running tap and taking in all of the water I could manage, had to be quashed as I remembered where I was.
I managed to find some bottled water just in time for my guide to declare that it was indeed Sunday (as it had been for nearly six hours) therefore we needed to attend church!
Chernobyl Church is actually 270 years old. It’s makes you realise how easy it is to forget that Chernobyls history begins long before 1986; centuries of history.
I feel honoured that my guide has chosen to bring me here, it shown a level of trust. I’m lucky enough to witness a full on Russian Orthodox ceremony, with beautiful chanting, and incense.
Everyone was of course still in military fatigues, with the exception of the priest. When it comes to the actual prayer I decide to leave the locals to it and as a mark of respect I silently slip away.
I notice there is a large funnel sticking up from a vehicle in the undergrowth near by. Closer investigation reveals that it’s an amphibious tank! As I wander through the undergrowth more military vehicles present themselves. Each surrounded by numerous radiation warning signs, but after some careful testing with the Geigers I realise that these are almost entirely for show.
I mooch round for a good half hour before I notice that people are beginning to pour out of the church. I managed to slip back into the throng near my guide and congratulate the priest on a wonderful service.
Full report (with loads of military vehicles) can be read at
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/church
I decide to blast this hangover out properly with a bit of rooftopping. I ask my guide to take to me the tallest building in Pripyat, and he obliges. After passing through the 10km check point, and the city checkpoint we arrive at the base of a 16 storey tower block. He explains that it is still forbidden to enter the buildings in Pripyat, so we mustn’t be seen. He agrees to take us to the top floor but not the roof as we could be spotted by workers who have not yet received a “generous tip“.
A gruelling 16 storey climb later, and we arrive at a flat on the top floor, and make our way to the balcony. The view is spectacular. Although this isn’t my first visit to Pripyat, I’ve never been lucky enough to view it’s vastness all at once.
On the horizon looms the iconic Reactor 4, and Duga 3A Russian radar aerial; some kilometre long and half a kilometre high:
After half an hour of taking in the view, we deicide it’s time to leave. The whole time we were exploring the flat the guide was stood with his back against an open utility cupboard, which had traces of daylight streaming from it.
It must be the way to roof….
…Just as he was declaring that it was time to go, a fellow traveller “Charlie” gave me a look, before flicking his eyes quickly towards the cupboard then upwards before giving me a wink…
We both knew what we had to do.
I fiddled more with my camera, pretending to make multiple shots of a door. The guide tutted and started to walk away. The two of us bundled for the cupboard, and almost sprint-ran up the ladder to the roof.
Only 20ft higher than where we just were, the forbidden view was so much better - it was 360 degrees.
I saw a telegraph pole at the edge of the parapet, and I knew I had to get that slight bit higher. I stood a few feet from the pole, and threw myself off the 16th storey towards the horizon. I hit the pole, shimmied up, and clung on for a few seconds.
After a while the pole started to shift, grinding in its fixings, lurching forward over the edge; I decided to climb down.
I chilled at the edge for a minute or so, before realising I needed to get to ground just before my guide did. So I flung myself down each flight of stairs, taking half flights in one leap. I caught up with my guide, just as he was getting to ground level, I was out of breath and grinning like an idiot.
The full rooftopping report can be viewed here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/rooftopping
The fun and hi-jinks were about to end.
The next explore would be one of Pripyats Kindergartens “Cheb Urasaka”.
As I previously mentioned, Pripyats population was very young with the average age being just 26. With so many young families it was necessary to build no fewer than 15 Kindergartens. I knew this one was going to be pretty tough on the emotions and I’d been building it up in my head for months.
Since I’ve been staying in the zone I’ve been with 15 other travellers, all guys. So there was a fair amount of rowdiness, and bravado going on.
Not here.
…This was different.
You all know what it’s like exploring in a group; when you see each other you’re normally like “You’ve gotta see in here” or “did you find the piano?”
Not here. We were silent.
When we occasionally passed in corridors we were silent. Some guys acknowledged my presence with a subtle nod, most guys couldn’t even lift their eyes to make eye contact.
I knew there’d be dolls around the place, I’d seen photos before, and I know they’re just plastic and nylon. But when you actually see them, mimicking the younger population, and you see how many of them there are, their faces seared:
You start to think back to your own experiences and memories. I know how hard it is for a child to leave a loved toy behind; sometimes it’s their best friend, their world.
I can’t imagine how those toddlers felt to be evacuated without being able to go back for their friend.
Even the gas masks I found were in toddler size.
I found another doll which was different to any I’d seen here before.
It was at least three times the size - the size of an actual toddler. Face down in the dust at my feet. I grabbed its arm to roll it over, but it was heavy, a dead weight. It seemed limp and lifeless, heavy, not hollow like a doll normally is.
The mechanism which closes the dolls eyes when it’s laid horizontally must have been slightly dusty;
When I rolled the doll over, it looked me square in the eyes for a couple of seconds, before closing them by herself. To this day it’s still the single image from this trip which I remember before I sleep.
I made my way out of the staff area, and realise I haven’t seen or heard anyone else in at 20 minutes. I’m not sure how many children attended this Kindergarten, but it was a similar size to my secondary school, which had 900 students.
I pass one last dormitory on my way out. I look through the door but decide I’ve seen enough, and don’t enter.
The atmosphere on the bus after we visited here was completely different to any other time. No one shared photos or anecdotes, we all just sat, 16 guys, heads hung in complete silence.
I’d really recommend reading the full report here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/kindergarten
My next explore was a repeat visit to the Palace of Culture. I’m kind of reluctant to post it at all, as everyone that visits Pripyat visits the palace, and it’s all been seen before… or so I thought.
Sneaking away from my guide for a few minutes I see a small door leading underground, I’ve just gotta squeeze through it, see what’s down there. I come to a room, over 100m long, in pitch darkness. I walk in confusion towards the far end, and see 5 shadowy human figures in the darkness… it turns out they are Police style shooting targets! It’s a gun range! After mentioning this find later on to my guide he is astounded, and has never seen or heard of it before. It makes me realise what exploring is about, seeing the unseen, especially if it’s been there for years unnoticed, untouched.
I manage to sneak away from him again, and know exactly where I’m going. “To the roof!” I silently declare in my head. I head out across a truss beam over a swimming pool, no handed (both hands on my camera filming my feet) testing out my balance.
I arrive at the roof, and the iconic sign. I look out over the main square and wonder what it would have looked like in the 70’s (Note the Ferris wheel, a different one than what is there now, but same location)
Sign from the reverse (on the roof)
Full report can be read here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/palace
Pripyat was a prosperous town. The average salary there was a lot higher than the rest of the Ukraine. Leisure activities were a lot more available than most cities of that size. You just have to look at Pripyat’s 3 stadiums, multiple restaurants, hotels, car accessory shops to realise that.
Here is the fantastic ‘Café Pripyat’ in the late 70’s:
Here it is in 2011:
Inside it is full of fantastic stained glass:
The stained glass is actually coloured glass laid end on! They mustn’t have liked their fingers:
Oh I forgot to mention previously that our driver (the Stig’s Ukrainian brother) always carried a couple of kitchen knives and a telescopic sight whenever we were outside of the vehicle. I found this hilarious, imagining him poking a violent looter with amazing accuracy. It turns out the sight was just a makeshift telescope, and he was watching our back for dangerous animals.
Full Café report can be found at
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/cafe
The “Yaniv” train station:
Roughly half a kilometre west of the 'Bridge of Death' is Yaniv railway station.
This is out of the city checkpoint, but access to this area is still a bit clandestine. It has to be granted by special permission of the ChernobylInterinform, I have no idea why though. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to be given permission to explore the yard.
Yaniv station was the vital passenger pickup point for those arriving by train into Pripyat in the hours after the disaster. People who arrived here during this time were moved directly from the trains onto buses and sent right back out of the area to limit their contamination.
Yaniv is an interesting area to explore on foot. Entry to the station building is now sealed off and used for storage, but the railway lines and what's left of the platform are still accessible. There are many train cars still sitting around on and off the tracks, and most in a very bad way. One of the lines is still in use. I believe there is approximately one train a month ferrying in vital building materials for the new sarcophagus, which is now underway.
Some of the huts, and carriages are still being lived in by labourers working in the zone:
I’m not that into trains, but a lot of people are, so the full report is here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/trains
Its 33 degrees and I’m really in need of a drink, so I leisurely make my way back to Chernobyl.
I’ll let you into something personal now. I’m not a fan of routine…Except on a Sunday.
I work silly hours, so the only time I get to spend time in the kitchen is on a Sunday. My Favourite rock show is on the radio on a Sunday, so I always crank that up, open a bottle of red and spend the afternoon cooking curry. It’s my favourite meal of the week.
I cannot impart the joy I felt when I was sat in the Chernobyl workers canteen, on a Sunday night, thousands of miles from home, alone, not being able to understand a word people around me were saying… when they bought me out a ‘Chernobyl Curry’ and an ice cold bottle of Staropramen.
Everyone around me thought my eyes were watering through the heat of the curry, but they were tears of joy…
I wandered into ‘town’ to find the final shop which I hadn’t been into yet, and stocked up on Inkerman wine, which I’ve had before and longed for again.
The shop was actually situated in the Chernobyl bus station. Which despite its derelict appearance was still in use to ferry workers to and from Kiev. Tonight on a Sunday night though, it was deserted:
The only exception was a guard who came in just after me, and proceeded to down a bottle of vodka, quicker than I could drink my water.
One of the more interesting finds at the shop is the Ukraine’s answer to anti-narcotics campaigning. A cannabis lolly, with a crossed out hypodermic needle on it.
I’m getting quite used to life in the zone now. I’ve swapped my half pint tumbler for a Chernobyl branded mug.
The drunk guard from a few nights ago is hanging out on the Government Agency HQ steps with a couple of women, whom I quiz him about. He explains that one of them is his wife who has come here “To give him directions for life”. But never explains who the other woman is.
I have loved my time in the zone, but alas other people must also visit here and there are only 16 beds. So my time to leave has come for now. I undergo several full body scans for radiation at the Interinform HQ. (Note: some of the afore mentioned bites on my arm)
I have my clothing scanned separately, and all is deemed safe enough to leave the zone. I am driven to the 30Km military checkpoint where I am to undergo another full body scan. This machine is alto fitted with a locking gate which will only open, letting you out of the zone if you aren’t glowing. The 3 second wait is excruciating.
I eventually hear a beep and push on the gate, but it doesn’t open…
I hear another beep and try again, it doesn’t budge.
“Why isn’t it opening?”
“What’s happening? “
“Why isn’t it opening?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
My guard lets out a proper belly laugh, and I notice he’s holding it shut.
We drive back to Kiev, and grab a pint. My fellow travellers let me choose the venue, and I find a bar fittingly on a rooftop. Before heading back to the airport.
My fellow explorers get on the plane back to Luton.
Not me though...
I sit completely alone in the airport bar with one more cold beer… which I finish before flagging down a taxi heading back into the heart of the Ukraine…
I’m not ready to go home yet…
I’m heading back into the Ukraine…
I was rudely awoken an hour later by the familiar Ukrainian shouting of my guide. I can’t begin to describe how rough I felt. The natural instinct of opening my mouth under a running tap and taking in all of the water I could manage, had to be quashed as I remembered where I was.
I managed to find some bottled water just in time for my guide to declare that it was indeed Sunday (as it had been for nearly six hours) therefore we needed to attend church!
Chernobyl Church is actually 270 years old. It’s makes you realise how easy it is to forget that Chernobyls history begins long before 1986; centuries of history.
I feel honoured that my guide has chosen to bring me here, it shown a level of trust. I’m lucky enough to witness a full on Russian Orthodox ceremony, with beautiful chanting, and incense.
Everyone was of course still in military fatigues, with the exception of the priest. When it comes to the actual prayer I decide to leave the locals to it and as a mark of respect I silently slip away.
I notice there is a large funnel sticking up from a vehicle in the undergrowth near by. Closer investigation reveals that it’s an amphibious tank! As I wander through the undergrowth more military vehicles present themselves. Each surrounded by numerous radiation warning signs, but after some careful testing with the Geigers I realise that these are almost entirely for show.
I mooch round for a good half hour before I notice that people are beginning to pour out of the church. I managed to slip back into the throng near my guide and congratulate the priest on a wonderful service.
Full report (with loads of military vehicles) can be read at
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/church
I decide to blast this hangover out properly with a bit of rooftopping. I ask my guide to take to me the tallest building in Pripyat, and he obliges. After passing through the 10km check point, and the city checkpoint we arrive at the base of a 16 storey tower block. He explains that it is still forbidden to enter the buildings in Pripyat, so we mustn’t be seen. He agrees to take us to the top floor but not the roof as we could be spotted by workers who have not yet received a “generous tip“.
A gruelling 16 storey climb later, and we arrive at a flat on the top floor, and make our way to the balcony. The view is spectacular. Although this isn’t my first visit to Pripyat, I’ve never been lucky enough to view it’s vastness all at once.
On the horizon looms the iconic Reactor 4, and Duga 3A Russian radar aerial; some kilometre long and half a kilometre high:
After half an hour of taking in the view, we deicide it’s time to leave. The whole time we were exploring the flat the guide was stood with his back against an open utility cupboard, which had traces of daylight streaming from it.
It must be the way to roof….
…Just as he was declaring that it was time to go, a fellow traveller “Charlie” gave me a look, before flicking his eyes quickly towards the cupboard then upwards before giving me a wink…
We both knew what we had to do.
I fiddled more with my camera, pretending to make multiple shots of a door. The guide tutted and started to walk away. The two of us bundled for the cupboard, and almost sprint-ran up the ladder to the roof.
Only 20ft higher than where we just were, the forbidden view was so much better - it was 360 degrees.
I saw a telegraph pole at the edge of the parapet, and I knew I had to get that slight bit higher. I stood a few feet from the pole, and threw myself off the 16th storey towards the horizon. I hit the pole, shimmied up, and clung on for a few seconds.
After a while the pole started to shift, grinding in its fixings, lurching forward over the edge; I decided to climb down.
I chilled at the edge for a minute or so, before realising I needed to get to ground just before my guide did. So I flung myself down each flight of stairs, taking half flights in one leap. I caught up with my guide, just as he was getting to ground level, I was out of breath and grinning like an idiot.
The full rooftopping report can be viewed here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/rooftopping
The fun and hi-jinks were about to end.
The next explore would be one of Pripyats Kindergartens “Cheb Urasaka”.
As I previously mentioned, Pripyats population was very young with the average age being just 26. With so many young families it was necessary to build no fewer than 15 Kindergartens. I knew this one was going to be pretty tough on the emotions and I’d been building it up in my head for months.
Since I’ve been staying in the zone I’ve been with 15 other travellers, all guys. So there was a fair amount of rowdiness, and bravado going on.
Not here.
…This was different.
You all know what it’s like exploring in a group; when you see each other you’re normally like “You’ve gotta see in here” or “did you find the piano?”
Not here. We were silent.
When we occasionally passed in corridors we were silent. Some guys acknowledged my presence with a subtle nod, most guys couldn’t even lift their eyes to make eye contact.
I knew there’d be dolls around the place, I’d seen photos before, and I know they’re just plastic and nylon. But when you actually see them, mimicking the younger population, and you see how many of them there are, their faces seared:
You start to think back to your own experiences and memories. I know how hard it is for a child to leave a loved toy behind; sometimes it’s their best friend, their world.
I can’t imagine how those toddlers felt to be evacuated without being able to go back for their friend.
Even the gas masks I found were in toddler size.
I found another doll which was different to any I’d seen here before.
It was at least three times the size - the size of an actual toddler. Face down in the dust at my feet. I grabbed its arm to roll it over, but it was heavy, a dead weight. It seemed limp and lifeless, heavy, not hollow like a doll normally is.
The mechanism which closes the dolls eyes when it’s laid horizontally must have been slightly dusty;
When I rolled the doll over, it looked me square in the eyes for a couple of seconds, before closing them by herself. To this day it’s still the single image from this trip which I remember before I sleep.
I made my way out of the staff area, and realise I haven’t seen or heard anyone else in at 20 minutes. I’m not sure how many children attended this Kindergarten, but it was a similar size to my secondary school, which had 900 students.
I pass one last dormitory on my way out. I look through the door but decide I’ve seen enough, and don’t enter.
The atmosphere on the bus after we visited here was completely different to any other time. No one shared photos or anecdotes, we all just sat, 16 guys, heads hung in complete silence.
I’d really recommend reading the full report here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/kindergarten
My next explore was a repeat visit to the Palace of Culture. I’m kind of reluctant to post it at all, as everyone that visits Pripyat visits the palace, and it’s all been seen before… or so I thought.
Sneaking away from my guide for a few minutes I see a small door leading underground, I’ve just gotta squeeze through it, see what’s down there. I come to a room, over 100m long, in pitch darkness. I walk in confusion towards the far end, and see 5 shadowy human figures in the darkness… it turns out they are Police style shooting targets! It’s a gun range! After mentioning this find later on to my guide he is astounded, and has never seen or heard of it before. It makes me realise what exploring is about, seeing the unseen, especially if it’s been there for years unnoticed, untouched.
I manage to sneak away from him again, and know exactly where I’m going. “To the roof!” I silently declare in my head. I head out across a truss beam over a swimming pool, no handed (both hands on my camera filming my feet) testing out my balance.
I arrive at the roof, and the iconic sign. I look out over the main square and wonder what it would have looked like in the 70’s (Note the Ferris wheel, a different one than what is there now, but same location)
Sign from the reverse (on the roof)
Full report can be read here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/palace
Pripyat was a prosperous town. The average salary there was a lot higher than the rest of the Ukraine. Leisure activities were a lot more available than most cities of that size. You just have to look at Pripyat’s 3 stadiums, multiple restaurants, hotels, car accessory shops to realise that.
Here is the fantastic ‘Café Pripyat’ in the late 70’s:
Here it is in 2011:
Inside it is full of fantastic stained glass:
The stained glass is actually coloured glass laid end on! They mustn’t have liked their fingers:
Oh I forgot to mention previously that our driver (the Stig’s Ukrainian brother) always carried a couple of kitchen knives and a telescopic sight whenever we were outside of the vehicle. I found this hilarious, imagining him poking a violent looter with amazing accuracy. It turns out the sight was just a makeshift telescope, and he was watching our back for dangerous animals.
Full Café report can be found at
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/cafe
The “Yaniv” train station:
Roughly half a kilometre west of the 'Bridge of Death' is Yaniv railway station.
This is out of the city checkpoint, but access to this area is still a bit clandestine. It has to be granted by special permission of the ChernobylInterinform, I have no idea why though. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to be given permission to explore the yard.
Yaniv station was the vital passenger pickup point for those arriving by train into Pripyat in the hours after the disaster. People who arrived here during this time were moved directly from the trains onto buses and sent right back out of the area to limit their contamination.
Yaniv is an interesting area to explore on foot. Entry to the station building is now sealed off and used for storage, but the railway lines and what's left of the platform are still accessible. There are many train cars still sitting around on and off the tracks, and most in a very bad way. One of the lines is still in use. I believe there is approximately one train a month ferrying in vital building materials for the new sarcophagus, which is now underway.
Some of the huts, and carriages are still being lived in by labourers working in the zone:
I’m not that into trains, but a lot of people are, so the full report is here:
www.urbanxphotography.co.uk/trains
Its 33 degrees and I’m really in need of a drink, so I leisurely make my way back to Chernobyl.
I’ll let you into something personal now. I’m not a fan of routine…Except on a Sunday.
I work silly hours, so the only time I get to spend time in the kitchen is on a Sunday. My Favourite rock show is on the radio on a Sunday, so I always crank that up, open a bottle of red and spend the afternoon cooking curry. It’s my favourite meal of the week.
I cannot impart the joy I felt when I was sat in the Chernobyl workers canteen, on a Sunday night, thousands of miles from home, alone, not being able to understand a word people around me were saying… when they bought me out a ‘Chernobyl Curry’ and an ice cold bottle of Staropramen.
Everyone around me thought my eyes were watering through the heat of the curry, but they were tears of joy…
I wandered into ‘town’ to find the final shop which I hadn’t been into yet, and stocked up on Inkerman wine, which I’ve had before and longed for again.
The shop was actually situated in the Chernobyl bus station. Which despite its derelict appearance was still in use to ferry workers to and from Kiev. Tonight on a Sunday night though, it was deserted:
The only exception was a guard who came in just after me, and proceeded to down a bottle of vodka, quicker than I could drink my water.
One of the more interesting finds at the shop is the Ukraine’s answer to anti-narcotics campaigning. A cannabis lolly, with a crossed out hypodermic needle on it.
I’m getting quite used to life in the zone now. I’ve swapped my half pint tumbler for a Chernobyl branded mug.
The drunk guard from a few nights ago is hanging out on the Government Agency HQ steps with a couple of women, whom I quiz him about. He explains that one of them is his wife who has come here “To give him directions for life”. But never explains who the other woman is.
I have loved my time in the zone, but alas other people must also visit here and there are only 16 beds. So my time to leave has come for now. I undergo several full body scans for radiation at the Interinform HQ. (Note: some of the afore mentioned bites on my arm)
I have my clothing scanned separately, and all is deemed safe enough to leave the zone. I am driven to the 30Km military checkpoint where I am to undergo another full body scan. This machine is alto fitted with a locking gate which will only open, letting you out of the zone if you aren’t glowing. The 3 second wait is excruciating.
I eventually hear a beep and push on the gate, but it doesn’t open…
I hear another beep and try again, it doesn’t budge.
“Why isn’t it opening?”
“What’s happening? “
“Why isn’t it opening?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
My guard lets out a proper belly laugh, and I notice he’s holding it shut.
We drive back to Kiev, and grab a pint. My fellow travellers let me choose the venue, and I find a bar fittingly on a rooftop. Before heading back to the airport.
My fellow explorers get on the plane back to Luton.
Not me though...
I sit completely alone in the airport bar with one more cold beer… which I finish before flagging down a taxi heading back into the heart of the Ukraine…
I’m not ready to go home yet…
I’m heading back into the Ukraine…
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To get in touch, please use the contact page.