I think you are familiar with the paradox of sensations when visiting new places. I'm talking about the fact that when you first move to a certain final goal along a new route, the path there seems longer, thorny and interesting than going back. I think it also works in the matter of perception of the place you were in when you visited it again.
Often, we get less emotions and impressions than the first time. This is obvious, we have already been here, we have seen the main plans, we know some rules, and even sometimes we feel so confident that we look at newcomers with a condescending smile, maybe rightfully.
But, there are exceptions... Some places on a second visit can give us more vivid emotions than the first time, because this time we are ready to look more carefully and do not feel modesty. This post is about such a place, about an abandoned town in a God-forsaken land. We were already here with you in the last post, last year. But this time, I tried to go deeper and find other angles to try to immerse you in the atmosphere more. I hope it works out…
A brief summary of the city (read more in the previos post): at the dawn of time, indigenous peoples found the bay and fished here. In the 17th century, the first permanent dwellings built by the Pomors appeared on the shore. 150 years ago, brave and economic Norwegians came here, who built durable houses, architecture unprecedented here before, for their residence for several years.
60 years later, the USSR, within the framework of the project of human superiority over nature, drives 500 political prisoners to the ends of the earth, who in just 5 years with their bare hands build a city for more than 700 people to live in. These 700 people are military and scientists with their families who are moving here to work at the largest biological institute beyond the Arctic Circle.
The collapse of the USSR in the 90s of the last century leads to the collapse of all institutions, political, financial, social, and people flee from the far north, leaving entire enterprises, military bases and cities abandoned. And here we are, in the present, looking at a ghost town in which there are more dead houses than there are 50 residents left here.
Just like the first time, I am struck by the variety of architecture. But if earlier I paid attention only to the "Norwegian" houses, this time I manage to capture all the epochs and participants.
It becomes clear that in the most modest buildings huddled builders-prisoners, not the fact that even in houses, rather in cabins. I think individual houses were assigned to the highest ranks among the caretakers, military and scientists later.
They are joined by apartment buildings of the early 40s and 70s - the only concrete four-storey building here was obviously built at the peak of population and one of the few still functioning, there is electricity and water, almost all current residents huddle in it.
Last time I mentioned why I didn't go inside these houses. Now I can demonstrate it clearly. Most of them are just skeletons, and they are already beginning to fall apart from the wind. I'm sure there's nothing inside but the walls.
This winter I happened to drop in here for half an hour, I wanted to get unique pictures, but the weather quickly deteriorated, a blizzard began and I had to quickly return until the snow hid the track from my car. After all, I managed to photograph one of the houses, this picture made a strong impression on me.
It was as if the cold had taken shape, I don't know, maybe the shape of a huge polar bear, which, with a blow of a giant snow paw, simply tore a piece out of this house, leaving him to die in agony. It seems to me that a dozen more winters and only stone foundations will remain from most of the houses.
Although a tree can stay here for a very long time, the all-pervading ice keeps these houses whole better than any glue, prolonging their torment indefinitely. Only hot summers and fires can accelerate their disappearance.
I was no less impressed by the number of tourists this time, the same as me, strangers in this frozen place in time and space. Obviously, the route is becoming more and more popular and many are in a hurry to visit this place before it finally falls apart. Especially now the borders are closed and domestic tourism is reviving. Maybe it will lead to something good, as it was with Teriberka.
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Spring came late this year, but it was very assertive and impetuous, almost immediately turning into summer. Under such pressure, the local vegetation did not waste time and brought a beautiful dissonance- the colors of life against the background of devastation. This adds a kind of romanticism, in place of despair.
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I tried to walk along all the local trails to find out where they lead. Still, there are enough hidden and secluded places that cannot be seen from the central streets. But the main feature is that the distance from the city allows you to look at it a little differently. To perceive it not as something separate and man-made, but as part of the local nature. And the nature here is amazing in its scope.
This is the answer to the question- why at least someone continues to live here, despite such a clear withering. Nature. The state of mind that she gives. Peace and contemplation. And the ability to appreciate small joys, in the form of good weather, as an incredible miracle, as grace. There is no rush, no competition, no ambition, just life to the song of the elements as it is.
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On one of the protrusions of the crescent of the bay, one of the culprits of my arrival here is located - an abandoned biological institute. Not only a strange architectural masterpiece in its execution, but also a keeper of small stories and secrets.
In fact, most of the tourists come here to see it. A giant among the local buildings, with the appearance of an angel. I'm not kidding, if we dive into the biblical description of angels, then they look exactly like the familiar elements of the human body, but assembled in an unusual combination for us, which is almost impossible to perceive with human consciousness.
Looking at this building, it seems to me that this is Frankenstein assembled at different times from different parts.
I didn't dare cross his threshold last time. But this time I was serious about getting inside and I did it. But it would be fair to leave this for the next post for the unique Urban Exploration community. I hope you enjoy it.
But also for the readers of this post, I have saved a small bonus. Probably it is already turning into a kind of tradition for me, to meet wild animals on the way. And this time it turned out to be someone more serious than reindeer.
A mother bear with three cubs wandered along the road in the polar night. This only underlines once again how abandoned and feral the places in which the city is located are. Not to say that the local bears are too arrogant and often come out to people.
Honestly, I was a little scared, after all, a mother protecting her cubs is a pretty dangerous beast. She tried to threaten me and drive me right out of the way. I'm sorry, dear, but I can only drive on the road. So I had to scare her off with a horn. Obviously she was convinced by the fact that my car is a bigger and louder beast, so they bypassed me on the hills.
Maybe very soon, all these abandoned houses will be filled with a completely different life, but no less diverse and fascinating. Birds will build nests in attics, foxes will dig holes under the foundation, bears will play with tires. And humans ... only tourists will remain from humans, watching nature return its own.
