Much of the 30km exclusion zone around the Chernobyl
nuclear plant is pine forest, and some of it so badly contaminated that a
forest fire could create a devastating radioactive smoke cloud.
Heading north from Kiev in Ukraine, you can see old
ladies and their grand-daughters sitting waiting expectantly in the long grass,
shaded from a sweltering sun, under the straight red eaves of tall, orderly
Scots pines which line the road. It is blueberry season, and they are selling
them by the plastic pint glass. You could pull in to haggle, but Sergiy
Zibtsev, a professor from the Forestry Institute at the Kiev University of Life
Sciences does not recommend it. They are laced with radioactive strontium.
Berries are highly efficient at soaking up and storing
radionuclides, huge quantities of which were dispersed over large parts of the
Soviet Union and Western Europe by smoke plumes from the explosion. Radiation measurement checks only take place
in official markets, and usually only for caesium. As for the hundreds of
makeshift fruit stalls, generally run by old ladies, these are never checked at
all. Having said this, the berries are
not uniformly harmful. In an average pint of them, perhaps only a quarter will
be contaminated. The main thing is to make sure you do not put them on your
cereal every day.
Besides the blueberry sellers, the road on the fringes of
the exclusion zone surrounding Chernobyl feels busier than a couple of years
ago. There is a girl in high heels tottering along the verge, chatting on her
iPhone. A large barley field ripples in the wind, ready for harvesting. A young
couple shoot by on a moped. This region is slowly getting back to normal, says
Sergiy. People are returning to farm this once booming agricultural area.
It is happening inside the exclusion zone too. Chernobyl
Forestry Enterprise is now planting small new pine stands which it plans to
harvest in 80 years' time. But there are serious problems with the rest of
Chernobyl's extensive pine plantations. Pine damages easily. Wind blows it
down. Insects infest it. Drought makes brush into perfect tinder which can all
too easily catch fire. And these dying radioactive plantations are considered
too dangerous and expensive to clear. If ignited, one expert likens the
potential effect to setting off a nuclear bomb in Eastern Europe. Wind could
carry radioactive smoke particles large distances, not just in Ukraine, but
right across the continent.
To help establish or disprove such hypotheses, Sergiy has
come to Chernobyl to gather data about a very large fire which spread unchecked
and destroyed a huge area of Scots pine in 1992. A colleague is preparing a
scientific paper on the fire's consequences, which are still largely unknown.
Together, they hope to attract funding to model the danger represented by
Chernobyl's forest. If they can pinpoint the most vulnerable pine stands, the
next step will be to persuade the Ukrainian government and other partners to
invest in training and equipment to safeguard Chernobyl's firefighters, and
perhaps eventually to clear parts of the forest considered to be at the most
risk.
Firefighters in Chernobyl have one of the least enviable
jobs in the world. They spend all day up rusty Soviet watchtowers, which sway
in the wind like tin-box metronomes, and act as conductors to the huge
lightning storms which swing across the land most afternoons in summer, often
sparking fires. When they spot a wildfire, the firefighters triangulate its
location by radio. Teams jump aboard big, red, Soviet fire trucks, and lumber
along cracked, overgrown roads to the source of the blaze. Their equipment is
very basic. They believe they know when they are fighting a radioactive fire -
they experience a tingling, metallic sensation in their skin - but they do not
fully understand the serious dangers of being exposed to super-heated
radioactive particles.
Their job description still belongs to heroic, Soviet
ideals - they must put the blaze out, no matter the personal consequences.
Sergiy says more big wildfires in Chernobyl like the one in 1992 would be
catastrophic for Ukraine's image, and potentially devastating for farmland
right across Europe.
Lots of people are working on the problem, which
continues with each new hot summer. Sergiy and his colleagues need support, not
just to save Chernobyl's firefighters from exposure to high doses of radiation,
but to stop the particles migrating up into the air and away wherever the wind
blows them, spreading the legacy of an accident which many people think we can
already safely forget.
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