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When guys think of adventure travel, they think of rock climbing in national parks, or bungee-jumping in New Zealand, or shooting the rapids in untouched wilderness, just them and the grizzlies. Andrew Blackwell did. The title Voices from Chernobyl it all: Visit Sunny Chernobyl. He was right. If you want a riveting summer read, this is it. Check out his itinerary: Chernobyl, of course, where he scored a black-market Geiger counter and visited the deserted city of Pripyat as seen in The Chernobyl Diaries ; admittedly a different take on that locale. He also traveled to the oil sands Voices from Chernobyl Alberta, sailed into the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, toured the deforested Amazon, and took in the sights and smells of Kanpur, named the most polluted city in India by its own government. He also made it to Linfen, China, arguably the Voices from Chernobyl with the worst smog in the world. We sat down with Blackwell to get some details. Why go? Why stay? Why on Earth would anyone want to visit these parts of Earth? His answers will surprise you. There's an empty town square, empty apartment buildings, empty kindergartens with toys still lying on the floor. The Chernobyl disaster was no death sentence for people living in Pripyat, but still, this is a city of 50, that was completely abandoned in a single day. Just being in a place like that is a sobering experience, and undeniably a little scary. I'm actually surprised it took this long for someone to set a horror story there. But I should point out that, because it has been left to go back to nature, the Exclusion Zone surrounding the reactor is also a really Voices from Chernobyl place. Nature took back ownership of the whole area. Want to unlock Voices from Chernobyl secret to a stronger body and a quicker mind? Go outside. What would inspire an otherwise normal person like yourself to want to visit pretty messed-up places, and go as a tourist? I guess it depends what you're looking for Voices from Chernobyl you travel. On the one hand, I appreciate lying on the beach, or hiking through the Grand Canyon, or seeing the Taj Mahal. But the trips I really remember are the ones that were more adventurous, trips where I had a reason to go off the map, into places that don't see a lot of tourists. And aside from war zones, polluted places probably get fewer tourists than any place on the planet. The grossest moment I had was in New Delhi. At that moment I thought: Aha, I finally got my gross on, here. But I Voices from Chernobyl point out that people make religious offerings to that stream, at that very spot. So even that level of grossness is relative. The night I stayed in Chernobyl, I spent the evening drinking in the parking lot with the two government employees who had shown me around the zone. Somewhere around my fifth shot of vodka, I had a bit of a moment. I was sitting there in Chernobyl, on a gorgeous spring evening, with two new friends, in a beautiful—although radioactive—wilderness, drinking the finest Ukrainian hooch available. I realized this Voices from Chernobyl tourism thing was working out Voices from Chernobyl better than I had hoped. Describe some of the more unforgettable moments in your travels. I took a three-week voyage to the Pacific Garbage Patch as Voices from Chernobyl deck-hand with a nonprofit group called Project Kaisei. The Garbage Patch is incredibly inaccessible, and getting there was a true high-seas adventure—especially considering my prior seafaring experience consisted mainly of riding the Staten Island ferry. I'll never forget that feeling, of being so far away from any kind of civilization, about as far as it's possible to get from humankind. And yet there are plastic bottles and laundry hampers in the water. Travel light. When you're packing, don't ask yourself, "Will I need this? Need more tips for easier travel? One thing I learned is that there's a real struggle going on right now for the soul of environmentalism. Some people are arguing that it needs to focus more on solutions that include people, instead of just trying to preserve pristine nature. When I was in the Brazilian Amazon, for example, I was surprised to Voices from Chernobyl that some environmentalists there are actually excited about Voices from Chernobyl loggers inside the national parks. The difference is that the people doing the logging live inside the park, so they have an incentive not to overdo it, and to keep illegal loggers out. But that kind of solution goes against everything we've been taught over the last years about how important it is to leave nature untouched. It's a debate that may end up transforming what we think even counts as nature—and how we want to protect it. In some ways, I see it as a more pleasant place than I did before. I wouldn't say I'm optimistic about the chances for humanity changing course, in terms of climate change and mass Voices from Chernobyl. But the places I visited were still interesting, or even beautiful in their way, Voices from Chernobyl matter how supposedly gross they are. It's nice to know there will still be places worth visiting once we've finished ruining the world. Visit Sunny Chernobyl is available wherever you buy books. More from MensHealth. United States. Type keyword s to search. Today's Top Stories. The 21 Best Bourbons for Any Budget. Michael K. But what if you took the opposite route? So, are there really ghosts at Chernobyl? Even the smell? At what point did you know you had a book? You may be able to find more information about this and similar content at piano. Advertisement - Continue Reading Below. More From Travel. What It’s Actually Like to Visit Chernobyl | Condé Nast Traveler

The land around the Chernobyl reactors is poisoned. Yet in this bleak, inhospitable environment — in the absence of man — wild boars, moose, deer, and wolves are thriving. So are cows, although scientists fear they may be retrogressing on a genetic level. On the day the Ukrainian government finally shut down the last working nuclear reactor at Chernobyl, I was flying in a battered helicopter over the contaminated landscape of Belarus, Ukraine's poor Voices from Chernobyl neighbor. The doors on the old chopper were shaking and so were the Voices from Chernobyl hands. It was 10 a. The pilot, Leonid, had been drinking vodka until five that morning. I knew this because I'd been with him. I tried not to think about Leonid's condition as I squatted in the cramped cargo space with an English cameraman named Lawrence and a Russian hunter called Oleg. Lawrence and I were making a National Geographic documentary about the wildlife in the "exclusion zone" surrounding the site of the Chernobyl nuclear accident. It sounds like a sick joke—a freak show of deformed and Voices from Chernobyl animals. But against all expectations, nature appears to be thriving. The landscape below us was all part of the exclusion zone. The Russian words for it—zona otchuzhdenia—literally mean " zone of alienation. That is times more than the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atom bombs combined. Someresidents were evacuated after being exposed to the radiation; anotherpeople were involved in the cleanup. There still is considerable debate Voices from Chernobyl the effects of the disaster, which cost 31 lives owing to fire and radiation exposure, and has resulted in a huge increase in thyroid cancer among the children who lived nearby. Because of the time it takes for some cancers to develop, scientists say the full toll will not be determined for decades. The section we were flying over was reclaimed marshland that had been farmed until the disaster. Long stretches of tall grass were broken by clumps of birch and pine trees. Occasionally, when the Voices from Chernobyl sun pierced through the low clouds, we could glimpse abandoned farmhouses overgrown with shrubs. It was December, but there was no snow on the flat, empty ground. Voices from Chernobyl was still in the funereal colors of late autumn: brown mud and leaves, yellow fields, gray skies. The helicopter banked steeply and swooped in low Voices from Chernobyl a small herd Voices from Chernobyl wild boars. About a dozen animals surged through the long grass, turning this way and that to avoid the wash of the rotor. The tall yellow grass flattened as we passed close to the ground. Oleg aimed his shotgun. Lawrence and I tried to keep out of his way without leaning against the helicopter's rear door, which seemed to be secured by little more than a frayed strap. A gunshot blast filled the cabin. Moments later, Leonid's unsteady hands set the chopper down in head-high grass. The dead boar lay on its side. With its huge square body and tiny legs, it looked like a suitcase that had fallen off a luggage carousel. Oleg and Leonid cut the boar open and unpacked its guts. They removed its testicles and broke off its tusks with an Voices from Chernobyl. The organs would be analyzed, the tusks kept as a trophy. But there was no question of making the poor beast into Voices from Chernobyl. The animals here are highly contaminated. Boars are omnivorous and particularly fond of mushrooms—a potent source of radioactive particles. As he wielded his bloody hunting knife, Oleg explained that some of the boars he shot turned out to contain 1, times the normal level of radiation. And yet the species, as a whole, seems to be flourishing in the area despite the radioactive diet. The boar population has doubled to about 3, since the mishap. Other species are thriving, too—rare and endangered birds have returned to the zone, and the numbers of wolves, moose, and roe deer have increased. Bison, hunted to extinction in this region in the 19th century, have been reintroduced by the government. This part of the exclusion zone is now a nature reserve. Hunters pay to come here on radioactive safaris and help "take samples" of the animals. The fact that there's any wildlife in the exclusion zone is surprising enough. That there's enough to Voices from Chernobyl commercially seems incredible. At the border, the guards kept us waiting while they studied the paperwork that had taken so long to obtain. Entry to the exclusion zone is strictly regulated. It was only mid-morning, but it seemed like twilight on this overcast day. Andrey Arkhipov, a scientist who has been studying the effects of the accident for 15 years, Voices from Chernobyl to me and said, Voices from Chernobyl to the exclusion zone. I returned his smile Voices from Chernobyl. My misgivings about coming had intensified ever since the documentary's original director had pulled out of the project at the urging of his physician girlfriend. When I told Andrey this, he laughed and said it happened all the time. The zone's fearsome reputation is a source of amusement to the people who work there. Chem dalshe, tem strashneye, they say: "The farther away they are, the more they worry. Once we drove Voices from Chernobyl the border, there was little evidence why the landscape should inspire such fear. Flat, untended fields stretched from both sides of the road under the weak winter sun. Leafless birch trees glistened with ice. Although its 1, square miles are partly in Ukraine and partly in Belarus, the exclusion zone resembles an Voices from Chernobyl nation. It has its own rules, its own borders, and its own small population of researchers and elderly squatters who have returned, unable to part with this poisoned land. It reminded me of the mysterious Zone in Andrei Tarkovsky's Russian film The Stalker —an evil and dangerous place, which nonetheless holds the power to grant everyone's deepest wish. The longer we worked on our three-week assignment, the more did life in the exclusion zone seem like an omen. This overgrown, underpopulated land might prefigure Voices from Chernobyl of mankind's possible futures. Over the years, the zone's perimeter has expanded to include additional contaminated areas. The place is not uniformly poisoned. Parts of it are relatively clean, others dangerously hot. Without a guide or a Geiger counter, there is no way to tell them apart. The nucleus of the zone, of course, is the structure that houses the remains of Reactor No. The shattered reactor is entombed in a concrete-and-steel covering, called either ukrytie, "the Shelter," or, more evocatively, sarkofag, "the Sarcophagus. The Sarcophagus is the ugliest building I have ever seen. Even if it weren't shielding the remains of the world's worst nuclear disaster, it would still be repugnant. It is stark, crudely made, and sinister. Thrown together in a desperate rush in the months after the accident, the building's armored sides bulge like the hull of an enormous tank. There are still fragments of nuclear fuel on the roof. Birds circle overhead, presumably sensing warmth. It makes hair thicker and men more potent. Here was the moment I'd been dreading most: I was zipping myself into two pairs of cotton overalls to enter the remains of the reactor. Voices from Chernobyl though masks would prevent us from inhaling radioactive dust, there was nothing we could do to protect ourselves—or our posterity—from the gamma radiation inside. For the duration of our time in the Sarcophagus, radiation would be attacking our cells. I tried to think of it the way a scientist might. Radiation behaves according to the laws of physics, and every day we're exposed to its rays. There are safe limits, which we weren't even Voices from Chernobyl to exceeding. But I'm not a scientist, and I have an instinctive fear of a danger I can't see, hear, taste, Voices from Chernobyl, touch, or even understand properly. I put on special overshoes, tucked my hair into a cotton cap, and followed Viktor out of the changing room. We had taken a long time to get ready, and he was impatient—not because of the danger, but because he didn't want to miss his train back home to Slavutych. I tried to explain my anxiety in faltering Russian. He'd made this trip hundreds of times and no longer bothered with a mask. In a conscious echo of Tarkovsky's film, some people call the guides "stalkers. I hoped ours was similarly gifted. Voices from Chernobyl we crossed open ground, I pointed one of my dosimeters at an exterior wall of the Sarcophagus. A measurement exceeding 1 millirem an hour would qualify as a restricted area in a nuclear power plant. Here the dosimeter was registering Men Voices from Chernobyl masks were working directly in the path of the radiation. The stalker said the time they spent here was carefully monitored. Still, it's sobering to think they absorb as much radiation in 10 hours as most Voices from Chernobyl us do in a year. Viktor led us through a warren of stairways and buckled passages to the remains of the old control room. In the dim light, it looked like a cheap copy of the bridge on the starship Enterprise. Outmoded dials and instruments covered an entire wall. The Real Chernobyl Diaries

But they still want to see. In my pockets is a dosimeter, a device measuring radiation levels, and it rattles with shrill warning beeps as Kryshtal, one of the leaders with Chernobyl Tourpoints to a nondescript patch of grass beneath a tree, off to the side of the walkway. A shudder spreads through the group. Goosebumps and tears are frequent during a visit to the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, reactions that come as guides relate the grim history of the area. On April 26,a safety test at the nuclear power plant went Voices from Chernobyl wrong—a partial meltdown and explosion sent radioactive debris into the air, leading to the immediate, painful deaths of more than 40 first-responders and the prolonged suffering of thousands. The accident forced entire towns Voices from Chernobyl abruptly empty out, and the area within a mile radius of the plant was deemed uninhabitable for at least another years. I remember the moment I learned about Chernobyl. I had learned about sarcophagi before, in Voices from Chernobyl on ancient Egypt, but the concept of an entire building entombed was too much. Tourism is a newer industry for this region, only two hours away from Kiev in Ukraine. As the tour websites note, an average single-day visit to the Exclusion Zone—even including a stop at the gates of reactor four—equals a radiation dose equivalent to one hour on an airplane, which is times less Voices from Chernobyl the dose from one chest X-ray. You can rent a personal dosimeter to keep track of of how much radiation you're exposed to during the visit. While it's technically illegal to live inside the borders of the Exclusion Zone, since Ukraine has permitted only elderly "self-settlers" to stay. Pripyat, a town of nearly 50, residents hastily evacuated following the accident, is the most surreal stop of the tours, and the most Instagrammed. It's all eerily empty structures— everything from a sports stadium and hotel to apartment blocks and supermarkets. The city is a dusty time capsule—a necropolis of broken glass, rotting furniture, and peeling paint. We stand in what was once the city theater. Nearby are the remains of an amusement park, bumper cars included, which was brand new and due to have its grand opening coincide with the holiday. The Chernobyl accident came first. The fun park never opened. There are no safety barriers or marked routes for the tours, which is part of the appeal. We are at liberty to explore, cautiously peering around corners and venturing down dark hallways. Every step reveals decline, destruction, and overgrowth. Nature is reclaiming Pripyat; elk and fox now Voices from Chernobyl the neighborhoods. And then there are the tourists. We step among the debris, taking photos and feeling, in turns, humbled, angered, and alarmed. The site stands as a monument to the havoc wreaked by hubris, obfuscation, and paranoia, all three elements magnifying the literal and Voices from Chernobyl fallout from the accident. Earlier this year, Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko called Chernobyl "an unhealing wound that Voices from Chernobyl live with as a people. No TV documentary or textbook can deliver the profound reality check that comes from seeing it all for yourself, and I'm glad I did. I admit to cringing while stepping over torn book pages scattered on floors, and wondering how Voices from Chernobyl longer the ephemeral personal belongings around Pripyat can withstand the parade of footsteps. But in addition to providing desperately needed investment and employment for the larger region, the tours are culturally important, preserving and sharing the factual epic of the accident and its consequences. It's not a moment frozen in time, though. The eroding sarcophagus of reactor four has been replaced. Chernobyl doesn't even look like the image in my history textbook anymore. Explore ukraine. Voices from Chernobyl Daily Our most popular newsletter for destination inspiration, travel tips, trip itineraries, and everything else you need Voices from Chernobyl be an expert traveler in this beautiful world.