forest fire

I'm not really a city person. If I don't get out into the countryside regularly I start coming apart at the seams. This means that when the offer came to go and plant trees in the Russian forests that were damaged by the vast forest fires this summer, I accepted for mostly selfish reasons. I slightly rued my decision when it transpired that getting to said forests would require a three hour mini-bus journey at 8 o'clock on a Sunday morning. Still, faint heart ne'er won fair maid etc.

I hadn't realised that in fact the fires are still burning… underground. I'm not really sure how that's possible, but all around in what's left of the woodland, smoke is pouring up through vents in the earth. My Russian friends set about pouring bottles of water into these to try to extinguish them. I stood back and inwardly praised their optimism. Acres upon hundreds of acres of silver birches have had their roots burned away from beneath and then toppled onto one another, so now their white bodies are sprawled everywhere, with their obscene blackened feet naked and on show. It is a sombre sight.

Our job, on a patch of farmland, was to plant seedlings which will be transferred into the forest once the land has been cleared of the fallen and our new trees have grown into stout saplings. We managed to plant over 4000 between 6 of us, which felt like a good day's work, until the farmer told us that his two sons have each so far (since August!) planted over a million trees. Both sons also work full time. After our now feeble-seeming exertions our host (whose purple-upholstered tractor, slightly smaller than the man himself, you can see here) rewarded us with pickled mushrooms.

Some wisdom gleaned from my experience:

1. Farm dogs and cats can be best friends, given the proper encouragement.
2. Never eat berries you find growing in the Russian countryside.
3. Never pickle mushrooms you find growing in the Russian countryside.
4. Never try to put out a forest fire with a small bottle of Evian.