A few hundred kilometres from the Soviet-Mongolian border, at the foot of the Altai Mountains, a group of geologists were searching for iron ore deposits in the summer of 1978. In these remote places, a helicopter was the best means of transport to cross the endless Siberian forests. As the geologists searched for a suitable landing site, they saw what looked like a house. But this was impossible. The nearest settlement was more than 250 kilometres away. There were no roads or railway lines, just impenetrable, unforgiving taiga. Impenetrable forest, steep canyons and a raging river – who could live in such a wilderness? Their curiosity gave them no peace. They set up camp 15 kilometres from the mysterious house and the very next day decided to see if they could really see the work of human hands among the trees.
A group of four people, led by Galina Pismenska, set off towards the point she had marked with a red cross on the map the day before. Their rucksacks were packed with food, sleeping bags and a pistol. Meeting a stranger in the taiga can be scarier than meeting a wild beast.
When they were very close, they first saw a well-trodden path. Then they saw a tree with a walking stick attached to it. Someone lives here! The excited geologists soon found themselves in front of a house that only yesterday had seemed like an illusion. A bearded old man, dressed in a tattered, starched shirt, peered out of this black and shabby little house. He nervously crossed himself and stared blankly at the strange newcomers. Galina Pismenska broke the silence. We have come to see you!” The old man remained silent for a few moments, then said in a low voice: “Come in, since you have arrived.”
House in the taiga
It was dark and stuffy inside. In the darkness, the scribe could make out two female silhouettes sitting on the floor. One was hysterically rubbing her head and moaning, the other was almost sobbing: “This is the punishment for our sins, for the sins of …” The sobbing and muttering did not stop, so the uninvited guests quickly left the suffocating house. The old man followed them and explained that they were his daughters. The geologists descended the path and watched from a safe distance what was happening inside the house.
Not half an hour had passed when they were joined by three strange figures – two women of indeterminable age, also dressed in worn jacquard robes, accompanied the old man. There was no longer any trace of hysterics on their pale faces, only curiosity and a little fright. Soon they were all sitting together by the fire, exchanging curious glances. The boys pulled tinned meat out of their rucksacks and offered it to the old man. “That’s not allowed,” he replied in a serious tone. These were words the old man repeated many times.
A younger woman put a cast-iron pot on the fire and threw some unpeeled potatoes into it. Russian custom dictates that a guest should not go hungry. When the potato welcome was ready, the conversation began, and it lasted until late in the evening. The hosts spoke in archaic Russian and at times it was difficult to understand them. Their intonation was more like church singing. They used a lot of words that could only be found in old books. In almost every sentence they mentioned God, sin and heaven. The geologists had the feeling that they were in the Middle Ages. In those few hours, they still managed to learn a little of the life story of their strange hosts.
The old man’s name was Karp, his younger daughter was Agafja, and the older one introduced herself as Natalija. They learned that the mother of the family, Akulina, had died many years ago, and that the sons, Dimitrij and Savin, were somewhere in the taiga “running errands” that very day. These were the Lykovs, a family that, a few years later, the whole of the Soviet Union would come to know.
That day, geologists happened to stumble upon a much more interesting discovery than iron ore. For more than thirty years, the Lyko people had lived completely cut off from the world. During the Second World War, they left their Siberian village and fled into the forest. During this time, they met no one. For Agafya and Natalia, who were born in the taiga, geologists were the first strangers they had ever seen in their lives. With their strange clothes and even stranger machines, the newcomers seemed like aliens. Curiosity was mixed with amazement. Rubber boots, glasses, a torch – all this was the first time they had seen them. The Lyks lived in their own world and in another time. They had not fled to the forest to escape the war. The taiga had become their new home because their faith dictated it.
Old Faith
Their departure into the wild is linked to events that shook Russia more than three hundred years ago. The Lykovs were Old Believers, representatives of a religious sect that split from the Russian Orthodox Church in the second half of the 17th century. The split was caused by the reforms of Patriarch Nikon, who wanted to modernise Russian worship and bring it closer to Greek.
His most controversial reform concerned the way in which the faithful are to be crucified. Russians at that time always had two fingers crossed when entering church or before prayer. But the Patriarch demanded that from then on they should be baptised with three fingers, just as the supposedly more advanced Greeks did at the time. This seemingly superficial change provoked fierce resistance from a section of Russian society which saw the reforms as merely an attempt by the Patriarch to consolidate his power. Under the patronage of the then Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich, Peter the Great’s father, Nikon eventually won the clash between the Old Believers and the Reformists, and the Russian Orthodox cross three fingers to this day. Karp Lykov often mentioned Nikon and Peter the Great in his speeches, never forgetting to add that both were nothing less than “the personification of the Antichrist”. He crossed himself every time he mentioned them – always with two fingers.
The Old Believers were soon declared heretics and persecuted. Many of them saw the reforms of Patriarch Nikon as a sign that the end of the world was near. Some, in their religious fanaticism, decided to leave the domestic world before the apocalypse arrived. Thousands of cases of self-immolation were recorded at the time – “fire is pure”, said the Old Believers.
Most, however, took a much more moderate path – retreat into isolation. The Old Believers began to reject all the laws and rules imposed on them by the corrupt secular authorities. They refused to recognise documents, money, military service and technological developments. Everything connected with modern society was considered sinful. Man does not need material goods to live according to God’s commandments. To them, sacred laws were nothing but the work of the devil. The Old Believers therefore could not live in modern society, with all its nonsensical rules and innovations.
The solution was to escape from civilisation, which the ancients called simply “the world”. Fortunately, there were enough hidden and uninhabited areas in Matushka Russia where they found shelter from the sinful influences of modern society. The Lykov family thus found peace in the impenetrable Siberian taiga a few hundred kilometres from the Soviet-Mongolian border.
Karp, his wife Akulina and their first-born son Savin were born in a small community of Old Believers living in complete isolation just a few dozen kilometres north of the Black House, which geologists visited in 1978. Life in the taiga was unforgiving, and many people abandoned their old faith and returned to “the world”. The village grew smaller with each passing year. But Karp and Akulina persevered in the taiga despite the hardships – their faith was unwavering.
During the Second World War, a group of Red Army soldiers accidentally visited the village, looking for deserters in these godforsaken places. The soldiers ignored the bearded locals and quickly went further into the forest. For the Lyks, however, this was a sign that the “world” was coming dangerously close to them. They decided to leave the village and go deeper into the wilderness.
Life in the wild
After months of wandering around the taiga, the Lyks finally found a suitable place to make their new home. On a steep hill rising above the Yerinat River, they built a small wooden house in the safety of the Siberian cedars. All six members of the family were huddled inside. They slept on the damp ground, with only the head of the family choosing a bed right next to a rudimentary stone stove. They had a small garden next to the house, where they planted turnips, peas and, above all, potatoes, the main staple of the Lykes’ diet – mashed potatoes for breakfast, mashed potatoes for lunch and more potatoes for dinner.
Ironically, it was originally considered by the Old Believers to be “the devil’s plant”, since it was brought to Russia by the Antichrist Peter the Great. The Lykovs brought the seeds of all the plants with them from their previous home. In addition to the seeds, they also spent several months lugging garden tools, a few pots, a wooden wheelbarrow and family heirlooms – icons and church books – around the taiga. These were all their possessions. They needed nothing else to live according to God’s teaching.
They lived in an area where winter temperatures drop to 40 degrees below zero and snow sometimes melts only in June, but in the summer months, the taiga wakes up and breathes gloriously. It is then that it bursts with life and becomes a friendly, generous host. Trout swim in the rivers, mushrooms peep from the soil and nuts hang from the trees. The Lykovs had a lot to do in the summer, as winter food had to be prepared in a few months for the long and harsh Siberian winter. Without summer’s bounty, life in the wild would have been impossible.
Of all the riches the taiga had to offer, birch and Siberian cedar were the most important. From birch bark, the Lyks learned to make all sorts of objects – skis, footwear and, above all, utensils, as the bark was very flexible, light and durable. It was used to make barrels, plates and vessels of all sizes. Items made from this most Russian of all trees were everywhere in the Lyko family. The cedar tree grew cones which contained delicious and nutritious nuts.
Picking nuts was a serious business in which the whole family participated. As the cones were often so high in the canopy that they could not be reached from the ground with a stick, the Lykes became excellent climbers. In their diet, nuts were second only to potatoes in importance, as they could remain edible for up to four years. In the worst winters, they were often their only source of protein.
Good and bad neighbours
The Lyks may have lived completely cut off from “the world”, but they were not alone in the taiga. They shared their home with many wild animals, and over time they got used to living with them. A bear once visited their house, apparently tempted by the scent of winter food. It was so small and tame that it endeared itself to the family to such an extent that they started leaving cedar cones for it under the trees. “He is hungry too and needs grease for the winter,” Agafya used to say.
One day, the Lyks found their timid neighbour dismembered on the riverbank. Shortly afterwards, they spotted a much larger and apparently not so tame bear nearby, which terrorised them for the next few weeks. The Lykovs had no weapons and from the safety of their small house they could only watch helplessly as the beast tore through their garden and feasted on their hard-earned produce. Agafia was so shaken by the experience that she did not leave her house for months. Since then, the Lyks have become much more suspicious of their furry neighbours, who were especially dangerous in the spring months when they woke up hungry from their winter slumber.
Without weapons, hunting game was also an extremely difficult undertaking. It took Dimitrij, the youngest son, several years to perfect his hunting technique. He dug holes in the forest and covered them with leaves. He fenced off the paths the animals walked on with branches to guide the game towards the traps. Although the taiga was teeming with rabbits, dormice and martens of all kinds, the Lykes were forbidden by their religion to eat animals with paws. Only those with hooves were allowed. Meat was therefore a rarity on the menu, as hunting deer and other similar game was quite difficult. Every time a deer fell into the cave, it was therefore a great feast in the family. Most of the meat was cut into thin slices and dried so that it was edible even in the winter months.
Over the years, however, the animals have become accustomed to the presence of humans and have become increasingly successful at avoiding traps. Dimitrij often went deep into the forest in winter and spent days trapping deer. The eldest son, Savin, was responsible for a revolution in the lives of the Lykes – he was trained in animal skin processing. His primitive and practically useless boots made of birch bark were replaced by much more comfortable and durable deerskin footwear.
Each member of the family has done their best to wrest a small piece of land from the hands of the wild and make it their home. Summers in the taiga were exciting but short. It was only in autumn that the forest and all its inhabitants began to calm down and go to sleep. That’s when the Lykes moved from the garden to the house and lit the stove. Life suddenly slowed down. The days passed by reading the Bible in the glow of the burning cane. The Siberian hermits found peace in the taiga and were closer to God than ever before. They lived like this for 34 years, until the four geologists from the beginning of our story suddenly appeared in front of their house.
Shy glances
On that summer evening in 1978, during a fireside chat, a bond was forged that put the Lykes’ faith to a serious test. An unplanned encounter in the taiga made a strong impression on the hermits, especially on Agafia and Natalia, who had never seen a stranger before. On the one hand, the Lykoks were steadfast in their belief that “the world” was something sinful and to be avoided at all costs. On the other hand, socialising with unusual guests brought out an almost childlike curiosity in the hermits. Thirty-four years of total isolation have not suppressed the basic human need to discover the new.
The geologists had also forgotten all about iron ore that evening and wanted to get to know their hosts better. “We said goodbye as friends and we knew then that from then on they would be waiting impatiently in the wooden house for our return,” recalled Galina Pismenska, the expedition leader. She was not wrong.
Over the following months, the geologists used every spare moment to visit the hermits, and although they were people living in different worlds, a sincere friendship developed. Every time the peace of the forest was disturbed by the sound of a helicopter, the Lykes knew they had guests. From the air, the geologists could see the ragged locals rushing towards the nearby clearing where the flying machine usually landed.
They soon met the other two members of the family, Dimitri and Savin. Although they learned from their father that there were four strangers living nearby who visited their house from time to time, his words could not prepare them for their first encounter with “the world”. “Look, Savin, a deva!” said Dimitrij, unable to stop himself at the sight of Galina Pismenska, a young woman in a strange outfit. His surprise was understandable, because at the age of forty he was seeing for the first time a person of the opposite sex who was not his mother or sister. Only Karp’s stern gaze tamed his childish passions.
The Lyks were excellent farmers, hunters, craftsmen and generally incredibly resourceful people, but the encounter with their fellow man threw them completely off track. Modern psychologists would probably be able to say that they lacked “social skills”. The first encounters with “the world” were thus marked by giggles and shy glances.
This is not allowed
The geologists always brought with them gifts of all kinds, but the Lyks politely refused them. They kept saying that “this is not allowed”. Matches, for example, would have come in very handy for the Lyks, who used a flint to light fires as in the Middle Ages, but they rejected them as a sinful novelty. Even soap had to be put back in the geologists’ rucksacks. For the ancients were not allowed by God to wash themselves. Who knows, perhaps this prohibition had a salutary effect on the family’s relationship with the true rulers of Siberia – the merciless and hornet-sized mosquitoes.
“No coat, bread warms” and “You can eat misery on bread”. Dozens of similar proverbs testify to the important role bread plays in Russian culture. Even in the Bible, which was practically the only reading in the little house in the taiga, one can find hundreds of references to bread, but apart from Karp, none of the Lyks had ever seen it.
When the geologists pulled out a loaf from their rucksack, which should have been a real treat in the taiga, the Lyks looked at it with interest, but didn’t touch it. Flour was out of the question, too; the Lykes were apparently satisfied with their potatoes. The hermits did not want to touch anything that came from ‘the world’, so they did not shake hands with their guests either. If they accidentally touched one of the newcomers, they immediately crossed themselves – with two fingers, of course.
When they first met the geologists, the Lykes refused all but one of their gifts – a bag of salt. Karp was the only one in the family who had once enjoyed this amazing crystalline substance, which gives flavour to dishes and serves as a natural preservative. Not the cold or the general scarcity, for him “the greatest torment” was just life without salt. That evening, as he ate a piece of potato dipped in salt, tears rolled down his wrinkled face. His memory took him back to his childhood and there was no going back. Since then, the Lykes have salted almost every dish and picked up every grain that ended up on the floor instead of on the plate by mistake.
Geologists were initially appalled by the primitive conditions in which the Lycians lived. They found it hard to understand that a people could give up even the most basic benefits of modern society for the sake of religion. They felt a sincere need to help them and to bring a little joy into their impoverished lives. The Lykes never sought help, on the contrary, their decision to retreat into isolation was a conscious one, and it was only by chance that “the world” came knocking at their door and turned their lives upside down.
Time machine ride in the taiga
It took several visits by geologists to find out what was “allowed”. For example, the Lyks were very happy with hooks, needles, thread and any kind of fabric. Iron was even more important to them. After 34 years, their hoes, spades and axes had rusted away and were almost useless. Without the right tools, the battle against savagery was a foregone conclusion. So the Lyks eventually compromised with “the world” – they started hoeing potatoes with new, modern hoes.
Geologists were convinced that salt and hoes were the first step on the road to civilisation for the Lycians, but this was not the case. The Lyks still respectfully refused most gifts – “it’s not allowed”, they kept saying. “God has a different plan for us,” was their response to the geologists’ pleas to move into their camp. Tales of heated houses where the light does not go out at the slightest blast of wind did not tempt them out of the wilderness.
Finally, geologists came up with a way to help. There was always plenty of work to be done in the taiga. Whether it was hoeing potatoes, picking cones or chopping firewood, there was something for everyone. The geologists took up a task each time they visited and the unusual wilderness gatherings continued. The Lyks were extremely happy to have such help and soon began to speak of the geologists as “good and noble people”. Such work campaigns soon became commonplace, and when the geologists went to visit the Lykes, they felt as if they were visiting friends in a dacha, where a small garden and an interesting evening chat by the fire awaited them, even though in reality each visit was like a leap into the past.
In a relaxed atmosphere, while hoeing potatoes and gathering nuts, the geologists one day managed to convince their hermit friends to visit their camp. Although these few prefabricated huts in the middle of the taiga could hardly be considered “civilisation”, the Lykes remembered their visit for the rest of their lives. Especially because of the strange objects used by the local people.
Karp, who was surprisingly receptive to the achievements of modern society, was most impressed by a seemingly not particularly fascinating item – plastic food wrap. “My God, they haven’t invented anything, glass that wrinkles!” he exclaimed excitedly, wrapping the transparent foil around his hand with bulging eyes. Dimitrij spent hours in the local sawmill, watching the machine do in minutes the work that took him a day or two.
He was even more impressed by the rubbish lying in front of one of the workshops. Wires, nails of all sizes and lead pipes must have seemed like a fortune to him, because the shortage of iron was one of the biggest problems for the Lykes. He looked carefully at each piece of iron and knew exactly how to use each one, but he didn’t put anything in his pocket. “It was a sinful temptation,” he said with a laugh.
Every time the geologists visited the house, they found themselves in the past, while the Lykes landed that day in a miraculous future. Only 15 kilometres of taiga separated their homes, but the journey from the camp to the house felt like a ride in a time machine.
The Curse
The visit to the camp undoubtedly made a big impression on the people who had lived in isolation for 34 years, but it was a long time before they visited the geologists again. Visits were few and short-lived, because the old faith was still unshaken, despite all the temptations offered by the glittering “world”.
Geologists noticed that the main opponent of anything foreign in the Lyk family was Savin, who was well into his fifties at the time. When it came to respecting the old faith, he was strict and unrelenting. It was from his lips that the words “this is not allowed” could most often be heard. He was reserved and always serious. He often reproached his younger brother Dimitri, whose curiosity had made him a favourite of geologists, for saying that “the world” was not good. Perhaps the pious Savin was right, because dark clouds began to gather over the Lyk family.
In October 1981, Dimitrij was, as usual, “running errands” in the taiga. As it started to rain heavily, he decided to return home. Savin was fishing at the time and his younger brother joined him, even though he was soaked to the bone. When he returned in front of the warm stove, he began to shiver with a severe chill. When the geologists learned that Dimitrij had fallen ill, they persuaded the Lykovs that he should be taken to hospital by helicopter immediately, as they suspected pneumonia. He would not survive without medical care. The words they had heard countless times that day rang hollow – “This is not allowed.” Dimitrij died a few days later. He was buried under a large cedar tree that grew next to the house.
Dimitri’s death affected Savin the most, who saw him as a helpless child who needed to be brought up and protected from sin. In December, Savin began to complain even more about the stomach pains that had been plaguing him for years. They were so severe that he lay down for several weeks. Meanwhile, it began to snow and the potatoes had to be harvested as soon as possible. Savin forgot about the pain and joined his relatives in the garden, but after only a few days he fainted and returned to the house.
His condition worsened and soon he was beyond help. Natalia sat by her dying brother’s side day and night, praying for his soul. On 20 December 1981, at the age of fifty-five, the last son in the Lykov family died. His body was taken to the forest and buried under the snow, where it waited until spring.
After that winter funeral, Natalija collapsed on the floor in exhaustion and said only: “I will die of grief too.” Ten days later, there was another funeral in the Lyk family. Natalija died at the age of 45 and her body was also laid in the snow next to her brother. It was as if the curse Savin had warned about had come true that winter. The geologists were shocked by the events in the taiga, but once again they were powerless – “God’s will.”
Dream of a cob
The worst winter in the family’s history was dedicated to mourning and, as always, to prayers and conversations about God. In the spring of 1982, only two Lykes were still alive – Agafia, who was 38, and Karp, who was approaching 80. As if the winter had not been terrible enough, in the following months “the world” once again intruded into their lives. Vasily Peskov, a journalist with Komsomolskaya Pravda, visited the house, befriended the hermits and began writing articles about their life in the taiga. Thanks to him, the Lykovs were soon known throughout the Soviet Union. Hundreds of letters began to arrive at the editorial offices of Komsomolskaya Pravda, with enthusiastic readers sending greetings and various gifts to the Lykovs. There were also those who considered the Old Believers to be childless and “enemies of the Soviet power”.
Agafya and Karp ignored it, as they had more important things to do. Life in the taiga still revolved around the same things – nuts, firewood, potatoes, winter food… The “good man” Vasili Peskov, who soon became the Lykovs’ best friend, helped with the chores. As befits a journalist, he took out his notebook and wrote down his impressions while sitting by the fire in the evening. He had seen how everyday life was in the taiga, and he had heard the famous words “it’s not allowed” many times before, so he was interested in other, non-material aspects of their life. How do they entertain themselves, for example?
The Lyko people were not allowed to sit idly by. If they were not in the garden or the forest, they were reading the Bible and praying. Peskov calculated that they talked to God for at least four hours a day. The closest we have come to understanding leisure was the morning dream talk. Like a good journalist, Peskov asked Agafya which dream was most memorable and, to his surprise, she was happy to tell him.
She dreamt that a cone as big as their house fell in a nearby clearing. Dimitrij banged on it with an axe and nuts as big as the biggest kitchen pot started flying out. The “dream of the cone” obviously had a special place in the Lyk family, because Karp also had a smile on his face as he listened to his daughter’s story.
Peskov was also interested in how the Lykes keep track of time. They did not have a calendar, but every fast had to be observed and all holidays had to be celebrated. Keeping time was therefore one of the most important tasks in the life of the Old Believers. Each morning began with a collective determination of what day of the week it was. Savin also made sure that he remembered the date, month and year. The “human calendar” of the Lyks was astonishingly accurate. When they first met the geologists, it was the 4th of July in 7490. The Lyks had been keeping track of time since the day God created Adam and Eve .
Journey to a forbidden world
To an outsider, their world would probably have seemed backward and impoverished, but the Lyks did not know any different. With the arrival of Peskov, however, this world began to slowly but inexorably crumble. In addition to geologists, old friends of the Lykovs, more and more people came to visit. These were not ordinary tourists, but people who had similar goals to the Lykovs in the taiga – peace and closeness to God. Or so they claimed, but no one lasted more than a few days. Life in the wilderness is not for everyone. A group of philologists from the University of Krasnodar came to visit them for a few days and studied their archaic speech. The Lykovs were already famous in 1983, but they didn’t understand it.
Among all the people who visited their house in those years was a relative of the Lykes. His arrival brought discord to the otherwise harmonious family, as he had the audacity to invite his forgotten relatives to visit him. He too was an old man, but he lived in the city. Karp refused his invitation with the expected “that’s not allowed”, but it was the first time Agafya had defied her father’s wishes. The desire to visit the forbidden “world” was too great and Karp gave in. A few days later, Agafya was on her way. Who knows what went through Karp’s mind as he watched his daughter cavorting in a helicopter at the geologists’ camp.
A few hours later, the helicopter landed in Abaza, a small town 250 kilometres from the Lykes’ house. She was met at the airport by her relatives. There, she saw a horse and a cow for the first time in her life. The sights were numerous – a car, a snowmobile, a train, tall buildings and thousands of people. Agafya immensely enjoyed the show put on by the forbidden “world”. She spent almost five weeks with her relatives and every day she saw and experienced something new. The most impressive thing for her was the train ride, or “an isbo on wheels”, as she put it.
The provincial and sleepy town where her relatives lived seemed like a metropolis. “There are people like mosquitoes. How many potatoes it takes to feed them all!” she thought. Before she said goodbye, her relatives took her to the shop to buy something to remember her by. It is true that shops in the Soviet Union were more poorly stocked then, but Agafia’s selection was still unusual. She decided on a galvanised trough – “for blessing icons”.
After a few days of travelling, she returned to Taiga. As she approached her home, Karp ran into her arms. Father and daughter had never spent so much time without each other. Resentment was immediately forgotten and life returned to normal. Agafya never forgot her adventures and her dreams probably became more varied and unpredictable. 1986 was an unforgettable year for her.
Almost an epilogue
At that time, the Lyks were already living in symbiosis with “the world”. Karp was too old to climb cedars and chop firewood, and Agafya couldn’t do everything herself. Without the help of “good people”, they would not have survived. The things they had once steadfastly refused, they suddenly bloodily needed. They even got a battery-powered torch and rubber boots. Geologists brought them some cats to protect the nuts from “God’s whip”, as Karp called the squirrels.
A goat was grazing around the house, which was guarded by a dog called Proton. The Lyks still slept on the damp ground and prayed four hours a day, but their lives had changed radically. They still responded to invitations from friends to move to civilisation with familiar words.
Karp died in 1988, aged 81. Since he went into hiding, Stalin, Khrushchev, Brezhnev and Gorbachev have all been in the Kremlin. During this time, the Soviet Union won the Second World War, sent the first man into space and built the most powerful nuclear bomb in human history. Karp knew nothing about this.
Agafia is now 75 years old and still lives in her little house. “Good people” still visit her and help her. The latest news from Taiga is that she has got new windows. She gave a basket of Siberian cedar nuts to the local authorities as a thank you.
