Extreme World: Hot and Cold

Getting dressed for the extreme cold can take up to 15 minutes

In Siberia, the winter temperature can drop to -60C, making it one of the

coldest places to live in the world. In the first of our series on extremes,

Adam Mynott finds out how the people of Oymyakon district cope with everyday

life under such extraodinary conditions.

It was extremely cold.

Stepping off the plane from Moscow into the brutal, brittle cold of Yakutsk in

eastern Siberia, I could hardly believe that humans could survive, let alone

thrive in such harsh conditions.

Yet this was a relatively mild start to my 10 days in the region. The

temperature was -32C, and I was to encounter much worse.

Extreme World is a new season of coverage on TV, Radio and Online, examining

global differences. Over the next few months, BBC News correspondents will be

exploring eight key themes that illustrate the divisions in our extreme world.

One of the first things I noticed in Yakutsk, the regional capital of Sakha

province, was that this city must be at severe risk of flooding, as all the

buildings were built on concrete and steel stilts, suspending them 2m (6ft)

above the ground.

But Valentin Spector, a senior researcher at the Permafrost Institute, said the

stilts had nothing to do with flooding.

He explained that in the summer, when temperatures can rise to more than 40C,

the top layer of frozen ground warms and defrosts, in some places to a depth of

a metre and in others to as much as three metres.

This "active layer," as Mr Spector called it, is very unstable, and unless the

foundations of buildings are firmly rooted deep in the permafrost below,

movement in the summer will bring them crashing down.

He told me that 65% of Russia sits on permafrost, and in some places in Siberia

the frozen ground is 1500m deep.

'Shockingly painful'

Extremely hot

Ali Hamid mining salt by hand at Lake Assal, Djibouti

Pascale Harter BBC News, Djibouti

It's also cold here. For people living near Lake Assal, in Djibouti, east

Africa, it's winter and at 34C, cold. Even when there is an incessant,

blustering hot wind. To me, it feels like being attacked full in the face with

an industrial hairdryer for hours. I can't gather my thoughts. I'm tetchy. And

there is nowhere to hide.

In summer, the temperature at Lake Assal reaches 55C. It's not only the extreme

heat that's the problem, it's the absence of everything else. There is no

shade. The only trees that grow have thin needles instead of leaves. There's no

fresh water either.

The pale green waters of Lake Assal may shimmer invitingly, but they're salty.

Ali Hamid mines salt at the lake, by hand, as his forefathers did before him.

The government brings water by truck once a week. Ali Hamid, his wife and their

eight children get three barrels. I met him the day after the truck had been

and already one barrel was finished. Ali said that on the first day, his family

does the washing. Then the water's just for drinking and if the truck is late,

the eighth day is hell.

You can listen to Pascale Harter's report from Djibouti and Adam Mynott's

report from Russia all day on 1 December on the World Service and BBC WorldTV.

The permafrost poses many other difficulties. Even though the summers are hot,

it takes a long time for the topsoil to shake off the chill, and the growing

season for farmers is shoe-horned into a small period of a few weeks.

The following day we flew to Ust-Nera, a town north of Yakutsk, inside the

Arctic Circle and deep in the mountains.

The air temperature fell another 10 degrees to around -42C, another startling

shock to my life-support system.

As we drove into the town from the airport, we fell in behind a column of cars

on their way to a funeral. Another problem posed by permafrost: how do people

bury their dead in the middle of winter?

It takes two or three days to dig a grave in frozen ground.

A fire is lit and coals are piled on; after a couple of hours the coals are

dragged to one side and the 15cm of ground defrosted by the heat and flames are

dug and cleared. Hot coals are then pushed into the hole and the process begins

all over again until the hole is 2m deep.

I was beginning to get used to the cold, but I still found it shockingly

painful and difficult to operate in.

In the winter here, no-one goes outside unless they absolutely have to, and if

they do have to venture out to shop or go to school or work, they are very well

wrapped up.

Fur hats and long fur coats are everywhere.

A long fur coat can cost more than $1550 ( 1000), beyond the purse of many

people where the average wage is the equivalent of $600 ( 400) a month. You can

take out a mortgage on a fur coat - banks will lend to enable people to buy the

garment they need.

I arrived with more sets of thermal underwear than I knew what to do with, but

what I lacked was a good hat.

Cannot play media.You do not have the correct version of the flash player.

Download the correct version

Adam Mynott performs a very cool "trick" at -40C

I was told by everyone that real fur was the only sensible solution, but I did

not want to be responsible for the death of an Arctic Fox or a rabbit and,

frankly, the real fur hats were very expensive, so I decided to go for fake

fur.

This caused snorts of derision from the government guide who was accompanying

me. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt.

"Huh, Greenpeace," he said.

Gulag ordeal

The town of Ust-Nera started as a small settlement after geologists discovered

gold and other minerals in the region in 1937.

Soviet leader Joseph Stalin saw the underground reserves as one solution to

deal with bourgeois "enemies of the state," and sent many tens of thousands of

political prisoners to gulags (work camps) in Siberia to extract the gold and

other minerals with picks and shovels.

Mikhail Ivanov is one of the few gulag workers who survived the ordeal and is

still alive.

I met the academic and historian in his apartment in Yakutsk, where he told me

his crime had been just to praise the writings of a Yakut accused of being a

nationalist.

After a sham trial, he was sent to work in a coal mine.

"If I dragged 25 wheelbarrows full of coal up to the surface, I received two

bowls of porridge. If I couldn't manage 25, I got just one bowl," he told me.

The mines are still operating under, of course, totally different regimes. The

money they offer in wages attracts miners from all over Russia and beyond.

It is the mines that sustain the economy in this barren cold environment. And

without the mines, the town of Oymyakon, which is the coldest inhabited place

on Earth, would probably only be occupied in the summer by reindeer herdsmen.

When I visited the Badran gold mine, the temperature above ground was -45C. I

found it almost unbearable.

Start Quote

Extreme World promises to be an exciting and intriguing collection of content

End Quote Craig Oliver

Andrei Dubov, who has worked at the mine for a decade, said the cold was no

problem.

"I wrap up warm, and it's dry. So it's a much better climate than many other

parts of Russia." He said the coldest temperature he could recall was -63C.

"It was probably colder," he told me, "but the thermometer only reads down as

far as -63C."

-52C and falling

Underground, the miners work in temperatures between -15C and -20C, which seems

appalling, but remarkably, the mine feels incredibly mild, warm even.

The coldest temperature I experienced in my few days in Siberia was -53C.

Map of Russia

This was so cold that after no more than a few minutes outside, exposed skin

started to smart with pain, damp surfaces in my nostrils froze, and toes and

fingers turned uncomfortably cold very quickly, despite three layers of thick

socks and two pairs of gloves.

I was carrying my microphone, and the flexible cable that led to the recording

machine turned as rigid as a stick and I was warned that if I tried to bend it

before it warmed up, it would snap.

It is easy, perhaps even arrogant, to look at the lives of the people who live

in the district of Oymyakon and think they would not live in such a physically

demanding place if they knew better. Of course, they do know better.

I visited the Vadreyev family, who were all born in Ust-Nera and feel they

belong to the town and its people.

As she dressed her daughter, Maria, in a thick fur coat, fur hat, scarf and

gloves, Martina Vadreyev said: "Sure, we have to wrap up warm. In other parts

of Russia you can throw on a coat to go outdoors, here it takes ages to dress.

But we are used to it. This is our home."

Then the two of them pulled open the door of their apartment and stepped into

the blast of super-chilled air -52C and falling.