The Story of the Lykovs: Family Discovered Hidden in Siberian Forest for 40 Years

The Smithsonian recounts the extraordinary story of a family hidden for over 40 years in the Siberian forest from 1936 to 1978. The family had had absolutely no contact with the outside world, and were unaware of World War Two, televisions, and cling film.  A team of Russian geologists discovered the Lykov family in the remote south of the Siberian Abakan forest  a hundred miles from the Mongolian border in the summer of 1978.  The Lykovs were ‘Old Believers’ – fundamentalist Christians who did not believe in modernity that had fled to Siberia to escape persecution from atheist Blosheviks in 1936. The Smithsonian details the initial encounter (h/t the Dish):

As the intruders scrambled up the mountain, heading for the spot pinpointed by their pilots, they began to come across signs of human activity: a rough path, a staff, a log laid across a stream, and finally a small shed filled with birch-bark containers of cut-up dried potatoes. Then, Pismenskaya said,

beside a stream there was a dwelling. Blackened by time and rain, the hut was piled up on all sides with taiga rubbish—bark, poles, planks. If it hadn’t been for a window the size of my backpack pocket, it would have been hard to believe that people lived there. But they did, no doubt about it…. Our arrival had been noticed, as we could see.

The low door creaked, and the figure of a very old man emerged into the light of day, straight out of a fairy tale. Barefoot. Wearing a patched and repatched shirt made of sacking. He wore trousers of the same material, also in patches, and had an uncombed beard. His hair was disheveled. He looked frightened and was very attentive…. We had to say something, so I began: ‘Greetings, grandfather! We’ve come to visit!’

The old man did not reply immediately…. Finally, we heard a soft, uncertain voice: ‘Well, since you have traveled this far, you might as well come in.’

The sight that greeted the geologists as they entered the cabin was like something from the middle ages. Jerry-built from whatever materials came to hand, the dwelling was not much more than a burrow—”a low, soot-blackened log kennel that was as cold as a cellar,” with a floor consisting of potato peel and pine-nut shells. Looking around in the dim light, the visitors saw that it consisted of a single room. It was cramped, musty and indescribably filthy, propped up by sagging joists—and, astonishingly, home to a family of five.

Read the whole amazing tale here.

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