ShortHand: The World's Forbidden Places

From the depths of the ocean to the tip of Mount Everest, we humans might like to think that we've conquered every inch of this planet we'd walk home. But no matter who you are, or how much money you have, there are some places that remain strictly off-limits. And usually that's for a very good reason. Whether that is to protect mankind from harm, or guard what's there from us. But does a well-placed no entry sign ever quell our curiosity? Nope, it makes it worse. It makes us want to go there even more. So since you will never get a tourist visa approved for these deadly destinations, we're taking you on an audio tour of Earth's most forbidden places. Enter at your own risk. This is the shorthand. First up on our grim adventure itinerary. The site of the most catastrophic nuclear accident in history, Chernobyl. After the reactor meltdown in April 1986 that killed 30 people in the immediate aftermath, and was later linked to thousands of radiation-related illnesses and cancers, the Soviet authorities initially designated an area of 30 kilometres around the plant as a so-called exclusion zone. This was later extended to a radius of about a thousand square miles, with all residents forced to abandon their homes and settle elsewhere. Now you might imagine this as basically the governmental equivalent of building a massive fuck off fence around Chernobyl with a skull-and-crossbone sign that says, "Do not enter unless you want to die." But it's been more complicated than that. Because they had to leave their dogs behind. But watching all the people just melt, I was fine. So yes, it's a bit more complicated than that, because there are layers to the exclusion zone in terms of danger. You won't immediately melt into radioactive dust the second you step over the boundary, but the further you go in, the deadlier it gets. Areas incredibly close to the original meltdown site are unsurprisingly no-go zones. The Red Forest, nicknamed after absorbing intense radioactive fallout after the blast, all of its pine trees turned reddish brown and dyed. And that's not exactly a place that we'd recommend stopping off for a picnic. Radiation levels in the most hazardous pockets of the exclusion zone are thought to exceed 10 milliseconds an hour, thousands of times higher than normal background radiation, even 40 years after the disaster. And the thing about radiation is, that is a bit of a silent killer. You can't see, smell, or taste it. But prolonged exposure can damage your DNA at a cellular level, drastically increasing your chances of cancer down the line. So a cheeky trip down to the exclusion zone might not feel at all dangerous at the time. But you'd be taking a chance with your life that most would argue probably isn't worth it. But if you think that nobody in their right mind would ever dream of stepping foot in this radioactive wasteland, you would be dead wrong, there's a reason we have those pictures of that Ferris wheel. While years have passed since the accident, Chernobyl and its surrounding areas have remained frozen in time as a spooky snapshot of Soviet life. With history buffs and lovers of the macabre practically chomping at the bit to get a peak at this creepy time capsule. And before the Russia Ukraine war kicked off in 2022, you could. It wasn't quite a case of just walking right on in there though. In 2011, the Ukrainian government formally opened up the exclusion zone to visitors. But only through licensed guided tour operations. Yeah, there's a river monster's episode where he goes and fishes in the cooling lakes, the cooling ponds of the reactors. And he finds a load of weird black catfish in there, but they're not giant. I know you forced me to watch it like three times. It's so good. You want them to be monsters, but they're obviously not. They're just stunted because of all the radiation. So tourists could take a supervised stroll through the abandoned ghost city of Pripyat, with its iconic, rusted Ferris wheel. And you could also visit area attractions like the Duga radar towers, as well as the viewpoints overlooking the all-fated reactor four. In those spots, it was judged that the radiation exposure would actually be relatively low, the equivalent of taking a long haul flight. And it turned out to be quite the tourist trap. Around 72,000 people visited in 2018. They're all dead now. I'm kidding. And after HBO's terrifying drama series Chernobyl that aired in 2019, God was it that long ago. That number skyrocketed to around 125,000. Sadly for those wanting a peak at abandoned shoes and broken dolls, the outbreak of the war in 2022 has made visiting Chernobyl impossible. Unless, of course, you're willing to bend the rules. Even during the tourism boom-surn places within the exclusion zone have always been sealed off to the public. But has that ever stopped people from trying anyway? Of course not. A bizarre subculture has grown from the nuclear ashes, and they call themselves stalkers. These daredevils get their kicks by sneaking into the exclusion zone and exploring the barren countryside and ghost villages, that they're utterly forbidden from entering. So what's the deal here? Are these guys just adrenaline junkies playing Ukrainian roulette with their lives? Well, not exactly. For many self-professed stalkers, it isn't about cheating death. It's about experiencing a part of the world that others don't get to see. One man told an independent journalist in 2014 that to him, it felt like a post-apocalyptic romance. For these people, the ruins of Chernobyl represent a peaceful way to reconnect with nature, in a place that's untainted by the presence of humans. Which, like, I guess is true. Although, there's a pretty big reason for that. And while those who have done it claim the penalties aren't actually as severe as you might assume, basically a slap on the wrist in a fine if you're unlucky enough to get caught, I'm like, there could be some other unintended consequences that you have to play painfully to down the line. So I'm quite happy to stay outside the radio-active gates this time, because the cost to your health could be far greater than a slap on the wrist by the by the government. And Chernobyl's a bit gloomy at this time of year and every time of year. So how about we go somewhere a bit more tropical instead? Just off the coast of Brazil, there is a tiny landmass known as Snake Island, where there are absolutely zero humans. Loads of toilets for me, though. Loads of toilets are loads of snakes. There are a fucktun of snakes, but they don't need toilets, so I imagine there's none of those. It might sound like we've made it up, but it is very real, producer Katie has actually seen it from afar, from the safety of a neighbouring island called Idea Baya, which translates to the much nicer beautiful island, and there was Caprinius firmly had upon that beautiful island. But a glimpse across the water is as close as anyone is ever going to get to Snake Island, because the Brazilian government have ruled it illegal to even step foot on that one. Navy boats patrol the coastline to keep any brave or foolish trespasses at bay. So how snakey is Snake Island? Scientific estimates suggest that this tiny rock of about 106 acres is home to an estimated 2 to 4,000 slithery friends. The most common claim you'll hear repeated is there is one snake every meter, like rats in London, while others parrots a quote from a scientist who supposedly said that on Snake Island, you're never more than three feet away from death. But as it turns out, that's a bit of an exaggeration. Some quick sums based on the island's size and estimated reptile population put that figure at one snake roughly every 100 metres or so, which is still more snakes than I'm going to deal with. Well, I'm trying to have a nice time, mostly. Yeah, I think that's still too many. I sort of ticked off this morning of this person who was running through the Alps in Albania and got bitten by the most venomous snake that Albanian has to offer. And she's like in the middle of this forest, so she calls the guesthouse that she's staying at. And they send the ambulance, but the ambulance can't find her. So she's just like screaming for help and her foot is getting bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger. And she, I mean, she was fine in the end, but like, they did get a tostual and like anti-vomum her, but if they'd waited another hour, it would have been choppy-choppy-leggie offie time, like, wow. Well, no thanks. That's what you get for running on holiday. So let's move on to the real question. Why are there so many fucking snakes on Snake Island? Well, about 11,000 years ago, sea levels sharply rose at the end of the last ice age, and cut the island off from mainland Brazil. The resident snakes, most commonly pit viper's, suddenly found themselves stranded on a tiny rock in the Atlantic Ocean. They had a big problem. Since no mammals live on the island, their only regular food source became migratory birds that would periodically stop off there to rest. So over thousands of years, evolution got to work, and turn the snakes into a whole new species. The golden lancehead viper. This type of snake doesn't exist anywhere else in the world. Good. And the venom has adapted to be extremely fast-acting, to stop the migratory birds from flying off again before they can become supper. And a bite from one of these super hunters will very quickly trigger a range of horrifying. symptoms from kidney failure to internal bleeding and tissue death. I'm just glad the big evolutionary leap wasn't that they just started fucking flying. Let's go lads. That would be much worse. But have any daredevil humans ever attempted to step foot on this snakey island and take on the slippery foes? Well, if you're really paying attention, you'll notice that there is a lighthouse on snake island and snakes can't build those so they don't have any hands. So who operates the lighthouse? One story goes that a lighthouse keeper and his family bravely moved into the tower in the early 1900s just after it was built by snakes in 1909. But that family didn't last long. The golden lance heads slithered through the lighthouse windows in the night and killed the entire family in their sleep. And once this terrifying tale did the rounds, the terror and curiosity linked to snake island ramped up to an epic scale on the mainland, but here is the awkward part. There's no historical evidence that that ever happened. The lighthouse has been automated since 1925 and nobody lives there. And the keeper and his family are apparently just a spooky campfire tale or maybe they never left. And the real reason the public aren't allowed to visit snake island probably isn't quite what you might expect. It's not to protect us from the snakes, but to protect them from us. That's what big snake wants you to think. That's a very likely story. The tale goes that the golden lance head viper is critically endangered, given that it doesn't live anywhere else of the then snake island. And so if people start traipsing around the island, then the entire species could be wiped out. Scientists have been allowed onto the island to study the unique reptile population and carry out vital conservation work to protect them, but like they're fine aren't they? Why are we perfect? Why do we need them to? They seem fine, but also like why are we preserving this thing that will kill us? I don't, I don't get it. I don't know. I don't like they seem fine. Like what do we do it? Just like release some chickens onto the island like they seem fine. They've solved the problem, but the fell them. But anyway, we promise this isn't some kind of snakey PR campaign, but there have actually been zero officially documented cases of humans dying from golden lance head bites. Because we're not allowed to go where they live. Of yourself. That does help. That does help. Now some researchers have even explored the potential medicinal properties of this snake's potent venom to treat heart disease and blood clots. But since the venom is so highly prized on the black market, these misunderstood snakes have also become the target of criminal poachers over the years, hence the Brazilian navy having to keep the wrongs out. Say you have it. An island literally overrun with venomous snakes. And we're still the bad guys. And they're still somehow endangered. Yeah, I feel like endangered should be in ratio to existence. Natural habitat, surely. Before we move on, can I tell you, can you guess how much animal is now no longer endangered pandas due to our extensive, extensive feed breeding program? If they hold the cure to cancer, then I'm like, sure, that was worth it. Otherwise, what was the point? This reverse uno villain card that is dealt as usual by a fucking panda reminds us of another place that is on precisely nobody's bucket list. The infamous north central island home to the world's last uncontacted tribe. We've actually done a shorthand on north central island already, and you can go and listen to that. But you might remember the case of an American missionary named John Allen Chow, who decided to bypass the warnings about trespassing on the island in 2018, and he was thanked for his effort with the shower of Arras that killed him. But this was not a case of a well-meaning Christian soldier being murdered in cold blood. Outside is a forbidden from the island to protect the isolated tribe from spreading deadly diseases that they will not have immunity against because they've never been there. And Chow knew that, full well, but he decided that Jesus would protect him, and he should do it anyway. Do go and listen to the full shorthand, but in the meantime, it is a pretty good reminder that nine times out of ten, if we're not allowed to go somewhere, it's usually because we're the problem. That's certainly the case for another place it's untouched by our grubby mitts. Just off the coast of Iceland, a volcanic eruption in 1963, created a brand new landmass named "Sertsea Island", making it one of the youngest islands on the planet. Scientists saw a unique opportunity to watch a whole new ecosystem develop from scratch without any human intervention, which is pretty bloody cool. So while Cersei isn't technically a forbidden place, the only people allowed to access it are a super exclusive crew of scientists and geologists. So if you fancy visiting, you better hit the books. When it comes to the stuff humanity holds dear, it isn't just science, it's history as well. Take the last cowcails in southwestern France. These ancient cabins contain some of the oldest examples of human artwork, earning it the distinguished nickname "The Sistine Chapel of Prehistory". The cave walls and ceilings are covered in paleolithic depictions of handprints, animals and human figures using natural pigments, dating back a whopping 17,000 years. And you use to be able to go and see them in the flesh, but over time the custodians noticed a large problem. All of those tourists breathing inside the caves had the unwanted side effect of rising carbon dioxide levels, and that means fungus. So all of those priceless ancient paintings literally started going moldy because we were breathing all over them. I can't even breathe anymore. To protect the paintings, tourists were banned from entering the caves in 1963. Fear not though, you can still visit the replica caves nearby. To go and get your paleolithic art fix. It's kind of the same, but not really. Not at all. They keep in all the cool shit from us. I don't like it. I don't deserve it. But it's not all about history. Deep in the tundra beyond the Arctic Circle, there's a place that's dedicated to protecting something even more vital. The Ice Wall. Yes. The literal future of the human race. The Ice Wall. This far-bad global seed vault, also known as the Doom's Day Vault, is located in the remote reaches of Northern Norway. And despite its ominous nickname, not the Ice Vault, the Doom's Day Vault, it's actually good news. Like it says on the tin, the vault stores seeds from every corner of the world. So what world Atlas calls a backup drive for the world's food supply? The idea is that if an apocalyptic event strikes, we'll be able to regrow crops without having to, you know, start again from fucking scratch. It's essentially the world's most secure, safety deposit box. I have to admit, though, when I first learned about the Doom's Day Vault, I thought it was going to be something way cooler than seeds. I really did. Yeah, you think. I was led astray. But if we're ever there. But actually, we'll all be glad. The Doom's Day book is very boring. Sure. It's just good PR. So, what makes this place forbidden? Understandably, it's the vital importance of those seeds, and that means that scientists just aren't taking any chances with them being contaminated or stolen. Only authorised scientists have access to the vault. And even they aren't exactly popping in and out daily. The vault only opens a handful of times each year, and organisations can only access the seeds that they have deposited themselves. For a place where security is so crucial, you might imagine a fort-knock-style building surrounded by armed guards. But the reality is much less Hollywood and a lot more Scandinavian. The vault is buried about 120 metres deep inside a sandstone mountain. Sticking out of the snow like an enormous concrete Nintendo cartridge. It's remote Arctic location makes it pretty much impossible to access it in the first place. So if you were planning a seed-heist, we've got bad news. Since the vault's opening in 2008, we've actually already dipped into it once. During the Syrian civil war, an important seed bank in Alapopo became inaccessible, so scientists retrieved backup copies from a svalbard and re-grue the collection in Lebanon and Morocco. Then returned fresh seeds to the vault once the job was done. So far, the Doomsday Vault has worked like a charm. But for all its amazing capabilities, everyone is hoping we won't actually need to use it any time soon. So you might be wondering, why haven't we mentioned top secret areas like Area 51? Yeah, we've torn down those wire fences already. (laughs) If you check out our swanky red-handed vault, not the Doomsday one, it's a much better one. It's full of stories, not seeds. And it's definitely not as tightly guarded as a svalbard. (blows raspberry) You can find episodes on the notorious American research site that inspired a million alien movies. And even, it's Russian equivalent, casputin' ya. Cappish Creek to those in the know. Don't say we never treat you guys. These places are obviously forbidden to the public because they're guarding state secrets in the name of national security. Oh, and also, obviously, housing extraterrestrials. But today, we're interested in exploring forbidden places further off the beaten track, including those the history left behind. So for our final stop, we're taking a detour to the island of Pogvalia in Italy, also known as the most haunted island in the world. (laughs) Pogvalia is a small island near Venice that has been uninhabited for decades. And there is a pretty murky history attached to it that sets curious imaginations a philim. From the late middle ages, it was used as a lazarette with a quarantine station for plague victims in a desperate bid to control the diseases spread as it ravaged Europe. And while there are absolutely plague pits on the island, there's also all under London, they are everywhere. After repeated claims that the soil is 50% human ash are largely considered to be exaggerated. But the spooky stories basically write themselves because in 1922, the Italian authorities decided that Pogvalia would be a brilliant place to open a mental asylum. And like to be fair, it is. But why are we trying to make it more haunted? Because at least it's haunted off the mainland. - Sure. - In its own little quarantine. I guess so. You're like, why spread around the hauntings? Let's just put them all in one place and just square it. Haunting squared. - And as is the case with any old timey psychiatric facility, lurid urban legends about the place, including a mad scientist director conducting cruel experiments on patients, has swirled around the island since its closure in 1968. One legend claims that a doctor went mad after witnessing the practices inside the hospital and jumped off the bell tower, his spirit joining the ghostly masses haunting the hospital. All this nightmare fuel has put the island firmly on many horror fans' bucket list. But bad luck again, because Pogvalia remains officially sealed off to curious tourists. You can get a special permit to visit the island by boat, so it's not completely off-limits, but many local fishermen refuse to even approach it shores because they're convinced the place is cursed. - So just have an apparel spritz on the less haunted island somewhere else? - Where's the fun in that? - I don't know. I've been out with Gondolier still 5 a.m., they're pretty fun. - And with that, our whistle stop tour of some of the world's least desirable destinations comes to a close. We hope our little audio, so Jean has stated your curiosity. But if you're still determined to experience these forbidden places for yourself, don't say we didn't warn you and be sure to send us pictures and your stories. - Yeah, thanks guys. See you next week. - Goodbye. - Bye. (upbeat music) [BLANK_AUDIO]