​Our film began there, back in March when I went to the church at the suggestion of the salesclerk at REI in Boston where I was getting outfitted with a new backpack and other gear for my forthcoming trip to Ukraine. When I told the clerk where I was headed, he told me about the church at the center of raising supplies for Ukraine in Boston (See Mass. Ukrainians send money, tactical medicine to battlefield back home | WBUR News). Being unfamiliar with the Ukrainian Catholic Church I just had to go to Jamaica Plain and find out more.

It was there that I met Father Yaroslav and told him about my upcoming trek, which at the time was going to be confined to the western part of the country. He spent time with me and told me about his time as a soviet army doctor while attending seminary underground, a path that could have meant his death if discovered by the Red Army command as the UCC was outlawed under the soviet regime. (See Announcing TheoEco's Ukraine Trek).

​After reassuring Fr. Yaroslav that I was committed to going - and of right mind - he encouraged me to go to the Ukrainian Catholic University in Lviv. I wound up spending several days there as the Russians retreated from Kyiv thereby opening up the possibility for me to go to Kyiv and eventually Bucha. I was able to interview students and faculty alike there, as well as learn about air raid sirens in the school’s basement/bunker. (See Ukrainian Catholic University (UCU) in Lviv (theoeco.org). He also called down a guardian angel and gave me his blessing to help me through the journey. He apparently has a lot of pull with The Spirit as I made it through without a scratch.

I went to see Fr. Yaroslav a couple weeks ago while in Boston and told him of my idea to hold the premiere screening at the church. He couldn’t have been more receptive to the idea as he expressed in his follow up email to me last week, which I just have to share:

​Слава Ісусу Христу! Glory to Jesus Christ!

Dear Mr. Steve Richards,

Thank you for your thoughtful note - proposal.

It was great to see you in church last Sunday. I am happy that you returned safe from the recent travels in Ukraine.

We will be honored to have the premiere of your documentary film about Ukraine in our parish in September. I will let you know soon about the availability of a Sunday in September.

Thank you again for your brave effort and personal commitment to produce the documentary film about the war in Ukraine. Your documentary film will be part of  the recorded history about  the sacrifice and heroism of the Ukrainian people in defending their freedom, dignity, and sovereignty.

Wishing you all the best in your professional endeavor.  Have a great summer!

Many Blessings!
Fr. Yaroslav and Parishioners of Christ the King UCC

So, stay tuned as we put our premiere event together to support Ukraine in as many ways as possible. I am very excited and honored to have this show of support for our film and efforts to bring awareness to what is happening there.

It is an epic struggle that is being fought for freedom loving people everywhere. And what better place to premiere the film than a church in Boston where America’s war for Independence took root almost 250 years ago.

​Thanks,
Steve Richards

Be part of Trek to Bucha! 

Can you feel it? Fatigue of the war in Ukraine has already begun to creep in with surging gas and food prices blamed on the unending war. ​ The refrain goes something like this: Can’t we just let Putin have his way and get back to the way things were?

But it’s far more than economics at stake in Ukraine. “Live Free or Die” is the New Hampshire state motto which all Americans understand in their bones. It is what the war in Ukraine is really all about. Ukrainians don’t want to live like Russians. They want to live like us - and have grown used to it since their independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. They will not let the Russians take it away from them. And they will be great partners in an even stronger Free World currently under attack by Putin. Ukraine must come out of this conflict all the stronger for it.

Which is why I am coming to you. We need about 29k to finish Trek to Bucha in a way that will make it attractive for outlets like PBS, Amazon, Netflix, Hulu, and others to put on their platforms for worldwide audiences. (Check out our budget at Budget and Timeline)

Specifically, we are raising funds to help cover Trek to Bucha's post-production costs. We have already covered the 39k pre-production and production expenses which were incurred during our shoots in Ukraine throughout March/April 2022 (See Trek to Bucha - Synopsis). We also have a rough-cut trailer ready to go!

​Now we need to cover the costs of editing, graphics, and other elements to make the film as engaging and entertaining as possible.

I’d like to invite you to join us and our partners to create this new and potentially important feature documentary which we are planning to premiere the week of August 10th in Boston.

Whether you are a potential sponsor, donor, institution, or a friend with a few bucks to spare, please go to our website at Trek to Bucha - Fundraising to learn more. ​​You might also want to check out our pdf file Trek to Bucha – Deck for a quick overview of what we are to.

Collectively we can make a difference and remind those in Ukraine they are not alone as we stand with them.

And, as always, thanks for your continued support.

Steve R.
Steve Richards, Managing Director

For more check out this message from Steve Richards recorded in Bucha...

​

​To donate click here. For more information and/or to become a sponsor please reach out to Steve Richards at SteveR@TheoEco.org.

​By Steve Richards

Memorial Day is about commemorating our fallen American fighters. In this it seems an occasion to consider the Ukrainian soldiers that have died and are dying each day. American soldiers are fighting alongside them. In many ways, this is America’s war as well.

So, it seems fitting to reach back to the days when the Minutemen at Lexington and Concord fought for the exact same reasons Ukrainians are fighting today. Liberty. Freedom.

Sounds sort of corny because we take it for granted here. We are taught in grade school about the Boston Tea Party, the Declaration of Independence, the American Revolution, etc. But for most of us that’s as far as it goes. History books and movies.

Ukraine is a real-life reminder of what our forefathers died for on Lexington Green in 1775. Love of freedom is a universal human sentiment that Phillis Wheatly spoke of when she wrote in 1774:

​Of course, Phillis was a slave, a Boston slave, so she spoke from a point of view far different than those first Americans that died for their country on the Green. But the sentiment is the same. It’s in our DNA apparently. And it certainly is present in all that I met on my trek to Bucha and comes through in every interview.

The people dying and fighting and surviving in Ukraine are just like us in their love of freedom and their willingness to die for it. It’s not complicated. Turns out phrases like ‘Live Free or Die’, ‘Freedoms not Free’, and ‘Russian warship, go fuck yourself!’ are all born of the same zeal for freedom and the willingness to die for it.

When I get involved in a project like Trek to Bucha, I have a mind to do something that is too big for me to have much of an impact. The War in Ukraine is just this kind of quixotic endeavor. What can one guy do? Not much. But one guy with a camera and the ability to produce an engaging documentary? Well, that’s a force multiplier. Because the uniquely powerful footage I shot has the potential to move millions given the worldwide interest in the war and awareness of what happened in Bucha. We have the potential to improve the situation in Ukraine, and ourselves. Because what is happening in Ukraine directly affects us throughout the world.

I came away from my month in Ukraine with a deep appreciation that its citizens will need more than just guns and ammunition. They will need loans to rebuild their homes and help rebuilding their economy. The people of Ukraine are not just fighting for their freedom. Through hard work, love of family and home, the rule of law, and liberty, they are fighting for the fruits of democracy and laissez-faire capitalism. Our film and other TheoEco efforts will hopefully influence policy that will further these goals.

Lastly, all of those I interviewed echoed the sentiment of thanks for our support of Ukraine and for bringing awareness of what’s happening there. Perhaps in the end, this is the greatest impact this film can have, to pass their message along. But I hope the film will help Ukraine strengthen and in so doing push back against Putin’s threat to so much of what we hold dear.

​Hopefully, this film can engage the sentiments of viewers to continue supporting Ukraine in its struggles against Putin’s Russia.
Think of Ukraine’s soldiers and citizens this Memorial Day. Think of them and their cause and what our forefathers had to suffer through beginning in our struggle against a seemingly overwhelming armed force in 1775 when paying a bit more at the pump. And as we commemorate centuries of heroes in America, God bless our Ukrainian brothers in arms dying for our freedoms as well.

A new feature length documentary currently in post-production for completion July 2022.

​One month into Russia’s war on Ukraine, guerilla documentarian Steve Richards began an odyssey to document what was happening in the Western suburbs of Kyiv. The resulting footage provides deep dives into the stories, people, places, and situations resulting from the war few thought would happen.

Regular people just like us enduring air raid sirens, missile strikes, lost jobs, destroyed homes, and unfathomable atrocities being waged around them. All because they demand the liberties most of us take for granted. From Warsaw, to Lviv, to Kyiv, to Bucha, we get a real look at what’s really happening, almost like being there in person. Richards documented what he found, with a 14-part video blog, which we are told is more riveting than network news broadcasts.

All interviews were conducted in English since many in Ukraine speak it well. We hope this makes the film all the more accessible for those in the USA and other English speakers. Much is being asked of people in the west including political, economic, and military support for Ukraine. Especially in terms of higher food and gas prices, and the billions in aid that will need to continue to keep up the fight. A global fight we are winning.

We hope this production will help further this moral and real support that is so vital - and to let Ukrainians know that America stands by them. They are not alone. Because they are in the same position America’s Minutemen were some 250 years ago when the first shots at Lexington and Concord changed the world. Back when Phillis Wheatley, America’s first ever published black author, wrote in 1774:

In every human Breast, God has implanted a Principle, which we call Love of Freedom; it is impatient of Oppression, and pants for Deliverance.

Again, the people in the film are just like us. We “get” these folks. This production and cause are dedicated to them, their struggles, and the inspiration they are providing the rest of us.

​Glory to Ukraine!

​​By Steve Richards

​Spring has sprung as I head back to Poland with a new little Ukrainian refugee.

My final hike in Ukraine was to the Kyiv train station from my hotel near Independence Square on a beautiful spring Saturday. As I was about to take the scenic route through a flowering park on the way, another siren reminded me that the war continues on for all trying to enjoy a sunny day in the park, pushing baby carriages, walking their dogs, playing at a playground; just enjoying a beautiful day. The wail of the siren was just a kind of background noise for most. Life goes on.

The trek back to the USA from Bucha was almost as complicated as getting there and took days. The train out of Kyiv on April 23rd would have been much easier were it not for the cancelling of a deluxe sleeper train to Warsaw I had booked. Not an unusual thing to have trains running a little unreliably for obvious reasons.

So, I wound up taking a rather convoluted route which switched trains at a blacked-out train station somewhere in the middle of Ukraine. There I was loaded on to a 4-person sleeper compartment of another train that picked me up solo just after midnight on Easter (Orthodox calendar).

There was no light on in the compartment as my fellow travelers were fast asleep. The train was headed for Przemysl just over the Ukraine border in Poland. A little town made famous for the processing of countless numbers of refugees from the war; including one little lady with whom I spent the entire 13-hour ride. Turns out there were five of us in the compartment. She made me realize that I had run into just about every Ukraine story that one hears about. Refugees, fighters, victims, even soldiers from the USA. She also made me understand better what this whole thing is about in the end.

After another 6-hour train ride to Warsaw and an overnight stay I flew out of Chopin Airport on the 25th.

I was forced to fly back to the USA out of Warsaw because the airports in Ukraine were closed when the Russians invaded on February 24th. This points out one of the biggest issues confronting Ukraine: How to get their economy back. When it takes days for a traveler to navigate the planes, trains, and automobiles – not to mention the occasional van or bus – to get to Kyiv from the USA, well, it’s daunting. Few business travelers, let alone tourists, will brave the trek. But that’s a topic for another post.

Anyway, back in the USA I am. And, as always, it’s nice to be home.

​By Steve Richards

​A city coming back to life.

My last days in Ukraine started with a return to Kyiv on April 21st on the way home via Warsaw. I believe I crossed paths with Secretary of State Blinken and Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin on my way.

The drive back to Kyiv from Bucha was much more convenient than the hike to Bucha a little more than a week before. The road was wide open now and the armed checkpoints were largely abandoned, though the fortifications were still in place. They seem to be unconvinced the Russians aren’t coming back.

I could now see just how straight a shot it would have been for the Russian columns to attempt the assault on Kyiv from this highway. An assault that never happened thanks to the Ukrainian Territorial Defense Forces.

Over the next two days I retraced my steps to see what, if anything, had changed. The hotel I stayed at was about a 15-minute walk south of Independence Square. Admittedly a small sample size, it is however a highly trafficked area in the center of the city; right where the Russians likely would have poured in if their advance had succeeded.

There was a big change in the mix of people on the streets with more civilians and fewer soldiers. AK-47s were few and far between now. Air raid sirens continue 2-3 times a day though no one seems to take notice. Life goes on.

A telling feature of the more relaxed environment was my ability to take more video of sandbagged buildings and fortifications. Though I still dared not try to get obvious shots of soldiers and police.

More coffee kiosks were open though most stores were still closed. The electronics store I bought a power adaptor from when I first arrived had brought back their entire i-phone inventory, tables which were empty before. And more restaurants were open including excellent pizza and fusion Asian fast-fresh food. A huge indoor market was now open with vendors selling everything from fruits to fish, to beef, to caviar. McDonalds, KFC, and other American restaurants were still closed. Nike was still open. A lovely candy store stocked me up for the upcoming train ride to Warsaw.

But the highlight for me was still Match Restaurant. We featured it in a video earlier as a World Central Kitchen meal production site. It was still going strong. As I’m sure it is today.

I look forward to returning to Kyiv when the airport reopens. Unfortunately, it takes many days to get there at present. Which is really the end result of Putin’s ongoing attacks on the city and throughout Ukraine. He can’t win the war, but he can terrorize the country and keep the economy down by keeping travelers out simply because they can’t get there.

Hopefully, that will change in the not-too-distant future. I promised my new friend Victor at the Victoria Park Hotel that we would hold a screening of our new film “Trek to Bucha” there as soon as I could fly in. It will be June before the film is ready so I have my fingers crossed for an early summer return.

​Just in time for the start of the hotel’s high season.

By Steve Richards

​When it comes to the western Kyiv suburbs, atrocities are at the extreme in Bucha. Building damage is at the extreme in Irpin.

It wasn’t easy getting into Irpin. I had to go through two checkpoints and then walk a few kilometers to the center of town. The damage is everything we saw on the news. Devastated apartment buildings and destroyed homes everywhere; the focus of weeks of Russian artillery bombardments, much of it from occupied Bucha next door. In particular, the road from Bucha was the scene of an armored assault that left block after block completely flattened. It reminded me of scenes from Nepal after the 2015 earthquakes, though here it smells of smoke. 

Had the Russians gotten through they would have had a straight shot into Kyiv, though in many ways the challenges would just have begun I suppose. This place is still a half-hour drive from downtown Kyiv. Before the bridge was blown and fortifications installed in the middle of the highway.

It was a beautiful town with lots of parks. One of which I took a break in the center of town. I had the park all to myself–with three wandering dogs. Fortunately, most of Irpin was evacuated before the worst happened as citizens saw the advancing columns. Some are beginning to return to see how their homes fared.

Certainly, things are coming back. Electricity is coming back online. Markets will reopen. The main bridge that was blown already has a new workaround bridge. Traffic jams have returned.

When I walked through Irpin on April 18th, it was nearly a ghost town. A ghost town with spring flowers beginning to blossom juxtaposed to the deserted, extensively bombed-out realities that will take a long time–and great amounts of resources–to bring back. I saw power crews and workers trying to get markets reopened, but it is a far cry from what we would expect here in the West in the aftermath of such devastation. No FEMA here. In fact, over the course of the 4 weeks I was in Ukraine I can only remember one vehicle with a red cross on it.

It appears these towns and their citizens are on their own.

​By Steve Richards

​Tragedy and hope. Like Jesus on the cross in a way.  
 
I know, Easter was last Sunday. And like a good Protestant from the USA I celebrated. Unlike most though I celebrated in Bucha with a bowl of chicken soup cooked over an open fire rather than the traditional brunch normally reserved for the occasion. Where in fact it wasn't Easter at all it turns out.  
 
What I've learned since coming to Ukraine in late March is that Ukrainians are predominantly of the Orthodox denomination. So Ukrainians were mostly celebrating Palm Sunday last Sunday (I suppose anyway as there were no palm fronds to be seen but rather some type of budding branches). Over here, today is Easter, the 24th of April. In fact, at midnight last night, as I awaited a sleeper train in a blacked out train station somewhere between Kyiv and Lviv, the host of the waiting room tuned in a live midnight mass of an Orthodox ceremony.  
 
But still, my Easter was last Sunday. And it was the most unusual Easter I'm sure I'll likely ever spend. I celebrated at the church that we have all seen on the news where the mass graves were dug. Trenches dug largely to bury those killed by Russian soldiers.  
 
It was a very chilly day spent largely outdoors that included rain, sleet, even a bit of snow in a field kitchen in the parking lot of an apartment building that I spent a lot of time in. Later that day they had power restored after almost two months, but that meal took nearly three hours and fed more than a dozen. I even helped peel the potatoes.  
 
The sites and memories of the atrocities in Bucha are ever present to those that live there and are included in this video installment. They speak for themselves and many are from the day before when I got a tour of the horrors from someone that experienced it directly. My guide, insurance agent Igor Zaderholova was bound and blindfolded in his ransacked apartment for two days and shot in the leg by an armored personnel carrier before being evacuated five days later.  
 
Our finished documentary will delve into all this in much more depth and appreciation for what happened. Today though it is a time for celebration and hope.  
 
Happy Easter from Bucha. 
 ​

The name itself conjures images of tragedy and horror. It is also a place of gladness, resilience, and hope. 

Bucha. The name brings to mind pictures and news of atrocities and brutality at the hand of Russian soldiers. Putin’s invading force. The “crazy” Russians as folks around here are apt to say as opposed to the “normal” Russians, which differentiates the stories neighbors tell one another about their captors.

All who stayed here during the period when the Russian armor poured in have stories that share many attributes and timelines. Like two weeks of seeing missiles and rockets fly overhead and land near and far. Like two days of many loved ones being bound and gagged as their homes were ransacked looking for weapons. Like neighbors being shot by snipers and armored personnel carriers parked in front of their homes. Like living in their basements with parents, grandparents, and children. And just feeling lucky to survive and glad the invaders are gone.

​The footage from our drive and walk around Bucha takes two forms. The first will bring a sense of déjà vu as they are the same sights carried by the international press, which is now largely gone. The second are glimpses of life rarely broadcast. Scenes of trashed apartments, neighbors cooking over open fires day in and day out simply to eat, stay warm, and share each other’s company. Exploring catacombs of basements where they took shelter for weeks on end and where children’s drawings still decorate the walls. An interview with an insurance agent that was bound and gagged, shot in the leg, and then evacuated 5 days later when a “green light” was given. An interview in a junkyard with a man rummaging through a shot-up vehicle whose mother was killed and father shot while driving–the first time the man had seen the wreckage of his family’s forever altered life in the form of a bullet-riddled van.

The images in the video speak for themselves. What also hopefully starts to emerge is the hope that comes from the spirit of those that remained–and those that are returning. Glad the Russians are gone but uncertain that they may be coming back, and not willing to celebrate as the nation remains at war and all Ukrainians’ minds are focused on Mariupol. Especially perhaps the survivors of Bucha.

A Note to Our Readers
You may notice that there is no video attached to today’s post. This is because Bucha’s infrastructure is still severely impacted and is still without internet access except via cell phone data which runs at 3G or LTE and is at best a bit spotty. Therefore, it is proving next to impossible to upload the daily footage feeds to Amit Nepali in Kathmandu who does the daily edits of the footage from the previous day(s). Therefore, the Way to Bucha post of me making my way to the Victoria Park Hotel in Bucha (where I am still) will be the last of these daily posts and videos. I am however still acquiring new footage including a trip to Irpin. Therefore, the next video you can expect to see from us is a preliminary version of the film’s trailer after I return to the United States on April 25th. And thanks very much for reading and following these posts. It is your support that keeps us going.

​By Steve Richards

A contrast in worlds not even 10 miles away. 

My day began in a suburb of Kyiv about seven or so miles west of the capital city’s center in a pretty deluxe two-bedroom (aside from no hot water) in a high-rise apartment I scored on Booking.com (as I have most of my accommodations so far). It was a lovely sunny spring day in far contrast to the cold, drizzly day I hiked in two days ago, so that was nice. After my fourth meal of pasta and red sauce I had bought in the market downstairs, I was ready to hit the trail on what promised to be a pretty grueling ten or so mile hike to Bucha. Grueling because my pack weighs in at almost 50 pounds fully packed (my new Osprey bag is awesome), and because I’ve never carried it such a distance. But, I felt up to the challenge. It was a warmish sunny day, and, besides, my travel options were limited, and the terrain flat. 

The first part of the hike was pleasant enough, though the pack was already making its presence known and I had just started. I walked through a lovely little neighborhood led by Google Maps in walk mode as my guide. However, Google Maps makes no predictions about the kind of road/path/trench-line you might traverse. It is just a blue line on my iPhone. 

The blue line takes me down a paved road to a concrete barrier eight feet high–the apparent end of the road. Which is why driving, even if you could get a car, is not practical unless a local. The Territorial Defense Forces of Ukraine have been VERY busy setting up all kinds of nasty surprises for Russian tanks, armor, and associated vehicles which simply aren’t conducive to normal getting around. However, there is almost always a pathway around these obstacles for those on foot. So around I go. 

The new path was something I hadn’t experienced before. Trenches deeply dug, interlaced, and abandoned, they fortunately had planks stretching from one side to the other. Google Maps gave me no guidance as to how to navigate these–just the blue line that beckoned like Horace Greely, “Go West, old man,” or something like that. I worked through the maze, came out the other side, and found the trusty path only to come upon a water hazard in the woods which I started walking along looking for a place to cross. It was just a brook, but I didn’t want to get my Doc Martens wet as the water looked deep enough to make the rest of my hike miserable with soaked socks. 

Surprisingly, and I keep remembering the guardian angel Father Yaroslav called down for me in Boston, I happened upon a family enjoying a picnic in the woods! Not speaking Ukrainian, nor they English, I motioned I needed a place to cross, and the patriarch of the clan showed me a bridge of old tires, a plank, and some foam rubber, and gave me a sign to skip right across. I thanked him and he left me to my own devices to face the next hazard. Dogs. Which I met as soon as I skipped across to the other side, no problem. 

You see, there were any number of loose, perhaps even feral dogs that are extremely territorial along the blue line. And while they don’t generally attack, they let you know the place is under watch. I told the dogs that I was leaving as soon as I could, with an eye behind me to be sure one wasn’t sneaking up to take a chunk out of me, which surely would have ruined my day even more than wet socks. 

I keep hiking only to confront a dreaded checkpoint consisting of several well-armed militia-looking fellas that told me the forested path I was about to try and enter “wasn’t gonna happen.” My trusty blue line was closed, and an unspecified detour was in my immediate future. They said it was unsafe (wouldn’t/couldn’t tell me why) though drivers were being let through. The English-speaking guard told me to walk down to the main highway several miles away to catch the bus to Bucha, or better yet, back to Kyiv. Not in any position to argue, I headed away from the trusty blue line, toward the road and promised bus. At this point, I got a bit disoriented without the blue line I knew and loved, which was sending me back to the checkpoint and through the forbidden woods. On the other hand, having the possibility of ditching my heavier and heavier pack was also motivating. So down the road I went. 

Soon thereafter I spot another, even more formidable checkpoint a few hundred yards ahead. This one really gave me pause as I felt I barely made it past the last one. I also saw a little place to change money right about then and knowing that cash was likely king where I was going, I exchanged a few hundred-dollar bills from my reserve for local currency (close to 10,000 hryvnias) while I noodled what to do next. Here also were about a dozen people waiting at an obvious bus stop, so it occurred to me that maybe I could catch the coming bus to the Bucha bus down the road. But after I saw how crowded the little bus was, I just couldn’t bring myself to try and get on with my big pack and Google Translate. I decided I’d brave the checkpoint. 

I was asked by the soldiers for my passport and what I was up to. I have this down pretty well by now: I’m an American documentary filmmaker and I’m walking to Bucha. I then show them my American passport, which all seem to admire the craftsmanship thereof, and the Ukraine page on the TheoEco website complete with a picture of Father Yaroslav and me next to St. Vladimir–the patron saint of Ukraine, I think. And after some noodling on their own, they decide to let me walk along. 

Along I go, and sure enough, the blue line came back when I happened upon a new road going west if I just make a left down what looked like an industrial access road. So, screw the bus, I’m back on the trusty blue line! 

This was the longest stretch of the day and the closest to a real hike in nature I’ve had. It went through fields and forests, more fortifications, a factory, and more forests. It was downright pastoral on this spring/summery day with birds, meadows, trees, a dog (a little non-threatening one going home), everything! It would have been perfect if not for that constant little fear in the back of my mind that I might at any moment step on a landmine, as the Russians have apparently laid many, but I figured this was never occupied territory and I was still far from Bucha and Irpin so I thought less and less about it. Besides, it was the trusty blue line I was on. 

On and on it seemed to go and yet I wasn’t half through. But Google Maps is very accurate, so I could see the kilometers tick down ‘til I reached the road where I might finally find that bus to Bucha. But just before I stepped off the path and onto the road shoulder, I took off that pack and had a little picnic of my own. In the woods with blue skies overhead, I pulled out my last apple and a bottle of iced tea. After a good thirty minutes–I was in no big hurry to put that backpack on again–I hit the road on what would be the second five miles of the day still to come. 

No more dirt path now–I was walking like a vagabond on a major road with cars speeding past, though not too many. I walked and walked with the occasional billboard to break up the monotony, and the traffic snarlers which were former checkpoints in the middle of the road. These consist of an assembly of concrete barriers placed on the road in a design that forces drivers–in both directions–to perform their most skillful S-curve Grand Prix maneuvers at the greatest speed possible. It is obvious that drivers who navigate these obstacles frequently are quite adept at speeding through as there are no police or anything directing traffic. Every driver for themself out here. 

The kilometers keep rolling by towards a few buildings I can see on the horizon. Bucha, I figure, finally. I trudge along, though my pack is beginning to talk to me via my back and legs, saying, “Put me down...you know you want to.” And I did, as this was already about as far as I’ve carried the thing since leaving Boston and I knew I still had miles to go. 

Then came a blessing from the guardian angel Father Yaroslav called down for me in Jamaica Plain. A car pulled over and beckoned me to ride! Since I had seen no sign of a bus stop and my pack was now insisting that any ride was better than walking, I scampered between the traffic and loaded my gear into the welcoming car, and sped off in a backseat full of supplies bound for Irpin, complete with a bag full of adult beverages which can’t be purchased around here. 

My back and legs happy and hoping for a lovely ride to my hotel, their dreams are dashed as soon as I see the first signs of destruction, my first since arriving in Ukraine more than two weeks ago. 
​
I had to get out and start filming. 

A burned-out building and cars were the first things I saw. The first of so many it would turn out. You see, this is where the battle for Kyiv took place. This place and many others around the capital. This is where the Russians were thwarted and sent scurrying back to the Belarussian border. 

As I went, I saw more damage–much, much more–including burnt-out Russian-armored personnel carriers and other vehicles now just blocking traffic. I also saw rebuilding, especially at a bombed-out bridge that had been destroyed by the Ukrainians to deny it to the Russians. Locals were still using it to the extent possible, having to drive far to the side of what was now an asphalt bowl to keep from falling in the gaping chasm of a road. Amazing. No orange cones or flashing barricades here. 

Before long, Google Maps brought me to a dirt road that led me through heavily damaged, deserted, modern apartment complexes, complete with another particularly aggressive dog who charged at me from behind–but I turned just in time, and he backed off, barking at me for a good 300 meters until I was sufficiently unthreatening. 

Now I was on a path through a wooded area, which could also be mined, I’ve been told. After all, this was Russian occupied for many weeks and they left a few mines behind, apparently. So, no more dirt roads for me, I guess. 

There are few authorities around; this place is largely self-governed. There is almost no government assistance. No FEMA or Red Cross. No supermarkets as they’ve all been bombed and emptied anyways. Few gas stations. Just a few places where bread is being distributed. 

Instead, the remaining and returning citizens–estimates are that 90% of the 40,000+ citizens evacuated–work together to get by. Electrical crews are out, natural gas crews are working. Contractors are beginning to clean up former offices, and coffee shops are cleaning up the broken glass and trying to figure out what to do next. The internet is out, but cell phones are working. 3G is the going data speed, though a little unreliable. It is anything but anarchy, though, with Kyiv about an hour away by car. The McDonald's stands undamaged though still closed. It will be very popular upon reopening I’m told. 

My hike is coming to an end on this first evening in Bucha when I get to my hotel. The entire day I have been dreaming of the Victoria Park Hotel. Its website showed a fabulous restaurant and lovely rooms complete with monogrammed robes–the works. And while I could hardly believe it was open, Booking.com confirmed my reservation, so off I went. Just one problem–the internet is down at the Victoria Park Hotel and they had no idea I was coming. In fact, they are closed...still. But the proprietor Victor let me in and gave me a great room, slippers and bathrobe included! The hotel has electricity and heat, and though the restaurant is closed I’ve been invited to some awesome meals with the “family.” I get espressos and pots of tea every morning and have met wonderful folks who double as guides to show me the places we all see on TV. More on all this to come. 

For now, I can say that Father Yaroslav’s guardian angel is really delivering. Not to mention Booking.com.