The church at the end of the world – photo essay
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Across Fildes Bay from the glacial mass of the Bellingshausen Dome, the Holy Trinity church sits atop a narrow ridge on King George Island: the southernmost Orthodox church in the world.
The Russian monk Father Mitrofan Soldatenko and curate Denis Ianenkov.
At 6am every Sunday morning, Denis Ianenkov – a drilling specialist from Moscow who works with the Russian Antarctic Expedition – climbs groggily up a rickety ladder into a tiny bell tower and pushes open the windows, letting in a blast of icy wind and snowflakes which stick in his tousled hair and beard.
With no room to move between the roof beams, he taps on a set of tight strings in front of him one by one to play a peal on the bells, announcing the morning’s service.
Ianenkov rings the bells to announce the morning’s service.
Down in the chapel, a row of Crocs waits by the door for worshippers to slip on, although usually just one or two come by.
In the warmth and silence inside, there is no trace of the sounds of machinery which drift up from Russia’s Bellingshausen research station, nor the howl of the wind or hum of diesel generators in Villa Las Estrellas, the tiny Chilean village below the church.
Related: Island at the end of the world: Antarctic outpost faces uncertain times
Pastor Mitrofan Soldatenko, 47, was born in Izhevsk in the western Udmurt Republic and joined the Orthodox church as a hieromonk after completing his military service in Siberia. He was stationed to the Holy Trinity church in 2020, four years after Patriarch Kirill became the first leader of the Orthodox church to visit Antarctica.
For his services, Soldatenko swaps the fleece and dungarees he wears around his cabin for an embroidered ceremonial habit with a gold trim, and pulls his hair back into a tight bun to officiate the ceremony.
Ianenkov cooks and also runs the souvenir shop.
While Ianenkov reads prayers from a lectern in a soporific monotone, slipping between Russian, Spanish and occasionally English, Soldatenko drifts in and out from behind a screen, his ornate gown trailing behind him as he swings a censer, wafting fragrant incense into each corner of the tiny chapel.
For big celebrations like the Passka Festival, they might see 15 or 20 worshippers trudge up to the church for their service, but both men say that the peaceful silence is reason enough to wake up to perform the service.
Father Soldatenko holds a service. Ianenkov lights candles.
In 2007, the Holy Trinity church was even the location for a wedding between a Chilean and Russian researcher.
Nineteenth-century sailors rounding Cape Horn held that “below 40 degrees south there is no law; below 50 degrees south, there is no God,” but nowadays, there are eight churches dotted across Antarctica.
Father Soldatenko on his way down the hill to the Russian base for supper.
The 15-metre-tall (50ft-tall) Holy Trinity church, the only Orthodox chapel in Antarctica, was built in 2002 from wood shipped from Altay, Siberia. Its bells were brought from Vladimir, a city east of Moscow.
On a nearby hilltop is a Catholic church, which performs its services each Sunday, mostly for members of the military stationed in Villa Las Estrellas with the Chilean air force and navy.
The oldest chapel, the Whaler’s church in South Georgia, was built by Norwegian sailors in 1913. It hosted Sir Ernest Shackleton’s funeral service in 1922 before he was buried in its cemetery.
During the week, Soldatenko operates machinery and drives creaking trucks down at the Russian research station.
Father Soldatenko’s prefab by the church that he and Ianenkov live in.
Father Soldatenko in his bedroom, and in the sitting area in the prefab.
Father Soldatenko and Ianenkov sit and eat with Alex, who occasionally attends and works at the Russian base.
He lives in one of three prefabricated cabins with Ianenkov and another colleague, where their immaculate rooms are lined with wooden panelling and shelves of leather-bound books. On their nightstands are trays filled with geodes and crystals collected from around the Antarctic peninsula.
Soldatenko is keen to show off the shiny, plastic-panelled football he was given for this birthday – and the guitar he plays on the long winter days when the snow is too deep to venture outside.
Ianenkov heads home.
