The main wonder of Vorzogory (with stress on the first syllable) — a small Pomor village — is not its large peasant houses (there are bigger ones elsewhere), nor the two-church ensemble of the Vorzogory Pogost, whose oldest building, the Church of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, dates back to 1636 (with its stout bell tower), nor even the White Sea, crashing against the land just a few hundred meters from the settlement.
↑ One of the last surviving magazeys — a warehouse-shop built at the end of the 18th century.
The true master here is the Wind.
The village stands on a high rise — an ugor, as locals call it. From the bell tower, the tallest landmark of Vorzogory (and a close relative of medieval watchtowers), one can see endless forests and bogs to one side and the limitless sea to the other. And everywhere, the Wind rules: playful in the village streets, piercing and howling in the bell tower, and on the high cliff above the sea, turning into a northern hurricane blowing from the Arctic Ocean, strong enough to snatch a phone from one’s hand.
↑The gates of the magazey
On some days, there may be calm, or a blessed southern breeze, but when we visited, the Wind raged in its true northern glory, hurrying straight from the Arctic to greet us.
In summer, Vorzogory becomes an island. To reach it, one must cross the taiga river Onega (which, despite the name, has nothing to do with Lake Onego). There is no bridge. You can take a private car ferry running on its own mysterious schedule, or a small passenger steamer shuttling back and forth. From there — 30 kilometers of swamp and pine forest, unless you hire a local villager eager to earn a bit from travelers. We were driven in by a spry old man, recklessly steering his battered UAZ Patriot along the rutted tracks, blasting wild pop music.
In Vorzogory, the road ends.
But in winter, the river freezes and the village is linked to the "Big Land" by an ice crossing, turning this dead end into a transit point on the great winter road — a true Russian zimnik, where one might still find tracks of unseen beasts. This frozen route stretches on to distant villages at the border with Karelia — Nimen’ga, Maloshuyka — and, as locals claim, all the way to Finland.