Kamchatka crowds more than 300 volcanoes onto a single peninsula in the Russian Far East, and 29 of them are still active. Klyuchevskaya Sopka, the tallest, reaches about 4,750 metres — the highest active volcano in Eurasia — and it gains height with every eruption. The near-perfect cone of Kronotsky and the broad flanks of Avachinsky stand over Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, the only sizeable city on the peninsula. Beyond it there are essentially no roads. The interior is tundra, lava field and drifting mist, reached by helicopter or all-terrain truck and by nothing else. Until the Soviet Union fell in 1991 this whole coast was a sealed military zone, closed even to most Russians, and that isolation is why so little of it has been touched.
What draws people this far is how openly the planet still works here. In the Valley of Geysers, the second-largest geyser field on Earth, columns of boiling water burst out of a green river canyon and fumaroles hiss on sulphur-streaked slopes. Nobody in science knew it existed until a researcher stumbled onto it in 1941. Each summer millions of salmon fight upriver to spawn, and brown bears line the banks to haul them out of the current. At Kuril Lake in the south a dozen bears can be in view at once from a raised platform. The tundra runs warm underfoot in places from the heat below, eagles ride the thermals, and sea otters work the cliffs on the Pacific coast. Getting anywhere costs a helicopter charter, and weather grounds them for days at a time. Very little here is finished; you can stand and watch the ground still building itself.