THE endless expanse of white that stretches in all directions is broken only by a distant pine forest as we rise with breathtaking rapidity above the Arctic landscape.

The cloudless blue sky, however, is dotted with an unusual and somewhat surreal flotilla of multi-coloured spherical objects. Paul Lavelle turns to me and grins: “This has got to be better than covering Swindon council meetings.”

We are surveying the bleakly beautiful Polar surroundings from the basket of a hot-air balloon with the message ‘Save the Earth – Act Now’ emblazoned in large white letters across its deep blue envelope.

Around 20 blimps ascend from this vast blanket of virgin snow on a remote tip of Norway before drifting several miles south and touching down, about an hour later, in Finland; in our case with a satisfyingly crisp thud.

We are taking part in one of the most unusual and adventurous environmental protests ever staged. For good measure, it is also the world’s most northerly hot air balloon fiesta.

It is an escapade which, in a few days time, will take us behind the Iron Curtain into a desolate outpost of the Soviet Union to become embroiled in controversy and threatened by the KGB.

And it is all down to a visionary Swindon-based company called Global Concern. For several years during the late Eighties and early Nineties Global Concern – in effect, Swindon born-Paul and his Norwegian partner Mette Larsen – was based in High Street, Old Town. Its aim was to highlight a swathe of environmental ills threatening the planet, with the depletion of the ozone layer - the earth’s vital protection against harmful ultra violet rays – top of the list.

Now, a four year EU project involving 35 research institutions in 14 countries suggests the ozone layer over the North Pole, where a hole develops each year, should recover by the end of the century.

I can’t help thinking that campaigners like Paul Lavelle, who brought its plight to the world’s attention during the Eighties, are partly responsible for this encouraging turn-around.

Today, Paul, 55, is a self-made millionaire who combines a range of businesses, from designing eco-homes to organising walking trips to the North Pole, with an ongoing passion for the environment.

Such a scenario probably seemed unlikely to teachers at St Joseph’s school, Swindon who expelled the 15-year-old dyslexic because “I didn’t do homework.”

One of six children, Paul, who lived in Goddard Avenue, Old Town, launched his first business at 12, buying eggs from local farmers and selling them door-to-door.

Becoming a professional diver, he was working on Norwegian oil rigs when he met NASA researchers investigating the vanishing ozone layer.

This didn’t just spark a life-long interest in the environment for Paul, it galvanised him into doing something to help – something unique and spectacular. What better, he thought, than to fly a hot air balloon from the North Pole to highlight the potential catastrophe?

Returning to Swindon with Mette, Paul said at the time: “We knew nothing about Poles or balloons – or whether it was scientifically, geographically or politically possible to take off from the North Pole. As for equipment and logistics, we didn’t have a clue.”

But in April 1989 take-off they did, having got to grips with the noble art ballooning courtesy of Richard Branson’s tutor Robert Batchelor. The duo’s hour-long flight 2,000ft over “the roof on the world” was a triumphant first; they even collected air samples requested by NASA.

Buoyed with success the couple formed Global Concern and launched an ambitious initiative to help publicise the devastation being wrought by a “Soviet death cloud.”

That’s how Norwegians described the deadly pall of chemicals pumped from a Russian factory that produces the corrosion-resistant substance nickel.

According to a growing campaign in Norway and Russia the plant, five miles from the Norwegian border, was a major hazard, laying waste to the countryside for miles around while having dire health effects.

Global Concern planned to support local campaigners by staging a high-profile protest in the heart of the Soviet town of Nikel, nearly 1,000 miles from Moscow, where the factory is located.

Amazingly, Paul eventually got permission from the Soviet authorities: not to stage a protest, you understand, but to hold a balloon festival in Nikel which, unbeknown to the Soviets would also serve as a demo.

I went along to provide media coverage and fire off a few Global Concern press releases. More than 100 UK hot air balloon enthusiasts also signed up for the once-in-a-life time chance to fly from the Arctic Circle.

An impressive convoy of trucks, laden with ballooning equipment, set off from North Star, near the Oasis, in March, 1991. We joined it in Norway a couple of weeks later. The Easter period was chosen so the balloons could land on the frozen lakes. Good thinking! So here we are: after several days of ballooning around the snowy countryside near the Arctic town of Kirkenes, our party heads for the Soviet border and I have a case of the jitters.

Everyone knows a journalist entering the Soviet Union requires a mountain of paperwork signed in triplicate by half the politburo. Needless to say, I have none of this. Under the word occupation, my passport shrieks ‘journalist’ in giant fluorescent letters.

Some hours later, however, we are all ushered through after Paul presents Soviet guards with an armful of Cadbury’s fruit and nut.

On bumpy Russian roads our coaches pass the stark outline of a gulag before the three vast, fume belching chimneys of the Nikel factory come into view.

We cannot see the damage that clouds of sulphur dioxide has created in the countryside – it is under several feet of snow.

A photo, though, given to me by Norwegian campaigners a few days earlier, shows two Russian teenagers wandering across a wasteland of blackened soil and stunted vegetation.

The 20,000 population town recalls footage from TV’s The World at War; drab, faceless apartment blocks line roads strewn with rubble; the most popular mode of transport appears to be horseback; children are hauled to school on horse-drawn carts.

If the town is grim its people most certainly are not. The community graciously stages a spectacular show of ballet and music for its guests from the West.

Afterwards several locals are keen to tell me, through an English speaking teacher, of their concerns over rampant pollution; it produces high levels of lung disease, cancer and allergies, they say. Their children always seem to be ill. They give examples. But of course, the authorities either don’t have, or won’t provide, statistics.

Meanwhile, drama unfolds as stern faced KGB officials and the military swell the ranks of the many who gather on a frozen lake to watch the ascent of hot air balloons. The area’s central commissioner, Andre Ivonov, controversially rescinds an earlier decision to let the balloons fly. The authorities want to kick us out. But thousands have gathered in anticipation.

Paul vehemently argues the case; Moscow, we are told has become involved. A compromise is reached. Nine balloons can be tethered but not flown. As the sun casts its long shadows, up they go; brightly-coloured baubles glowing in the fading wintry light.

Scrambling into the baskets before magically rising nearly 100ft into the chilly air, the children of Nikel are loving it!

Further information of Paul’s activities can be found at paullavelle.com

Still nothing is changing

Despite numerous promises made to campaigners over the years nothing appears to have improved. 

The collapse of the Soviet Union in December 1991 has made little difference.
The Norilsk nickel plant – a multi billion pound business – continues to cause “grave environmental and health concerns” according to reports. Surrounding countryside is a “brown moonscape of bald hills and barren plant life.”

It remains a contentious issue between Russia and Norway.  The only consolation is that the wind nearly always blows from the east and emissions rarely reach its soil.