War-weary Ukrainians seek healing nature in their vast national parks

Tucked away in the Carpathian Mountains of western Ukraine, a group of veterans in military fatigues hike through a lush forest, moving toward the distant sound of a waterfall. “There are no air raid sirens here, no rockets flying overhead,” said Oleksii Davydov, a former deputy battalion commander. It is his first vacation since the invasion began.

Davydov is attending an adventure-based rehabilitation camp and has organized a hike at Skolivski Beskydy National Nature Park. The group pauses to take in the scene.

For a moment, the war feels far away. Oleksii Davydov, 42, smokes during a rock climbing demonstration The reality of war is inescapable for Ukrainians.

Russia’s full-scale invasion has killed tens of thousands, wounded hundreds of thousands and displaced millions, resulting in deep psychological scars. In February, theWorld Health Organizationreported that almost half of Ukrainians experience mental health issues.

The country’s mental health system, however, is overwhelmed. There are too few resources, too few professionals and too little trust.

Widespread skepticism of mental health care dates to the Soviet era, when psychiatric institutions were weaponized to silence dissidents. In response, a growing number of organizations are turning to nature as an alternative path toward healing.

The need is especially acute not just for veterans but for the youngest victims of the war. A group of displaced children carry backpacks as they climb a steep trail through the mountains of Hutsulshchyna National Park.

The hike is led by Iryna Hyshchuk, who started GoYra, an adventure-based program for children. “For a lot of the children who are displaced, it’s their first time in the mountains. So it was exciting, a chance to run the stress out of the body,” she said.

Iryna Hyshchuk talks with children participating in a hike in Hutsulshchyna National Park. A former journalist and lawyer, Hyshchuk leads with a simple philosophy rooted in her own love of the outdoors.

When stressed, she says, “I need one day in the mountains. It’s the same with children.” “We don’t have any scientific methods, but we know it’s good for us because it worked for us.” The rules are simple: no phones, no parents and no stopping the kids from having fun.

In the first days of Russia’s 2022 invasion, Zlata Halik was moved by her mother, Olena, out of their village in the east to the relatively safer west while her father went off to war. When power outages started in her kindergarten, however, Zlata started showing signs of anxiety. “We couldn’t take her to school without a fuss,” Olena said.

But after joining these four-hour walks in the mountains at least twice a week, she calmed down and “eventually, she stopped getting nervous and anxious,” her mother said.

The transformation of Ukraine’s parks into mental health resources has not been an entirely spontaneous process, and programs do exist to help rangers cope with their expanded roles. At a training for Ukrainian park rangers in Hungary, Serhii Kubrakov, director of Desna-Stara Huta National Nature Park, lies quietly on a grassy patch, gazing up at a canopy of trees during a “sit-spot” exercise, a practice rooted in stillness and observation in nature.

The park he manages sits just 30 kilometers (about 19 miles) from the Russian border in the north. Kubrakov lies on the ground during a “sit-spot” exercise. “There is shelling on a daily basis, and the area is full of mines,” he said.

Kubrakov is among a group of mostly Ukrainian park staff, botanical workers, conservationists and educators who gathered at Hortobagy National Park in Hungary for training in “nature-informed therapy.” The program, led by U.S.-based therapist Heidi Schreiber-Pan, is part of a growing effort to equip Ukraine’s environmental stewards with tools to support trauma recovery in their communities. There are different approaches to using nature for healing, such as adventure therapy, which provides the thrill and challenge that some veterans crave.

Therapeutic horticulture, on the other hand, focuses on cultivating plants, while forest bathing is about being immersed in the sights, sounds and smells of the forest. “Nature-informed therapy is about partnering with nature for mental health and well-being,” Schreiber-Pan said. “Our mission is to help people rediscover their thread in nature and bring them back into that relationship.” The training includes a mix of personal storytelling, scientific discussions about nature’s effect on mental health, and hands-on outdoor exercises. The idea is to give the rangers a sense of confidence to provide mental health support. “We were afraid and unsure how we would look in the eyes of soldiers and tell them such simple things or how others would perceive it,” said Mike Drebet, head of the research department at Podilski Tovtry National Park, just north of the border with Moldova. “But of course, we have to go ahead, try it for ourselves and keep going.” Parks face several key challenges in implementing mental health and resilience programs.

There is a lack of funding, a shortage of qualified specialists and a scarcity of accredited personnel and facilities for medical or rehabilitative services. Although plans are underway to expand programs like these, many of the initiatives remain stalled, awaiting financial support.

After her husband, Serhii, was killed in the fighting, Tetiana Radionenka didn’t want to go on anymore. Her family pushed her to attend a retreat in the Skole Beskids mountains for women who have lost their partners. “I didn’t want to live,” she said softly. “But when you see nature, you realize you have to live and to fight.” The facility is run by Free Choice, an organization founded byTetiana Rudenko, a psychologist and therapist.

Her team observed that during the first six to 11 months after loss, grieving individuals need more structure, connection and community. “Very often in this period, people get stuck in their grief because they don’t understand what’s happening to them and that it’s normal,” Rudenko said. The camp’s programming combines individual and group therapy, self-care classes and art in natural surroundings. “We are healed, by and large, by two things: nature and people,” she said.

Anna Ovchynnikova pets a dog during group therapy. After Anna Ovchynnikova lost her partner in the fighting, she found that those around her were just not equipped to help her. “A lot of friends told me, ‘We don’t have the energy to support you.’ I was looking for people who had experienced the same kind of loss.” Now amid the trees at the retreat, she said she can find peace.

Many veterans echo these feelings.

Daria Fugalevych, a former lieutenant who once led a support group during her military service, found a role with Heroes Compass, an adventure-based rehabilitation program for veterans. After returning to civilian life, she struggled to relate to other mothers. “They didn’t understand,” she said. “It’s difficult to come back to the person you were.” For Vlad Trotsiuk, this was exactly the program he was looking for — an action-oriented experience in the mountains.

After stepping on a mine that severely injured his foot, he underwent a lower-leg amputation. “I don’t need any special accommodations,” he said. “I’m interested in doing everything as usual, like it is for active people. That’s already a kind of challenge for me, to do things the way people on two legs do.” Others, however, have had enough of action and are looking for lower-key activities in nature.

Dmytro Hnatyuk, a former businessman who joined the 36th Marine Brigade and became a commander, chose to sit out one particularly high-energy team building game. “The movements were too sharp,” he explained. Hnatyuk was gravely wounded in combat when shrapnel struck his trigeminal nerve in his face — an injury often described as one of the most excruciating forms of pain. “My wife brought me back to life,” he said.

She stood by him through the worst months of pain, depression and recovery, eventually encouraging him to join veteran events and enroll in a program like this. “Some games are too intense, too active. A veteran needs peace and quiet.

The nervous system is rebooting. He needs to calm down somewhere peaceful,” he said.

He and some other veterans organized their own nature excursion. At the site of the waterfalls, they ducked between trees, balanced on slick stones and waded into the cool water, raising their phones to capture the moment.

Some climbed to the top, waving down from the ledge, their voices echoing through the forest as the sun began to set.

Davydov and Fugalevych reach the top of Skeli Kykushiv. Story and photography by Rosem Morton.

Kamila Hrabchuk contributed to this report. Editing by Paul Schemm, Olivier Laurent, Virginia Singarayar and Joe Moore.

Copy editing by Colleen Kristy.

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Source: https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/interactive/2025/ukraine-national-parks-healing-mental-health/