Big walk
Childhood and youth were formed in such a way that I have never been on a real campaign. I did not even suspect that there is a parallel world in which people are drawn off in a completely different way than I and my environment are used to. But by the age of thirty, my circle of friends had changed dramatically. My new acquaintances spent their entire youth in the mountains, either hiking or skiing. I mastered skiing quite quickly, thanks to my iron will and the unwillingness of my dear to mess around with me for a long time, however, this is a separate story.
But the trips didn't work out. Everyone has already matured, overgrown with fat and other sores, and thrown this youthful whim out of their heads. No, we, of course, went to the Crimea with tents. But, as I later found out, it was not quite right, or, more precisely, not at all. And in 2011, one of our big (in all respects) friend decided to shake the old days and organize a trip to the Crimea. Having learned about this, I ate all the baldness to my dear, and we still reserved places for ourselves in the ranks of abnormal enthusiasts.
A friend (let's call him Vasya) and his lady of the heart (let's call her Katya) were fully engaged in preparing for the campaign. Buying train tickets, food, alcohol, cooking dried meat and bacon according to a special recipe - all this rigmarole did not concern us at all. We just handed over some ridiculous money - 600-700 hryvnias per person, and immediately before leaving we took our share of provisions for packing in backpacks. Personal items were said to be kept to a minimum. Well, we took. . .
And on a serene April day, exactly on the eve of Easter, a company of 15 individuals of both sexes, we parachuted from the train in the city of Bakhchisarai. In addition to Vasya and Katya, the people were completely unknown to us, one half (including our couple) was our age (give or take), and the second - young people, students and a little older (and where did he get them? ). Having reached the Khan's palace, the people, like crazy, arranged a long photo session (some savages, haven't they seen the palace? ). All of you have read the story about the unfortunate choice of a fellow traveler in Sharm el-Sheikh. So, from the very beginning everyone began to annoy me - both old friends and new ones too. However, maybe it was from hunger. It was the last day of fasting, and what my dear and I ate that day, and whether we ate at all, I don’t remember point-blank. The rest of the people did not bother with such trifles. Or maybe my irritation, to a large extent, contributed, although the smallest in our group, but not at all light (15 kilograms that way) backpack, which weighed down my fragile shoulders. But as they say, he took up the tug . . , you know.
I ran for five seconds to the Holy Dormition Cave Monastery - the temple is full of people, there is a service. The rest of the group has another photo session. We go further - we made a halt under the walls of Chufut-Kale. In general, halts were arranged, in my inexperienced opinion, too often. Since I, with my small backpack, was faster than everyone else, I could not help but be annoyed by the snail pace of the others. The trail passed through a huge ancient Karaite cemetery. A gloomy place, I didn’t even take a picture, but tried to slip through it as quickly as possible.
The day was drawing to a close, and we came to our first camp in view of the village of Bashtanovka. There are several tourist groups on the picturesque meadow. We also pitched our camp. Tents were taken for four, but the prospect of sleeping with others did not inspire us. Vaska's heroic snoring could only be endured by Katya. According to her, he (snoring in the sense) lulled her to sleep. Katya, a lucky woman, has a rare gift for a woman, to sleep at any time of the day in any uncomfortable position. Unfortunately, nature has deprived me of such happiness. And living with strangers in general is also somehow not right. Therefore, we got ourselves a separate (supposedly double) tent.
Having finished with the construction of the house, while the attendants were preparing dinner, my dear and I decided to drive to the village for wine. And if I have already learned not to eat, then not to drink on vacation is beyond my strength. Without backpacks it is so good, almost skipping jumped to the village. The aborigines were already breaking their fast with might and main, frying kebabs and other outrages (although, probably, they were Muslims). Found a store. We bought wines produced by a local winery for absolutely ridiculous money. Bakhchisaray cognac is sometimes found in our stores, but I have not seen wine. We talked to the owner of the store. At parting, he warned us: "Watch your things, they steal here. " Returning to the camp, we told everyone about the danger lurking tourists, had dinner, drank, and, dragging our backpacks into the tent, began to get ready for bed. When we live on the coast in the summer, we always take a large air mattress, which is a real pleasure to sleep on. But it is quite heavy, so we didn’t take it on this expedition and spread only karimats, which are commonly called foams. In addition, in our summer equipment there are two sleeping bags that can be fastened together, thus getting a sleeping bag for two. We took the same sleeping bags without thinking that they were, in fact, summer ones. And if during the day it was warm enough, then by the evening it got significantly colder. But we were warmed up by the fire first, and the wine second. Therefore, without hesitation, undressed, and climbed into the bag. After tossing and turning for some time on a hard bedding, with grief they nested in half, and, having warmed up, fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, we were awakened by wild screams, mat-remat and running around the tent. As it turned out, some of the backpacks did not fit in the tents, so the people decided to arrange a watch. But our on-duty hyper-communicative leader became bored, and he, literally for 15 minutes (according to him), went to a nearby fire to talk. As a result, two backpacks belonging to young girls left. One of them is zero, the fly did not sit, dear. Well, there was something in the backpacks. From what I remember - two passports, a mobile phone (two), trekking boots (expensive new ones), a public first aid kit. Well, some clothes, lingerie, ladies' essentials and some products.
Vasisualy rushed about the clearing and yelled like a wounded elk. Almost provoked an international conflict by running into a group of Moldovan tourists based nearby. Then, with a few boys, he ran somewhere into the darkness. Why run, look for the wind in the field! After all, they warned you to look both ways. Later we were told that in tourist circles this village of Bashtanovka is called not only Beshtanovka, since not one tourist lost his pants there, and not only.
In short, no one fell asleep until the morning. We really tried, but it was terribly cold, and our sleeping bags, as it turned out, were not designed for zero temperatures. I had to put on everything that was, including down jackets, but even this seemed to us not enough. They pulled a hot cobblestone out of the fire and wrapped it in a towel. They dragged him into the tent. It became a little warmer, but then the towel turned out to be hopelessly damaged - it burned through.
Morning has come. But, war is war, and lunch is on schedule. So the attendants prepared breakfast, and we finally had a quick meal with everyone else. And Chapai sat down to think what to do next. His thoughts lasted until noon, when we should have already covered half the day's march. To better think, I charged myself with an energy drink (alcohol in the sense). I'm already tired of freaking out (and not only me). Having packed their backpacks and abandoned everything that was happening, they had fun playing camping backgammon. By noon, the difficult decision to move on was made. The robbed girls, in spite of everything, were not against it at all. And then the big gathering began. As it turned out, our leaders, having told us to take a minimum of personal belongings, they themselves collected so much junk - a bunch of spare pants, blouses, sneakers. Handsome, in short. My dear and I had only spare underwear with us, and a clean T-shirt each. But we also had smaller backpacks.
In general, having spent at least another hour on packing, our caravan finally set off. Vasya, warmed up, could hardly crawl, and I, frisky as on the eve, and the girls, no longer weighed down by an extra load, were breaking in front. But we didn't know the way. Having reached the next fork, I had to stop and wait for the unfortunate leader with a map. As a result, we missed the mark and turned somewhere wrong, went into the wrong ravine and unexpectedly came across the ruins of an ancient temple of Byzantine architecture, which turned out to be the monastery of St. Luke. While waiting for the stragglers of the group, I asked the novice boy to take me to the well. We chatted a little along the way. Such an interesting kid, not of this world. He says: “I feel such goodness now! ” I, a sinner, think to myself: “Probably, I finally ate something tasty. ” An, no. I then realized that it was not about food at all. Just a person, really, is able to simply enjoy a bright holiday. And I, a bad Christian, unfortunately, did not experience anything like that.
Having made a detour, we still went to the path we needed. Passing through some village, they asked the granny where the store was. She pointed us to one of the houses. We are coming. We examine. No hint that there is a store here. We knock. The man came out. “And they told us that there was a store here. ” "Who said? " "Yes, some kind of grandmother. " "Okay, come on in. " We go. It's actually a shop in the hallway. The range, however, is scarce. The hungry kids bought themselves a bunch of Snickers, but we needed a completely different kind of bread. True, we did not find anything interesting there, we had to buy a tetrapack of some crap for dinner.
It was getting dark when we finally found a suitable parking lot. The parking lot must meet three criteria: the presence of a more or less flat area sufficient to set up the required number of tents, the presence of a fire pit and walking distance to a water source. This camp, like the previous one, was, apparently, frequently visited and settled. The next morning after breakfast, Vasya, having given us 15 minutes to get ready, at that time, he himself, essno, did not meet. Wandered further. Since the final destination of our journey was to be Sevastopol, we had to move somewhere to the south - southwest. And my dear, who was not at all made with a finger, at one time also led groups in the Caucasus, noticed that we were going east. He began to argue with our Susanin. They arranged an extraordinary halt, unfolded the map, judged and rowed for a long time. Vasya stubbornly resisted, but we still corrected the route and went, if not in the opposite direction, then very close to it. As a result, it was already evening, and we had not yet arrived anywhere, and, of course, the group began to get nervous. And then Vasya, turning off the path into the woods, found a kind of parking lot and announced that we were spending the night here. It was, indeed, a parking lot, only no one used it for a long time. In retaliation for the fact that we argued with him, thus undermining (as he believed) his authority, Vasya appointed us on duty. But we took it as a blessing, finally the turn came to supplies from our backpacks, and we were not even averse to lightening our burden. In addition, we still have to be on duty sometime. They lit a fire, cooked buckwheat with stew and I started distributing rations. I poured it from the heart, then I look, something is not enough, it may not be enough. I took back the bowls, cut back a little ration. It seems that everyone had enough, everyone ate. The hardest part was washing the cauldron. Well, this mission was taken over by a man.
The next day, by noon, we reached the rather large village of Bogatyr at the foot of Mount Lysaya. There were several stores with a relatively decent assortment, where the unlucky girls were able to acquire essentials, as well as replenish food supplies. We found a makeshift dining table made of a huge log with benches and sat down for a snack. I look, Vasek and his comrades (2 more handsome men) bought themselves a beer. Well, aren't you idiots? Today we had another half of the way, and not in a straight line, but on a hill about 1 keme high. As expected, thanks to the tipsy trinity, the pace slowed down completely, and the breaks became longer. It was getting dark. . . And up to the top, where the supposed parking was supposed to be, it was still like crustaceans before Kyiv. Letting the backpackless girls carry my luggage, I ran lightly up the mountain to look for a suitable place. And he is not and is not. Now the platform is too small, then the stream is quite thin. I was already completely desperate, but after walking quite a bit, I finally saw what I was looking for. She quickly ran downstairs to please the others. Some of the guys have already tried on putting up tents on those sites that I rejected. And the Holy Trinity has not even crawled to this place yet. Having taken away the backpack from the girls, I led the company to the parking lot I found. Everyone liked it. The tents were set up in the dark.
All in all, it was a fun day. But as it turned out, the fun didn't end there. The past day turned out to be hot, and the backpack warmed pretty much, so I got up in a T-shirt, and even sipped some water from the stream. Having pitched the tent and finally relaxed, I felt that it hurt to swallow. Hello, we have arrived! In such a situation at home, only lugol in glycerin always saved me. If I don’t smear my throat at the first symptoms, that’s all, khana, a temperature with all the consequences. Lugol, as well as other pharmaceuticals, we, due to our usual slovenliness, did not take, and the public first-aid kit, as you remember, left with backpacks. And sho yoga robots? There were only two options - to return to the village, where I saw a regular bus to Bakhchisaray, and go home. Or take a risk and keep going. But here, as they say, there was a point of no return. Further along the course of settlements will not be at all. Reasonably deciding that the morning is wiser than the evening, she postponed the decision until tomorrow. In the meantime, though, something has been done. She poured warm water with salt and gargled her throat until she was completely freaked out. In addition, one of the girls miraculously found a couple of septefril tablets, which I used as directed.
At the same time, Katya began to tear a nail on his finger. I recently had the same garbage ended very badly - I had to rip off my nail, because nothing else helped me. Someone advised Katya to attach a baked onion to her nail. I was very skeptical about this, but she, however, had no choice.
In the morning, while everyone was puffing up, surprisingly fresh and cheerful Vasya managed to drive upstairs. It turns out that we did not reach the top quite a bit. And there are the ruins of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. My throat dropped a little, the temperature at night, by some miracle, did not rise, I repeated the rinsing procedure and decided to go further with everyone. We reached the ruins - well, absolutely ruins. Already at home, I found information about them on the Internet. It turns out that this is a very special place, different glitches appeared to people there - gray-bearded old men and all that. And in general, not everyone can get into this place. Well, here we are.
Further, our path lay to the Boyko massif and the beginning of the Grand Canyon. This is a fairly well known place in tourist circles, so we met a few more groups. At one of the halts, one of our boys, the poor fellow, was already so hungry that he pestered everyone to give him at least something. Someone suggested to him: “Will you have a bow? ” "Let's! ". And he scammed this onion like an apple. We laughed so hard!
We came to the parking lot in a beautiful place near the river flowing along the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Here it was supposed to arrange a day. Dinner was prepared by everyone together. Since we had only onion and garlic from fruits, there was already a lack of vitamins. I remembered that nettles and dandelions are quite edible and wildly healthy. There was no shortage of nettles in the clearing, but for some reason I was strained with dandelions. Katya ran around all the neighborhood while she gathered a bouquet. Since there was nothing to cook the salad from, we added this silage to the stew. Went to "cheers". Until that day, for dinner, we used wine bought in the settlements. Now there was no housing, much less a store nearby. And all operators had no connection. Complete game. Therefore, Vasily gave everyone a decal alcohol. Before that, I had not tried this aristocratic drink. As it turned out, in vain. It's a thing, I'll tell you! Especially infused with lemon peels! Mmm. Vodka nervously smokes. Just drink it in very small doses. Vaska had special tiny iron glasses. Since there was no need to rush anywhere in the morning, they allowed themselves to sing songs around the fire. And the lack of a guitar did not bother us.
In the morning, leaving Vasya to guard the camp, everyone dispersed in all directions. The girls, accompanied by a couple of guys, went to the village. Falcon to the police to write a statement about the theft. Someone went down the river, and we went to look at the Grand Canyon from above. We were once on an excursion of the same name, we swam there in the bath of youth, but they (the excursions) are led from the opposite side of the canyon. But here the places are much wilder and, of course, much more beautiful than an example. From somewhere below, the shouts of climbers could be heard. We came across a structure of stones laid out in a spiral. A few years later, we met a similar phenomenon in the mountains above Sudak, only there it was more well-groomed. On a sign installed nearby, it was written that this place was called the Temple of the Spirit and detailed instructions on how to behave. And next to it is another structure, designated as the “Seven-Level Labyrinth”. But that was later. And then, on the Grand Canyon, we cautiously walked around this place and did not do anything.
Having taken enough pictures, we returned to the camp. There Vasek and Mikhalych were devastating the stocks of alcohol. Well, we also joined them. But this parasite did not give us much, arguing that it was his personal alcohol. And before the trip, he told us that we don’t need to take anything extra with us, and that’s enough. Okay, let's be healthier. The rest of the day was spent in blissful idleness, sunbathing and playing backgammon. By the end of the day, Vasyok loaded himself up to the squeal of a pig, began to buzz, and Katya, taking advantage of a convenient moment, stole an eggplant from him and couldn’t think of anything better than hiding it in our tent (hee hee, she entrusted cabbage to the goats). But we, however, did not become impudent, and only slightly took communion in order to sleep better.
The next morning our guide was in such a state that it became clear to everyone that no one was going anywhere today either. And this, I must say, pleased. Too bad it's a beautiful place. This time we decided to explore the bottom of the canyon. Jumping from stone to stone, we went further and further into its bowels. In some places it was impossible to walk along the bottom without getting your feet wet, you had to climb slopes and go around impassable areas. Along the way, we met a great many baths and baths, quite suitable for bathing. And, of course, forgetting (more precisely, scoring) my recently sore throat, I decided to rejuvenate. In a good way, I should have dived headlong, but the prospect of walking around with wet hair teleporting down my back did not inspire me. Therefore, I chose a place where it was not particularly deep. Jumped - crouched - jumped out. Moreover, all this was accompanied by a pig squeal, since the water was very invigorating. And so three times. Each subsequent time was easier. The main thing was not to overdo it, so as not to rejuvenate to toddler age (as happened with the heroine of an ancient Tatar legend). Pupsik stubbornly did not want to rejuvenate, but arguing with me is a complete hopelessness.
Having dressed, we continued jumping over the stones. I was already tired and wanted to return to the base, but landscapes opened up around every turn, one more beautiful than the other, and it was very difficult for my paparazzi to stop. But then it began to rumble overhead and I already insisted on returning, because, in addition to all other joys, the prospect of breaking my legs on stones that were absolutely smooth and wet from the rain was very real. And the storm overtook us, and my hair got wet, and we slipped several times and got our feet wet, but we were already close to the camp and somehow got to our tent. There we were in for another surprise. Since there were no signs of rain, the window in the tent remained open, and when it poured, no one bothered to close it, so a puddle formed inside, which we had to scoop out. Vaska was not up to it - he corrected his health from another eggplant. And no one offered to support our health. Another couple returned from a walk, soaked to the skin, and no one was going to treat them either. Fortunately, we kept the confiscation, with which we warmed ourselves.
But rest cannot last forever and we must move on. Having turned the still not completely dry camp, we moved upstream, moving away from the canyon and keeping our way to the Ai-Petri plateau. It was quite clear in the morning, but when we finally reached the plateau, black clouds began to move in from behind. As usual, I wanted to get somewhere quickly and put up a tent, especially since the threat of rain was very real. But then Katya was impatient to dig up some plants to give. Oh mom! Found the time! And on the horizon one can already see such coveted Ai-Petrinsky gendelyks. And everyone really wanted to go there... Well, almost everyone. Our iron Vasya said that we were in the other direction. I had to obey. And we went straight to the west. The clouds were somewhere behind, and the rain, surprisingly, did not come. Since the plateau is considered a nature reserve, there are many foresters roaming there, cutting loot. Therefore, Vasya led us to a stash known to him, where they should not find us. It was located in a small hollow, surrounded on all sides by a ridge of stones. And they still didn’t find us, although at night somewhere nearby the roar of Lesnikov’s quadricycles was heard more than once.
In the morning, quickly gathering, until they found us, we moved on. It was the first of May. The weather was just superb. We reached the edge of the plateau somewhere near Simeiz. No "wow! " can not convey the whole gamut of delight that gripped us. Incredible beauty! Mist hung over the sea. However, what I'm telling you, you can see everything in the pictures. And the people were! Straight May Day demonstration! A variety of people with backpacks moved in both directions. We even met two elderly aunts with two dachshunds, as well as a man who introduced himself to us as a physical education teacher in one of the schools either in Kramatorsk or Yenakievo, who accompanied a rather large group of schoolchildren. God! What good fellows! With great difficulty we found a parking place, since there were at least a dime a dozen people who wanted to. And then a forester overtook us and wanted to cut down 10 UAH from us. (150 UAH for all) But Vasya complained to him that we were robbed and even presented a certificate from the mentor. The forester was inspired and took some minimal fine (I don’t remember). This was our last night in spartan conditions. But the clearing was not very flat, and Vasya's tent turned out to be not very conveniently set up, and the four of them were very uncomfortable there. And crawling into our tent, Vasya saw the light: “Well, never mind, you have a two-person tent, we have the same one, but a four-person one! ” Therefore, he decided to put Katya in our place. Well, it’s good that he didn’t join us! One night can be tolerated.
In the morning, we had the last small forced march and the subsequent descent along the so-called "Devil's Stairs". The road went downhill and we entered a strip of fog. We reached this very "staircase". Well, without a backpack, I would have somehow overcome it on my own. And so... In general, experienced climbers (Vaska, Mikhalych and pupsik) had to lower all the rest almost on their hands. The original route assumed some other, easier descent in some other place. But "unforeseen" circumstances made their adjustments. But everything ends someday, and a herd of hedgehogs in the fog safely reached the Yalta-Sevastopol highway. In the roadside bushes, they began to bring themselves into a divine form. And then jeans were born, smart T-shirts, whoever is in what much. Well, we limited ourselves to changing into just fresh T-shirts. Well, it was necessary to sew jeans for 10 days for the sake of such an occasion! I heard one tourist story from my friends many times, how one girl who did not want to go hiking was seduced by the prospect of taking a walk along the Sochi embankment at the end of the trip. And she, poor fellow, for the sake of this, dragged high-heeled sandals in her backpack all the way. But it was not possible to walk along the embankment, because the group was very late for the train. In short, we are with a sweetheart, well, the robbed girls, as they were in tracksuits, remained the same. And we began to vote. And no one wants to make money on us! They fly by and that's it. After spending more than an hour, with great difficulty, in several parties, we still managed to leave for Sevastopol.
Since we were in the first group of lucky ones, we decided, while waiting for the rest, not to waste time, and already start the belly feast. We sat down at the station cafe. From greed, they immediately ordered 200 grams of "Bastardo" and a lagman. A somewhat unusual combination, but we wanted this particular wine and this particular dish. Life got better. The rest pulled up, and we handed over our backpacks to the storage room and went to the embankment to ride a boat. And the left-luggage office, and the passage and the boat were still for public money. We spent only on personal drink-food. Having agreed on a boat, we went to the supermarket to buy something tasty to ride not just like that, but with meaning. Going through grubs, my dear and I discovered Massandra wine “Marsala”, which we had not seen before. From the annotation it was clear that this was Admiral Nelson's favorite wine. Okay, let's try what the Nelsons indulged in there. As it turned out, the admiral was not a fool, we would also not mind falling in love with him. But not fate. Having drunk two bottles bought on the boat and returning to the supermarket to buy sweets at home, they were very annoyed, because they were faced with the absence of it not only on the counter, but even in the warehouse. And no matter how many times we visited Massandra's branded store in subsequent years, there was no more such wine. I searched the Internet for this information, it turned out that it was released only a year or two. Apparently, we have already bought leftovers.
There was still time before the train, and the people dispersed in all directions. We again went to the embankment. And then the cute caught up. Probably seasick on the ship. I hurriedly took him to the cheburek and tried to fatten him up and drink his coffee. But it was already too late. Therefore, having reached the bench on the embankment, he could no longer get up, but, on the contrary, lay down on my knees and dozed off. We probably represented the original picture, but the cops, fortunately, did not notice us. Having sat in this way for about an hour, I didn’t get bored at all, because there were a lot of people wandering around, and I really like to watch, sometimes such shots come across (in this case we were also such shots), and you can look at the sea endlessly. Having hardly pushed her alcoholic, she dragged him to the minibus stop, along the way we still managed to take a picture. We rushed to the station just before departure. Our backpacks have already been loaded, thanks friends!
The train started moving, and I put the “body” on the shelf and began to communicate with a couple of guys from our group. I asked about their impressions about the organization of the trip. “Yeah, okay, ” they say. It turns out that they had previously been on a campaign in the Caucasus with another leader, so he kept a crazy pace (the other extreme), and, for example, jumping over a crack on a glacier, he could calmly go on without looking back at the others. That's it.
The train arrived in Simferopol. And I love the local station so much that I decided to go out for a walk. I asked the conductor how much we cost? The answer was 20 minutes. A guy came out with me who cracked an onion like an apple. After walking a little, I decided with the last money to buy home draft something. I bought it, we go out onto the platform, and we see - oh horror! The train is already moving with might and main, although 20 minutes has not yet passed close. We ran to the first car that came across, I threw a bottle inside (it’s good that it’s plastic) and on the go I jumped into one car, and the guy was already in the next. Now that's adrenaline! I can't even imagine how things could have turned out. Zero money, the phone had already died in 10 days, although the video camera was just what we needed - “We ourselves are not local, we have lagged behind the train... ” And the baby is sleeping peacefully.
But there is something to remember. And, in spite of everything, we did not quarrel with Vasya and Katya, and we are still friends from time to time. Although Vasya was offended for some time that we were corrupting discipline and undermining his authority. And with Katya, we were initially “sworn friends”, and “unbelievable” periodically visited us before, so we are familiar. But I am still very grateful to them, for showing me hitherto unknown to me the inner Crimea, and enduring my unbearable character as best they could. Katya's finger, by the way, healed, despite my prognosis. And I returned from a hike very satisfied with myself. Agree, not bad at all for a forty-year-old girl with a ponytail (I mean, not me with a ponytail, but my age). There are, it turns out, still berries in the buttocks! But I don't drink alcohol anymore. Still, each drink has its place and time, and what is suitable for a super-extreme “rest” is not suitable for any other.
