Taras and We

Review of the tour "Water and Stones" July 27 - August 1, 2008

“We’ll crawl...”, “Crawled. Still alive”, “Today we ate porridge with mushrooms”, “And at night they read Alice Through the Looking Glass to us”, “I forgot things in someone else’s backpack...” - no, I didn’t go crazy in the mountains, this is really a review of the hike, in the form of my SMS to the “mainland”. And that’s how it all happened - crawling, mushrooms (normal mushrooms:), and reading the magical Carroll at night.

A bird that screams.

I almost forgot about the bittern, I was driving home and thought: I definitely need to write about the bittern - the totem bird of our group, a bird that screams terribly and, according to non-eyewitnesses, should look like a dachshund (yes, the mushrooms were normal!!). But I’m afraid I won’t be able to clearly explain what it’s about. So I'll write about something else. Still, 10% discount, and the story about the bird is unlikely to count (in a whisper: I already seem to know everything about it, and I even saw a stuffed animal in a museum of some nature - it has very little in common with a dachshund :). In general, I'm talking about something else. Because no one asked me about the bittern. Otherwise, just in case, I can, yes :) I’m silent and silent... that is, I write and write, if anyone else is reading this, directly about the hike.

In the rain.

During the preparations, those around me looked at me, to put it mildly.. hmm.. well, let's just say - they just looked. Like a miracle of nature... or a misunderstanding. “To the mountains? One? It’s not clear with whom? Nightmare. How will you carry this backpack, it’s bigger than you. And in general - what kind of rest is this ... ”They did not yet know that Simferopol would greet me with rain. The gray sky (which I actually really love) seemed to have decided to see how we would climb the mountains in such conditions. To be honest, I was also wondering how... Moreover, I didn’t buy a miracle poncho for myself and my backpack, but just took a raincoat - thick, but still quite ordinary.

While my imagination generously threw up pictures of wet things, the group slowly gathered. Instructor Taras turned out to look like his photograph sent by email (which was pleasing, because I generally have a very bad memory for faces). And there were only two boys in the group. And eight girls, yes. So the phrase from the site “we try not to give the girls tents and food” somehow quickly faded and lost its relevance. True, on the first day I managed to disown the tent; it simply did not fit into my backpack.

Donkey - you can’t say more precisely.

After the distribution of elephants, in the sense of food (no, just elephants, as subsequent events showed!) the backpacks became heavier, but the people remained cheerful, and the rain turned into a pleasant, slightly drizzling state. Trolleybus, Perevalnoye, water refill. And - forward. Then you should probably put a lot of dots and move on to another day. Or, at worst, tell us about the bittern. Because for the first few hours of the journey I wanted to throw everything away (backpack, backpack first of all). Crawling onto the lower plateau of Chatyr-Dag (only the lower one...), I didn’t even understand what I was doing here and where my brain was when I got involved in all this. And the prospect of carrying a tent still loomed ahead...

The rain resumed, the mud appeared in all its glory, the blower resigned. (As it turned out later, not only for me). Taras worked in contrast: he briskly collected herbs for tea, encouraged those lagging behind and praised the weather - walking on a donkey in the heat is much worse. Personally, I only had enough time to be touched by the surprisingly accurate name of the trail - donkey... Well, and to remember what brand of sneakers the one walking in front is wearing. By the way, about companies: my regular raincoat did its job and nothing got wet.

Our reward for our heroism was a parking lot near the Marble Cave. And the key word here is not the cave (I’m not a speleologist and I can’t evaluate it other than “beautiful”), but the parking lot. It's a thrill to set up camp. No, first throw off your backpack, fall... Realize that you no longer need to walk. Under the strict guidance of the instructor (I wanted to write “with a slight movement of the hand,” but I won’t lie, it didn’t become easy right away) set up the tent.

And then, after a tour of the cave, sit by the fire and get your bowl of porridge. For those who are worried - the portions are large and the food is delicious (porridge with meat, tea with herbs, cookies included) - at least Taras fed us deliciously. And I cooked on my own, which made me incredibly happy, since I am capable of ruining any food. Morning porridge is actually something. I discovered millet and even fell in love with it - bravo, Taras, I say no, I scream wildly, like a bittern, I from my bell tower do not know how to cook. :))))

In addition, the camping syndrome probably also worked - eating all this by the fire in good company. I don’t know whether we are so lucky to have each other, or whether bad people really don’t go to the mountains. Over the fires, I remember, there was talk about the bittern, which had become a tradition, and someone said that it screamed, and someone decided that it looked like a dachshund. We subsequently waited for her appearance in someone’s tent every evening. Along the way, we found out that a person working on a radio is a very valuable person on a hike; he can read a book at night. Falling asleep this way is a sweet thing. But it seems that “Alice...” was not on the first evening...

On the road with the clouds.

The second day, also cloudy (and we appreciated it), was devoted mainly to the upper plateau of Chatyr-Dag (to reach, climb, descend). The tent was given to me (they thought of tying it to my backpack), and it stayed with me until the end of the hike, and I transferred some of my things to a neighbor’s backpack. How they traveled around Crimea and how I caught them at bus stations is a different story.

The upper plateau of Chatyr-Dag also seemed to be not easy, but, to be honest, I don’t remember that. I only remember that getting to the deceptively close peak is happiness, and so is falling into the bright grass and staring at the clouds. It’s literally a distribution of happiness in bulk, in unlimited quantities into one hand. You are standing on a mountain, about to take off, you just can’t breathe in this air - well, what can I say, indescribable sensations that I try in vain to convey by tapping on the keyboard.

It was probably from this place, from the upper plateau, that I began to enjoy the hike: more and more often you take your eyes off the sneakers of the person in front, you even take out your camera, suddenly realizing that everything around is beautiful. The question of the first day is “how much longer to go?” gives way to sincere surprise: “Have they already arrived?” We've arrived. Into the beech forest. This was one of the best stops, if not the best. Now, after almost every paragraph, I want to write “thank you, Taras” in an obsessively boring refrain... I probably won’t, I’ll save space, but keep in mind.

Sweet word condensed milk, beautiful Mount Demerdzhi.

The next day we were promised two bonuses at once: a stall - everyone really wanted a stall - and a “lake”. Folklore thought immediately gave out a new route - “through the stalls of the Crimea.” But we limited ourselves to one, and it completely satisfied us (we really wanted condensed milk so that we could make a cake in the evening and thus save the cookies crushed in our backpack, and, hurray!, there was condensed milk). But somehow the lake wasn’t particularly impressive... Well, God bless him.

Between the stall and the lake, two “strong” points, I missed the main thing - De-mer-ji. Now this is my favorite mountain. By that time, apparently, I had already become completely involved; there were no difficulties during the descent or ascent, only positive emotions. And from Northern Demerdzhi, which we passed abeam (and then repeated this word with a smart look), and, of course, from the beauty of Southern. We already climbed there without backpacks. Luckily (for me) some of the people got tired and stayed in the camp with their things. Yes, even if I had to carry backpacks, it would have been worth it anyway... (there should be a photo at this place, a lot, because I can’t do it in words, well, thank you, Taras, of course).

Losses in our ranks.

Day four was a little sad, there was one less of us. I don’t want to talk about something sad, but it also happens: a person walked and walked, and it wasn’t easy for him (her), and now more than half of it has already been completed, although with the words “this is my first and last trip,” but nevertheless it has been completed... and then - either a sprain or something else with the leg. In general, it’s unpleasant. Until the end of the hike, it was felt that someone was missing from our already close-knit team.

I deliberately won’t write much about the Jur-Jur waterfall, or not at all, otherwise I’ll write some nasty stuff. Well, I don't like him. Beautiful, yes, but there’s no crowd, noisy, fussy, excursion after excursion (quote from one guide: “A deer is such an animal, with marvelous antlers,” who would have thought:) The baths are also sold out. We swam in the one that turned out to be the least crowded. It was, as it turned out later, a bath of love, which is what I wish for everyone (not a bath, of course, but love :)

Along the bloody path.

On the fifth day, the instructor apparently decided that we were too relaxed, and everything was too good for us, and we were in a state where we wanted to say “eat a lemon.” But since we had already eaten the lemons, he gave us a test on the “bloody trail” - in shorts and T-shirts through thickets of thorny bushes (for some reason he didn’t warn us that it would be good to change clothes). As a result, arms and legs - dear mother... The karemata - those on top - are in tatters.

Having got out of the thickets, with someone's light hand they christened the trail bloody and at a halt they created a legend about a black guide who ingratiates himself into trust and then leads along bloody trails. We laughed, and no one seemed to be offended by Taras, these are the mountains, nature, well, this is such an obstacle - have fun (when I told this at home, no one believed that I liked the hike...)

Then there were other entertainments. The instructor blessed us with the information that there would be no firewood on the lake, where we were actually heading, and they had to be collected along the way. In general, we were hauling firewood along a rather inconvenient road, and from time to time we had to squeeze onto the side of the road to let cars pass (I haven’t even told you about that). It was somewhat similar to a computer toy, when at first you just walk, then you have to collect all sorts of things, then you have to dodge your pursuers. We completed all the levels in the toy, and a prize awaited us - we really liked the lake (after that we didn’t really want the sea).

This was the only camp not in the forest, the only night when you could see the stars. However, we didn’t come in the evening; we still had time to swim. Dinner under the starry sky, a ladle, in my opinion, after all, Ursa Major, hanging right over Karabi, the last evening by the fire - I write and envy myself. A piece of paper with contacts, plans for the future - next year we will definitely get together again and go on another hike, but definitely with Taras...

In the morning - unplanned coffee menu (while we were sleeping, our caring guide, as usual, boiled water and began preparing breakfast). A little more of the lake, a lot more photographs, it’s unclear why everything flew by so quickly, and it’s time to go to Rybachye, to civilization. Well, that's all. Clothes hopelessly smelling of smoke will still retain memories of gatherings around the fire for some time. SMS messages (you can’t even raise your hand to delete them) and photos will confirm that it did happen. With all of us. Thank you, Taras, our best guide. Hello everyone guys :)

Nastya. Kharkov