This report is about the tour: Ghost Valley
A little more about the hike “Water and Stones” 7.06-12.06
It’s been so long since I’ve been to Crimea! The joy I felt when I breathed in the air smelling of the sea at the Simferopol station will only be understood by a resident of a big city. In a word, with joy and the sunniest expectations we boarded the trolleybus and got to Perevalny. We are three Moscow mothers with children. The company was well chosen, the age of the children and parents did not create difficulties for communication, and like old acquaintances, slowly talking, everyone moved to the first object of the trip - the Emine-Bair-Khosar cave.
The youngest member of the group is 7 years old, and since he walked very easily and cheerfully, simultaneously conquering all available heights, we decided to call our group “Vanya & K”. On other days, scorched by the hot sun, we composed a motto and a sequel to a song about a tourist, which was very helpful on the way. There were many options, which speaks volumes about the creative composition of our small group.
Everyone really liked the cave and the guide; no one wanted to leave. And at the top we immediately rushed to drink tea and eat ice cream, bought a map of Crimea and a small book with legends of Crimea, anticipating a break from civilization. In a word, the day ended successfully.
The next day we went to the unequipped wild cave "Kholodnaya". There was no end to the joy! Dirty and happy, everyone set off, carelessly spending a bottle of water on washing off particularly dirty parts of the body. We go to Chatyr-Dag, through picturesque juniper thickets. We peered at the mountain from afar and slowly used up our water supplies. As a result, having gone upstairs, we were left with nothing, the last drop fell into the child’s parched throat.
“Now it will be easy,” said our Anya, “down to the beech grove, to the water.” Inspired, taking a breath of cool air, we began to descend. For me, it was too fast, because of my addiction to photography, I was constantly lagging behind, catching up with the group, which stopped so as not to lose me. I found everyone in front of a beech grove, children on the beech, adults under it. Despite the fatigue, heat, and lack of water, the children played constantly, quickly regaining their strength. Down, down to the water!
The small stream reminded me of a scene from the cartoon Mowgli during a drought. Having set up camp, we celebrated Anya's birthday by making soup instead of porridge and holding a concert.
Tomorrow - Demerdzhi. Everything would be fine, beauty all around, the path from “water to water”, but on the third day I wanted to stop more often, stop longer, to feel not like a tourist fulfilling the standard, but a traveler discovering the world with surprise.
Still trailing behind, turning my head from side to side, I, like everyone else, reached the birch grove. Joyful children swam in the pond, particularly clean adults tidied up their heads, and the soon approaching evening gathered everyone around the fire. We sat, played, laughed, read one of the legends - horror stories and went to bed scaring each other, because with such a work schedule you can’t sit as long as you want, which is a pity...
Well, the fourth day is the Jur-Jur waterfall. Again it’s a long, long way down, which means then... about the same amount of time up. I remembered more than once the review "Descents and Ascents", I agree completely. And here, having got out to the waterfall, I decided to influence the circumstances, in a quiet voice ask for a day, so that tomorrow I could go the other way without stress, even up, even down, even diagonally, but with taste. Hooray! They heard me, we are staying at the waterfall!
Everyone goes to the waterfall baths to rejuvenate. In the same line with tourists who arrived by bus, we try to get into the water and enjoy the invigorating cold. Some bravely made the journey themselves, even several times; the less courageous simply fell into the water, briefly balancing on slippery stones. In the evening we simply climbed along the bed of the fall, jumping on rocks, enjoying the solitude in such a busy place during the day.
The next day we go out to the sea, envying those who will go here in September: the grapes we pass by are already ripe.
By and large, the campaign was a success. But the feeling of dissatisfaction still remained. Because there were no planned days with radial excursions, that under every stone there was an Ostap Bender, that it was not possible to break away from civilization to the fullest extent, and if so, then there was no point in carrying all the food on oneself if one could replenish the supply along the way. And, perhaps, because I didn’t go on a second hike immediately after that, because 5 days is not enough.
Alexandra Gribanovskaya, Moscow 2009.