Tale of a campaign in Ergaki

The official start, I think, can be considered warm and relatively calm, for the city, August evening, when our, not yet a complete group of five people began to gather at the Krasnoyarsk bus station. Arriving there, at first, I decided to sit in the car, there was still nowhere to rush. After a few minutes, I saw one of the actors of this report – Lena, my friend ran past the car. Thinking that it makes no sense to sit on, I also advanced. And, it seems, I just threw my bag on my back and went after Lena, but she had already managed to run away and abyss from sight. However, help came from where they did not expect – from the police post, at the entrance to the bus station, which, laughing, asked how much alcohol in my bag and showed me the way. After passing in the indicated direction, I found two more campaign participants with Lena – Iru and Serega, her colleagues, sorting out things. Having met, I accepted my share of common things and packed in a bag, which after that was ready to explode. Here, in fact, one of the main laws, periodically manifested throughout the campaign, was manifested. The bottom line is that we discovered the absence of the fifth member of the group – my friend Dima, although 10 minutes left before the bus departure. As far as I know, he has no Germans in his relatives, but then something like that woke up in him. He appeared a couple of seconds before the departure of the bus, when I was ready to go to negotiate with the driver to hold the bus. Having expressed and showing our joy caused by its appearance, we loaded onto the bus and, dangling among ourselves and taking pictures at the stops, interspersing it with a dream, went to the next key point of the premarshrut – the village of Karatuzskoye, ours with Dima Faterland.

Arriving at the sixth o’clock in the morning, never slept, but full of strength and enthusiasm, we moved to the veranda of the house of Dmitry’s parents, where we had to collect the missing equipment and distribute things again between five pilgrims. While the people were going, taking pictures, of course, I managed to run away to my house and also to equipment. Having gathered and loaded into the car, overloading the poor CR-V to hell, we went to the point of entrance to the route. There were another 2 hours of way in the car ahead, so we restored part of the forces, falling asleep in the back seat (I, Lena, Dima and Ira).

A little after lunch, we reached the EMERCOM base, where near the substation we met with the remaining two travelers – Marina and Vova, brother of Lena. Here we have a small dispute about the beginning of our route, namely, whether we go from the side of Lake. Karovy or from the side of Oz. Light. The path towards Karovi was supposed to be easier, but to clarify, we decided to contact the post of Ministry of Emergencies, in addition, it was still necessary to mark at the entrance (by reporting the composition of the group, an approximate route and the estimated date of return). The duty officer conducted a briefing for us how to minimize the risk of meeting with the bear when moving (constantly talking to each other, which, however, did so) and when parking, especially at night (do not leave traces of food, especially the resercase, burn all waste and backpacks with food on the trees, away from the camp), after which he confirmed that the path to Karovi is easier and, as the overwhelming, as the overwhelming.The share of the group were newcomers in Yergaki, except for Dima, who was our guide at the initial stage of the route, and Lena, a couple of years ago, this direction was chosen in the second half of the route. While Dima and I celebrated the group, things were the last time between members of the group and we moved. By the way, about things. In addition to products that occupy a little more than a third of each backpack and personal belongings of each of the group members, there were such essential things and not very much as an ax, a gas burner, medicines that would have enough soldiers for a month … A liter bottle of moonshine and a disassembled hookah were allocated, without the base-capacity of the capacity.

So, having circled the substation, we went on a path that begins a sign, saying that this road will bring us to Karovoy. The day was sunny, but Rosa had not yet had time to go away, in addition, the initial plot came across marshy, so we began to get wet with the first moments of the campaign. Moving along the path, now rising uphill, now walking on the plain, and admiring nature, occasionally checking with the GPS navigator, we moved forward, periodically stopping to take a break in. Each halt, which is inevitable and, what is nice and interesting, ended with a photo shoot. Everything was imprinted: the surrounding landscapes, we, one by one, against the background of the landscapes and all together, intentionally posing and stealthily. The streams found along the way sprinkled us with spring water and allowed us to replenish the stocks of drinking water, everything was fine. Karovaya, as it were, wanted us to come as soon as possible, noting our whereabouts with a large dark cloud, hanging it exactly over ourselves. However, after an hour and a half of the journey, we were faced with variability of the weather in the wild – it rained. And even if he was light, but we additionally packed slightly, and the dried grass was wet again. Plus, the terrain again began to be swampy and the trail began to cross/coincide more often and more often in the channels of streams, so that we became more moist and moist, which did not spoil our magnificent mood at all. I, as it often happens in nature, unbearably wanted to burn, and I was slightly satisfied, singing at first under my breath, and then almost in my voice, songs from the cartoon Bremen musicians. Continuing the way and talking between each other, we were faced with the first, while still a frivolous obstacle-because of the night rain, a small stream turned into a small river, which was problematic to overcome in the usual ways. But at the same moment, another group was met for the first time, going the back route, which indicated to us the place where they crossed, transferring several fallen logs across the channel.

Here you can make a slight digression and say a few words about the people found in the Yergaki. Perhaps this is the secret of the postgraduate, maybe we were just lucky, but I was very surprised, if I didn’t say a revelation, all people from different groups communicate with each other gently and friendly, completely without confidence or surprise, when the random counterclaim comes up and starts a conversation on … Yes, on any topic, accepting it as his own as his own. However, you quickly get used to it, and after the first meeting I was no longer at all surprised at the atmosphere of understanding and mutual assistance, when accidentally intersected groups are united in one, by some route or when the lagers are divided with each other, without expecting or demanding anything in return. Well, against this background, there is practically no mention of the fact that all people greet each other. It turns out that such, not quite friendly nature, attracts in the bulk of its people good, interesting enlightened and responsive, or temporarily (and I would like to forever) turns them into such.

However, back to the narrative. Having said goodbye to the group they met and moving through the rivulet, supporting each other in difficult areas, we overcame the last, on this day, (Sunday was) the rise and began to choose a place for the camp. In parallel with us, a mixed group was looking for a parking lot, whose members arrived from Moscow, St. Petersburg and Tula. Also talking friendly, we diverged along various parking sites. The distinctive feature of this group was quite curious – they talked with each other on “you”. For a long time we could not decide whether to go to the lake itself and get there or put the camp here and go to the lake lightly. In the end, it was decided to stand in a camp in this forest, and to go to the lake, having rested and eating. It is worth noting that it was 3 hours in the afternoon. Despite the abundance of time, all our plans turned out to be rainbow and were constantly subjected to merciless blows of severe reality. Due to the ubiquitous dampness, not only the camping of the camp. All wood, located in the district and suitable for breeding a fire, was completely raw and definitely would not burn, without preliminary drying. Having gained the least raw twill and chopping into small logs and chips the most dry sections of the found trunks met, gaining water into all the containers present (half-liter plastic bottle, a 9-liter bucket and a hiking pot of 3.5), the benefit of something, but there was no shortage in it, we broke the camp and proceeded to incurred the bonfireAnd subsequent cooking. Through the development of universal opinion, it was decided to prepare borsch, consisting of dried vegetables, soy instead of meat, potato flakes and a number of seasonings (as far as possible – natural), which, unfortunately, I no longer remember. Even despite the presence of a gas burner, the fire was very reluctant, and the water in the bucket did not want to boil. Having hardly waited for it to be on the verge of boiling, we bombarded all the ingredients in a bucket and immediately realized that something was wrong. It seems that half -packs of potato flakes were thrown into the fire, into the bushes, anywhere, but not in the soup, because they were observed evenly Not a crap! Without adventurely slyly, driven by a sense of wild hunger (the last time we sat down at the table at 6 in the morning and drank tea with pancakes) we torn and poured out half of the pack of cereal, which was the first to come across. Fortunately, she turned out to be Hercules, which although she did not fit into the recipe, but oddly enough, did not violate the aesthetics of borscht. Accordingly, our impatience did not pass without consequences, our hellish brew began to boil even more slowly. Immediately released from the devils of the mind and immediately tested the revolutionary method of accelerating boiling water. Having torn the lid from the bucket, Vova began with all the possible force of his voice to yell at the water “Picky. “. I don’t know if the time was really so strong, but after a few minutes the soup really began to boil, imagine our surprise. Outside of ourselves with joy, we took off the bucket from the fire and began to pour so much coveted food on plates, flashing each portion of a handful of crackers. The soup turned out that you need – rich, vibrant, hearty and, damn it, beautiful in the end! A low bow to our girls – this, without a doubt, was the most delicious dish, which we have given up over the past few days! In parallel to eating, we began to brew tea. Although the water in the pot, although it resisted, was not as persistent as the sister in the bucket and soon, compared to the soup, we enjoyed strong, hot tea with oatmeal cookies. It is unlikely that you will guess how much time it took to cook and meals. Well, how, you take a chance? Made? But the pepper in your ear – about six hours lasted this action! Nes -blessed, yes? But how many diverse emotions were tested and how genuine the joy of achieving the result was!

Before the onset of darkness, a couple of hours remained and we decided to quickly run away to the lake, admire its beauty and, of course, replenish our photo album. However, we did not reach the lake on this day, meeting the cascade of small waterfalls and deciding to take a picture of them. At this business, we practically missed the sunset and realizing that darkness was starting to thicken, we hurried to the camp. Sluggishly and slowly, completely exhausted, but happy, we made and drank tea, after which we hung backpacks on the trees at some distance from the camp, as the post office of the Ministry of Emergencies bequeathed, and, having agreed to go out with dawn, climbed into the bedrooms and fell asleep and fell asleep. Time was after all, Monday came.

Waking up at 5 o’clock in the morning, washing ourselves, having a snack with nuts and cookies, we turned the camp, gathered backpacks and moved on, aside the Kari Lake we did not reach. On the shore of the lake, we were faced with a choice – immediately continue the path further or make a hook, wrapping it on a hanging stone. Naturally, the second option was chosen and throwing backpacks under the nearest stone went to look for the path.

Suddenly, we realized that we were seeing two paths leading uphill, on which there is a hanging stone – one cunning the top on the left, the second on the right. Not really bothering, we chose the left path, but, as you know, students from two options choose the wrong one and we did not see any stone. But what was spread under us cost this petty and insignificant mistake. We were simply shocked and fascinated by the sight that opened to us. It was a sea. A sea of ​​pure, snow -white fog completely flooded the whole valley that hid it completely, only sometimes the tops of the highest trees peered out of it. Having fully enjoying this picture, we returned to the path and circling the top on the right, finally appeared in front of a hanging stone. If anyone does not know, this is a multi -ton block hanging over a cliff of more than a dozen, or maybe more than one hundred years. Moreover, the contact platform is so small that you can see the gaps between the stone and the cliff on which it hangs. Naturally, having felt it from all sides and drowned, we began to look around. And, of course, the silhouette of the sleeping Sayan immediately saw the silhouette. In these mountains, you can clearly see the profile of the giant, in full growth, with all the persons inherent in the person’s features and figures. According to legend, Sayan was the master of the taiga, guarding the natural wealth and mercilessly punishing any evil that penetrates his possessions. However, time is inexorably and it was time for him to go to peace. The gods were very happy about his affairs, but could not find him a receiver, so they turned him into stone so that he always guarded these places. And when the hanging stone falls, then the sleeping Sayan wakes up. Further, some say that the end of the world will begin, others that he will begin to repay those who brought evil to his land, while others believe that he will simply continue to carry his service, as before. Be that as it may, the hanging stone is worth tight and is not going to fall. The most massive attempts known to me to push it took place with the participation of a group of fifty people, but all their efforts disappeared.

Having pleased with the landscapes, talking everything that you Turbico casino review can, having made another subset of the photographs, we moved towards the artists pass. Lunch time came, that is, it was somewhere around 12 hours. But, before the pass, we met another interestingness. The fact is that the main paths are now marked with paint on trees, stones, etc.p. Previously, the so -called tours played the role – peculiar towers or pyramids folded from stones. So, in front of the pass, we went to a small platform, where each square meter, but what is a meter, every few dozen square centimeters were occupied by these tours. It was not even a garden of stones, it was a whole thicket! Having arranged a halt, we dubbed this place for meditation. Although, given the fact that earlier there were also notes in the tours, it was a post office to demand, but now no notes were found in them, so if it was there, it has long been closed. Unable to resist, I gathered my tour before leaving, slightly cosplay hanging stone. Without unnecessary modesty, I will say that the balance at the top of the tour turned out to be more than good, the contact sites were minimal size. But to touch him, unfortunately, you can’t smash it faster than the butt buns of a girl after a long diet.

At about an hour of the afternoon, we arranged a halt on an unnamed lake at the foot of the pass. At first glance, the lake was the most common, but he also found than to surprise us. Despite the heat standing around, the opposite shore of the lake was littered with snow -white snow. Realizing that we are unlikely to find the unsuccessful beauty in such accessibility, we hastened to go around the lake and touch this particle of the past winter. Very unusual, I will tell you, to be in the snow in the middle of summer, unusual and exciting.

Resting and having a bite of cheese, we started the rise. In general, the slope was probably 50-60 degrees and even though the path was looped, the rise still took a lot of effort, and the halt became much more often, which is generally logical. There were about 5-6 shoes in total, not counting the rest at the top. To diversify the rise process, they began to make bets, what will be the height at the top of the pass. I wanted to put it at 1850 meters, but Ira put it on this mark and, it seems, someone else. In pursuit of the coefficient, I put 1888 meters on a beautiful number. At the top, having arranged a halt, we crossed at once with two groups, of 4 and one person, respectively. The height of the pass turned out to be 1845 meters, so Ira was recognized as an undeniable winner. But these were already trifles, because the opened species again struck us with their monumental beauty and epic scope. Before us lay a valley, concluded from all sides by mountains in a kind of bowl. There were trees, glades and ponds everywhere below, located as harmonious as it happens only in the wild. Immediately visible peaks of parabola, star peak – the highest point in Yergaki, a bird, a dragon tooth and other, no less beautiful, but less well -known places. At the foot of the pass, there was a pile of some black cobblestones, among which there was a small lake, and since the remains of water from our, by the way-the only, half-liter bottle, we just drank on the pass, the thirst for ourselves had to feel about ourselves. Talking with groups about business and plans, providing assistance in creating group photographs, we began to disperse. By the way, the artists pass are categorical, and 2 descents that have categories 1B and 1A, respectively, lead down from it. The descent of category 1b is more difficult and interesting, at least, without a rope, there is nothing to do there, so we moved along the ridge ridge to go out to the descent of category 1a. A group of 4 people offered to unite, but our 60-thousand and 90-to-liter liter backpacks behind our backs gathered much longer and moved more slowly (those people were completely light), so we let them go in order not to detain them. Having warned us that the descent from the pass is a bulk and with our backpacks there you need to go down very carefully, they went ahead, and after 5-10 minutes we went and we went.

Already at the very beginning of the descent, the pass himself warned us that he only seems simple and would make us get up. The first 30 meters of the descent were a pile of pieces of rocks, with a height of thresholds in human height. It was impossible to even think about going down here with backpacks. We took off our backpacks and, leaving the girls to relax at the top, lined up in a chain-Vova, Seryoga, Dima, I began to transfer backpacks along the chain, choosing more or less acceptable platforms acceptable in size. During the descent of the Lenin backpack, to which we all simply turned to at that time – Lenin (it so happened that in terms of volume/height he was more than one and a half times and had a pronounced bald “head”), almost tore off the crown and broke the balance, so later, after the descent, Lena had to get up periodically, since it did not work out itself, since it did not go out itself. After these rock fragments, a monotonous descent down on the rampant gravel began. The descent turned out to be steeper than the rise, so the speed had to be reduced slightly, especially since the “living” stones began to come across, which seem to be stable in their place, but they strive to turn out and run away under the foot, thereby making you a footboard. Optimism inspired that the descent seemed shorter than the rise. It seemed … seemed exactly until the moment when we saw people at the foot. Immediately it became clear that an ordinary vision of vision is frolic here. A pile of cobblestones at the foot of the mountain, after the appearance of objects for comparison, in the form of people, turned out to be a pile of rocks, a height of several human Rostov. It became clear that the path down would be much longer than lifting. But whatever you say, the power on the descent was still spent less and we, albeit for a much more time, but overcame it in almost one breath, without full -fledged halves. With what joy after the descent all fell to the ground, it was something. But the sun had already fried in full, it was the fourth hour of the day, and thirst for more and more mastered us. Marina, who turned off this halt for a couple of minutes, dreamed of a bottle of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator and when she told us about it and, realizing that she needed to urgently move to that lake hidden among the rocks (by the way, there was no GPS navigator on the map), which we did, sharing along the way with our “wet” fantasies.

The path through the cliffs was not at all easier, especially what the murmur of water was constantly heard below. Finally reaching the lake, everyone sucked no less than a liter before everyone calmed down and decided to have a bite to eat dates. Having spent about an hour to restore strength, we moved to the end point of our route for this day – Lake of Artists.

In the area of ​​five o’clock in the afternoon, we finally reached the parking lot on the lake. Having chosen the site closest to the forest, mainly for the spaciousness that allows us to install three of our tents and a convenient bonfire organized inside the stump, we deployed a camp as soon as possible, collected “firewood” in the district, which are charred logs, uprooted stumps, etc.p., and hung all raw linen on a rope stretched between two trees, after which they began to prepare dinner. Immediately acquainted with neighbors – three cheerful men standing a camp just above us. From them, we learned that last night a bear walked behind our camp, which was immediately frightened by a flashlight. This fact greatly delighted us, and subconsciously everyone began to prepare for a night acquaintance with a brown bear. The bonfire, unlike the first evening, took up and flared up extremely quickly, and after 15-20 minutes the pasta blessed over the bonfire, preparing to appear before us in all its glory, decorated with finely chopped cheese and garlic. In anticipation of this moment, Dimka and I killed time, cutting out letters on the stump, the first to come to mind to all the members of our group, and the definition, the abbreviation of which they are. The result of our extremely important creative activity was the letters “NPO” and Over 20 different decodes, the last and most sane of which were “New Puts O …” (several other examples – the external committee of defense, a clearly high -quality debugger, elegant extreme discharge). Having dinner tightly, raining the dishes, washing his backpacks on the near trees, the people began to diverge through the tents, deciding to lie down early, there was a tenth hour. Dima and I chatted for about an hour, sharing my impressions and recalling the past, as an extremely interesting event happened, which instilled in us hope for a wonderful tomorrow evening. Two guys passed by us, on the backpack of one of which a small guitar was fixed, the absence of which we very regretted, since almost everyone in the group knew how to play, but there was no opportunity to carry it. Having traced where they got up about the camp, we also went to sleep in our mansions (4-bed tent for two).

In the middle of the night, I was thrown out of dreams to the real world. A strong wind rose, and the cover from the tent beat on it from all sides, creating the impression that it was a bear walking around the tent, pooping in no matter. Slightly naked from sleep, I finally realized that this was the wind, wiped cold sweat from my forehead and was cut out, already until the morning.

I came to my senses at about 8 o’clock, it was quiet in the camp, apparently only I woke up, so I decided to read a little. An hour later, the sounds of the activities of the awakened were heard. There was no more sense to wallow and I crawled out of the tent. Having done all the necessary morning procedures, we proceeded to prepare breakfast, due to consist of buckwheat porridge with raisins and cocoa. A whole holiday for the stomach, if in the early days I did not feel hunger or saturation, with all the breathtaking delight of dishes, now I realized that I was starting to overeat. In parallel, there was a coagulation of the camp of our neighbors who told us about the bear. Apparently leaving for good, and not moving the camp, they left us the remnants of their firewood and products. Later we found that they also left the pan, most likely forgot, but time had passed already and it was not possible to catch up with them.

After yesterday’s transition, laziness took possession of us completely and completely, for the first half of the day we just wandered around in the camp, talking and tanning. Around the Se was pacified, from time to time new groups passed by us, some stood right there, on the lake, some continued their routes. Nothing could pull us out of the sweet embrace of serenity. Everything was super, but it was necessary to do something, because we did not come here. After short negotiations, it was decided to visit a malachite bath. Possibly due to stones of the bottom-bottomed bottom or something else, but they say that this lake seems to be glowing with green light. And now, having had lunch easily, at about three in the afternoon we advanced to this very bath, naturally lightly light. The path to her lay along the path of the leading down and consisting of fairly serious steps formed by the roots of numerous trees. To the left of the path we saw many small waterfalls. Each in itself, they did not represent anything special, but in their composition this cascade clung to the look. I wanted to see it in the spring, when, without a doubt, it should turn into a roaring monster, which collapses down the flows of ice water, calculated … there is no not counting, no numbers describe this greatness. Now the monster hibernated, allowing us smug to crawl on our own and photograph ourselves.

Continuing our way down, we soon arrived at the place. The malachite bath was a very small lake, really a bath, otherwise you can’t say. A bath, filled with crystal clean water and luminous from the inside with a light witching green light. We just could not resist. Throwing off the extra clothes of Dima, Seryoga, Vova and I was seized into this bath. Slightly cool at first glance, the water pierced us with cold to the bones. It was impossible to endure longer than a couple of minutes, moreover, it turned out that the depth of the bathtub is two times more than it was supposed and we jumped ashore, like traffic jams from bottles with champagne. After our trick, Ira decided to cross the bath from the end to the end, which was immediately checked. Having dried up and after holding a few more photo shoots, we moved back.
On the way back, we met a stone, climbing into which, according to Lena, it was possible to catch a network and arrange a communication session with the house, which we hastened to do by pre -focusing and focusing on the background of the twins that make up the parabola. Parabola itself is two mountain peaks interconnected by a stone mirror that most resembles a satellite antenna mirror.
Returning at six o’clock to the camp and dinner, we started preparing in the evening – talking with yesterday’s guys, we took a guitar, collected a hookah, using a one and a half -liter plastic bottle as a basis, prepared enough herbal tea and removed the bottle with moonshine away. And, of course, the cake. Lena and Ira realized something like an anthill, they embroidered the remains of cookies-ordinary and oatmeal into small crumbs, and mixed it with two bags of condensed milk, cocoa and crushed walnuts. It turned out amazingly tasty, under the overwhelming herbal tea, the cake was done by both cheeks, drowning out the crack of firewood in the fire. With the onset of darkness, when all the beginning were, a hookah was opened and, slowly stretching and passing the phone to each other, we started our small concert for the guitar. Dima, Serega and Vova played and sang, the rest listened and sang along when a familiar song was met. They ran into many groups, there were an epidemic, aria, Torba-on-Cruche, animals, nautilus, ddt, cinema, Bullet for My Valentine and many others. Happy burning, happy, we began to diverge on the tents, it was 2 in the morning, and it was planned to get up at 6 in the morning.

Waking up without ten six, Dima and I began to cook breakfast. This day was the last for us in Ergaki, according to the plan we had to leave the territory from the territory and go to the city at half -ninth, t.To. Tomorrow morning it was already necessary to go to work. We outlined the route in advance, but thought that we would leave together, leaving the rest of the group members to rest. However, fearing that it suddenly rained, Lena decided that we should go together, since the pass, lying in our path, in rainy weather is an unpleasant sight. While the bonfire was kindled, everyone woke up except Ira, who woke up only half an hour after everyone ate. It was decided to cook rice with dried apricots, which I actually did. After another half an hour, we began a meal, after which we began to turn the camp, and Vova carried the guitar to the owners. I don’t know what was the fault, apparently we were spread, but the fees stretched out beyond measure, we only left at ten o’clock.

Going to the path, we moved towards the lake of mountain spirits, in order to achieve which it was necessary to overcome a rather steep, but relatively short rise, a kind of training before the pass. We overcame this rise quickly, as an accelerator, a beautifully look -looking cloud, slowly crawling through the pass of artists, that is, behind our back. I don’t know who, but the association with the film “Mla” came to my mind, perhaps this happened there could be observed from the side. Despite his appearance, we understood that the situation in which it would catch up with us would not be good for us, apparently, it was rain. However, from the height of this rise, one could admire not only the clouds. When looking from top to bottom, it became clearer why the lake of artists is called that way. Initially, there were two hypotheses – the first that his beauty inspires powerful inspiration on all creative people (she disappeared), and the second that this lake resembles a molbert from a height. Indeed, from the height of the rise, in the outlines of the lake you could find out the features of this instrument of inspired.

Having risen to the Lake of Mountain Spirits, we arranged a small halt, during which we were offering the mountain spirits themselves so that they spread the clouds on our way. But, apparently, there were not enough sweets in the presentation of all spirits and the clouds became thicker, they also called their friends. Although, perhaps, shamans were confused with something, drums and a melting \ recitative of which were heard from the other side. The lake itself was one of the most beautiful lake of the we met we met. His calm, dark, mirror surface could well go over the mirror and unusually in harmony with the cliffs surrounding him. But, nevertheless, some disappointment befell us here. The notorious clouds were closer and closer, and the bird and star was hidden from us, only occasionally one could see their muddy silhouette.

Having rested, we moved on, along the lake to the Pass the Bird. And only we starred and stood on the trail, as it was quietly and timid at first, then it was more and more and more began to drip rain. We had to wrap up in raincoats, which, of course, have at least one minus – they extremely poorly pass the air. Together with the ongoing rise, this became more like the fact that everyone carried a bathhouse. Fortunately, the rain soon ended and dehydration ceased to threaten us. At the very foot of the mountain, we met a group of two people who warned that yesterday a bear had crossed through this pass. The impression began to take shape that he was running away from us, and we are trying to catch up with him with an incomprehensible goal. Oh yes, it just so happened that shortly before the rise, I was the first in our column, so I had to lead the group to the pass. Having chosen the average pace, trying to synchronize my breath with steps, I was monotonously like a robot stepped up, adjusting myself to the fact that “well, a little more, you need to reach the stone”. The slope, at first not very large, became cooler and cooler, stopping degrees at seventy. From that moment on my only thought was the desire not to crash forward on the trail, to continue to walk. Ling, not the only one. The thought was still constantly knocking that you need to turn around and believe whether the guys had everything, sometimes at all in time. The last 100-150 meters we overcame already in the cloud, now only the nearest objects were visible.

When we climbed to the top, it was about an hour. It was decided to arrange a lunch in the cloud, despite the fact that the temperature was rapidly falling and, according to the sensations, it was already about 5 degrees above zero. Когда недалеко от нас послышался гром, мы поняли что забрели не в обычное облако. I love a thunderstorm and the very one, but sitting inside such a cloud and see that lightning beats almost at eye level – this is … As they say, everything else is Mastercard. Understanding that we are on the very edge of this cloud and that soon everything could change, we hastily moved further, especially since Dimka and I began to get out of the schedule.

The descent from the pass was not an example easier, and more like a regular path. And so that we would not think that he charged all the hardships behind the rain with a new, doubles, and began to rush in hail, a kind of stump of a kind. The path, and especially the stones on it, became more and more slippery and, without incident, well at least everything was done. At the very end of the descent, we met an extremely narrow stone balcony. I, Dima and Serega passed him without problems, the rest, regarding their chances, decided to go around him from below. There was a kind of trail under it, then followed the cliff. We did not convince them, especially since at first glance the trail was reliable, so we just decided to wait until they went around this balcony. The path failed. Когда Лена, поскользнувшись, поехала вниз, у нас все в душе оборвалось. Throwing off the backpacks where we stood, we ran to the rescue, but fortunately everything worked out. Damn, how vaguely I remember this episode … Primary fear rubbed everything at all. Lena hooked on the slope and, climbed back along another soda of the path. Further, the trail was even, albeit smoking from the past rain. Our goal was the lake light, there the guys had to share the camp, and Dima and I move to the exit. But on the way to him we had to go down and go through the valley. The descent into no, after the rain, turned into a continuous mud gutter, only the roots of the trees forming the steps saved, the valley itself was very swampy, the path was not rarely hidden under water. We were already on the machine, whether we must mention that we got wet through and through to the waist? We parted on the shore of this lake, probably the largest of what we saw. We gave the remaining all products, vital things, such as an ax, dry alcohol, tourist matches, etc.D. After which, having farewells warmly, Dima and I moved to the end point of our journey – the Tushkanchik camp site.

There were about six kilometers to the tourbalism in forest crossed terrain. To have a chance to have time for a bus, we should have been there at six o’clock in the evening. Having made a simple calculation, we determined that we must implement this distance in one hour and forty minutes, preferably faster. In another situation, the pace that we took, I would not dare to keep it completely rested. Now we were wet, cold, our legs were just a peace. However, the speed seemed absolutely natural, the body did not demand a halt, on the contrary, incited to be even faster, but only a run would be faster, which would be simply stupid to switch to in such a situation. Everything, it is not known where the reserves came from from overcoming this distance in one breath, the reaction rate worsened … not to the limit, no, but significantly. We reached the tourist cases when the clock was six hours and ten minutes. Leaving, we met another group that was just preparing to get on the route. It was necessary to see their faces when to their question, where we came from, we replied that from the artists and that at first there were seven of us, and only two came out. Theoretically, we could still have time, but here … Having looked around the parking lot, we realized that there was no car that was supposed to take us to Karatuzskoye. Not at all. His Majesty the case intervened, and Dimkin Father was able to come only ten minutes later. Sitting in the car, we sucked all the used liquids that we found in the cabin, after which the time began to paint on the road during conversations. As a result, we were late for the bus for 15 minutes, but there was not even the strength to get upset, in fact, like moving. Having called into the city and warning that we would be late for a day, we took out a two -liter balloon of barley drink from the basement and went to the bathhouse, where for the next hour we literally turned into two mining pieces of meat. Still, a bathhouse, and even after such a march, this is the greatest of pleasure, it is better not to find a place!

The guys went on Saturday, at lunch. The weather from our departure was rainy, so they were not where it was planned, but their ton of impressions and photos was taken out. Allow me to take my leave, I have already taken away from you a decent time with my graphomaniac work. In conclusion, I only want to say – go on hiking, not even necessarily to Yergaki, but Ergaki especially. And I’ll be back there somehow.

P.S.: Since this is my first pancake, constructive criticism of content is welcome. You can even share the impressions of your adventures =)
P.S.S: Friends very much asked to mention that nature there is still not particularly friendly-you need to carefully prepare before the campaign and take care of the beast in the process.