Surely, when they see another photo report from beautiful places, many people think: “What beauty! I want to go there!” The desire is completely legitimate and feasible. But this time I’ll tell you about the difficulties that arise during hikes.

2. You are walking along so happy and positive, and suddenly you see a fence or barrier with the inscription “private territory”. It’s good if there are no owners or they are kind and let you through. But in reality there may be an angry dog ​​or military base, where they will never let you in, and getting around is not an option.

3. In the photograph it may seem that this is a small stream, but in reality the river is very noisy and seething, it’s scary to breathe there, let alone stand.

4. To see interesting places sometimes you have to walk 15-20 km up and down the mountains in a day. This hike is equivalent to 30-40 km across the plain. You have to be physically fit to walk such distances and still enjoy it.

5. Sometimes you go to see beautiful places, you go a long way, and a sluggishly flowing stream awaits you instead of the “Niagara” waterfall. Such disappointments happen often, so for me just a walk in the forest brings joy.

6. When the hike goes along the riverbed, this means that there is often no path, and the water level in the river is difficult to determine in advance. You have to jump from rock to rock, grab something for unknown reasons, crawl and never stop swearing))

7. Sometimes you go down to the river to see a waterfall, but the road ends and in front of you is a deep gorge, which is impossible to go down to or impossible to pass. What to do? We have to go back up the mountain.

8. Getting my feet wet in an icy river in cold weather is already the norm for me. Some people are scared to imagine themselves in wet shoes in the forest, but I don’t care. After such festivities, I don’t get sick, unlike most people.

9. Sometimes the path gets lost and you have to walk through impenetrable thickets of some kind of garbage. This is when the bushes are taller than a man, there are thorns all around that catch you from all sides, and the branches try to poke your eyes out so that you go blind once and for all and don’t go hiking))

10. There are a lot of blockages on the river; when you pass the hundredth blockage, you think: “Why the hell did I come here?!”

11. Very often on a hike you have to ford a raging river a hundred times. Good shoes, such as rubber boots, are very necessary.

12. Having reached a beautiful place, you always think: “Damn it, it was not in vain that I came here!”

13. The weather in the mountains is unpredictable, it may rain or even snow, you need to be prepared for this.

14. Beautiful places are worth experiencing some difficulties.

15. In pursuit of getting a beautiful photo, some people take risks and stand on the edge of a waterfall or on the edge of a slippery rock. I have several friends who tripped and dived from a high waterfall, and there were bruises, fractures and injuries. We must be constantly vigilant.

16. It happens that the route is difficult and tourists are late for trains or buses, and some even have to spend the night in the forest without a tent unplanned.

17. After going through a difficult hike, you think that you will never get into these fucking places again, but time passes and you are drawn to the mountains again. This is probably masochism))

There's a thunderstorm here now. I'll tell you about the hikes.

Probably the coolest type of hiking from my experience is hiking into the night, wherever your eyes look. You just leave the house, go somewhere, get out of the type of transport you were traveling with, and head off wherever you look, at that moment knowing that you may never return home. This campaign has a goal, and the most best way find out which one - arrange such a trip.

More trips from the series “we had to move our legs so that we could better talk about what is now the most important thing in the world to talk about, and even the most difficult thing in the world,” during the conversation we walked and walked, and went to some unknown place, found yourself at a new point on the map, and your state of mind is clearer.

I like to walk for a long time, and where transport would save time, in fact there would be no hike at all. That is, a journey across the area to a neighboring town, forest or who knows what, which lasts for several hours, with discoveries, heat, tired legs, a halt, an unexpected obstacle, an unexpected gift, would take about fifteen minutes by car and would be called not a hike, but a trip.

One of my mottos is “The slower the richer.”

My most important trips were with three friends. K., Yu., and N.
They are not about kayaks, equipment, backpacks, nature, breathtaking views, overcoming yourself, getting into the rhythm of everyday transitions.
No, these were most often spontaneous, one-day hikes in urban areas, in large parks, in which you can get lost if you are not a local resident.
These were trips to God knows where, or rather, perhaps one of my companions knew well the final goal of the movement as the place and state at the end of the journey, but I cannot say the same about myself.
I just walked along with my companions, something changed during the process or later, upon reaching the end point. And in the process, a state certainly came when both you and your companions understood that this was the goal, it had been achieved. Or they understood everything, and for one of us the knowledge of “why all this was” caught up with us later. Another important parameter was the state of internal time.

We came to visit a friend in Yasenevo. We packed sandwiches with sausage and a thermos of hot tea. We went into the forest in the dark winter evening, almost at night.
Friend Yu told us about a tree with which he was friends as a child. Big old oak. This oak, in my perception at that time, was something like a local world tree.
And that almost night we walked to the world tree and to the symbol of children's magic, which in childhood was everywhere, everywhere, as natural as breathing. We went to the unrealizable and impossible - go and find it cold winter night that tree that Yu saw last time a long time ago, in daylight, in the summer, and we still didn’t know where that place was.

The road was difficult, at least for me (I think if we had just gone to the park to get some air at night, it wouldn’t have been so difficult for me). I wanted to fall behind the procession, to succumb to that dark, heavy feeling that was pulling me back, to fall without strength, or to turn around and go back. But it was necessary to continue.
According to my internal clock, we made our way through the snowdrifts for at least several hours, although objectively speaking, the park is not so big that it was possible to wander through it for that long.
We walked along the path one after another, by the way, it seems that this is also why it was difficult, I fell behind and walked behind, it was much easier to walk in the middle.
It was as if there were no events on this hike, at least in my memory all that remained was the shining night, the huge sky, the silhouettes of giant trees and the feeling of the path.

It all ended in the end, like a long musical track ends - here you live your whole life in it, here you wander somewhere in another space, obeying the pattern of the music, but here you stand in the resulting silence and learn to breathe again.

We came out into an open clearing. And it's time for hot black tea from a thermos and sandwiches. I remember now that they came with sausage, but to tell the truth, I’m not sure. Just strong black tea and sandwiches with sausage - such a clear combination that it’s hard to imagine fish or cheese instead of sausage. Maybe ham would still be good.
They poured tea, passed it to each other carefully, talked about something important, and remained silent.

By the way, we didn't meet the Tree that night.
But the trip went as planned.

Now tell us your stories about how you went on a hike.

I mentally prepared myself for six months, saying that I could sleep in a tent alone, so what’s wrong with that? I can. I can.. I probably can((

And then the hour came. No one wanted to go on a hike with me, and I thought this is my chance, I need to test myself. I have experience of one-day hikes alone, there was nothing scary for me. I’ll somehow get through the night. I bought a ticket and went ahead.

2. I arrived in the village of Ubinskaya - this is a real mecca for tourists, cyclists and mountain runners.

3. Quiet place in the mountains of the Seversky region Krasnodar region. Beyond this village there is nothing but mountains.

4. The vicinity of the village is full of famous peaks and waterfalls that tourists already love - Sober-Bash, Papay, Ubin-Su, Pshad waterfalls, etc. I just decided to conquer Popeye, I had never been there, one of the highest peaks in these parts.

5. According to the forecast, it was going to rain all two days. But that didn’t stop me; it’s better to test my spirit, so to speak, in more extreme conditions.

6. There were almost no people on my way; the Ubin River ran along the road.

7. Along the way I even met a friend from Krasnodar, he, like all decent people, was surprised that I was going on a hike alone. He said that if anything happens, come back here to the camp site. Remember these words, they will come in handy later))

8. Thus, I reached the mineral spring, met a man who was hiking, offered to go together, he refused, because... he says he was already at the top this week, and said that he would spend the night near the source, and would not go further.

9. The road became worse and worse, puddles and mud appeared, and it began to rain.

10.

11.

12.

13. I was afraid to walk across the bridge, took off my shoes and forded the river, this was the only ford on the way.

The rain began to pour harder, I almost reached the foot of my mountain. There was no point in climbing the rocks in the rain, and there was no water there. And I decided to pitch a tent, because... I found the roof in the truest sense of the word. It just won't get wet from the rain. I ate. So evening came. Everything was fine until it was completely dark. The rain was pattering on the roof, someone was scraping somewhere in the distance, the usual sounds of the forest.

But fear began to overcome me. I drank valerian) I went to bed. I slept for exactly an hour. Sitting in the tent my imagination drew scary pictures that something will happen to me. I drank valerian again, and again, and again. It didn't help. Then I remembered that on the way I came across the grave cross of a deceased female instructor. And what will I do if she comes to me? What if a UFO comes down to me? After all, no one will know that I am here.

Then I see a knife nearby and really start to think that it’s time to cut my own throat so that I don’t have these hellish thoughts in my head. I was starting to go crazy. She left the tent. It was dark, but the outlines of the trees were visible, the rain was pouring harder, it was cold, and it was only 22 pm. I won't live until morning. I'm scared and I won't sleep. What’s scarier: sitting in a tent and going crazy or going back to the camp site where I was invited? No, it's not scary to come back. I have experience walking at night, so in 5 minutes I pack my backpack and stuff all my things with my feet. I put on my raincoat, turn on the bug flashlight and hit the road, 10 km back through the mud. The road is muddy, knee-deep mud, I walk slowly, the outlines of the bushes are visible when there are no trees. The rain got heavier. I periodically turn around, what if someone is following me? It all seems stupid now, but when you are alone, you have a huge panic.

When the mud ended, I walked faster, I was almost running, it wasn’t so scary. On the way, the small river Ubin turned into a huge seething monster, I can’t wade, it’s already up to my waist. Walking on a shaky bridge without railings... This is suicide. But there is nothing to do. I’m walking, and the river is raging under my feet. I was filled with fear then! She crossed over and ran even faster.
At the same time, I was holding a candle in front of me with a flashlight, and suddenly a wild boar grunted in the bushes next to me, I died of fear! The only thing I needed right now was a boar!

I ran 10 times faster, constantly turning around, shining a candle into the darkness with a lantern, then forward again with a candle and stumbled upon the cross-grave where the woman guide died. This is where I completely went nuts! And she flew forward, laying large bricks along the way. So in 2 hours I flew to the camp site. The river spread out in front of her, forded it, I knocked on the gate - silence. I called on the phone (there was an advertisement) - the phone was turned off. What to do? It’s a long walk to the village, it’s late at night, there are no options - you have to climb over the fence.

Now they will take me for a thief. We must go to the watchman. Found it. Woke up the watchman. He went nuts. Baba is alone at night. I suggested, maybe there are numbers? He says everything is busy, go to sleep with me)) And he has a TV. I said, let’s start by watching the video, he has a lot of cassettes with action films. I watched an action movie with a nasal voice and ate all my food supplies out of wild hunger. The watchman turned out to be a normal old man, he told stories about how he hunted lynx in these places 40 years ago. I was surprised that I met a wild boar, because... officials poisoned all the wild boars in the forest, all the remaining animals moved on. They sat like that for several hours. Then he fell asleep, and I went to bed. What should I do?)) So I slept for a couple of hours until the morning. She woke up the watchman, said goodbye, and walked slowly to the village.

14. It rained all night and morning. I have never enjoyed the morning as much as I did then. All my fears went away with the dawn. And I thought, couldn’t I really wait until the morning? What a fool)) We are all brave.

15. I have never seen such a full-flowing Ubin.

16. I walked around the village and came to the bus stop.

17.

There was a bus at the stop, waiting for the children from the hike. There are still 2 hours until my minibus. The driver opened the door and invited him to warm up, because... It’s freezing cold outside, and I’m already all wet, the raincoat probably tore when I was running through the forest at night)) The driver poured me hot tea, treated me to some treats and told me stories. Then his hiking children came. Then my minibus arrived, and from there came a troop of other children who were going to Papai and further to the sea. And the rain continued to fall harder...

Hooray! Holidays! All summer at home, it’s great - that’s what I thought in June 1965 at my favorite boarding school No. 4 in the city of Yaroslavl, after finishing the 9th grade, when I was getting ready to go home for summer holidays. And now I’m home.
After several days of relative rest and going to the forest to pick berries, it became a little boring. I suggested that the guys I knew who lived in our big house, and in other barracks houses, go alone, without adults, on a hike to the lakes Ryumnikovo and Chashnitsy. We developed a route, agreed on what we needed to take with us, what provisions and how much. Fortunately for us, all the parents let their children go without any explanations or instructions to me, the ringleader of this event. They knew me and trusted me with their children. In the morning at about four o'clock everyone began to gather near our house: the guys stood with backpacks or shoulder bags, Seryozha Pisarev had to wait the longest, but soon he came accompanied by his mother. She said a few parting words to him and to all of us, after which we set off. They followed each other, single file: I strictly followed this. It seemed to me that this is how children should go on a hike, and no other way. Yes, to be honest, in the movies we have seen how those who go on some kind of journey follow each other. We were filled with an incomprehensible, sublime feeling: we were alone, without our parents, going on a hike. The interesting thing is that no matter how much we walked, no one moaned, no one complained about fatigue - everyone wanted to be at their best: to be courageous and resilient. From the outside, we probably looked concentrated and even funny, but we didn’t care. We made our first stop at Lake Chashnitskoye. They sorted out who was doing what, and appointed duty officers. Several boys began to fish with fish soup, I began to prepare food, and they set the tea to boil. During the journey, the children got hungry, and the fresh morning air helped us work up such an appetite that anyone could envy us.
How delicious it was: we ate the pasta and stew instantly, we didn’t have to persuade anyone, the tea was also excellent, with a hint of smoke. We've never drunk anything like this. The children wanted to swim after a hearty breakfast, asked my permission and received it, but they could swim in a certain place that I had checked. We didn’t like Lake Chashnitsy for swimming: the bottom is not uniform, with snags and a lot of mud. Having rested a little more, we went further to Lake Ryumnikovo.
The sun rose higher, it became harder to walk, it was hot, and therefore, when we came across a clearing with strawberries, everyone knelt down and began crawling to pick the berries, some of them plucked them directly with their mouths. Thus, we ended up with such a mini-halt. Having eaten some berries and rested a little, we moved on and came across a narrow-gauge railway, which, as was known, went to a peat enterprise. It was easier to walk along it. Along the way we came across mushroom pickers, and then we saw a herd of cows, sheep, and goats. The shepherds turned out to be unfriendly, decided to scare us and set their dogs on us. It became scary, I shouted to the shepherds, they called the dogs away laughing, but for a long time we heard various offensive words addressed to us. After what we thought was a long search for the lake, we finally found it. True, at first we came across a lot of blueberries, we could not resist and began to pick them, blueberries. We collected quite a lot and stopped right at the lake. A place to stop - you couldn’t imagine a better place: a peninsula with vegetation and fabulous trees jutted into the lake. I sent everyone to get firewood and started preparing something to eat myself. The food ran out, all that was left was bread, sugar and everyone had some potatoes. It was decided to bake potatoes in coals, boil tea and make jam from the collected blueberries, i.e. not jam, but fresh blueberries with added sugar. The most important thing was with what appetite we ate the baked potatoes, and then enjoyed delicious smoky tea, and even with blueberries and sugar spread on bread. It was something. Sanka Repnikov actually managed to cook jam in a bowl over a fire. Having rested and gained strength, we began to play, tell different stories, and laugh. The sun began to set to the west, closer to the horizon, and we gathered ourselves and headed back. We wandered for quite a long time, came out onto some road that took us in the wrong direction, we returned to the starting point, got our bearings, went in the right direction and, soon, came to the no longer existing village of Rykovo. My guys are tired. Someone said: “It would be great if Vova came for us.” The sound of an approaching car was heard ahead. The guys shouted: “Vova! Vova! I said that it couldn’t be, since he was at work and, suddenly, a truck stopped in front of us and turned around - it really was my older brother Vladimir. The joy knew no bounds. All the guys climbed into the back, I sat in the cab and we drove off. It turns out that Vladimir, returning home from work, asked his mother: “Are the guys back?” Mom answered: “No.” Then he said: “I’ll go meet them, otherwise they’re probably tired.”
Our parents, neighbors and everyone who knew about our journey were waiting near our house, a little worried. We were greeted as heroes. Everyone was happy.

P.S.

About twenty years later, my husband and I were at a club on the occasion of Builder's Day. Every year he is celebrated in Khmilniki as a professional. At the festival we met Sanka Repnikov. Of course, this was an adult man who, like my younger brother, graduated from the Moscow Forestry Engineering Institute and was not that skinny boy who couldn’t do anything - now it was Alexander Ivanovich, the director of the Rostov forestry enterprise.
Sanka invited me to dance and, to my great surprise, the whole time we were dancing, he talked and remembered our childhood summer trip: “I can’t remember anything better in my life,” he admitted at the end. - “Thank you for organizing it then and taking me with you.” I was touched by this confession.
Soon Alexander Ivanovich died: something was wrong with his heart... and he was then a little over thirty.

The life-affirming awakening of nature after winter sleep is colorfully described in an essay on the topic “Hike.” The fertile black soil of the fields, the spring greenery of the emerging grass, the joyful polyphony of birds and the virgin purity of the first snowdrops not only lifted the children’s spirits, but also gave each of them a powerful impetus to new achievements.

On my spring break dad suggested we go out of town and admire the awakening nature native land . Early in the morning, having collected our backpacks, we moved towards the city's new buildings, a kilometer from which the birch grove.

Blackened with rich black soil, the field was plowed by tractors, moving back and forth, parallel to each other. Country road The young grass, sticking out like a mischievous hedgehog, was brightly green. We walked along it, taking deep breaths of the invigorating morning air. Our family hike was riddled with intoxicating fluids spring mood.

Thin trunks of graceful birches whitened beyond the edge of the field in orderly rows, invitingly swaying wavy strands of crowns flowing in the wind. The closer we came, the stronger our hearts beat and we were breathtaking from the virgin purity and, trembling in the morning haze, the transparency of the birch grove, filled with the mysterious whisper of young foliage.

Dry dead wood crunched merrily under our feet, alarming the timid birds, looking with curiosity at the unexpected guests. Through the chaotic network of broken branches covering the paths running in all directions, forest herbs made their way, ready to bloom wildly. There was already a light, mixed scent of spring flowers, enveloping the slender trunks of birches with a fragrant trail.

Suddenly, an oval clearing full of bright white snowdrops spread out in front of us like a festive tablecloth. Trembling slightly on their graceful, thin legs, they reverently looked at the affectionate, spring sun, turning their quivering, velvety heads towards him. We, of course, did not tear them down, so as not to disturb the eternal harmony of nature with our rude interference.

The white trunks of the birch trees became moist under the warming rays of the sun, flowing with clear, large tears of their famous birch sap. We licked it with the tips of our tongues from the smooth, as if polished, bark and enjoyed the sweetish taste of crystal drops with a subtle hint of tart bitterness.

Having rested on a fallen log, among all this enchanting splendor, we moved to way back, trying to capture in memory every moment of our amazing and educational trip to the wonderful, spring forest.