See Altai and freeze: As I went on a horse trek through the mountains
My friend is a traveler and the Guinness World Record holder Mike Horn - taught me many things. For example, the fact that material values are not really valuable, but what you carry in your heart. And if you are enthusiastic about everything you do, nothing can stop you. And thanks to Mike, I discovered sports tourism.
In childhood, while reading another book by Jules Verne or Henry Haggard, I dreamed of being on an expedition. When I was nineteen, the dream came true in unexpected ways. I did an internship at National Geographic and in one of the numbers I found an article about Mike Horn, who organized an expedition around the world, where I invited young people from all over the world. Within a few months, I was selected at a camp in the Alps, and together with Mike and his team went to the Andaman Islands to study the effects of the 2004 tsunami. There were many adventures: for example, one night we were covered with volcanic ash due to a volcanic eruption, and another time I managed to get lost in the ocean during night diving.
Since then, I have been trying to regularly go hiking. I thought about Altai more than once, inspired by the stories of friends, photographs and documentaries. But the trip there was postponed all the time, until one night I did not dream that I was in the mountains - moreover, according to my inner feeling, it was in Altai. The next morning I told myself: "I'm going!" Friends already had plans, and the only thing left for me was to join the company of strangers.
Usually they get to Altai through Barnaul or Novosibirsk. My choice fell on one of the Novosibirsk groups "VKontakte". After learning which tour required more physical training, I signed up for it. Through the mountain passes, we had to go to the "Belukha" mountaineering camp, linger there for a couple of days for radial hikes, and then go back. There were two options: to walk the whole route on foot or partially ride it on horseback. The second one seemed more interesting: the fact that I sat in the saddle only a couple of times in my life, and even a little bit, I was absolutely not embarrassed. Absolutely everything was included in the tour price (26,000 rubles): from the transfer from Novosibirsk to meals on the route, even a visit to a local bath was a bonus. I did not plan to linger in the city after the hike, so I took with me only some pocket money for souvenirs. A small comparative search helped me find tickets worth 16,500 rubles.
Usually I easily find a common language with people, but the thought creeps in: what to do if we do not get along with the characters, and there is no place to run around the mountain?
I picked up the gear quickly. Something grabbed over the plan - for example, dry shampoo (mountain rivers are cold, so you won't always wash your head in them) and a solar battery charger for a camera. But I forgot to take a lot of useful things, as it turned out in the process. For example, gaiters are covers that fit over shoes: with them legs are protected from water and dirt. Or trekking sticks - if you choose light ones, they will not add much weight to the backpack, but they will significantly reduce the load on your legs during foot crossings. I also clearly underestimated the Altai sun (it’s not for nothing that solar power plants are being built here) - sunscreen and burn remedies are needed.
Some of my things turned out to be absolutely unsuitable, and I found out that this was already far from civilization. In a sleeping bag with a comfort temperature of +5 degrees on mountain passes, I was frozen, and a trendy acid-colored raincoat bought at Strelka would have been more useful for romantic movie screenings under the open sky, but he did not save from heavy rain. Further more: it turned out that bright colors can scare horses. But I learned all this later.
I realized that the trip would succeed when at the registration desk in Domodedovo, for some unknown reason, I was given a ticket to the business class instead of economy class. The plane landed in Novosibirsk Tolmachyov at six in the morning. A taxi took me to the embankment of the Ob River, where guides and some of their future comrades were already on their backpacks. When everyone gathered together, we were loaded into a minibus with our luggage and taken to the village of Ust-Koks. As it quickly turned out, 729 kilometers is not a joke: there was a whole day to go. It was pleasing that we were driving along the Chuisky road, one of the most picturesque roads in Russia.
All fourteen people quickly made friends: some, like me, came to Altai for the first time, others, already experienced, pulled back. The youngest participant was sixteen, and the eldest was the same age as my mother. I rarely traveled to such diverse companies. Usually, I easily find a common language with people, but somewhere a thought creeps in: what to do if we do not get along with the characters, and there is no place to run around the mountain? A guide and two of his young assistants rode with us.
In the intervals between conversations, I looked out the window: the city landscape was gradually replaced by mountain elevations, pine forests and noisy rivers. Ahead of Uimon Valley. According to legends, there were kept secret passages and caves through which the guardians of secret knowledge went underground. Writer and archaeologist Nicholas Roerich said that the happy time will return and they will return. I didn’t see the secret passages and caves from the minibus window, but I was pleased with the meadows dotted with flowers. They say that in the valley one can still meet Old Believers, for example, Dark Persians. Each of them has its own icon closed by curtains: if someone else will pray to her, her power will disappear.
It gets dark early in the mountains, so we arrived in the village when dusk had already descended. I was lodged in the same house with the girls from St. Petersburg - we spent half the night in conversations and were already friends the next morning. I was so impatient with adventures, that the next day I woke up without an alarm clock. Still would! After all, I was in the middle of the earth, the meeting place of peoples, languages, religions and cultures - this is the name of Altai. After a quick breakfast and fees, we were taken to the Katun River. The bridge across it was vaguely reminiscent of the Golden Gate in San Francisco, but it looked so dilapidated that it required an internal effort to step on it. In some places gaped holes through which the water was boiling below. By the way, in the fall Katun is painted in a rich turquoise color. This is due to the formation of sandstones: in spring and summer, rains, melting snow and glaciers make the water turbid, and in autumn and winter pure underground waters feed the river.
Having crossed the bridge, we moved into the back of the tractor - the winding forest road, where the SUV could easily get bogged down, was nothing. Stables with horses waited at the Kucherla River. Phone no longer caught. I put things in peremetnye bags - two interconnected leather bags that spread over the saddle. I asked myself for the kindest and most gentle horse, and the junior groom led me to Orlik, a stately brown stallion. We had to overcome a steep ascent along a narrow path going up the ridges. Getting on a horse was not very graceful. "Well, we will work on the technique," I thought, and tightly gripped the leather strap. The groom’s instructions were spinning in his head: "The most important thing is not to let the reins go."
Suddenly, as if from under the ground grew snowy mountain ranges - it already captured the spirit. According to legend, a long time ago in a mortal combat a good hero and an evil giant met here.
Horses used to walk the chain and knew the route well. Gradually, we gained altitude. Below, between the trees, looked snow-white and full Kucherla rapids. Orlik took a step to trot. Suddenly, I noticed that the saddle began to crawl - there was another climb ahead, and the path was only a few meters from the abyss. I tried to tighten the saddle, but the strength was not enough. I called out to the guys, but it turned out too late: I felt myself falling. They say that at such moments the whole life rushes before your eyes, but instead for some reason it flashed in my head: "If only I did not break the camera." Saved the shrub: I managed to cling to the grass, climbed on all fours on the trail and shouted to the guys from the group that I was alive. I realized from their faces that they were more afraid than I was. One of the stablemen rushed to catch up with Orlik, who had rushed off with a wild guffaw. The fugitive was caught, I was checked by my friend, and I was again on horseback - in every sense of the expression.
After a couple of hours we got to the place of the first night, pitched tents and cooked buckwheat with stew. At eight o'clock in the evening there was already total darkness. The next day we had an even steeper climb. I realized that it was in my interest to keep a close watch on equipment and find a common language with a horse so as not to fly for an encore. Landscapes succeeded each other: we made our way through the forest thicket, then the greenery ended and gave way to rocky terrain. Suddenly, as if from under the ground in front of me grew snowy mountain ranges - already captured the spirit. According to legend, a long time ago, in a mortal combat, a good hero and an evil giant met here. The bogatyr defeated the enemy, tore out his black heart and threw it into the abyss. So the mountain pass Karatyurek (from the Altai "black heart") appeared.
When we climbed to a height of 2300 meters, we saw Kucherlinskoye Lake glinting far below. In some places, the grass was replaced by snow - we persuaded the grooms to stop in order to play snowballs. In the evening we went to the mountainside and camped. In the last rays of the setting sun, our tent city looked like a toy.
It was risky to go the whole length of the journey on horseback, so I had to walk somewhere. We reached a height of 3060 meters. On the way, we came across small rivers, and for us they became a real test: my horse stopped to drink at each. I lost patience and began to push him, but he did not go to any. "You were too soft with him, so he sat down on the neck," the groom, Sasha, summarized.
Finally we went to Lake Akkemsky, whose name comes from the Altai "white water". The water in it is really white - because of the clay. On the shores of Akkem we had to live a few days. In the alpine camp "Belukha" it's time to say goodbye to the horses. Waking up after a few days on the road and knowing that today you do not need to collect a tent is priceless. We gradually improved our life, made frequent donuts for meteorologists living near pies, searched for thyme for tea, and in the evenings gathered around the fire, played Mafia and shared stories.
Locals do not go to Belukha - they consider it sacred. And women, according to local beliefs, cannot even look at her
It is believed that if you have a secret desire and you sincerely ask about it in the valley of the Seven Lakes, the mountains will help. There we went to the first radial hike. The trail rose steeply up, the head dizzy with the smell of grass and flowers. Along the way, there were waterfalls and mountain rivers - cautiously, in single file, we wade through them. Suddenly it became cold and began to drizzle rain. We managed to see two lakes, but there were peals of thunder. Being in bad weather in the mountains is dangerous, and the guide turned us back.
Our tent stood on the edge, which gave a tremendous advantage: our tents were visible from other tents, and Belukha Mountain from ours. Many of the group came to Altai to look at her. Climbers say that Belukha is not for records, but for the soul. Its height is 4506 meters - relatively little, but Belukha does not accept all of them. In 1996, the legendary mountaineer Reinhold Messner arrived in Altai, who was the first to climb all fourteen mountains of the eight thousand meters of the world. The weather let him down, and he did not get to the top of Belukha. At the same time, meteorologists told us about a man who came to her wearing rubber boots - for many who are accustomed to traditional climbing boots, this is, to put it mildly, unusual. By the way, locals don't go to Belukha - they consider it sacred. And women, according to local beliefs, cannot even look at her.
The next day we made a six-hour radial hike to the Akkemsky glacier at the very foot of Belukha. The road was not easy: we got stuck in the ground, crossed the swaying rope bridges across the rivers and jumped from stone to stone. On one of the crossings, my foot hit the crevice between the stones, and I hopelessly stuck. Fortunately, I was pulled out by a man from another group who was following. In the distance, the chapel of the Archangel Michael flashed. It was built in memory of the dead rescuers, climbers and travelers. Climbers leaving to conquer Belukha leave their crosses here and pick them up after a successful ascent. Not all return, and some crosses remain in the chapel forever.
After another hour, we were on the Akkemsky glacier. Once he captured the coast of Akkem with his tongue, but over the last hundred years he retreated several kilometers. Now the glacier resembles a wall; getting too close is dangerous, so we sat on the rocks on the other side of the river. Someone was meditating, someone was listening to the sound of water, and someone just fell asleep (ok, that was me). On the way back the hail began - as soon as we got to the tents, a downpour with thunder and lightning struck the camp.
On the third day in the alplaguera, the last radial campaign was planned - this time to the valley of Yarlu. Perhaps the most unusual thing in the valley is a huge boulder, which has dozens of names: Genghis Khan's stone, Master stone, World stone ... They say it goes underground seventy meters. One of the legends says that once there was a city in front of Belukha, and on the site of this stone the princes decided questions. It is believed that a person with negative thoughts will not be able to stay here for a long time - he is seized with the desire to immediately leave here, coupled with bouts of unexplained pain and dizziness. Others, by contrast, can recharge from the stone with energy. Nicholas Roerich was convinced that somewhere there was hidden the entrance to the country of eternal happiness Shambhala. Since then, his followers flock here annually.
From the alpine camp "Belukha" we had to walk to the parking lot "Three Birches" - about twenty-five kilometers along forest thicket and mountain trails. We arrived at eight in the morning and made a small stop after each hour of the journey. The weather was changing at the speed of light: first the scorching sun, and after a few minutes the wind came out of nowhere, piercing to the bone. Only we had time to rejoice that the wind had died down, as the sky was overcast and it started to rain. I have met such weather drops only in Kamchatka.
Those who led the procession ahead also separated more than an hour. After some time, we with another participant of the campaign, Sveta, headed our group. Sveta professionally engaged in equestrian sports, it was not easy to go at her pace, but excitement awoke in me. More difficult were the ups: breathing got lost, the backpack pulled back. At exactly six, we went to the parking lot.
After returning home, you begin to enjoy the simplest things - for example, you wake up and just happy because the sun is outside
The next day, the tractor took us to the tourist base "Vysotnik". There we rested a few more days before getting into a minibus to Novosibirsk. The most touching moment is a farewell to those with whom this route passed. The opportunity to be in a campaign with people of different ages is not a test, as it seemed at first, but a gift. It is incredible how much new can be found out from the usual circle of contacts. It may sound banal, but that’s why it’s just as true (and now I know it from my own experience): if you want to know a person for real, you need to go hiking with him.
When I meet new people, they often ask why the camp life is so attractive for me without a shower, a soft bed, the Internet and other benefits of civilization. It is their absence! There are no calls and deadlines, but stunning people around, gatherings under a starry sky by the fire, untouched nature and the chance to feel like a pioneer. Instead of global issues that you think about every day in the city, completely different things come to the fore: wondering, is it far from the next stop? What are we cooking for lunch today? And what flower smells like that? After some time, many new ideas come to the head rested from the information noise.
You temper your character, learn to cope with difficulties, find a common language with people. And most importantly, returning home, you begin to enjoy the simplest things - for example, you wake up and just happy because there is sun on the street. Such a simple but important reboot. It may seem that eleven days is not a serious time period. But for me, the time spent in Altai is a whole chapter in my life. Yes, and by the way, the wish made in the Valley of the Seven Lakes was fulfilled a couple of days after returning to Moscow.
Photo: mulderphoto - stock.adobe.com (1, 2), Cozy nook - stock.adobe.com
