Belukha harsh mountain
The time has come, dear reader, to tell you about Mount Belukha. If you haven’t been there yet, then you don’t know anything that I myself would prefer not to know, but it’s just trivial to keep silent in the smallest rag. What prompted me to make such a fatal and tragic mistake? The attentive reader will immediately ask this. I would sit and enjoy the beauty of the Ural mountains, nature, ungenerous for affection, but no, I would go to Altai on its highest mountain! This is where the dog probably really rummaged, and in order to knock him off the trail, he did you know what. I don’t know how, but nature caught me in a good state of mind and physical body, and at that moment it dealt its deadly dagger blow, in the form of a seditious thought “We must climb to the top! ” If I could sit and think, then maybe everything went unnoticed. But once I started getting ready, I didn't want to stop. The first thing I consulted with experienced people. I decided to absorb all the experience of previous generations. The experience of Boris and Olga was not so impressive. They went for a long time and much lower. After soaking it up, he was sent to Sasha for promotion courses. Of course, he tried to reveal pieces of reality, but you won’t scare me like that: he began to prepare even more seriously. Further, in ascending order, he was redirected to Volodya with Natasha. They talked a lot, things “without which you definitely can’t do without” bought even more from them. In addition to the bookmarks under the straps of the backpack, from the purchased, nothing was useful to me. However, having demolished 3-4 kg of useless things for 140 km, I was able to reduce my weight by 7 kg. Borya told me about crosses. At the beginning, my intentions were extremely optimistic: cross-country 10-20 km within two weeks. But having entered the sports track, and having run the first 500 m, I realized how much I got excited: the pace of running was slightly behind the turtle, but surpassed the snail. My stomach in the course of the process wrote out circles, ovals, hyperbolas and even lemniscates, swayed exclusively out of time with running and breathing. About breathing is a completely separate song. Steam locomotives of the 19th century had to sit in a corner and nervously smoke bamboo. The dogs that I met on the way and could not think of attacking me, having heard the approaching athlete from a few blocks away, they tucked their tails and hid behind their owners. I should have collected a tax from the owners of the dogs: after the meeting, the dogs did their business at home, and there was no need to walk with them. These minor annoyances failed to scare me. As a result, the prelaunch preparation underwent sequestering changes: the length of runs was reduced to 5 km, and the total number did not exceed six. Somewhere after 5-6 runs, things got positive dynamics: I was able to overtake the turtle, and they began to hear me in just 100-200 meters. This allowed me to make a bold conclusion: ready to go!
I'm interested; who once told the Kazakhs that without Chinese-Kazakh electronics, video equipment and "presidential" Kazakh cognac, we, Russians, live hard? Calculate this talkative, take off his pants and pour him, as it should, with nettles! The Kazakhs remembered his words for the rest of their lives. And as soon as we crossed the border, in a way unknown to me, they began to seep into the train. The conductors fought as best they could, but they were unable to do anything with all the arriving salesmen. James Bond is an unreasonable and inept child, compared to the Kazakhs; through the vestibules, toilets, windows, merchants leaked everywhere. If you turned around and looked out the window, then for three seconds a broad face appeared in front of you with a broad smile, and poked its goods into the glass. The train stupidly stood for an hour at each Kazakh station. And I also wonder why, with such an abundance of goods, turn out every bag and belongings of those unfortunate people who were not lucky enough to come or leave Kazakhstan?
The familiar Novosibirsk railway station met me like an old friend. Nothing has changed there, nothing at all, except that they put a frame on the entrance and put a policeman. Bombillas in a swarm of annoying flies meet and see off each traveler. Moreover, one gets the impression, not that you are so exclusive, but that you are food for flies, or a complete paralytic. And no orchestra for you and a misted glass of vodka. Of all the solemn procedures - only a corridor of bombs, stretched out in the stance of a hunting dog that sensed game. It is in the West that they spend millions of dollars, create concepts for advertising products, shoot videos. With us everything is much cheaper and more angry: a man stands at attention with an unblinking gaze above and into the distance, in the hands of a purse. And everyone understands - a taxi driver. And for the millions left instead of advertising, you can ride a taxi yourself for the rest of your life!
After passing the police and bombed zone, I left my things in the storage room. The staff in the luggage rooms are specially selected to wear out all the nerves of an inexperienced traveler; the doors slam shut in front of their noses, and the whole line runs to the next ones. In addition, each camera has its own work schedule: here passengers are tested for the ability to solve a system of equations with two unknowns. Moreover, checks are paid at a separate cash desk, and there is always free. Where will the passenger with the check go now! Do not give a damn about everything and leave with luggage. Inexplicably? The cameras give a stable profit, the storekeeper's things do not wool (everything is in plain sight). Specially to anger the passengers in order to listen to the answers, the storekeepers, I think there is no need. Profit from such actions inevitably decreases. This question remained suspended in space. In addition to philosophical thoughts about the mysterious Russian soul, nothing came to mind. There is another purely Russian version: “I won’t eat it myself and I won’t give it to another! ”. Do not be lazy, dear reader, choose for yourself what you like more.
Returning to the people, he went to wander around Novosibirsk. After wandering, resting, tasting Siberian dishes, I visited sports and climbing shops. I bought myself mountain boots "Granite" for climbing. The consultant, an experienced guy, thoroughly understood the issue, for which he has great respect. At the same time, my budget received a tangible hole; 1/4 of the free reserves of money. In the evening, having received my luggage without any problems, I boarded the legendary Novosibirsk-Biysk bomzhevozka.
The path was to the South, to Barnaul. If someone has traveled by rail, then he knows that the comfort of the train is determined by the latitude. With decreasing latitude, comfort disappears. In the speech of fellow travelers, the vocabulary sharply decreased, most of the dialogues were pauses, interjections. Instead of conjunctions and prepositions, universal folklore was used. The decoration of the car became severe: the handrails and shelves were much thicker, the lamps were hidden behind iron bars, the boiler was heated with firewood, the curtains on the windows were sewn from burlap. “And the tablecloths on the tables? ” The carpet on the floor and tablecloths on the tables were not included with the train! The conductors are young girls, they did not enter into a dialogue with the passengers. Most of the time they hid in their compartment. Tickets were controlled only when landing, passengers woke up and got out on their own. Everything felt a growing tension. It's good that it was late evening and midnight, I slept for about three hours. Looking to find myself at the finish line of this trip, I got off the train in Barnaul.
In Barnaul, in the “high comfort hall”, he returned the debt to Morpheus: he lost consciousness for another three hours. The “High Comfort Hall” differs from the waiting room in that there were no backs on the benches in the middle, and all the lamps on the ceiling were not turned on. All other services were considered additional, they could be obtained for additional money. "Rest" literally poisoned the family: son and mother, 60 and 80 years old, respectively. From the son carried then, as from a goat, even eyes began to water. The rest of the vacationers had innate immunity: they slept like babies. He opened the window, dragged the bench there, and only then fell asleep. The phone woke me up: our entire team had arrived for the ascent. It is understandable: in the morning, after a round, those who have healed are usually discharged from the hospital. Things inside two minibuses no longer fit. Four more people were picked up from the station. Without further ado, they were tied up on the roof (well, they weren't tied up behind the buses). I had to follow to the South, I was already ready for any turn of events.
The International has gathered in full; an American, an Israeli, a Canadian, two Irish and 13 compatriots. The group is all "shelled". All of us are from different places: St. Petersburg, Bugulma, Moscow, Novosibirsk, Barnaul, I almost forgot Chelyabinsk.
We went on two minibuses: Ford and some Korean. I asked him his name four times, but I couldn't remember. And it doesn’t matter, both are of the same class, decent, with climate control, unkilled and good cross-country ability.
Drive 700 km. Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go
let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go. Not far away yet!
We're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going let's go. Not a joke - far gathered!
Ate in Biysk. We're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going let's go.
We ate at a farm. We're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going let's go. 200 km left.
We're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going, we're going let's go. Border guard post. Polar fox - arrived; have to go back. The documents of the Irish are incorrectly executed! We stand for 3 hours, talking to the border guards. None! Shaking clothes: for the director of the shelter they are bringing cognac and good wine. From annoyance at the documents, we drink everything ourselves. And we send the Irish with a guide back - to issue.
Tungur village, Vysotnik shelter, night, darkness, rain - we arrived!
We have dinner, get acquainted with the instructors, and spend the night in tents. You can pay extra to spend the night in rooms of different comfort. But what's the point? Ten next days to spend the night in tents, in the rain, on the ice, in the snow. Time to get used to it!
The next morning - we collect backpacks. Some of the clothes had to be rented. My 120-liter did not look the biggest. We get food, tents, ropes, tiles, gas for a hike, we pack: my backpack is 43 kg - I won’t make it!
They offer to throw clothes to the upper shelter "Vysotnik" by horses. We have to agree. Of course for an additional fee. Free money remains 1/3. Now the backpack weighs 35 kg - for children. Gathered, the next divorce of instructors follows: to raft to the place where the Ak-Kem flows into the Katun. Traditionally for an additional fee. Most say "Let's go! "
We got up on the arrow, put on backpacks - it started to rain. Walk a little today -13.5 km.
The relief is crossed. Soon the trekkers heard the squelching of water. We warm up, the steam is noticeable over the backs. In trekkers, the membrane begins to work. Muscles warm up. The elevation difference is 400 meters. The trail is normal, there is little mud.
In the evening we stop and set up camp. For the first and last time, the instructors feed the entire group dinner. The people are not tired - they barrage at night.
Morning. Today is horse day: we have to walk 30 km. The trail is in the trash: 15 km passes through marshy places, 15 km along roots and rocks. The elevation difference today is 1000 m.
American William (Bill), smiling, good grandfather of 61 years old. By profession, he has recently been working as a builder of ecological houses in his America. But he experienced a lot in his life: there was a time when he worked as a conductor. Rafted tourists on the Colorado River. Walked a lot.
Bill merged first. At first he began to lag behind, then he tried to take a break, then he went with the instructors from behind. They began to unload him: they scattered his backpack, took him on a "tie". He arrived at about one in the morning. An intelligent, positive American grandfather, after one day, almost without an accent, was able to tell his impressions in Russian. “Etta yopppannaya Ak-Kemmskaya tropppa! ” He diligently spoke like that, it is felt, he understood the essence of the statement.
Unfortunately, it's broken. From the upper shelter he made moderate radials.
There are a lot of well-trained people in the group. Why did I exercise so little?!
Today was "unplanned", i. e. paid bath. Tomorrow is not an easy day.
What a pity it was to leave Bill. Positive, positive, optimistic. Always with a smile, understanding, having gone through the school of life. Inside each of us there is a spring, it breaks and that's it... Final preparations: we divide food into tents, finally select iron and equipment. Sherp Dima carries things to the Tomsk parking lots for a fee.
Dima, huge 190+ cm, 110-105 kg Moldovan. The USSR collapsed, there was no work, nothing kept Dima in his homeland. There was no housing or education. Dima went to work in Russia. Pushed around, worked to a bloody sweat. There was not enough money until next week. I remembered that I was engaged in tourism, I joined to help instructors. So little by little I ended up on the Vysotnik. In the summer, in the season, he worked as a Sherpa, in the off-season he harvests firewood, builds. Lives, creates, benefits. He doesn't complain, he's full, and thanks for that! I don’t think if without Dima, Belukha would have let us in. But about this separately.
Today we have 17 km ahead of us. Set-1000m. We go past the base of the Ministry of Emergency Situations on the lower Ak-Kemsky lake, the weather station. An alpine meadow has begun, with mountain poppies, edelweiss! It's like you're on another planet! Ahead appeared a tiny chapel among the giants of the mountains. We go to a well-kept chapel. Icons, candles, a list on the wall: more than 25 people stayed here forever. We pray silently.
Upper Ak-Kem lake. This is not even a lake, but a hundred branches of streams woven into an unthinkable labyrinth. The water is an indescribable milky green color. The trail disappears before our eyes. The Ak-Kem glacier is already ahead. This is the meeting place of two snakes: the ice one melts, the water one wakes up, gains strength and, like one of the small tributaries, feeds the Katun, the mistress of Altai. The blue edge of the glacier is visible ahead. Here the thickness of the glacier drops to 10 meters. The ice, unable to resist the warmth of the valley, moves back, giving the valley a river. Alpine meadow, breaks off, giving way to the realm of stone, ice and water.
We entered the glacier. It starts to rain and snow. We follow the trail along the ridges of the glacier. The rain penetrates through, clothes, a backpack get wet, become lead-heavy. Capes don't help. It is dangerous to descend from the ridges - you will fall into the cracks. Countless rivers and streams, we overcome, helping each other. Sometimes you have to throw a backpack, then jump yourself. Otherwise, do not fly, otherwise the ice trap will slam shut. Less rain and more snow.
Suddenly we hear screams. The worst is spinning in my head: someone has failed, calling for help. We stop, the instructors with the rescuer of the Ministry of Emergency Situations go with ropes to scream. Everyone is already tired and cold, but we will do our best to get people out. It takes about an hour, our return. These are two young morons who decided to "feel the Ak-Kem wall. " There are a lot of tents on the Ak-Kem lake, young people make radials on the glacier. Ripe avalanches hang on the wall above. A small rustle is enough for an avalanche to break off an almost vertical 1.5 km wall and roll onto the glacier, burying everything in its path. The instructors barely dissuaded this youth. All is not in vain!
Covered with ice crusts, we continue on our way. Cloudy, the rain has stopped, it's snowing a little.
A group met, warns us that on the Mensu glacier, this year a lot of people have already fallen into the cracks. Thank you guys, let's be careful.
Stop, put on sunscreen. The sun is not visible, but the scattered light will burn the skin, blind. If you do not wear mountain goggles, then tomorrow you will not open your eyes. Having picked up bunnies, you will sit completely helpless, tears will continuously flow from your eyes. The ridges are over: snow, ice, kurumnik. In the evening we reach the stone spit. A small plywood booth on stones and there are Tomsk parking lots. We set up tents around the booth.
The second group spends the last day at the Tomsk sites. The beluga whale covered everything with a continuous veil, did not let her in. So much effort, health, money...
From this moment, non-childish moments of our journey begin. At about 9 pm, Kolya, a rescuer from Elbrus, descends into the camp.
His story: “Andrey called me to Belukha for a long time. (Andrey Eremin (“Frenchman”), a rescuer from Belukha. He lives with everyone in barrels on the lake. In the season he negotiates with campers, “drags” them for money to the top. There is little work in Barnaul, but here there is freedom, air. Well, You can cut down money for the whole winter from turiks. . I'm used to living like this for 15 years. We decided not to wait for the weather and run for daylight hours. The weather is so-so, it snows all the time. We decide to go, time is running out. With you only a snack, water, ropes. If anything, we will spend the night on the Tomsk. Let's go, let's go. Passed the Berelsky pass. We go past the slope of the Western Belukha. They did not have time to react: the snow hooted, sat down, drove off. Stuck in an avalanche. The snow is wet, heavy, like cement. Not enough air. It's dark, there's nothing to breathe. With the last of my strength, I flicker with my hands. I saw light snow. I do a bike with my feet, I go up, 10 cm, 20 cm, 30... I lose consciousness. I come to myself. Above, a crust of snow had fallen, a hole had formed. Frozen - go upstairs. I choose to scream. Andryukha does not respond. I was lucky: I was covered by the edge of an avalanche. I'm running and looking. I noticed a mitten, digging snow with my hands. An hour passes, two, three, four. I think that I won’t find it anymore, I stumble upon a body. Suffocated… B…. S…N…X…E. . T…M…!!! ! What have we done to you? I drag Andryukha through 2-meter avalanche falls. Dragged to the trail. No strength. I won't get one! I’m going to Tomsk for help. ”
We gave Kolya tea to drink and fed him. By satellite phone, they informed the Ministry of Emergency Situations - to nicknames, and to themselves in the lower camp. I don't want to talk to each other. Yes, even yesterday Denis barely reached the camp: an old knee injury ached.
Denis. Great guy from Moscow. For a long time, excellent photography, calm, adequate. Why are good people so unlucky?
The group is already beat up. Everyone's legs are wrapped in adhesive plaster up to the ankle. We all “dangle” on time, no one’s meat sticks out. No matter how hard he tried to save his nails, he couldn't. All 10 turned black, will peel off over time! No one pays attention to such trifles.
Morning. Kolya leaves and the second group goes down.
Tomsk camps. They came in the evening. The place for tents is cleared patches with gravel, among large stones. We set up a tent. They are insanely happy when they manage to drive at least one peg into the rubble. The remaining ropes are wrapped around stones. Strong wind blows. We collect flat stones and cover the perimeter of the tent with them. There are three of us: Julia, Stas and me.
There are only three girls in the group: Yulia, Yulia the instructor, and Zhenya from Novosibirsk. Those happy tourists who live with girls are a red rag for the rest of the "losers". A small part of camping comfort, and the problem of a second sock, is successfully resolved in these tents.
Julia is a 25 year old girl from Moscow. Works for a cosmetics company.
How insulting it was for healthy men: the girl really walks very strongly. I found out: the secret is in one kind of aerobics, which the "weaker sex" is engaged in. Endurance is exceptional.
Small stones under the tent are very sharp: they cut the whole bottom of our tent. Water inevitably flows under the canopy. Stas's super-duper self-inflating mat gets a hole and goes to the bottom like the Titanic. I gave Yulia my three-layer rug. Himself took her two-layer. So that night I had a companion in misfortune. Stas' sleeping bag gets wet and he freezes with me. And this despite the fact that the hole was patched up with a wide adhesive plaster.
We get out on the glacier "Watermelon" to train. We put on a harness, cats. We take iron, ropes. Watermelon really looks like such a huge ice bun. We climb up, across, down. Again and again to automatism. There are avalanches all day long. Sometimes we look if an avalanche is in sight. They fall everywhere, but we see only the Ak-Kem wall. I counted 12 pieces.
We return to the camp. Get ready for bed, get up at 3 am tomorrow.
When everyone has gone to their tents, we hear throat singing. Dima moved away from the camp, performs a Tibetan prayer. Thanks, Dima! I don’t know what happened, but getting up at night, we see an absolutely clear starry sky.
We have a hitch in the bunch: the tent froze into the ice, which had flowed under the tent in the evening.
In the morning, while we are training on Watermelon, the stones are warming up all over the parking lot. Water flows down streams. There are two fingers of water in the tent, we scoop it out with a mug. We go to sleep.
When the time comes for collection, it is found that the canopy is frozen together with gravel, flooded with water. The peg and stones around turned into a solid block of ice and stone. The bottom of the tent is torn even more, and the peg with the screed had to be cut out of the ground with ice axes like sculptors. Having cut down the tent, we shake out the ice from the inside and run to catch up with the group.
So interesting: bundles, a live line of fireflies, rise to the Delaunay Pass.
Denis comes with us to the pass, trying to climb up. It can't, the leg is swollen and won't bend. Tears glitter on his eyelashes. Says goodbye to us, will be waiting for our return to the Tomsk sites.
We get to the pass: the sun rises. Mountains scarlet, crimson, gold! . The spirit is captivating! Power! You won't pick another word. You understand how it all happens: snow falls on the mountains. Having accumulated, it breaks down in avalanches and falls on glaciers. In glaciers it is pressed, and crawls down the slope like an ice snake 300 meters thick. Frozen stones, like a giant rasp, cut through the mountains, creating a relief. Below, the glacier dies, giving life to the river.
We descend from the pass to the Mensu glacier. Climbers call this place "frying pan". Mountains are jagged all around. Snow of three shades; white, blue and green. The sky is clear today. At this height, it is no longer blue. Purple, closer to dark. The mountains keep the wind out. It really is like a frying pan.
We pass to the middle, knit in bundles of 5-6 people. The sun is getting hotter. Not the fact that the snow bridges will withstand the next bunch. Snow sticks to your feet, boots are getting heavier.
But here's the last pull. The ascent is very steep, I want to wear crampons. We hear the noise of propellers: a helicopter. All sorts of unnecessary thoughts pop into my head. It flies very low over us.
We leave to the assault camp.
Berelsky saddle.
The helicopter turns out to have brought rescuers to dig up the body. The next avalanche covered the already dead Andrei on the path, and carried it to no one knows where. Rescuers pitched five tents.
The helicopter performs such a deadly number that I get scared: it flies up to the slope, becomes one wheel on the slope. The screw rotates in some centimeters from the mountain. A small gust of wind, an awkward movement and everything will mix into a pile of iron, snow and meat. Maybe it provokes avalanches so as not to fall asleep rescuers, or maybe it presses the snow to the slope.
We approach, we become a camp, the height is 4000 m. The air draws water from the body. With every exhalation, dehydration occurs. You need to drink a lot. Melted snow water is distilled and does not quench thirst. I want to drink, the thirst is getting stronger. Swollen face in the morning. The instructors took guarana powder, but there is very little of it.
We have another loss in the line-up: Rashid started to have a miner. Head like cast iron, pills do not help. It remains to wait for us in the assault camp.
Nothing, now the goal is near! Leave again at 3 am.
We got up, collected assault backpacks. The path, we go along the place where Andrey is "buried". Rescuers dug several rows of two-meter ditches along the slope. Snow probes and shovels are not even taken with them at night. We run the entire dangerous slope up one at a time. Having passed a dangerous place, we again knit into bundles, we trail the road, there are many cracks around.
We approach the Eastern Belukha. Ripe avalanches hang on the last ascent, you can’t climb here... We go around, to the very edge of the ridge. A macroavalanche hangs from above. An ice block with a diameter of 60 meters is surrounded on all sides by snowdrifts. 10-20 trains of ice and snow hung on unstable ground. Everyone climbed out to the edge of the Ak-Kem wall.
Ascent instead of category 2B, turns into category 3B. You will have to climb not only on snow, but also on stone cliffs, in places without insurance.
Zhenya, the commander and head of Novosibirsk, sends his subordinates back to the camp. He goes with us. Julia is an instructor, she leads 4 people back to the camp. Absolutely the right decision! I would do that too.
But it’s easier for me, I’m alone, and I’ll climb to the top even with my teeth. There is no power left at all. I'm crawling along the wall, on the right, a few centimeters 1.5 km abyss. There is no fear: fatigue is such that it becomes all the same. Step, pulled himself up, rearranged the jumar, stuck an ice ax, the next step...
Lucky: they found the ropes left by the previous group. We climbed onto the plateau, "rest", it does not get easier. Shortness of breath, fatigue. It's clear - you have to climb to the end. The last climb is 150 m of pure ice.
Where to get strength? His temples are pounding, yellow and red spots, the size of a basketball, are jumping before his eyes. Everything top! The whole Altai is in front of me!
At the top there is a bell, rung in memory of all those who died. There are Urals among them. Last year, a first-class alpinist from Yekaterinburg “burned out” from pneumonia in a day. There are dead Chelyabinsk residents in the cracks. I do not feel satisfaction, joy. It was Belukha who allowed me to approach her.
Painfully in myself I look for a reason for joy. In vain, probably too tired. We get down, undress to swimming trunks and bathe in the snow. Feel better! On the edge of the wall we are waiting for the evening to return to the camp. Suddenly, an ice floe breaks away from the wall and demolishes the path along which we went to the Berel saddle yesterday at this time.
Evening comes, the happy caterpillar goes to the base camp. We are approaching a dangerous place... It turns out that while we were climbing up, eight avalanches demolished the entire trail. The trenches dug by the rescuers are completely filled in. We cross the slope again. We find out in the camp as soon as the “refuseniks” returned to the camp, avalanches rushed onto the trail. Rescuers left the place in time, noticing the "koloboks" - the first harbingers of an avalanche.
Yesterday I accidentally overheard Lesha's conversation with Ivan.
Lesha is a Canadian, our former. Professor of Mathematics. K. m. s. for mountaineering.
Ivan Senior Instructor - M. S.
L- You understand this is a gamble?
I- I see, do you have any ideas?
L- We are waiting for two days!
And you guarantee the weather? We leave in the morning and come back in the evening!
And so it happened, until the sun warmed the slope, we ran along it. When the sun went down and the snow "grabbed", we ran back. The problem is that it is possible that if the frozen ice moves the snow away from the slope, an avalanche will start at night.
It’s not clear to me why Vanya allowed Yulia to take away the “refuseniks” in the afternoon ? . A small ember begins to light up in the soul. I know I've already broken the bit.
There is despondency in the rescue camp. Tomorrow is the last day they try to get the body. In a few days, the upper avalanches will begin to roll down the same places, those that remain hanging above those that have already descended. Andrei is not the first to stay here forever. This slope among themselves is called Serun. About 10 tel. "buried" here.
We went out dark. The strongest impression was when we crossed the trail of an ice avalanche. Furrows of snow, combed by a huge comb, ended at a huge block of ice. The block stopped when it collected a mountain of snow in front of it. Along the edges of the ice track there were two-meter-long snow crevices. The first groups with ice axes punched a path in them. The trail was 15 meters wide. During the summer, the sun will begin to burn a crack along this trail.
I approached the Tomsk camps again exhausted. On the kurumnik, my strength completely left me - I began to fall. The last fall on the stones takes your breath away, the twisted leg burns with scarlet fire. Sat, I come to my senses. Or rather, I don’t want to show myself to the people with a face twisted from pain.
I take off my outer clothes, right in thermal underwear I go to swim in the stream. The stream cuts through the glacier Watermelon. Ice water does not cause fear. It's worse to be tired.
We had a bite, Ivan says we should go to the upper shelter. I do not understand. The races of the previous days carved out two extra days. The group is exhausted. The strongest decide to go to the Lake of Mountain Spirits and spend the night there. But even to the upper shelter 17 km. Rage flares up in me more and more. Descent along the glacier: Dima's strength ended, it began to snow with rain, an icy wind blew. Without sticks, I leave all my strength on the glacier. I start to fall. I look around: almost everyone is falling, even instructors.
Even the hardiest of us did not have the courage to go to the lake. The glacier, almost all of it, was covered with streams.
I begin to understand that Ivan needs to breed as many people as possible on horses, for this he will drive us today. Everything, I'm breaking! Not a spring, myself. Along with the volcano of anger, a wild force appears. When I reach the camp, I don’t feel my arms or legs.
The people come to the camp with white faces, twisted from the load.
I'll go on by myself. I can no longer see instructors-breeders for grandmas. Any of us could break. But it doesn't give a damn, just to pump out as many babos as possible. All instructors are from Moscow and St. Petersburg, of course, there is a different level of salaries. But why is it more expensive to go to Belukha than to go around half of Europe? I went beyond the flags, and everything went like a drum.
It's a shame that mountaineering is not at all what they sing in songs. And sometimes it's just the opposite. Ligaments are selected with one priority - to survive. Inexperienced ligaments have the smallest chance of returning. The instructors did not forget to load us with a large supply of food, which we carried around the parking lots like donkeys. In short, I got carried away......
Upper shelter. Mark and Philip. The Irish caught up with the group on the second day. Mark is stocky, red - typical. Philip is tall, with long black curly hair, refined features like a Venetian. The most combative of them, Philip, climbed 7000s in the Andes, in the Himalayas. They were among the first to go to Belukha. But here disaster struck: Philip had an abscess on the upper instep of the foot. A tumor the size of a chicken egg. They decide to go through Kara-Turek and then Kucherla, separately from the group.
I go down the Ak-Kem to the Kuzoyak pass, and go out to Kucherla. Young instructors try to stop me; it was not here. People hesitate, they want to go with me, but who are afraid of getting lost, who do not want to let down instructors, who want to pick up new experiences. I end up walking alone. Everything is already clear to Vanya, he tells me where he left the tent in the bookmark.
I take products for exactly 1.5 days, I send most of the things with horses and the main group. Free money remains 1/20 part. I go out before lunch. It turns out the way back is not quite easy. Twice while crossing streams I lost the main path. In the evening, I reached the place of laying the tent. A local family is standing there - they decided to go to the foot of Belukha, to show the beauty to the children.
Tourists are sincere and normal people, we talked with them about Andrey, grief, routes. They fed me (so I would have to make do with dry food). They told me about the houses on the Three Birches. I decide not to look for a tent, I will spend the night in the houses. Still, 3 km closer to the lower shelter. Warmly say goodbye to good people. I am already walking in complete darkness, I feel the path more than I see it. Another stream, again losing the path. We'll have to spend the night in the forest. I crawl along the shore, looking for traces. After 20 minutes I find the path.
I reach Three Birches. Two houses made of freshly planed boards, wooden deck chairs inside, dry, warm, clean. I am alone inside, there are 4 tents nearby.
I wake up from the fact that the people from the tents, waking up, began to shy away from the houses. I got up, ate, 5 am. I'm going to the pass. Can't wait to get to the shelter. Having moved 2 km away, I hear the noise of the engine - a UAZ tablet is driving, next to it are two Altaians with guns on horseback. I wave my hand. At first they did not want to stop, they pass by. Then common sense (how not to earn extra money) takes over. They stop and ask how much I will pay. It’s reluctant to walk 18 km, I offer half of the free money, apparently ofigev from the amount, they raise the price by another one and a half times. I proudly continue my journey, but they say “Get in! ”.
I climb into a tablet, there are leather trunks on the floor. They are bleeding. Altaian climbs and crawls under the skin. Okay, figs with you, I'm talking. Altaians do not come from hunting. They killed in the herd a horse that had broken its leg. Therefore, they are also gloomy and evil. You should never talk, let alone drink, with Altaians. But the emptiness inside allows you not to fawn, not to depend and not to annoy people. This something without words keeps them from any aggression. Inwardly, they understand that despite the fact that we are from different worlds, there is no difference between us....
It all ends with the fact that they offer to go on paid fishing for big fish. Of course I would go, but there is no money.
We stop in front of Vysotnik. I say goodbye to the Altaians. I'm going to the shelter. I am the first one in the group. I rent a room and with such pleasure I plop down on the bed with linen. How good! Happinnes exists.
I wake up for dinner, happiness ends. In the stomach I find a sucked tick.
I twist it, the tick stuck quite recently, while I was sleeping. I put the tick in cellophane and give up. At the shelter, the director and his wife got scared. In fright, I received iodantipyrin from them for free. I'm not very afraid of encephalitis - but there are other lovely sores. Mark and Philip arrive for dinner. There is no Mark, Philip is holding on, although the abscess does not subside.
A thoughtful host decides to show us to the doctors. I think they were scared mainly because of the foreigner Philip. But Phil and I have to pay for the taxi. I hate taking so long
