Diary of Spring Rafting
How it all began, I myself don’t remember exactly, as we move away from such a wonderful event, the case acquires more and more new details and facts, and less and less corresponds to reality. In order not to completely miss the thread that connects everyday reality, I hasten to present my report to the harsh Ural tourists. If the Chelyabinsk men seemed so harsh to Muscovites, then how harsh the Ural tourists are, I'm afraid to think! (If such mosquitoes and ticks are already in May, then what will they be like in September? ) Deciding to get experience about water, we examined the Internet, with the meticulousness of an auditor, for alloy. Silence emanated from the Internet. All offices were closed. As a familiar tourist explained to me, all water sportsmen now enjoy big water in spring rafting and competitions. For such crucians and teapots as we are, the demand has fallen to half a penny per kilogram. Here chance intervened, although nothing is ever accidental. Ural trails go for rafting, to Yuryuzan!! ! This is exactly the river, group, and time - a 100% coincidence. We wrote off, phoned, agreed that they were picking us up on the way to Miass. After a while, Lesha calls and says that there will be three of us who have wandered. Quite a beauty: the train arrives at 24-00, pick up at 2-30, passing the time in the company of talking is doubly pleasant. Everything is going smoothly and smoothly - this is already a sign! We packed our backpacks, packed our bags, gave the children household chores. (A childhood dream came true: all week they pestered us with the question: “When are you leaving? ”) The suburban station met us with Lena, she was at the ticket office in front and waved her hand to us. We immediately responded to her invitation with a march to the cashier, leaving the waiting lists gritting their teeth in anger. She, just like us, madly wanted to get out of the stone bag into nature. We rode in an empty train, chatted, everyone was already flying on tourist wings. Miass station met as always friendly, went up to the second floor, moved the benches, took off their shoes, stretched their legs. Nothing foreshadowed trouble.
On the second floor, besides us, there were two harsh Ural students who missed the train to Chelyabinsk. They drank beer and between obscenities with difficulty but still flashed pretexts by which the essence of the conversation was guessed. The second student spoke in the same whimsical language. Oddly enough, they understood each other without pretexts. We were not impressed by rhetorical talents, having drunk beer and languidly quarreled with the policemen, leaving the last strength they completely lost consciousness. The presence of young scientists was betrayed only by the juicy snoring at the other end of the hall. At 2-20 we decided to make a reconnaissance call. Pasha replied that they were already approaching - 5 km to Miass. On the second floor there is an excellent viewing platform, we stand in the stance of a hunting dog, guessing the silhouette of the bus. The bus did not come after 30.40, 50 minutes. I had to make a follow up call. There was an answer "We are close, but "something" happened! "
Now, dear reader, imagine the condition of the girls. Written off only on the Internet. They didn't really know anyone. While we were discussing these events, a group of three people approached us at a sprint speed on the stairs: Pasha, with a tousled haircut, in shorts and slates (this is at night), limping Alexei, rushing ahead of everyone, and Sasha Novikov, overgrown with a two-week stubble, with a bandaged head , a huge flux and blood stains through the bandages. All three had a strange gleam in their eyes. The girls thought for a while and fell into a stupor. The students seemed nice after that.
Everything cleared up pretty quickly: a speed bump threw the bus so that people behind got a lot of bruises, crashing into the ceiling. Sasha was just unlucky: on top of him was an empty fire extinguisher mount, with two sharp paws and two skids. He was sitting on the very edge, the inertia of sleepy pressed him back and dragged him along these skids. Then there was a blow to the ceiling and a handrail of such force that the teeth broke, they could not stand it.
Everyone knows about Aleksey's sincerity, his steadfastness, his example. But at the time we didn't know that.
I pay tribute to Sasha's courage. Never heard a single complaint from him. This is a man with a capital letter.
Everything has already been said about Pasha. With such men in intelligence!
Having woken up the paramedic at the station, we also confused her. Having signed her unprofessionalism, she advised us to go to the emergency room. Lesha and Sasha left in a taxi, where Sasha was x-rayed. Fortunately, there were no cracks or fractures. At 5:00 the journey continued. From that moment our childhood adventures began.
I was already driving to Sasha's place. Ahead was a bus behind a gazelle. I don’t know for what reason, but at the Zyuratkul gas station, I looked around. The gazelle held on like it was glued. M 5, in those places, is called the "road of death. " Trucks and foreign cars, each in its own way, are doing everything possible to make the name stick. And tight turns, limited visibility and road conditions help them in this. For 50 meters we skip the turn to Pervukha. In order to diversify the route, we decided to make the way back to the turn backwards. A sort of football trick, when the players roll the ball into the net with their heels. Such a spectacle has not yet been experienced by the local inexperienced public. The birds fell silent in surprise, and the elk went out into the clearing to watch this delight. In complete silence, we backed away along the federal highway. And only the round eyes of truckers, dodging the bus approaching them from behind, violated the harmony of the surrounding world.
Gazelle, oddly enough, was not in sight. Connections too. There was another sketch: either the driver of the gazelle drove along the lower road, or he got up. We decided to wait. After about 25 minutes, the driver of a passing passenger car stopped and asked.
B- "Is this your gazelle? "
M- "Ours! "
B- "Don't worry, she's not far away. At 15 km, she turned over in a ditch! "
M- "Untranslatable student idiomatic turnover"
At that moment, everyone was not in the mood for jokes. Most feared for the driver.
If you, dear reader, are thinking at the moment that we should not have gone at all. That everything was against us, I wanted to ask you not to jump to conclusions. And have a modicum of patience to read my story to the end. For adventures stopped exactly in the middle of their development. And I, with my weak verb, will try to explain my point of view. Do not disdain, dear reader, to read a few hundred more letters with "hook".
In tension we drove back. But what he saw made everyone wonder. The gazelle was standing in an reclamation stream about 10 meters on the left side of the road? ! The gazelle was buried up to the hood with the front wheels in soft clay (the front springs were broken).
There were no traces of the rut to the gazelle?!!!
The driver was without bruises and scratches?!
He fell asleep at the wheel, when he woke up he was already in place.
Finally got an answer to Katerina's rhetorical question from "Thunderstorm".
"Why don't people fly like birds? "
If you, Katya, lived now. There's nowhere to fly! Planes, helicopters, rockets, balloons, steam planes and gazelles filled the whole place. And everyone except humans has rights. You fly carelessly, and in the cloud the traffic police officer lurks - he sells a striped stick. "What are we violating?! " He himself had already mentally figured out in the store what he would please himself with today.
There was no hope for resuscitation of the gazelle.
Pasha ordered. Everyone stood in a chain and things were transferred through the air to the ill-fated rear seats and bus aisles. The people followed. As a single team, having only 2 eyes at the edges of the common plexus of backpacks and bodies, loading onto the bus was completed successfully. (Later I realized - this is the most proven way of moving). Loaded and rattling with springs, he pulled in the last impulse to Tyulyuk. Dust swirled from under the wheels, the speed on straight sections exceeded 20 km / h. To calm the tense driver, the length of the road to the destination was artificially reduced by a couple of hooks. The driver from time to time remembered that the end should be. But reassured by our confident answers, he dodged potholes and bumps and flew forward. Then he stopped asking when Tyulyuk apparently understood. We were ready to give him the correct answer as well.
Unfortunately, our comfortable road ended - Tyulyuk. The upload was successful. The shift, which was supposed to pick us up to Aleksandrovka, stood in the distance. Having prepared a bold plan of capture, the sabotage group moved eastward. The unrestrained shift driver (they were only 5 hours late) disappeared in an unknown direction. We didn't have time to hunt down and catch him. Fortunately, Pasha remembered that it was time to take up outdoor games and practice. The game was based on the principle of G. Malakhov - to be smeared with shit and be born again. Malakhov did not know, smearing his shit on himself with his finger, that there are less energy-intensive and collective innovative ideas. Among other options, Pasha chose the GAZ-53 car, which had just returned from the transportation of manure. In order to automate the process of smearing, mixed with things, in the already worked out way of moving with two eyes along the edges of the group started. We tried to sing songs while things in the pits automatically mixed with us and a well-known product. The author of these lines hung on the sides in a squirrel pose - his arms and legs were on the sides, and the priest tried to dodge the axes, bowlers and chainsaws, prudently placed by the author himself under him. Undoubtedly he was familiar with some elements of yoga. For practice, 20 kilometers were chosen. When the whole group came to the required state, the road ended.
On the slipway, we were divided into teams, appointing captains. We had Volodya, a patient, taciturn, sea wolf. In appearance formidable, but in the soul - a shirt. Started assembling ships. We broke for lunch, built ships, launched them.
Despite the briefing, after the descent, we found ourselves under a comb. "Everybody get down! " The comb took pity and let us through. The schedule was tight, I gave all the best I could, it only got worse. But by 22-30 the first crossing was completed, we set up camp on the ravine. And here, for the first time during the trip, we were lucky - the kitchen attendants !! ! Thank you helped us. A chainsaw for 26 people is a very necessary thing! Campfire equipment is well thought out. I had enough strength to just feed and wash the boilers, lost consciousness - woke up - morning!
In the morning we divided into groups and went to the waterfalls on the Elakhta River. While there was no one here, the river was moved to the side by 1.5 km. Lesha found the river, returned it, but the campaign in azimuth took time and effort. Of the two possibilities, we decided to restore the second, so we went up the river, swam three times already. (We established a connection with the Naiads, Undines).
We took pictures. Caught a lot of ticks.
"We must release the tick - he will tell others not to touch us. " Naive - he told all the ticks that there is such a kind group. Ticks of all relatives up to the 7th knee were taken with them. If it weren't for the skillful actions of men roasting hungry insects on fire, we would have had to float along the rivers of ticks.
By 18-00 we went down to the camp and started to prepare firewood.
The girls made a control strip, the boys were engaged in firewood.
The second group came, they did what was planned - waterfalls, Cross.
Salamanders - I'm mine! There are no experiences, no fear, there is uncertainty that the physics of the legs will allow. The training did nothing. (I can’t physically jump over the profile of a fire nearby. My legs are filled with cotton after the hike) I turned to the essence. Jump through a wall of fire. Salamanders with me, helping, pushing from below. Uff! Fixed the point. I'm thinking about including the Sylphs here as well.
Passage training. Here it is the key to the allies - gnomes!
Understandably! Two elements. Fixed the point.
All the energy is over, it's time to break the connection between the centers - sleep.
In the morning we got up on the oars - the plan is -30 km and a bathhouse.
The road through the water has already become visible, but there is still no experience.
They did everything without straining, heated the bath, sweated, swam. There is languor in the body, there is a surge of strength. People set off fireworks.
Or the last part of the Parmeson ballet.
Today we have to go 10 km and to Miass.
Incredibly, but today cakes, sparklers: Lily has a birthday. A gift from the club, congratulations laughter. Light roads to you, good weather, true friends!
Arrived, gathered at 15:00. There is no bus. We call, the gazelle broke in the same place as the first one!
Now I am ready to explain what happened (I hope the reader waited):
There are no accidents. When the tourist club was just developing, everything was favorable. But the development has not stopped, now, in order to develop, more serious tasks must be overcome. They will be exhibited regardless of desire. Precisely because it is still alive. If you look at it from another reality, "Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger! " I think not the last role in the successful completion was played by the energy and the will of its participants. I saw a team where everyone is irreplaceable. It certainly changes, but it is development. List members?
What's next?
The club will unite stronger!
Only now did I get the deeper meaning of the story told by Elina. A story about how one day a father scared his son with a group of tourists at the station.
About the water workers: "Look, son, if you don't study, you will become the same! " Yes, boy, sweat - you will become!
If you are a respected reader, you will consider that I write and express myself illiterately. Be kind, do not take it for work - correct me! If you, the reader, think that I just have a developed imagination, go hiking with the Ural trails yourself. And if you, the reader, think that you can’t put it that way, then you are mistaken! The main thing is not in the word, but in the truth.
