2/3 of the Great Crimean Campaign through the eyes of a Voronezh tourist

Narration of the "Romantic Collection" hike, May 2-10, 2009.

By the seventh day of the Great Crimean March, I had already learned to breathe more or less correctly on the climbs, my body no longer groaned from the weight of the backpack - I already took it for granted... And it was even more disappointing to leave, realizing that almost all the most beautiful places were ahead...

Preparation, or how it all began

I’ve been wanting to go on a big hike for a long time - a three-year maternity leave, which is actually not a vacation at all:)) - made itself felt. A wild desire arose to go somewhere far away, but it was still dangerous to leave your beloved child for a long time - not for much longer. A 10-day business trip to the mountains suited me quite well.

Colleagues Olya and Zhenya, who had already been on Crimean-Carpathian trips three times and repeatedly talked about the delights of such trips, finally came across a joint ascent with me. Unlike them, I did not yet have a train ticket, and there was little time left before the start - 7 days, taking into account the fact that time X fell just on the May holidays with a corresponding number of people wanting to travel between hospitable Russia and glorious Ukraine.

As a result of a raid on the nearest railway ticket offices, the last (!) ticket for the required train was seized. To which Olik told me: “The Big Bear is looking at you” – i.e. good luck with me.

To be honest, neither the name of the route – very original, by the way: Romantic Collection – nor its content interested me in any way. Because I had never been to Crimea, and it seemed to me like a large, sunny, warm mountainous place.

Therefore, Kirill’s letter three days before the start warning about rain for the first half of the trip and zero night temperature somehow alerted us, but was not taken seriously. In Voronezh at that time it was +28, and memories of the frosty spring had already sunk into oblivion. But to the almost assembled backpack, another pair of sweatpants, a light jacket, a hat and an additional 2 pairs of warm socks were honestly added. Yes, even to the usual raincoat - “humpbacked”, which undertakes to accommodate the hero-tourist along with his integral part, i.e. backpack.

Day 0
Let's start to Ukraine

Due to my unexpected joining, I had to go alone - Olya and Zhenya got to Simferopol by a different route. I needed to get to Kursk and from there by train to the general gathering place.

I realized that everything would be fun, already crossing the long Kursk bridge over the railway tracks. A strong wind and a heavy backpack on my shoulders swayed me evenly from the left handrail to the right, to the sincere joy of the people I met.

In the carriage, in the nearest reserved seat compartments, only 4 tourists were found, and none of them, alas, walked through Crimea with our group. Therefore, the evening and night passed in thinking - instead of talking - about how it would all be.

Day 1
Heaven's Blessing

In Simferopol, on the platform near the storage locker, I was immediately identified by Kirill and Svetlana Yasko. Having greeted me cheerfully, I was handed a piece of paper with numerous “I undertake...”. While I was learning that eating unfamiliar berries and falling behind the group is punishable by administrative punishment, people began to catch up.

Eight people I still didn’t know approached, Olya and Zhenya soon came running, followed by Vladimir, our guide.
We quickly put food into our backpacks and rushed to the train.

There were 80 percent of us in the carriage, as evidenced by the densely packed backpacks on the upper shelves.
“Beer for the girls, chocolate for the boys,” the local (“electric”... or electric?) saleswoman misled us, people took pictures, congratulating each other on the dry start of the hike... But no. The heavens decided to guide us through the entire form - it began to rain.

Getting off at an incomprehensibly nameless station, we began to actively wait for the bus. A taxi driver who happened to be nearby convinced us that on May 1 the buses were packed and did not enter this village at all. And if someone suddenly comes in, we definitely won’t fit there.

As an alternative, he offered to put us (13 people) in his car, and only the presence of backpacks made him abandon such a fantastic idea...
As a result, we boarded two taxi drivers and went to Sokolinoe, on the way we met part of the group consisting of Vera, Tanya and Christina.

To get to the starting point, we had to go through a certain checkpoint, where, apparently, they monitored the suitability of seats and the number of passengers in the car, so most of our group went on foot, the smaller part went in one car with all their backpacks.
We changed into raincoats and trudged through the forest lightly along the already thoroughly wet path.

We walked for about an hour and came to some civilized place: our backpacks, which had already arrived, were standing under the awning of a cafe, decently dressed people in raincoats were walking around, souvenirs and other attributes of a tourist place were being sold. As a recreation, we were invited to go to the Silver Streams waterfall.

On the way, they charged us 15 hryvnia in exchange for the spectacle of melancholic streams flowing from a not particularly high mossy boulder.
But everything was already fun for us, Olya and I climbed into the cave under the streams, waved our hands to everyone and went back to our backpacks.

Walking along the road paved with Yellow Brick... ugh - tree turned out to be very unsafe, because... this historical coating tended to become terribly slippery during rain, which I immediately took advantage of;). But since absolutely everything was already wet, there was no need to be particularly upset.

When we returned, we piled under our backpacks and rain gear and officially began our hike. And it began with an ascent along the already thoroughly washed out paths with and without stones.
After a couple of hours of climbing, I slowly began to understand where I was and that the last two packs of cereal in my backpack were clearly unnecessary...

This pre-dinner happiness ended with climbing over a scattering of stones, where I happily got stuck. Those. all the people were already resting, and I was struggling with stones, an overweight backpack and hiking poles - with varying success. One of the fellow hikers, Gena, appeared on the horizon and ordered the backpack to be removed. “Yeah,” I thought, “it’s their tradition to pull out the last ones by the ears... Well, no,” and, pushing Gena aside, she crawled almost on all fours to the people who were in a happy state of rest. Taking off my backpack, I literally understood the people who claim that a person can fly. Honestly, only my boots, heavy from the water, kept me near the ground!

As a rest, we were again invited to take a walk - to the Bath of Youth. Olya, Zhenya and I didn’t go anywhere, so we started making sandwiches, and Vladimir the guide – the fire and tea. By that time the rain had become less, but it didn’t matter. Cheese, bread and a cup of hot coffee with condensed milk (Olya heroically carried a one and a half liter eggplant of the sweet mass from Voronezh, for which she had great respect) did their right thing, life was rapidly improving... Soon the partially bathed people returned and joined our meal.
Having rested, we set off again. The final stop on the first day was the Grand Canyon.

That evening, in the briskly drizzling rain, we dried our clothes, standing by the fire and singing pop and not-so-pop songs to the accompaniment of a real tape recorder, which turned out to be in the bins... sorry, in the backpack of Gena, who, as it turned out later, was inexhaustible for such surprises. A desperate attempt was also made to lure the sun for tomorrow. We looked at the sky, parted the clouds with our hands and tried to chant mantras. And for dinner we ate wonderful buckwheat with stew, which we washed down with tea.

My main mistake was that the only thing in my backpack that was not packed in cellophane was the sleeping bag. And I gloomily prepared for the first “wet” night. However, the rest of the people were much more optimistic and sang songs until late, and also had fascinating conversations in the tents.

According to Vladimir, on this day we walked a total of about 20 km.

Day 2
Our guests and the Elven Forest

The second day greeted us with ice on the tents, heavy fog, the sun on top of it and the trills of birds. We hastily hung up the awnings and raincoats, trying to have time to dry them with the first rays.
Porridge was bubbling in one pot, tea was warming in another, and after breakfast we went to get acquainted with the Grand Canyon, which we could not see yesterday due to rain and dense fog.
The large canyon turned out to be a huge, forest-covered chasm, narrowing at the bottom to the width of a wingspan... that is, an arm - the largest, in fact, in Crimea.

We took water from a nearby river, along which stood a wonderful crowd of different people with tents. That’s why, in order to actually get drinking water, we had to climb higher. At one of the parking lots, for example, there was a tourist bathhouse. At least that's what its authors claimed - for me the principle of its operation remained a mystery.

Having collected ourselves, we moved on. The pre-lunch march passed through the forest between the mountains, ended at the foot of Mount Ai-Petri, near the village of Mezhdurechye, and was accompanied by a crossing of an icy mountain stream.
Most took off their shoes, taking the opportunity to wash their shoes. Someone rubbed them right on their feet without taking them off.

According to the plan, we were supposed to be joined at lunch by Sergey and Alexander (guides), as well as Konstantin and Katarzyna, people, as it turned out later, are absolutely wonderful and have fantastically extensive experience in climbing various mountains and hills in systems such as the Pamirs, the Urals and others.

We found a nice clearing next to a stream, waited for guests and, in fact, had a snack.
After which the socks, washed by the river, took their rightful place over the fire on twigs - mass drying of clothes and shoes began.

At this time, three suspicious individuals walked past us, in the hands of one of them was a camera, which looked quite professional. Apparently, we were presenting a very picturesque picture from the series “wild tourists in the mountains,” because we were asked for permission to photograph our campsite to create a kind of video guide to Crimea. Feeling proud, we posed for a few minutes for history. Soon our guests arrived, who were also fed, and together we moved on.

In the evening we came to an absolutely wonderful beech forest.
I’ve never seen anything like this in my life – I thought they only existed in fairy tales. It was a stunning real Elven forest, with snowy glades among last year's foliage, snowdrops and - the most beautiful thing - incredibly magical fog. That’s when I first regretted that a hike is a regulated phenomenon and does not involve spending many hours admiring the terrain and wandering through such enchanted places.

Four tents and a fireplace were located in the lowlands, protected from the wind, the rest of the guys chose to spend the night higher up, in stone - apparently windproof - fortifications.

That evening we sang again around the fire, but now our vigils were complemented by songs and romances performed by the duet of Gennady and Konstantin. And it began to rain again, but we frankly didn’t give a damn about it.

By midnight, the most persistent remained by the fire, and in the music archives on an mp3 player, recordings of the amazing Yuri Naumov and the rhythmic Hare Krishna were found. Our fellow soldiers tried to fall asleep to this accompaniment; they unwisely went to the tents to sleep before us.

That day we walked 16 km.

Day 3
Tested by rain and wind,
or who is the boss in Crimea

Last night again did not please us with its warmth - after all, every day we climbed, losing 150 meters of ascent in degrees relative to the temperature on the coast. That. We woke up again in a damp, thick fog. The guide Vladimir, I believe, was a shaman in a past life - otherwise how can we explain his ability to create a fire, and with it tea and wonderful porridge, in the shortest possible time and in almost any weather and degree of “wetness” of the environment?

After having a snack, we packed up and went up again.
Warned by the guides, we pulled on hats and warm jackets along the way - “it’s blowing hard at the top.”

And again an unforgettable sight - or rather a “feeling” - a whistling wind, flying fog (or clouds?),
completely Karelian, as Olya noted, fir trees covered with drops of water, picturesque puddles interspersed with snow and flowers... Mouse paths, reminiscent of real animal paths in their trampled state.

Along the way, a relatively large patch of snow was discovered, which immediately turned into a photo shoot.
After about an hour of walking after this place, it turned out that in the fog we had missed a turn. Therefore, we were asked to rest, and the guide went on reconnaissance.

Ho-ho - relax! The wind gradually grew colder and damper, and the only salvation from it was to walk with a backpack that at least somehow covered the back. Those. It was terribly uncomfortable to stand, although I also wanted to rest. As a result, they raised their spirits by collectively performing romances and eating various goodies brought up from their backpacks to the surface for the occasion.

The result of Vladimir's reconnaissance was the decision to return and look for a turn. It didn’t matter where to go – just to go – so everyone cheerfully turned around and stomped back.
The turn was found successfully, but Crimea continued to test our strength - it began to rain, gradually turning into downpour. Moreover, he had absolutely no intention of stopping and, together with the icy wind, set out to show who was the boss on this yayla. The people began to get a little tense, as 4 hours of walking with virtually no rest was taking its toll. Everyone and everything got wet, and parking in the rain seemed unrealistic; There were still about 3 hours of vigorous walking left to the clearing where we were supposed to spend the night.

In fact (it seems to me) this was one of the turning points of the entire campaign. Vladimir, looking at our condition, announced a snack of only sandwiches next to a small grove. There were selfless individuals who, stretching their hands frozen from water and wind, took up the construction of lunch. And Konstantin and Gena surprised everyone - they decided to create tea. And they were going to heat the water for him not with a gas burner (which we didn’t have), but on a real fire in the pouring rain.

The completely wet collected firewood was generously doused with gasoline, and with the help of a seat in tandem with Gena, the fire was furiously fanned. Gradually, people became interested in the process, and soon almost everyone took part in it alternately. Our mini-fire with a pot had to be vigorously fanned continuously, otherwise the fire would immediately go out. Therefore, everyone had the opportunity to warm up.

Gena and Kostya surprised even Vladimir - he did not expect that under such conditions it would be possible to boil water in less than a couple of hours. However, we did it in about 40 minutes, after which the people blissfully drank hot tea and ate amazing sandwiches.

After such a victory, our mood began to improve uncontrollably. And Crimea surrendered (or pretended to?) - literally half an hour later the sun came out, the rain stopped... We walked warm, well-fed and immensely pleased that we had stood it and did not throw a tantrum over an almost hopeless (as it seemed) situation.

The foreign-looking domes of the Ai-Petri Observation appeared on the horizon.
The sun, a flat road without climbs, smoothly turning into a beech forest... It was happiness! The overnight stay was supposed to be in the forest, or rather on forestry territory. For a certain fixed fee, we were given full disposal of a clearing, a fireplace with firewood, a well with technical water and the opportunity to collect drinking water in the nearest residential yard.

It was getting dark, and Konstantin, who already had a talent for political negotiations with the naked eye, took Gena with him and went to the Ukrainian hut to get us an exotic dinner.

As a result, after an hour, a dozen eggs were boiled over the fire, and fresh milk was poured into mugs.
We even had the audacity to ask to heat the bathhouse for us, but... the owners did not dare to heat the stove in the evening. But for a late dinner, those who were especially persistent (which, in fact, were all of them) were offered cockerel soup and the cockerel itself in boiled form, whose bones, through the efforts of the thrifty Olya, were given to a local dog.
And again there were songs from Genya’s tape recorder’s repertoire, the moon, the ringing of bells that had come from nowhere, fog and the incredibly white skull of some local animal on a tree... Magical and enchanting.

It was an incredible day in terms of mood swings, altitudes and weather, maybe that’s why I slept especially soundly that night (or rather, the rest of the night).

day 4
Eagle Zalet and At-Bash

The morning was marked by shaking off the ice from the tents and mass bathing using water heated in pots; for breakfast we again devoured the usual sweet porridge, slowly washing it down with tea and coffee. A wonderful day awaited us: there was not a trace left of yesterday's chilly wind, low clouds and downpour - neither in the sky nor in our memory. The sun, the blue heights, flowers in the meadows and a four-hour light walk to Eagle Zalet and back - these were our plans for the first half of the day.

To say that it was easy is to say nothing. At a leisurely pace, we walked to the observation deck of the Eagle Zalet, listening along the way to Vladimir’s comments about the wonderfully beautiful places around us. In Crimea, real spring continued - everything bloomed, smelled and sang under the joyful mountain sun, and on both sides of the road one could see a lot of karst sinkholes.

We were promised the Tea House, and we walked, waiting - when will it appear? A couple of kilometers later, Vladimir, laughing at our question, said that we were talking about the Tea House tract, which had been used for its intended purpose for a very, very long time. Now the Tea House is an ordinary village of several buildings, affectionately called Teapot by tourists, which we passed very quickly and only remembered a fat, incredibly large pig.
At Eagle Zalet there was an increased concentration of tourists, including their tent camps, where, just like ours, mass drying of sleeping bags was carried out.

We reached the observation deck and were again amazed by the inexhaustible views of Crimea.
Some birds, apparently eagles, soared meaningfully in the sky, maintaining the reputation of a popular place; the shadows of the clouds rushed to the forests stretching far below and to the village of Mezhdurechye, which seemed very small due to the height, where we were just yesterday...

Having admired the open spaces, we went to the Danilcha-Koba cave.
Actually, it is significant for its lake and the water in it - seemingly filtered from glaciers. And at the entrance, local tourists casually washed their socks in the very clean liquid flowing from the cave...

The water was really tasty, the cave was unusually beautiful with its relief, the shape of which resembled melted ice cream.
However, the constantly moving people back and forth, the minute-by-minute flashes of cameras and loud conversations, alas, did not allow us to communicate more closely with the Cave. It's time to go back.
Then Alexander, one of our guests and a “reserve” guide, left us.

A lunch snack was arranged in the clearing and at the same time it turned out that there was an opportunity to send our backpacks and a couple of other people with particularly badly worn out feet to the next overnight stop in a local car.

By the way, what was very surprising for me was that I also developed a “blister on my entire foot” - and this was on the fourth day, when it seemed that the shoes should have already “grown in” to my feet. In order to be able to somehow move without wincing every minute in pain, both legs had to be bandaged to the ankles with a bandage containing medicinal oils.

So, in the garage near the familiar Ukrainian hut that provided us with dinner yesterday, in addition to the tractor, we found a small UAZ-type vehicle, into which the backpacks of everyone were safely loaded.
Four guys refused to go light, arguing that “they weren’t going on a hike to walk without backpacks.” We nodded, agreeing with the logical arguments, and even sharing them somewhere deep in our souls, but... still, our backpacks went by car.

And again an easy two-hour trek - Vladimir clearly gave us a break from yesterday’s adventures.
We reached an artificial lake (a year ago it did not exist yet) at the foot of Mount At-Bash (Horse Head). There were a lot of parking lots there, and therefore, there were a lot of people too. Having risen a little higher, we found a nice clearing, set up tents and began to prepare food - fortunately, a spring was nearby.

For dinner that day there was the long-awaited pasta with stewed meat for the bulk of the people, and with cheese for vegetarians. In the process of eating incredibly delicious food, one of the plates and its contents fell to the ground. But! What kind of tourist would leave one serving of precious food lying unattended on the grass? That's right, none. Therefore, pasta was doomed, i.e. eaten by us immediately to our own wild laughter.
After a hearty dinner, it was time for adventure, and we decided to climb At-Bash. It was quickly getting dark, so the ascent took place in almost complete darkness and under strong gusts of wind. It’s so good that the backpacks were lying peacefully in the tents at that time and were not being pulled onto our shoulders! Because the climb was quite steep, and even lightly it did not seem easy.

The top of the mountain ended with an almost vertical cliff and a view of the city lying on the shore. And behind the coast it usually begins... that's right, the Sea! We finally saw - although it would be more correct to say, we felt, because visibility was almost zero - the Sea. We approached the edge of the cliff at a crawl - the wind was blowing seriously.
After sitting and admiring the lights of civilization, we began to descend along another, gentler, but also more rocky path. They walked in single file, and the procession resembled the march of fireflies - almost everyone had a flashlight on their forehead. The path led to a spring, so we also filled up water for breakfast in the bottles we had prudently taken with us up the mountain.

The evening ended with a traditional concert to the accompaniment of dripping sounds - it was starting to rain.

day 5
Sea and Devil's Staircase

Relatively warm night. In the morning, taking my camera, I went for a run to At-Bash again - I wanted to see the mountain and the sea in the morning light. Having received a dose of wonderful sensations and impressions, I went for breakfast.

And again the fees, and again forward. The route for this day did not involve any serious climbing, just a long walk along the yayla along the sea, albeit at a still decent altitude.
The sky, having cried during the night, again periodically smiled at us with the sun, and the people remembered the sun creams they had packed far and deep after the first days of the hike. We stopped periodically, approaching wonderful cliffs with absolutely incomprehensible pine trees growing on the steep walls.
The sea, giving birth to clouds, hid behind them.

In one of the clearings we met a group in which Vladimir and Sergei (the guides) had acquaintances. The conversation was the reason to finally arrange a big lunch stop. By that time we had been walking for 4 hours and everyone was somehow tired.

After tea and sandwiches, a spontaneous rookery formed - we lay in disarray on the ground or (who was strong enough to pull out the foam) on rugs, absorbing the sun's rays, warmth and comfort with all the cells of our skin.
At this parking lot I lost my favorite jaw's harp - this was the only not very pleasant event that day. But it, as it turns out, can be interpreted in different ways. There is a legend that the Mountains, like any large and powerful place (its Spirits, if you like), need to be given something in gratitude for their past or future favor. But donate not what you don’t mind throwing away, but what is expensive. Ok, I agreed with this version, decided that now I was guaranteed the favor of the Spirits of Crimea, and stopped getting upset.

Having rested, we went further - to the Devil's Staircase. As it turned out three hours later, this is such a picturesque piece of rock with a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains and sea.
To be honest, at that moment my attention was more occupied by the climbers storming the nearest steep slope.
Amazed by their courage, I heard Vladimir’s comment - the track was for children, completely for beginners))

We still had to get to the parking lot, so, having had enough of admiring it, we again loaded ourselves under our backpacks and moved on. The end point of this day was a huge green clearing in the middle of the forest, with a well and equipped fire pits.

Yesterday's dinner once again reminded us of itself in a very original way, because... now a whole pot of rice, already mixed with stew, slowly turned over onto the ground - fortunately not into the fire. But this time, tourists already experienced in such matters, in particular Olya and Anton, did not leave any chance for the local animals to have a sumptuous meal)) Dinner was cooked again - but those who participated in eating the overturned rice for obvious reasons (they were simply too full) did not ask for more.

The evening passed with conversations about the travels of Gena and Konstantin.

day 6
Faros Church, chebureks and shop

The morning greeted us again with sun and clear skies. Because It was warm and there was unlimited access to water, so before leaving we organized a global “Clean Thursday”.

That same morning, Konstantin and Katarzyna left us - they were flying to Poland that day, as well as Sergei (the second guide).
Having said goodbye to wonderful people, somewhat weakened, but well-fed and washed, we moved on.

We walked along the ridge again, over the sea, watching the emerging clouds. Vladimir announced that by lunchtime we would come to a civilized place, namely the Pharos Church. Excited by this news, we increased our speed. Church meant, first of all, the availability of food in its vicinity, and many - and I in particular - already really wanted juice, milk - ice cream, finally!

In general, we almost ran to the Faros Church.
And when they got there, they dispersed to a couple of local shops and tents. Contrary to expectations, there wasn't much decent food there. And then Vera, who had been to Crimea more than once as a vacationer, told us about a certain cheburek shop with absolutely amazing chebureks, which was located 1.5 km up the road.

And we couldn't resist. Probably no one perceived the 20-minute climb with backpacks along a barely noticeable path in the bushes behind the road fence as an obstacle. And the cheburechnaya turned out to be a completely respectable restaurant, which had a free covered area outside. If the waiters - by the way, more like security guards - were surprised by such company, they didn’t show it.
Everyone ordered a minimum portion of pasties (3 pieces - but very large). What really amused us was the announcement that the tip is 10% of the order and is automatically included in the bill. In retaliation, we brazenly finished the food we bought from the church, putting garbage in the nearest ashtrays, pouring it into local glasses and drinking the juice we had purchased earlier...
They brought us an unwise amount of sugar, which came with the 2 cups of tea we ordered, and it was immediately moved to one of the backpacks (our supplies were running out).

In the process of devouring the truly delicious pasties, Vladimir “casually” pointed to the mountain that rose nearby, complementing the already very picturesque view. “We’ll go there now,” said the kind guide to his overeating charges. The wards were amazed - how? How can you go anywhere after such a dinner?!..

It turned out that it was possible, and even very cheerfully we climbed this mountain that seemed incredibly high from the restaurant site.
We looked at the broken part of the rock, which can only be reached from one side and is therefore nicknamed the Lost World,
walked along the top, admired the irises growing on the stones,
and... we started preparing lunch)) As it turned out, the tourist’s stomach is limitless)) The tea was drunk and the sandwiches were eaten.

A short rest, more reminiscent of the hibernation of contented cats, and then we hit the road again. We still had to get to a real store, buy cereals and find a place to park for the night.
Soon we went down to the highway and found a house on the ground floor of which there was a so-called store. No, it was quite real, with milk, kefir, buckwheat and chocolate - they even opened it especially for us. Those. it turned out to be an “on demand” store.

By that time, I was already overtaken by messages that my beloved child, who remained at home, had contracted an unknown virus and was seriously ill, demanding that my mother be returned to her place. Vladimir said that we would only be near the highway until the next morning, then it would be much more difficult to leave. You don’t have to choose in such matters, and I decided that in the morning I had to move to Voronezh to save my Son from the insidious virus.

By the seventh day of the Great Crimean March, I had already learned to breathe more or less correctly on the climbs, my body no longer groaned from the weight of the backpack - I already took it for granted... And it was even more disappointing to leave, realizing that almost all the most beautiful places were ahead...

It was with these thoughts that I spent my last evening in Crimea. But, as always, there were my most wonderful, most cheerful fellow travelers around - they did not let me hang my nose. That's why - …

...thanks to Olik and Zhenya - wonderful, brave girls who are in love with Crimea and do not notice the difficulties.

…thanks to Konstantin and Katarzyna – amazing people for whom hiking is a part of life.

...thanks to the unique Gene, a man with an unkillable sense of humor, who created a completely unique atmosphere in our group.

...thanks to Sergei and Alexander - our backup guides, who were always waiting for those remaining and did not let them lose heart (I know from myself;).

...thanks to Vera, Christina and Tanya - the most cheerful girls who are not afraid to do something New.

...thanks to Anton, Lyuba, Sergei and another Sergei and Galya - real tourists from Moscow.

And, of course, thanks to Vladimir - for your patience, for caring about us, so different; for constant tea in parking lots in any weather; for delicious breakfasts, lunches and dinners; for interesting stories about the places we walked through.

Of course, special respect to the organizers – Kirill and Svetlana Yasko. It’s great when there are people who take on the difficult process of “bringing together” those who want to see the stunning Crimea and those who can show it to them.

...And at night it started to rain heavily, and one of the tent supports, apparently as a sign of the completion of my part of the Hike, broke. Early in the morning of the Seventh day, having said goodbye to the guys and Vladimir, in the growing rain, I went home to my Son.

Anna Arsentyeva,

Voronezh 2009

p.s. I found out how it happened further in Voronezh, 5 days later, from the stories of Olik and Zhenya.

In the last three days there were rains and rises, but they had no right not to end - of course, there was even greater happiness: sun, sea, stones, swimming and, I believe, absolutely high emotions from what Happened, and a little sad - like any farewell - the end of the hike along the Romantic Collection route.

But any completion marks a new Beginning, doesn’t it? Therefore, see you on the hiking trails))

p.p.s. But it was so great in recent days (photos by Olya Klimova and Zhenya Gvozdenko) - no comments:

Anna Arsentyeva