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"Path of force" near the Tatar Strait (photo-report)
The story of how up to some miracles is a stone's throw away
"The secluded corners of the Khabarovsk Territory seem to impose a seal of wisdom on you, and you suddenly stop hurrying and driving thousands of unnecessary thoughts in your head. Only one must leave the house one day ", - a photo-tourist Cyril Chernykh told #EastRussia about the trip to Sovetskaya Gavan.
"Jin! The alarm clock burst into sleep with an uninvited guest and snatched from his embrace. The clock was late night, or very early morning - 3.30. The day promised to be long and eventful. I had a trip to the Soviet Harbor, which is 550 km. from Khabarovsk on the highway.Ice water and coffee did their job, and I began to collect a backpack. A warm blanket and T-shirt, several lighters, wrist mechanical watches and other useful trifles flew into a heap. A little distressed the lack of a pot, long wanted to buy it. Probably, we must take the army.
The phone made a new sound. Aha, the sms has come. After picking up my backpack and leaving the house, in five minutes I was already getting into the car. I love Honda, there is a character in them, and a complete sense of control over the whole herd of horses under the hood. And although in this machine the herd is small, but, anyway, - the anticipation of a good trip has intensified!
The first kilometers of the path flew. Topolevo, turn to Malyshevo, Mayak ... The machine obediently exchanged points on the map, barely audible rustling rubber on the asphalt.
The dawn caught us near the village of Mayak, at first it was barely noticeable, and then the horizon's thread flared up ever more. The sun that had not yet peered out illuminated one cloud after another, and now the whole sky was playing with colors ranging from dark blue to lemon yellow. A traditional breakfast in the cafe near "Stepanich" and again it's expensive. After Lidoga the foliage became noticeably brighter, more colorful. It's understandable, it's already north and mountains. The golden autumn here came into its own, and I rode, without removing the camera.
Sovetskaya Gavan is a small city, quite cozy and spacious. The roads covered the road, but the city was not my goal. After saying goodbye to the satellites and zatarivshis in the store, I began my part of the way. At the edge of the city began my route, code-named "The Path of Power."
In the forest, I immediately smelled the needles. A man who spent all his childhood in broad-leaved forests, needles is especially expensive. Perhaps, because the main association we have with the New Year, and maybe, like the whole body, we begin to feel how much it is new and useful for the body.
And now the leaves are almost gone, and all around in the needle. Firs stretch their paws, and you feel how old this forest is, like Sikhote-Alin itself, which is only 50 kilometers from here.
Slightly gaining altitude along the path, began to notice more and more mushrooms, then here and there stuck out the hats of russula and snow. And the mosses themselves became thicker, like a carpet in which feet are buried. Very few grasses can get through it. It seems that now, because of the firs, from the dense moss the goblin will look out.
I met a spring on the way, I took ice water and suddenly saw a strange sign on the tree: "Witch's Ring". It is located away from the path of power, and there are various legends about it among residents and tourists. According to one of which forest spirits lead round dances at night, luring careless travelers.
Without thinking twice, I looked around and saw what I was talking about: a scree of stone was seen through the trees, in the middle of which several trees were growing, and beneath them was a strange structure. It looked like a wigwam, only made of boards. Local call it "shaman's plague." Inside, in a circle, like a bed, wooden decks were nailed down. Probably, it is convenient to gather here in Walpurgis' night, invite woodcuts, clockwork kikimor from the surrounding marshes, and, of course, pensioners Koshchei and Yaga. Nearby there was a trace from the fireplace, probably this place is popular.
Finding the answer to one question, and finding a bunch of new ones, I stood and scratched the back of my head, and, having decided that Google was helping me, I stumbled further. Moreover, the surf was already heard, large waves broke about the coastal rocks. In general, the smell of the sea is difficult to confuse with something - salt, sea kale and algae - all this creates the atmosphere of the sea, for which we aspire to it.
In the forest, not far from the cliffs, I was waiting for another discovery - a solidly built gazebo with a table and benches. Near the stones was a fireplace, with benches arranged in a circle and two wooden decks clearly under the tents. Surely in the evenings youth gather here with guitars, build a fire and sing songs, listening to sleep in the noise of the forest and the sea.
When I was given this route, I first thought: a joke. Well, yes, for sure the path, but why the force?
Yes, because you are charging here. The whole forest to you is friendly. If you want - drink water from the spring, if you want - lie on the carpet of moss, and just breathe - after all, next to the sea, the present, striking with its power.
But all this is as good as it is rare in our life. Again the phone rang, taking me into the world of fuss. Friends called, they drove in wagons in a column to Khabarovsk and offered to take me on board. For me, this meant only one thing: the route that I did in three hours at a leisurely pace, I had to overcome much more quickly.
Next was something that I do not advise anyone to repeat: a rabid 5 kilometer jump through the forest, attempts to cut a path on rough terrain, and, of course, in front of me, streams and marshes jumped out. I probably scared all the living things that witches on the local mountain are going to.
Already in Sovgavan I saw a stretched column of four long-lengths that waited for me, and the mood immediately went up - new adventures awaited me, and the road home. And though there was still the image of a lonely ship, abandoned, but not defeated, lying on the shore, and the surf sounded, I, without looking back, hurried to the cars. "