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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 rushing and driving thousands of unnecessary thoughts in your head. You just have to leave the house once ", - photo tourist Cyril Chernykh told #EastRussia about the trip to Sovetskaya Gavan.
"Dzin! The alarm clock burst into sleep as an uninvited guest and snatched from his embrace. The clock was late at night, or very early in the morning - 3.30. The day promised to be long and eventful. I had a trip to Sovetskaya Gavan, which is 550 km. from Khabarovsk by road.Ice water and coffee did their job, and I started packing my backpack. A warm blanket and T-shirt, several lighters, a mechanical watch and other useful little things flew into a heap. I was a little upset by the lack of a bowler hat, I have long wanted to buy it. Probably we should take the army one.
The phone made a new sound. Yeah, sms came. After collecting my backpack and leaving the house, in five minutes I was already getting into the car. I love Honda, they have their own character, and a complete sense of control over the whole herd of horses under the hood. And although in this car the herd is small, but, all the same - 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.
Dawn caught us at the village of Mayak, at first barely noticeable, and then the horizon line flared up more and more. The sun, which had not yet peeped out, illuminated one cloud after another, and now the whole sky sparkled with colors from dark blue to lemon yellow. Traditional breakfast in a cafe near Stepanych and again the road. After Lidoga, the foliage became noticeably brighter, more colorful. It is understandable, this is the north and the mountains. The golden autumn came into its own here, and I drove without removing the camera.
Sovetskaya Gavan is a small town, quite cozy and spacious. The road surface clouded, but the city was not my goal. Saying goodbye to my companions and shopping in the store, I began my part of the journey. On the outskirts of the city, my route began, code-named "Trail of Power".
In the forest, I immediately smelled pine needles. The needles are especially dear to a person who spent his entire childhood in deciduous forests. Maybe due to the fact that our main association is with the New Year, or maybe we, as if with our whole body, begin to feel how new and useful it is for the body.
And now the leaves are almost gone, and everything is covered in needles. They spruce out their paws, and you feel how ancient this forest is, like Sikhote-Alin itself, which is only 50 kilometers away.
Having gained a little altitude along the path, I began to notice more and more mushrooms, here and there the caps of russula and honey agarics stuck out. And the mosses themselves have become thicker, like a carpet in which your feet are buried. Very few herbs can break through it. It seems that now, because of the fir trees, a goblin will look out of the thick moss.
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 was peeping through the trees, in the middle of which there were several fir trees, and under them there was a strange structure. It resembled a wigwam, only made of planks. Locals call it "shaman's plague". Inside, wooden flooring was nailed in a circle like planks. Probably, it is convenient to gather here on Walpurgis night, invite gobies, clockwork kikimors from the surrounding swamps, and, of course, pensioners Koschei and Yaga. There was a trail of a bonfire nearby, probably this place is popular.
Having found the answer to one question, and finding a bunch of new ones, I stood there, scratched the back of my head, and, deciding that Google would help me, walked on. Especially since the breaks of the surf were already audible, big waves crashed against the coastal rocks. In general, the smell of the sea is difficult to confuse with something - salt, seaweed and algae - all this creates the atmosphere of the sea, for which we strive for it.
In the forest, not far from the cliffs, another discovery awaited me - a well-built gazebo with a table and benches. A fireplace was laid out next to the stones, with benches arranged in a circle and two wooden decks obviously under the tents. Surely in the evenings young people gather here with guitars, make a fire and sing songs, listening to the sound of the forest and the sea before going to sleep.
When I was given this route, I first thought: a joke. Well, yes, for sure the path, but why the force?
Because you are charging here. The whole forest is friendly to you. If you want - drink water from the spring, if you want - lie on a carpet of moss, and just breathe - after all, there is a sea nearby, a real one, striking in its strength.
But this is all as good as it is rare in our life. The phone rang again, taking me into a world of bustle. Friends called, they drove in a column to Khabarovsk and offered to take me on board. For me it meant only one thing: the route that I covered in three hours at a leisurely pace, I should have overcome much faster.
Then there was something that I do not advise anyone to repeat: a frantic 5-kilometer jump through the forest, attempts to shorten the path on rough terrain, and, of course, streams and swamps jumped out in front of me. Surely I scared all the living creatures that the witches gather on the local mountain.
Already in Sovgavan I saw a stretched column of four long lengths that were waiting for me, and the mood immediately went up - new adventures awaited me, and the way home. And although the image of a lonely ship, abandoned, but not defeated, lying on the shore, and the sound of the surf was still in my head, I hurried to the cars without looking back. "