This report is about the tour: Ghost Valley 🗓 June 7, 2009
So, on one of the December days before the New Year, your humble servant was imbued with the idea of the need to go... mmm... well, at least on a hike. I didn’t have any long hesitations about the fact that this would be Crimea; all that remained was to decide what kind of campaign it would be. This is where doubts actually arose in me, not because of the abundance of hiking options (I actually had two), but because of what to give preference to. I chose between cycling and walking. However, the OutdoorUkraine website played a big role in the final choice, namely the reviews of hikers.
“The main advantage of our book is not its literary style or even the abundance of various types of useful information it contains, but its truthfulness. The pages of this book present an impartial account of events that actually took place. The author’s work was reduced only to slightly enliven the story, but for this he does not demand any compensation.”
Jerome K. Jerome
"Three in the boat, not counting the dog"
So, on one of the December days before the New Year, your humble servant was imbued with the idea of the need to go... mmm... well, at least on a hike. I didn’t have any long hesitations about the fact that this would be Crimea; all that remained was to decide what kind of campaign it would be. This is where doubts actually arose in me, not because of the abundance of hiking options (I actually had two), but because of what to give preference to. I chose between cycling and walking. Still, the outdoorukraine website played a big role in the final choice, namely the reviews of hikers (I wonder if moderators delete openly negative reviews? =)
What am I talking about? ….Oh, yes… So, having made my choice and choosing the “Water and Stones” route, I began my, one might say, six-month training. As experience has shown, I did this for a reason. There was practically nothing of equipment, so the extra time helped, without leaving holes in the family budget, to purchase everything necessary.
Six months flew by in an instant, and now with a backpack I was already at the Simferopol station. Having reached the appointed place, I admit that at first I was taken aback and my first thought was: “how did I get here and where are my things?” Actually, there was something to be surprised about - I got to the place, found the organizer Svetlana, but the group... About nine people aged from 10 to 13 years old with their mothers... Pulling myself together, I finally decided to wait and see how it all ended. As it turned out, the panic was in vain; as it turned out, it was another group walking along our route, only for children. Seeing mothers and children shouldering huge backpacks, I honestly admired their courage, moral fortitude and physical endurance...
By this time, the rest of the members of the (now my) group began to arrive. The team turned out to be international: Russians (Inna, Masha, Anya, Andrey) and Ukrainians (Alla, Oleg, Yulia, Oleg (that’s me)) and then...he appeared.
Our guide. Masculinely gleaming his glasses, wearing transformable trousers (which transformed into almost anything, from shorts to a small tent in which you can wait out the light rain) with a Buffe on his head, he personified the standard of a CONDUCTOR. In six days he became, one might say, our father. I don’t think we were the nicest children, but Andrei (our guide) had enough sense of humor for all six days until he finally got rid of us in Alushta. But first things first.
Having divided the food among our backpacks, we headed off to the trolleybus. (This was our last vehicle for the next six days).
We weren’t bored on the trolleybus: Andrei told funny stories about ticks and a killer flower that leaves huge blisters on the body and then eats you while you’re still warm (just kidding!). And Oleg and Alla tried to distribute citric acid among us (which they finally succeeded), assuring that it (the acid) added to ordinary water from a source acquires downright magical properties. Cures all diseases, from diarrhea to minor dislocations and sprains. Singing and singing, we reached Perevalnoye and unloaded from the trawler, we came close to our first test - the terrible and terrible Donkey Trail. Andrei made us happy, saying that he usually prefers not to mock tourists and leads them on a completely different path, but given that someone in our group became the company’s hundred thousandth client, he decided to reward all participants with a walk along the lovely Asses’ Trail. Having not yet set foot on the difficult path of hiking and not knowing how treacherous guides can sometimes be, everyone naturally rushed to thank the generous guide, and Anya I even gave away my tent.
In general, the magical abilities of a guide deserve a separate article, and maybe even a book. So, after the words of the guide, hundreds of meters of the path turn into tens, and kilometers into hundreds, ordinary sources turn into “Arabic” ones, and with one can of stew and five hundred grams of noodles, the wizard - the guide is able to feed at least nine people and at the same time, you can be sure that no one will ask for more. He lights a fire with one match and three liters of fuel and knows the names of the most important mountains of Crimea; strange-looking tablets in his skillful hands turn into sugar, and suspicious powder turns into salt. And much, much more.
However, let's return to our megabonus, the Donkey Trail. We walked briskly up the dirt road, surrounded by forests, driven by mosquitoes, and did not sing songs, as everyone considered all the advantages of the prize they had received.
Soon the forest ended and a stone path went up the mountain. The sixteen-kilogram backpack on your back did not at all interfere with observing the opening views under your feet, and the cheerful snoring of your teammates confirmed that there is nothing better than sweat that rolls off you like hail and waters the rocky path. And yet, the Monkey Trail is worth climbing along only because, once at the top, you cannot take your eyes off the opening views: lakes, mountain peaks covered in a light bluish haze, villages that picturesquely scatter their toy houses below...
And yet, this is of course air. After the dirt and dust of the city, you simply don’t feel how it enters your lungs, it feels like your chest is not filled with it at all and this is a very amazing impression. Having let us feel a little like conquerors of mountain peaks (not for long), two active grandmothers came down from the mountains, declaring that they were driving a herd of wild boars somewhere and, in general, did not intend to communicate with such runaways as us.
Having caught our breath, we moved on, now along the mountain yayla. It’s amazing – among the mountains and suddenly the steppe. Here we met the recent “children's” group. Conveniently located under the only bush that provided shade, they had already started lunch. Looking at this inadmissibly relaxed state, Andrei (not the guide) said a phrase, the refutation of which became the goal of the entire further campaign of the “unfortunate” children. “Look at our faces, now you will only see our backs,” Andrei said as he walked. From that moment on, the children's consciousness turned upside down. The children made a vow that they would walk 24 hours a day, but would not allow themselves to look at our backs. And the race for survival (fortunately no one was hurt) began. Subsequently, at every stop where we met this group, they reminded us of our phrase. As a result, to prevent things from coming to an open confrontation, we decided to hide in the forests.
How long or short, but finally we came to the Emine-Bair-Khosar cave. This cave is truly something to behold and the guide is one to listen to. True, they apparently have a shortage of men in the caves, since the guide kept threatening to leave one of the group members to replenish the gene pool.
So, caves are cool. The temperature inside in the hottest heat is +5, air humidity is 100%. Emine-Bair-Khosar is stalactites, stalagmites, bones of fossil animals, cave lakes, huge drips that look like marmalade, bizarre shapes of stones in the form of animals and people. In general, words cannot describe it, it’s better to see for yourself.
Having got out of the cave after an hour-long excursion and having shouldered our backpacks, which had already become like family, and therefore even heavier, we moved to the place of our first stop. We settled down near a grotto in the rock, the most curious even tried to explore it.
But, as the study showed, mammoths and saber-toothed tigers had already hatched there, and the tibia of cows and arrogant black beetles did not cause much delight. Having pitched our tents, we began collecting firewood and preparing our first dinner in Crimea. By the way, with the light hand of the guide and the use of the simplest witchcraft, the two-person tent turned into a three-person tent, where the three of us (me and two Andreys) all slept throughout the entire hike.
Having refused the offered matches and rubbed (not for long, about an hour) two chopsticks against each other, Andrey, the guide, began to prepare a masterpiece of culinary art - buckwheat with stew.
Porridge cooked over a fire is not at all the same as that cooked on a gas burner. Eating porridge cooked over a fire requires a special ritual: this includes throwing twigs into the fire, and the sparks that it scatters around itself, and the relaxed wind that gently strokes the falling grass and myriads of bright stars in the summer, and, of course, the droning voice of the guide, talking about the vanity of all things, and much more that can only be felt when eating porridge cooked over a fire.
The first evening was a meeting night. As it turned out, everyone in the group was approximately the same age, which may be why I personally felt comfortable with these people. After telling a couple of tales about ghosts in the grotto, the guide told everyone to brush their teeth, wash and go to bed. I promised to leave the most capricious ones without chocolate the next day.
The morning began with a wake-up call organized by our dear guide. Having selected the three strongest men, he led the campaign for water. Not far from the grotto we went down into a “wild” cave. And again low temperature, damp walls and pitch darkness, dispersed only by the light of our flashlights. The walls of the cave were gray-black and Andrei explained to us that when speleologists open a new cave, its walls are white. However, the more often people visit it, the darker its walls become, as the microclimate of the cave changes and new microorganisms appear.
In fact, the impression from the cave into which we descended was almost greater than from visiting Emine-Bair-Khosar. There were spotlights and the voice of the guide, but here, with the flashlight turned off, absolutely nothing was visible, only dampness and slippery stones were felt underfoot. Having collected water and returned to the camp, we prepared breakfast, collected tents and backpacks, and at about ten o’clock in the morning we were walking along the trail. After making a short stop and replenishing water supplies from the source, we “sneakly” entered the territory of the reserve. Hospitable foresters greeted us with open arms, because our walk through the reserve brought them a nth amount of money.
Andrey's GPS was the most indignant because... he stubbornly insisted that the path we were following did not belong to the reserve. Having said goodbye to the hospitable foresters, we moved on, getting closer and closer to our goal - the peak of Eklizi-Burun with a height of 1527 m above sea level. For ethical reasons, I will not quote the idiomatic expressions of the group members as we climbed the five-hundred-meter climb. Having almost reached the top, we found ourselves on our backpacks, full of enthusiasm, but completely exhausted. As I understand it, the climb to Eklizi-Burun had a special effect on Andrey from Moscow. He claimed that somewhere in the middle of his ascent he began to communicate with a higher intelligence, which sent him a ladybug as a sign.
Yes, this, in general, is not surprising, considering the views that open at an altitude of one and a half kilometers. I was especially struck by the moment when a helicopter emerged from behind a rock and flew just under our feet, we had climbed so high. While we were having lunch, a really large crowd of people began to climb up Eklizi-Burun on the other side. As it turned out later, on that day they were serving something like a prayer service. From the top of Eklizi-Burun we saw the sea in the distance and Alushta in full view. After resting at the top, we began our descent. Again, rocky paths, pebbles underfoot, and all that, in general, romance. (Also, not everyone was able to reach the end of the descent with intact knees).
Having descended and walked a little along the yayla, we again entered the forest. Here we met a lost grandfather, who was again guided on the right path by our guide. Our journey today ended in the forest, near a spring. Perhaps this was the most “mosquito” place of the entire trip. In the evening, around the fire, Oleg gave everyone a lecture about the advantages and disadvantages of existing scuba gear, as well as about diving as such. Andrey the guide took careful notes of everything, since, among other things, he is also a fan of river rafting. And as I understand it, he needs scuba gear in case the raft capsizes. Once in the water, in order not to waste time, Andrey could simultaneously go diving.
The morning began again with milk porridge (the morning, in fact, always began with milk porridge). After breakfast, we collected our belongings (with all their meagerness it is not clear why they weighed so much), we again trudged through the forest. The Moscow miracle spray saved us from mosquitoes. After some time, tourists caught up with us - “mattress people”. They, too, were with a guide, but without backpacks, walking along an easy route for several hours. However, the grandmothers, over sixty, walked very briskly, and on the rise, where they overtook us, there were no signs of shortness of breath. Leaving behind the forest and thickets of nettles, we again came out into the open, where the panorama of majestic mountains and tempting green valleys opened up again. Eagles soared below (fortunately, they didn’t bite anyone; they probably had more important things to do).
Having reached Mount Bald Ivan, Andrei demonstrated to us that there is still an echo in the mountains. And for a long time our wild screams rushed among the rocks, scaring wild birds, animals and no less wild tourists. We stopped not far away, replenished supplies in a spring trampled by horses, and set off again. We started climbing along a not very steep, but rather narrow path with a cliff on one side and a sheer cliff on the other. Along the way, the guide forced everyone to collect an incomprehensible herb, according to him it was mint and thyme (I don’t know if this is true, but it made the tea more fun).
After walking a few more kilometers and meeting lonely tourists, we finally reached the end point of our today's journey. Whatever you say, a hike is a daily change of scenery. So today, we stopped on the shore of a picturesque lake, which was surrounded by forest. On the left there was a spring with unusually tasty water, and on the right there were rocks. Combined with the setting sun, let me tell you, the view is simply stunning. Today we bathed and even used soap and shampoo. After swimming, the male part ran around the bushes to collect firewood. Because the code of guides prohibits Andrey from taking a gas burner with him, and without firewood, in this case, alas, you won’t be able to cook dinner. Having dried off, the female half also actively got involved in the process of preparing dinner.
After eating and drinking tea, it was decided to play mafia (if you don’t know the rules, go on a hike, they will teach you). The game once again confirmed that women continue to be the most insidious and cunning, ahead of all panthers and lynxes from the cat family in this position (Masha, respect and respect). The game ended in complete darkness, the fire had almost gone out and the sound of a strong wind in the treetops almost completely absorbed all other forest sounds.
The morning, as usual, began with noisy sounds that the guide made while doing exercises and dousing himself with cold water (+5!!) straight from the spring. Having seen enough of this heartbreaking spectacle and had a bite to eat, we, with already lightened backpacks (food supplies were dwindling), set out on the road. Today our road lay through the Valley of Ghosts and some high-rise building on which ardent Leninists planted a red flag. Andrey and I climbed up this high-rise building, but did not touch the flag out of respect for Marxist-Leninist ideology. After trampling around the flag, we began to descend again (Alla regretted more than anyone that we were so easily losing the height we had gained with such difficulty). We walked around the rock Head of Catherine and went down to the Valley of Ghosts.
In fact, this is not a valley at all, but I won’t reveal the secret, go on a hike yourself and you will see everything. Having rested a little, we began the descent, which personally made the greatest psychological impression on me during the entire trip. Imagine a fairly gentle slope, which is strewn from top to bottom with pebbles that resemble balls from a bearing, which roll down with every movement, dragging you along with them. More than once the fifth point of one or another participant in the descent came into contact with the earth's firmament. In general, when I went downstairs, I sat on my backpack and there was a ringing emptiness in my head and my gaze was stupidly directed into space. After having lunch under the shade of trees, we moved on.
Again, now walking along a rocky path, now entering the forest, now seeing the sea far below. On the way we met three riders on horses. I couldn’t even imagine that horses “crawled” along the rocks almost like lizards. Today our overnight stay was supposed to be in a pine forest near the Dzhurla waterfall, where the girls splashed in the cold water with inexhaustible enthusiasm. The Dzhurla waterfall itself is not big at all, but somehow soulful and almost native.
In the evening, Americans came to visit us, two brothers, they are also traveling around Crimea. Dave, one of the brothers for a long time did not believe that the tablets (actually a sugar substitute) that we offered him could be used as sugar (I wouldn’t have believed it either, since everyone was giggling). In general, the evening was spent establishing trilateral relations between Ukraine, Russia and America and ended with a sincere conversation about the quality and quantity of alcoholic beverages consumed.
The next morning, ten bells had not yet struck, and we were already walking along the road. Today we saw (some even bathed) the so-called Crimean geysers, which, in general, have nothing to do with geysers in the generally accepted sense of the word. In fact, these are several small waterfalls.
And again we walked up and down, through the forest, over the rocks. Today, general fatigue has already begun to show itself - the jokes are no longer funny, and the views that open up do not make such an impression as at the beginning of the journey. By the end of the day, we reached the village of Generalskoye, and the first store in all five days of our journey. A disorderly looting (for money, of course) of the store began. Everything was bought in bulk, from ice cream to sesame nuts. Again with fairly heavy backpacks, we began the ascent to the Jur-Jur waterfall.
Having spent the last of our strength after a long day's trek, we collapsed in the clearing in front of the entrance to the waterfall territory. However, after some time, backup power sources were found and, leaving two people on duty in the camp, we moved to the waterfall. After paying the entrance, we got to the waterfall. Falling streams of water from a height of several meters, the roar of water and foam splashes flying in different directions are quite a sight.
Jur-Jur was the apotheosis of everything we saw and, in fact, of our campaign as such. The last evening together was both fun and sad. It’s fun because there’s a fire, because we’ve arrived, because there’s a forest and a starry sky. And at the same time I’m sad because it’s all over, because we’ve stopped being a group, because tomorrow we’ll separate and perhaps never see each other. In the morning we no longer cooked porridge; after a quick snack, we exchanged email addresses and began our descent to Generalskoye. From there we got to Solnechnogorsk, and then to Alushta. There we already said goodbye to Masha and Andrey, the guide. The seven of us left, we rented an apartment in Alushta. We all went to the sea together and walked around the city. The next morning I left Crimea.
I thank all the participants in the hike for everything we experienced together. Special thanks to Andrey from Moscow and Oleg and Alla for allowing us to use their photos in the report.
Andrey, thank you, you are a great person and guide. If I embellished anything in the story about you, it was done only out of respect for you and your inexhaustible sense of humor. Thank you again and see you again!
Gaponenko Oleg
Melitopol 06/27/09