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Epilogue
... Our crew collected all the ammunition, packed the tents and sleeping bags, we are ready to leave. Handshakes and friendly hugs, nostalgic views of the camp. Returning home this time is far from us, because of this, we were the first to go. Not yet cooled down, a light taste of freedom, definitely did not want to lose consciousness. The realization that this trip was coming to an end inspired some despair, but at the same time it warmed the mind with one more point taken, one more victory over oneself...
Shortly before the start
... A new route, a new meeting, another break from real everyday life. We have been waiting for this trip for several months. And then the bell rang. The voice of "Zhesti" asked with some sarcasm: So what - shall we go for a ride? Shall we conquer a couple more peaks? - Yes! Of course it is! We are ready! Give me the coordinates! ...
The first day
This time, we decided to combine the pleasant with the useful, namely to collect porcini mushrooms on the trip. They left specially a day earlier than the appointed gathering. Our Vinnytsia crew POZASHLYAHOVIK and the OLEKSIYOVYCH family team met in Transcarpathia at the home of now mutual friends. A small briefing over a cup of coffee and let's go! They rushed to the forest lands known to all locals. Local residents, as it turned out later, often visit the surrounding forests to collect mushroom crops, which is why, running ahead, we never managed to find at least a couple of Caucasians. After "looking" for a couple of mountains covered with forests, we decided to move in the direction of the overnight stay. The route to the intended point ran through atypical landscapes formed by the impression of the Carpathians. And in fact, before that I had never seen the "bald Carpathians". We moved along the ridge "... .." to the highlight of these places - the lake "...". The question of why and where the streams on the tops of the mountains come from still haunts me. Moreover, there are streams that can form lakes. An amazing place, a lake surrounded by peaks, a calm and windless depression, which seems to have been created to soothe souls seeking peace. A wonderful dinner from the maestro, warmed by good company, forced the Ukrainian gut to open up and leave a couple of folk songs in memory of the local flora and fauna.
The second day
The first to join us were the Moldovan crew led by Pasha in an old Toyota and the Chernivtsi guys, with, unfortunately, a silent girl driving an "interpretive" UAZ and a very colorful crew commander, Zurab. We started the climb. Our first goal is the foot of Mount Petros, the second highest peak of the Ukrainian Carpathians. A very twisted serpentine, alternated with a dense forest, and then with treeless observation decks overgrown with moss. Tourist groups on foot periodically passed by us, welcoming our caravan and, unfortunately, picking up all the mushrooms that grow so rarely. And here is a random stop. A little smoke break, so to speak. I found the first mushroom! Second! Third! After ten minutes, our stock was replenished with several kilograms of selected huge boletus mushrooms. There was a moment when a competition began for who could find more mushrooms. The leader changed every minute until Zest raised a mushroom the size of a good Mexican hat from under his feet. I never thought that picking mushrooms could bring such pleasure. Never collected such large mushrooms!
The camp was set up on the highest plain at the foot of Petros. Everything is as usual, typically, tents were pitched, an awning was pulled up over the table, an unusually tasty mushroom soup and bograch were prepared. The crackling of half-raw firewood collected in the district, and a friendly, but not yet warm company by the fire. Gesty's incomprehensible physiognomy resembles the face of a person waiting for a train. Serhiy came from Chernivtsi. Another table appeared not far from the bonfire, on which quite interesting attributes such as metal cocktail glasses, which are most often found in city pubs, began to appear. A small burner and a number of other interesting items appeared. Under the table was drawn a box filled with various types of containers, as it turned out later - the so-called "ANALYSIS".
Culmination
A garland lights up above the table. The phrase "The bar is open!" sounds. Foot of Petros. The time is closer to twelve. Near the table, under the flashing garland, a line of people lined up, holding in one hand containers for consuming burning sambuca, and in the other hand - burning half-meter sparklers! An equipped punch is warming up on the burner nearby. There are no more words. Euphoria. Everything is simple. THE BAR IS OPEN!
Day three
Droplets of morning dew waiting for the sun's rays to evaporate in the form of fog, rise into the sky and rise above the expanses of the Carpathians. The smell of spruce. Pristine nature leads to a morning rush. Unforgettable grace.
The bar is still closed. The bartender, in a fusion with nature, fell asleep on the roof of his 73 Toyota. The camp quietly begins to prepare for departure. Several more crews joined us during the night. Autobat and Verta from Lviv, two teams from Moldova, the boys from Trostianets, Vinnytsia region.
A little later, the catering establishment (bar) offered a tonic mojito with ice. The guys have thought through everything to the smallest detail. Handsome! The climb to the top of Petrs left its share of extremes and emotions. The road ran along the slope of the top itself, and the side of the ascent went up a vertical wall, at the moment when, on the other side, a steep slope of seventy degrees ended a good kilometer below.
In places, in order not to fall down, it was necessary to press against the wall as much as possible, scratching the sides of the cars against the thick thickets of juniper. The view from the top is definitely worth coming back here again. The entire Chornohirsky Range opened its charms to us like in the palm of our hands. And the greatness of Hoverla, the slopes of which opened to our eyes, made us hold our breath. I was drawn to philosophy. Humanity, in pursuit of progress, is moving further and further away from its origins, although, most likely, before each next step, it makes sense to look back, so as not to harm the least that remained primitive.
We went down for a short time with one short stop. The camp was set up near an old dilapidated cheese factory. The exchange of experience went. Who invented what and added to his car, how did he improve it. Far past midnight, Moldovan friends told a parable in their native language over their own Moldovan wine. The meaning of which once again confirmed that friendship is one of the most basic concepts of this world. The expedition was coming to an end...
The second epilogue
... GPS fell to dust waiting for new coordinates ...
P.S.
If you are tired of monotony, and your heart yearns for adventure. If city asphalt eats away the edges of your mud rubber in vain. There is a way out ... The international tourist off-road club "itoc" is open to people who don't mind calling themselves a vagabond and traveling kilometers of unseen trails.
Team SUV
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