MY ANGEL
The angel spoke to the man:
— Do you want me to show you your life?
— I do,» answered the man.
The angel lifted him above the ground, and the man saw his whole life and two pairs of footprints walking beside him.
— Who is that beside me?
— I am the one who accompanies you all your life.
— Why is it that sometimes you can only see one pair of footprints?
— These are the hardest times in your life,» says the angel.
— And what, did you leave me in the most difficult moments?
— No, I carried you in my arms… — answered the angel quietly.
May your angel always be there for you.
Preface Or KRASNOYARSK PEOPLE ARE LIKE THAT
How do we imagine a Siberian: he is a man who drinks a bucket of vodka, then bathes in an ice-hole and after all that fights a bear.
And how do we imagine a Siberian woman: she is a woman who stops a bear on the run, enters the taiga burning, and then receives a prize in a beauty contest (as, however, women all over Russia).
Krasnoyarsk man in particular stand out. Siberian character, and nature has given them an amazing phenomenon — Krasnoyarsk Pillars — the rocks near the city. This combination of rocks and the Siberian character was the foundation of Krasnoyarsk school of climbers and mountaineers, one of the strongest in the world.
.Pillars — the result of supervolcanic eruptions in Eastern Siberia, which occurred about 450 million years ago.
Krasnoyarsk is the only major city on the outskirts of which there are magnificent rocks. Therefore, the people of Krasnoyarsk could not help but take up rock climbing.
.
.
.
The Legend of the Black Mountaineer
Once when I was in the badge group at Elbrus alp, we sang a «scary» song around the campfire, and there were these words:
«You come out of your tent at night,
A shadow flits by the side,
And your soul goes in your heels
At the damned altitude.»
The old and experienced instructor remarked that there was no need to joke, and told us the legend of the Black Mountaineer.
This legend has long been circulating in the Caucasus. So, a long time ago two friends went to the mountain routes. They had done many routes together, and they did not go to the mountains with others. And one day they went to a difficult and high mountain. The route was difficult, the weather did not please them. So, when they were not far from the summit, one of them felt unwell and asked his friend to let him down.
But the friend left him: — I’m going to run to the top and come back to you.
The way to the top was difficult, he lingered and when he came down to his friend, he gave no sign of life. And he howled with grief.
The Mountain Spirit put a curse on him: you will walk alone on the trails and bring people misfortune, and people will turn away from you. Everyone who sees you, misfortune will happen to you, and if he meets your gaze, he will die.
Since then, the Black mountaineer began to avoid people, hiding in wild gorges, but it is difficult to live alone, and he looked at people from a distance. Sometimes people noticed something black in the distance, but when they approached, they saw only traces of mountain boots.
And he began to walk alone on the trails, blackened by the sun, lost weight, overgrown, and was terrible. And there was no rest for him.
Since then, in the mountains began to happen trouble: the food is lost, then at night you can hear footsteps in the bivouac, sometimes mumbling, inaudible conversation, sometimes wild distant shouting.
And the mountain spirit has put another curse: when you fail, you will not be killed, but another climber will fail and die instead of you.
Legends and rumors about the Black Mountaineer have been wandering in the Caucasus for a long time, someone saw him, someone heard his footsteps in the silence of the night, his murmurs.
There was a silence, coldness reeked from the mountain.
— Have you ever met the Black Mountaineer?
The instructor thought for a moment and continued the story:
— Once we were doing the Bizengii Wall and pitched our tent on the platform below the main summit.
It was a quiet night and suddenly we woke up to the sound of footsteps near the tent. Then we heard heavy breathing, some mumbling, then fussing near the primus, and retreating footsteps. Horror gripped us, and we lay still. When the sounds died down, I looked out of the tent — no one was there, only the mountain peaks were dimly visible in the moonlight.
There was a sense of unease all around us. The next morning we discovered our food was missing and we noticed extraneous mountain boot prints that led in a direction we hadn’t gone. We quickly climbed to the top and began our descent. We had trouble on the way down: rocks would fly overhead, one of us would fall, and I hurt my arm in the fall. I never went to the Bisengiya Wall again.
Everybody felt uncomfortable and we sat in silence for a long time.
I knew a climber who once told me that when they had hiked to Erzog Peak, just before they reached the summit slab, someone pushed his arm and he nearly fell down. They immediately went down as a matter of course.
Other strange things are also noted: now stones suddenly fall from above, then eagles circle in one place with alarming peck, then mountain goats rush frightenedly through the gorge. I have not personally met the Black Mountaineer, but who knows, anything can happen in the mountains.
Hunters at rest
(From the series Hunting Stories)
Narrator — Trezor and I once went hunting to shoot hares. We went into such thickets, but the hares had all gone somewhere. And so we went out to the clearing, came to a birch tree, which grew in the middle of the clearing and just sat down to rest, when suddenly at the edge of the clearing a bear appeared.
Young: — Is it real?
Narrator: — Of course, a big one. He saw us, thought for a while, got up on his hind legs and came at us. I didn’t get confused, grabbed my gun and started aiming. Out of the corner of my eye I see Trezor climbing up a birch tree in fright. I waited until the bear had come within 30 yards and pulled the trigger, but the shot did not come — it misfired. The bear was getting close. I dropped the gun and climbed up the tree behind Trezor.
Young: — Well…
Narrator: — I am climbing a tree, Trezor is ahead of me, and a bear is walking under the tree. We climbed to the top, Trezor sat on my shoulders, and the bear walks underneath. He walked and walked, then he took the gun and started twirling it in his paws.
And maybe he will shoot, I thought with fright. The bear raised his gun, took aim at us, and bang-bang. I flew down from the tree, Trezor flew after me, and we fell on the bear. The dog howled with fear, and the bear, distraught at the noise, threw his gun and ran away, tail between his legs in fright.
Young: — Phew!
The old man: — Wait a minute, wait a minute, the bear has no tail.
Narrator: — Well, why are you picking on me? He tucked up his something and ran away.
That’s how it happens!
