Translated material
I travel along the remote corners of Russia alone
Anna Saltanova is 38 years old, she works as a teacher of German, collects books and travels. Last year, she decided to drive along the route of the main character of one of the books from her library - Atlas of the mysterious places of Russia. For four months, she visited many remote villages and villages of the country. "Cold" publishes photos from her journey and a story about how random acquaintances helped her and shared their stories with her.
I grazed the rams and traveled along Kolyma with truckers. People tell me their stories
I always travel alone and each time I figure out where to go with a backpack to stop at the locals and have more opportunities to get acquainted with their culture. In the summer of 2024, I wanted to go on a new journey, and I accidentally caught my eye “Atlas of the mysterious places of Russia” from my library. I opened it and realized that this is a ready -made route.
I looked at the map and thought about how realistic the path of the main character of the book is Varra, who went to travel along the grandfather’s map of the mysterious places of Russia. Warre's route passed through the whole country from east to west and from north to south. Due to natural conditions, I could not follow exactly according to the book: in the summer, for example, you can’t go north-there are mosquitoes and swamps. Despite the possible difficulties, I caught fire with this idea and went on a trip.
People tell me stories that do not even share with friends
My first point on the map was the village of Cortkeros in the Republic of Komi. On July 20, I arrived there, walked along the road and looked for which of the locals you could stop spending the night. I met the young guy Artem, who took me to his father Andrei. I told them that I am looking for places from a children's book and read out excerpts from the text on video. Andrei and his son were going to leave the house and left me alone, saying: “Here is your bed, here is the refrigerator, do what you want,” although they only knew me for an hour. For four days I lived in their house, prepared their dinners, cleaned, together we went to the forest.
Old huts still remained in Corteraz, in which representatives of the Komi people used to live - some of the locals still speak their language. After Corteraz, I was going to return to Moscow, so I took only a backpack with me, but on the way back he was scored by jars and mushrooms that Andrei collected for me from his cellar. He also gave me a red hat and a scarf with the traditional Komi ornament. Later I noticed that the heroine of the Atlas of the girl Varra also has a red cap. After leaving, I continued to communicate with this family, but recently I found out that two months ago Andrei’s son died - I had an accident in his car.
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One of the strongest impressions during my journey is the Salbyk mound. I arrived in the city of Abakan, took a minibus there and left it on the highway. Between the villages I found a dairy farm, where I left unnecessary things to go about 15 kilometers on foot to the mound itself - these are huge ancient blocks.
One of the milkmaids fried my scrambled eggs and said that one day, when she was in the sixth month of pregnancy, at night her drunken husband came home and rushed at her with a knife. She spread her arms to the sides and said: “Well, come on,” thinking that he would calm down, but he stuck her knife right into his stomach. The woman lost her child and could no longer have children. Her husband could be planted, but she forgave him, said that he would be better punished in another world.
I do not know, these women are strong or crazy. In travels, people often tell me very personal stories that do not even share with friends, and their fate is amazing me.
There was no one on the territory of Kurgan except the guard of Rodion, who helped me, showed petroglyphs (ancient images on stones. - approx. "Cold") and a museum, and then prepared me pasta. We chatted, sat on the porch of his yurts in an endless steppe, we had a beautiful sunset, and a huge mound - ritual megalithic stones with cave paintings from behind.
A miracle for solo traveler is when you meet a person who will tell you how to reduce the path, or help with transport. I wanted to get to the foot route “Path of the Ancestors”, which passes along the slope of the Togyz-Az mountain range, but it was very far from going there from the Salbyk mound. There were no buses, I stood on the highway and tried to catch a passage, but no one wanted to take me.
After 40 minutes, I was going to return to the farm, but then a small truck drove past me and braked sharply. It turned out to be a fireman Zhenya, he agreed to carry me in a straight line and land at the nearest intersection. After an hour of conversation on the road, he said that he would not leave me halfway and took me to the bus stop. I did not know how I would get further, but at the stop, Zhenya saw a small yellow car and ran to agree so that they would take me with him. It turned out that these are tourists who go the same direction as me and they have a free place. If then not Zhenya stopped on the farm’s highway, but another driver, my path would definitely drag on.
I arrived with them to the tourist center in the protected territory. There were 15 minutes before the closure, but I managed to put up a tent and go to the shower. By that time, I did not eat for a day, and the girl at the reception said: “Everything is already closed, but I still had potatoes, cucumbers and borscht,” and gave me her food. I lay in a tent and thought: this is what it means to find my driver.
I thought it was the last day of my life
Then I went to Altai, where I lived for three weeks. I settled with Aunt Tamara, she is a professional shepherd (as the locals call shepherds). Once, Aunt Tamara left for a funeral in a neighboring village, and she instructed me to follow her herd. I washed the floors and dishes and at some point noticed that the rams went far uphill.
Together with the ten -year -old grandson of Aunt Tamara, I sat on a moped to drive them closer - there were about 100 goals. I got off the moped, ran up the mountain and tried to drive the herd down from the mountain, but then the grandson’s dog appeared and drove the sheep back up. The rams move at high speed, I tried to catch them after them, screamed alone in this huge field. And yet I managed to bring the herd to the parking lot, but the dog drove off one ram and began to bite it. I was in shock: I was entrusted with a herd, and I had such a disaster. When the ram already lay down on the ground and breathed heavily, I ran up and saw that his whole neck was in blood. I knelt before him and laid his hands on his belly, stroked, tried to calm him down and sat for about an hour. Then I lifted him to his feet, and he ran away to the others.
The next day, Aunt Tamara said that one head was missing in the herd. It turned out that that evening one goat went to give birth to a goat. I helped to carry him. Aunt Tamara asked: “Anya, but you don’t want to stay with us? You definitely have a shepherd spirit. ”
After Altai, I flew to Yakutsk. First, I needed to cross the Lena River, then drive to the village of Tomtor along the Kolyma highway, and another 100 kilometers to Lake Labinyr, where, according to the legend from Atlas, the monster lives. Even local people do not go along the highway: buses do not go there, and each time I had to catch a new car. The farther I went along Kolyma, the fewer cars met: mostly truckers drove past who were going to Magadan. They contacted each other in a walkie -talkie and transferred me from the car to the car, like a chicken. So I ended up in a small old “loaf” (Soviet or Russian all -wheel drive minibus. - Approx. “Cold”) with four Yakuts who went hunting.
The Kolyma highway is not asphalt, it is tin. A lot of technical malfunctions occurred in our day: cans of gasoline leaked, boxes were pushed the roof, but the guys perceived everything easily and with humor, although they were driving all day. We did not have time to get to the closing of the roadside cafe, stopped in the middle of Kolyma, lit a burner inside the car, welded pasta with stew and sat in complete silence - around snow, cold, bears, wolves, and we sit in a small outflow, dangling and laughing - completely unfamiliar People.
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At three in the morning we reached the campsite, and I was so tired and froze that I could not move. The guys silently pulled out my things and flooded the stove. They looked at my book, and we went to bed. The next day they stayed in a campsite, and I went on. We still correspond, congratulate each other on the holidays. One of them farewell to me his Yakut knife, which he went to him from a friend - a famous master.
I got to the village of Tomtor, but no one wanted to carry me 100 kilometers to Lake Labinkyr. It was dangerous to go there on foot: taiga, cold, bears. I always carry a fake with me (pyrotechnic signal fire. - Approx. "Cold") from animals, but with a backpack I would go there for three days. Fortunately, I found fishermen who flew by helicopter to the lake to their houses, and they threw me through the air.
According to legend in this lake lives the Labynkyr monster. In traveling, I always collect pebbles, feathers, some artifacts from the places where I find it, so I have a lot of junk at home. The locals said that nothing can be taken from Lake Labynkin, this is a bad sign, but I still took a stone from the shore as a souvenir, and in exchange, to appease the monster, I threw an iris into the water.
Back, I again rode along Kolyma with truckers, spending the night in the back of the truck. Basically, watchmen work in these places - living in such conditions is hard. I was lucky: during my journey, I met only good people, although some say that this is a mistake of the survivor. I believe that in our country there are many good people, including male tribalmen who are not afraid to get into the car who can take care and protect.
From Yakutsk, I flew to the Kola Peninsula, on Seidozero - a girl Warre was born there. For me it was a special point on the map. There, tourists who were traveling to catch fish were thrown there on a boat. I walked along Seidozer and in the evening put a tent, divorced the fire, spent the night, but hell began on the way back.
I thought it was the last day of my life. At first it rained, then snow, and then a blizzard began. I was among the mountains of Kurumnik-huge stone boulders, which I climbed with a 20-kilogram backpack. Around wet, slippery, strong wind. I looked at the map and realized that I was lost from the route. Charging on the phone sat down, the forces were running out. I reached some kind of factory where I hoped to meet people who would help me, but there was nobody there. I, in a bright yellow jacket with a backpack and a false factory, climbed through a hole in an abandoned factory and went to the highway, where I caught the car.
The most difficult thing is to say goodbye to people
The village of Nelmin-Zno (is located in the Zapolyarny district of the Nenets Autonomous Okrug.-Approx. "Cold") was built in a swamp. At home there were rickety, and instead of roads there are planks, and it is impossible to walk without rubber boots. Only Nenets live there. In this village, for the first time in my life, I saw the northern lights.
I came to the rural administration, told them my story and asked whom I could spend the night. Employee Natalya sent me to the museum, where local women organized the ensemble of folk songs. I drank tea with them, talked, but no one took me home.
I returned to the rural administration. At lunchtime, Natalya took me to her house rushing from moisture, left one and went to work. I brought water from large barrels, washed the dishes, cleaned up and prepared dinner. When Natalya returned, we talked: it turned out that she was an orphan, studied in Moscow in RUDN. After graduation, she was offered work and rented housing in Moscow, but she returned to her native village, said that she was pulled into her parental house.
The most difficult thing is to say goodbye to people. I helped someone with the housework, someone smeared my back with ointment-after several days I got used to them as relatives. I became part of their life, and I was sad to leave them. In the same village, I met a man who took part in writing the Atlas of the mysterious places of Russia. He came up to my store and said: “Are you a tourist? I am the author of the book on which you travel, I sent the material. ”
The last point in my route was dolmens in Gelendzhik - ancient funeral and cult structures. There are many legends and riddles that this could be: laboratories, burials or a place of worship. Now the dolmens have become popular among tourists.
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I went to them in the evening to make a traditional video with a fairy tale and a photo, standing on a cliff with a raised hand, like a girl Warre. But it started to rain, and I have only 2% of charging on the phone. I needed to go down a few kilometers through the forest. After wandering through the forest in the dark, I found the path, went to the highway and called a taxi.
Unfortunately, after that I needed to return home because winter was coming. I still have unknown points: Cape Red in Baikal, Chukotka, St. Petersburg, Pereslavl-Zalessky and Yekaterinburg . I would like to visit all the remaining places of the girl Warre next year.
I am delighted with the scale and variety of Russia. I visited the forests, and in the taiga, and in swamps, and in the steppes. My trip turned out not about the place, but about the people who were very happy to open the children's book and find the name of their village in it. In our country, incredibly different and at the same time very similar people live. Each people have its own rituals, holidays, and we can learn a lot from each other. People in Russia love to talk heart to heart and hospitable. At the same time, the same things bring us joy or pain, so I do not understand why we quarrel with each other.
I ate the northern berries, washed dozens of plates and mugs, drowned stoves in houses, bred bonfires, disassembled and collected a tent dozens of times, but without the help of people my journey would be much more complicated. I want us to know more about each other and respect everyone. We often drive ourselves into frames, do not trust strangers, are afraid and often we are waiting for a companion to go on a trip at least at sea or to a neighboring town. I am sure that you should not wait for someone, otherwise you can miss the most important thing in life. It is better to take risks and do what I had never done before to discover something new, strong, to find friends or say goodbye to those whom he could not let go.
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Author: Emma Dobrolovich Photo: Anna Saltanova