Flying starry sky!

 How my husband and I ended up in Dombai is not easy to explain. We were going to Kamchatka for a whole year... For example, fate brought us to Dombai and we are extremely grateful for it. When I was asked where I was going, the reaction was the same: “Dombai – cool!!!!” Where is this? I had to open the satin.
On closer inspection, Dombai was in the Caucasus, near the border with Georgia, about the middle of the stretch between Sochi and Nalchik. At first glance, Dombai did not fit into the plot of our annual summer games “where to fly farther and lower”. Last years brought us to Altai, then to Baikal. Dombai seemed too close to Moscow. An hour and a half by plane and three hours by car. But Dombai surprised me. I was surprised by the small number of tourists and the high density of natural beauties per square meter of the area: lakes, mountains, rivers, waterfalls, glaciers, forests, valleys – all this we saw in the first short walking tour.

 What awaited us on a horseback trip, it was even difficult to imagine. The organizers gave us tents, sleeping bags, burqas. The burka was the first thing on the hike. They sit on it, eat it, sleep it, dress it from the rain, from the cold, when I was tired on the horse, then I leaned back on the burka rolled up in a mattress, and felt like Scheherazade. Anyway, I'm sorry we don't have a burka at home. We climbed on the horses and went. It should be noted that the local horses are generally holy. These are not harmful animals from Bitza. I am not an experienced “mare driver” and before the hike I was worried about this topic. But Karachay horses are obedient, do not require a whip, unafraid, finicky. By the way, I would assign them the rank of mountaineering, since they deftly climb the mountains and not only up, but also down, and on such slopes that our instructor described as “sit on the mountain on the butt – to the bottom of the ears will remain.” Horses can feel the way even in complete darkness. We've had this experience. After crossing the Duut Pass, we rested, set up tents and decided to take a little stroll through the gorge on horses. The gorge swung through the most picturesque places, we allegedly were looking for some lakes. In search of lakes, we wandered far, far away. Strangely enough, we found them. The sun set, illuminating mountains and clouds with metal-orange light. There was something biblical in the landscape. It was unbearably beautiful. I don't know about the others, but I've lost all sense of time. As you can imagine, I had to return in total darkness. Imagine a moonless night. You can see only a blanket of stars, sparks from under the hooves of horses and actually everything. You cannot see the road and dream. We drove fast, and there was a sense of boundless freedom: whether I was flying or the sky was flying. It’s freedom not from choice, but from the fact that nothing depends on you, you can just trust the horse and fly through the starry sky.

What were we doing on the hike? Forrest Gump said, “We were always going somewhere.” The horses were more precise, and we looked around and breezed (by the way, this is a great advantage of horseback riding before walking: you see a lot and get tired). We went up to the mountain lakes. The lakes there are amazing colors, for example white like milk, pastel blue like the sky, or ultra turquoise, as it can not be at all. We walked on clouds. It's not a metaphor. In the mountains, you can climb above the clouds and look at them from top to bottom, and then come down to the cloud. I can't write about rivers and waterfalls. They are beautiful, but there are millions of them. Small forest streams, large valley rivers, huge powerful waterfalls and small elegant waterfalls. And all this good can be drunk without boiling. In our free time from traditional hiking activities, such as a campfire and conversations, who will wash the dishes, we walked on mushrooms (this is not a typo for mushrooms, not mushrooms), overeat raspberries, black and red currant, at night scared off bears with the song “Once upon a December” and even accidentally attended the hunt.

Hunt in these parts for tours, bears, deer, boars. We got the last one and our instructor did not hold back. There is something very attractive about hunting. Gambling. Pan or gone. The hunter looks at the boar, the boar looks at the hunter. Everything happens instantly and at the same time in a cinematic slowdown. Shot and eighty-kilogram carcass rolling in our direction. Later, after watching how the boar is cut, the excitement evaporates. And when my horse had to carry bloodied bales filled with meat, I seriously thought about the need to switch to vegetarianism.

For some reason, my acquaintances were more interested not in the story of natural beauty, but how the “thrusts” of the hike are transferred. I admit, at first there was a slight discomfort, but then the body goes into a new mode. I thought I couldn’t live without a hot shower. On the fifth day of the hike, I washed in a 7-8 degree mountain river and realized that this is happiness and regretted that I had not done it before. Everyone was worried about whether it was cold to sleep in the tent. We were in Dombai in late August or early September. It was hot during the day, but it was quite cool at night. As the English say, “There is no bad weather, there is bad clothing.” We were lucky that before the trip we bought sweaters and socks made of goat wool in Dombai. Sleeping warm and sweet: nose in the cold - feet warm. By the way, they slept mostly not in tents, but in koshars. Koshars are not wild cats. It's like a shepherd/hunter/forester dugout. By urban standards, koshars are dirty, but on a hike they are perceived as something like a palace (you will definitely hide from the rain, you will make a fire, you will not sleep on the ground, but on haywood, and you can also enjoy the benefits of civilization like stools). In short, a hike with a stop in koshars is “what the doctor prescribed” for beginner hikers.

The hike was supposed to last ten days. Is that a lot or a little? Ironically, five days is a long time, and ten days is not enough. And we stayed on the eleventh. As a result, the organizers immediately sent rescuers. Mountains are mountains. It's good to be back from camping. Get in a hot shower and stick around as long as you want. Sleeping on clean clothes. Go to the restaurant, meticulously examine the menu and order delicious harcho, khicin and tea and all this without first lighting a fire and heating water. In the last day and a half, we seem to have broken off the chain: a cable car and mulled wine (barely came down), a sauna, a shooting range (I have never shot so much), bicycles, a discotheque (there are surprisingly two in Dombai). It should be noted that tourism in Dombai is only reviving (albeit rapidly) and there is no tourist conveyor. It's all sort of related. This is largely due to the kindness and hospitality of the local people. In the mountains, everything is simpler and simpler. During the campaign, you reconsider the attitude to what is important and valuable and what is not, so you do not just relax there, but reborn or something. My heart’s in the highlands, my heart is not here, my heart is not here.
Minkina Elizabeth 13.07. 2006