The Mountain

I have a confession to make: I skipped school last Saturday. However my excuse is that I went to climb a mountain, and as far as excuses go, I'd say this one was pretty good. The only description I got of the weekend was that we were going hiking in the mountains, from Saturday to Sunday. I was to bring warm clothes and good shoes. That was it, that was all I was told. So I packed a change of clothes, my toothbrush and a book in my backpack, and remembered to take my good camera, the one that isn't my iPod.

We left by noon, throwing our backpacks and grocery bags full of food in the back of their van and driving through the city to pick up Olga, a family friend. Olga is 20 and studying to be a PE teacher in University. Her English was very limited, but she knew more than everyone else, so when I really didn't understand something she could get the idea across to me.

I had no idea how far we were going, I assumed a few hours at least. It was the second time I had been outside the city and I had never been so far out. We hugged the coast for a while, on windy roads bordered by leafy green trees. Turning inland the terrain turned hilly, and the trees were tinged with brown and yellow as the leaves were beginning to turn. Among the hills were small valleys with some fields and tiny villages clustered around the road. The houses ranged from ancient log cabins to brand new constructions. Some of the houses were quite large, but most were very small, and obviously very old. They were odd little towns, some with grocery stores, or the occasional cafe. Remote bus stops sat outside the towns, the concrete shelter crumbling from the harsh weather. Dirt tracks crisscrossed at odd angles between the houses, and small outbuildings sat, surrounded by weeds in the yards. Cows and goats wandered along the roads, and chickens pecked among the gardens.

Between the towns there were honey stands. Most of them were just a single person sitting behind a small folding table, stacked high with buckets of honey. It was interesting to see so many of them, and sitting in literally the middle of nowhere. At one point in time we drove over a creek, and parked in the creek was a very dirty van. The driver was washing it in the water that gurgled past, his passenger standing nearby with shoulders hunched against the driving rain. It was so interesting to see a glimpse of life in rural Russia, not just the city. People still walked about along the road, to and from bus stops. They were dressed much more casually though, no sign of the high fashion of the city.

After driving for about two and a half hours we were deep into the mountains, and had left the tiny hamlets and honey stands behind. At first I thought we were headed to a camp ground, but we had no tent. Maybe a mountain cabin then? Neither, we went to a hotel. The sign happened upon us suddenly, half hidden by the trees. Hotel "Dvor". I couldn't believe there could be a hotel this far out, I mean, there was nothing there, N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Pulling in I could see a few buildings clustered on a little creek, and beyond that in a field was a collection of cabins. We gathered up our things and crossing the creek and walked through the drizzly rain to the farthest cabin. There were two rooms each with three beds, separated by a small room with a wood stove. No running water and no electricity, with a turkish toilet around the back. Putting our things down we went back outside to a picnic shelter in the middle of the cabins. There, some friends of the family were setting up dinner. Kiril and Rita had two young boys, and they were very friendly and eager to try out their English with me.

We put out our food on the table, adding to the wide variety that was already there. Several salads, breads, cured meat, cucumbers and tomatoes, beans and chocolate. An impressive array of alcoholic beverages sat on the ground, and Kiril and Anatoly were spearing chunks of meat onto skewers for shashlik. While we waited for the meat to cook we ate watermelon, spitting the seeds out onto the grass. It was a really beautiful place we were at. The small field was surrounded by steep hillsides, the leaves on all the trees were scarlet, gold, amber, brown and emerald. Mist was still settled over the wet grass, and the creek laughed quietly along the edge of the field. I couldn't tell who ran the place, I only saw a tall teenage boy wearing American flag shorts, carrying armfuls of firewood to each cabin. There must have been a family living there, as there was a larger building by the creek and a massive pile of firewood nearby.

The meat came hot off the grill, dripping with grease. It was absolutely delicious, and we stuffed ourselves. As soon as the skewers were empty, they were filled again with chicken and put back on the grill. After the second course of meat the skewers were again filled with sausages and we ate even more! We sat up well into the night around the fire, sometimes laughing, singing or talking. The adults consumed a rather large amount of beer and vodka and the kids finished off a monster watermelon. Most of the time we simply sat, looking at the fire, thinking our own thoughts. Silence is important here, sometimes conversation isn't needed, and just sitting with everyone, being in each other's company is enough.

We got an early start in the morning, pulling out the of the hotel at 7:30 after a breakfast of hard boiled eggs and cheese. We left Kiril, Rita and the boys at the hotel, and left with another group of people. I didn't really know who they were, and I don't think anyone else did either based on the fact everyone had to introduce themselves. In any case, we were all going to the same mountain, so we drove off together.

The road was in horrible condition, with massive potholes, and puddles. It was hard to see through the darkness, and the morning mist. While we labored on slowly, the sky lightened and the mist lifted. We lurched through more beautiful forest and plowed through rivers that ran across the road. We made our way deeper and deeper into the mountains, occasionally running across some people camping or out riding their dirt bikes.

We reached the trail head after about an hour, and piled out. It was bitterly cold, and after shouldering our backpacks we set off. Before we hit the actual trail we passed through a remote camp. It reminded me of the huckleberry picking camps at home, with tarps strung between trees, fires smoking and a jumble of cars parked everywhere. The people greeted us and smiled as they went about their business, but what exactly their business was I couldn't figure out. I saw at the center of the camp a huge pile of pine cones. Two at a time they were stuffed into cranks that were bolted to the trees and crushed. The flakes of the cones fell into piles at the base of the trees, which were then sifted. Then I realized what they were doing: pine nuts, they were after the pine nuts. Fascinating.

Leaving the camp behind us we hit the trail and immediately began to climb. I didn't quite understand how hard the hike would be, maybe because they simply said we would be hiking IN in the mountains, not hiking UP the mountains. The hike was long, and steep. There were times I could put my arms out on the trail ahead of me, as if I was about to do a push-up, and be standing almost vertical. We climbed up massive rock piles that were near vertical as well. It was uphill the whole way, and they hiked fast, with short breaks that were few and far between. It didn't help that I hadn't had any substantial amount of exercise since arriving and I made the poor decision of bringing my backpack which was stuffed with  all my overnight gear and Russian textbooks. It was a hard hike, climbing abound 4000 feet in about five or six miles.

It took us four hours to reach the top, and the hike was stunning. We started out in leafy woodlands, with the brilliant fall colors lit up by the rising sun. As we climbed further and further there were more pine trees, then only pines trees, and then bare rock fields with huge boulders covered in vibrantly colored lichen. The views from the top were breathtaking. The mountains continued for as far as the eye could see, rising and falling like giant waves of the ocean. They were blanketed in the golden fall forests, and the sky was the most brilliant blue. It reminded me of home, and I felt a few pangs of homesickness as I stood in the biting wind, thinking of all the times I had seen similar mountains from the top of Sleeping Beauty, or Steamboat Mountain.

The way back down went quickly, my knees ached and all I could think was "I can't believe I hiked up this!". We shuffled, slipped  and stumbled back down the path, through the pine trees, maple woodlands and the pine nut camp. Filling up our water bottles in a stream we squeezed back into the van and set off for home.

We made it back to the apartment at 10:30 pm. I went to bed happy and refreshed from a trip into the mountains. It was a relief to get out of the city and back into the woods. I didn't realize how much I missed a good, hard hike, away from people, noise and concrete. It was an incredible trip and one I won't soon forget.