Central Asia and Kazakhstan

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19.08.2011 19:10, Romyald

The first photo shows a male Yak. Although this is a pet, but his gaze makes you slow down and not make any sudden movements.

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19.08.2011 19:49, Romyald

A little breeze blew
And there is no trace
of it And the smell of childhood could touch
Slightly slightly he is in Mynhadzhir,
And therefore I write my report here
I write in a foreign
land To pay tribute to the memory of
Someone Who is no longer in this world.....
"I dedicate it to the memory of Leonid Zalkind – my uncle,
who opened up the wonderful world of insects to me.”

Part 1.Introduction
Well, that beautiful day
has come When I will leave the hearth
and sit down in an airplane seat and think about places,
Places where mountains are rushing up, where rivers are rushing violently,
Where the Avtokrator rushes around the mountains freely at all times.
And while I was thinking sweet thoughts, not noticing the fuss,
I felt the plane swaying
away from the runway.
Rising into the air, turning around,
Flashing a wing at altitude,
he, on the orders of the commander
, set a course for Dushanbe.

It's the second time in a row that I'm flying there as if for a holiday,
but this time a special holiday
will take us to Pamir-Kabak.
His cherished paths,
which are clearly given to us in the book,
as commander's notes,
will be sent to the depths of a large country.
And if our work is not in vain,
And our commander was honest,
We will see how beautiful Sarez is and the Autocrat's uniform,
perhaps we will meet Anyuta,
there Kirichenko is like the emir,
for this it is stupid from the book, we will remember the way-we are in Mynhadzhir.
But everything is enough of dreams,
Even though they are not sweet
, His Majesty The Realities
Will Arrange everything as they are not wise.
Part 2. Sarez
We moved to Khorog in the tenth days of
Priodalev on the way to the heavy pass
Behind Kalai-Khumbom, we broke down to sleep,
Where to go, we need to stop.
In the morning, after getting up, washing and cheering up,
We continued our long journey again,
And after three hours the bend of the road showed us the inscription-
Rushan, after which we turn left.
After a third of the way, everything was like in a fairy tale,
the Canyon welcomed us with a friendly coolness,
No one could have predicted that this fairy tale has such a short age
And that all dreams have a pier.
The reason for the stumbling blocks was in the documents
issued by the Department of Internal Affairs of Dushanbe
And was discovered by a police officer on the spot
In one of the villages along the way.
Everything in the permit is written clearly,
But at the end, where Lake Sarez is,
in short Tajik words, it meant
That we were not allowed to visit for a short time.
I don't know who is responsible for the problem,
whether it is druzhban Tajik who bought the document,
But I know for sure that the trip is subject to adjustment,
the cop offers us an idea for the solution.
He says that you need to go to Khorog,
And get a travel document,
With an accent strictly noting
That only the Ministry of Emergency Situations can give it.
In Khorog, we resolve all issues,
the Head promised to complete them,
But we only need to make requests in Dushanbe
to get official access.
This is where my partner wants to split up,
In a rented car, he rushes to Murghab,
While I am left
to wait for the head of the Ministry of Emergency Situations to give me a start.
We share the money, shake hands
, have our own bazaar about the meeting place,
And spread out like rivers:
I'm on Sarez alone,
they're in Murghab together.
In Khorog, I meet a Pamir driver,
recommended by the head of the Ministry of Emergency Situations,
Under him the car has incredible power,
To Sarez he drives me like a demon.
The car is undeniably majestic,
Land Cruiser-100 is her name.
In the hands of the Pamir man, the steering wheel and large
bumps seem to disappear suddenly.
The picture outside the window changes,
a pleasant music fills the ear,
I'm too comfortable sitting here,
And the steep cliffs are already breathtaking.
The road to Sarez is extremely dangerous:
Sharp turns, fords, tightness,
But we are now under the same steel power,
And there is also the experience of the rider!
We didn't have much left to go,
the final point was the village of Berchedev,
And as luck would have it,the evening river overdid it,
completely eating the Road to the other side.
But what should I do? It's impossible
to go,so we'll have to spend the night here.
The village of Vabshorv will probably warm us up,
Allowing the stormy river to calm down during the night.
And where fate does not find in the Pamirs,
In any village there is food and shelter
, the owners will present everything they need,
This is the custom of these worlds.
In the morning we drink shir choy from a muddy river,
We thank the hosts for the night's lodging
And easily take a ford in that stormy river,
While in the mountains the snow melts less at night.
And now we pass
the last kilometer, followed by a steep descent,
the village of Berchedev happily greets us
with a calm atmosphere around.
I get acquainted here with a local aksakal
, His eyes squint at me,
Ask him to help me find hara, (in Tajik – donkey)
So that the cargo with food can reach Sarez.
My grandfather turned out to be quick to help
and did not ask for money for work
, he found me helpers for a small fee
And accompanied us on a long journey with a sly look.
Our journey to Sarez was not sweet
For Fifteen miles, then a descent, then a steep ascent
For two days, ordinary tourists on foot
There measure the remaining strength in it.
At first, I went foot to foot with the Pamir
man And in principle almost did not get tired,
But in the end, the super-long vertical serpentine
became a real test: I could barely stand on my feet.
At an altitude of three thousand three hundred meters
Without training, it was hard for me
, And despite the smooth work of my heart
, I had to rest on the stone more and more often.
Therefore, anyone who wants
to try Physical labor at altitude
, I recommend a week-long adaptation
To quickly climb mountains everywhere.
After gathering the rest of your strength, take a sip of water
Lifting my heavy ass for the last time
, I dragged my legs like a wounded wolf
through the last row.
Then the Sun shone on my bright face,
And I slowly climbed down from the top of the stone,
Covering the bright sun with my hand
,And Sarez shone blue at the bottom of the rift.
After taking a deep breath, taking pictures
, Walking another six hundred steps
And a body warmed up without vodka
, I plunged into the arms of crystal shores.
For a moment, a cold current
Pierced me as if to the bone
and renewed my body forever
, as if a lump had been thrown off my soul.
My idyll was not eternal
To the boss my name is that hour
" Right now wait, let me squeeze out my underpants at least”
I shout from the lake when I go out.
The boss was drunk
And greeted me sternly
without holding out his hand-he said: "Where is the document?”
I hurried to get
a Russian passport out of my photo case, with papers on top.
He glanced at the papers
Then flipped
through the passport and said: “Where is the main admission reflected in the papers,
Signed by the authorities, certified by the seal of the Ministry of Emergency Situations?"
Then my partner,
Who was driving me by car, hurried to the rescue,
He told the chief in Pamir
that the permit was about to arrive from Dushanbe.
But it was boring
to listen to explanations Besides the major had been drinking on duty
And he hated all Russians repeating:
“And how is Tajik in Moscow, like garbage
He's definitely third grade!”
Such a reception slightly angered me
And I did not think to humiliate myself in front of him. I
answered everything I thought in a sharp form
And did not stop myself at all.
I had to remind the drunken major
that, unlike the guest workers in Moscow
, I had brought a small amount of pupaars to his home
country to spend everywhere.
The difference is very noticeable,
Then come for the bucks, and then bring them
“To all tourists, therefore, you must be tolerant
And hospitable to be."
But Lake Sarez is closed to visitors
and the authorities do not allow people
who travel around the world for curiosity
,fearing that a foreigner may be a terrorist.
Such primitive brain activity
does not add money to their coffers
and demonstrates the utter failure
of the Government and the Tajik KGB.
The position of the major is clear
to me I was only a dummy in their game
Two kings, two acting chiefs
The pride of two goats was tested on me.
Hours after the conversation
, Everything was sad, I was asked to leave
Pamir-Ibrahim is humiliated if
such a tourist's reception is not in his country.
He sits frowning with downcast
eyes, does not eat, does not drink, does not speak,
He is very sensitive to the soul
And burns with resentment for his fellow countrymen.
The day gives its hour very soon by night
Major exit to our yard
He grew a little kinder, his eyes brightened
, and he remembered the custom of the mountains.?
He calls us to the table for a cup of tea
, gives us social advice
And, as it were, graciously allows us to spend the night here,
and leads us to the tent after the gatherings.
Night Sarez is truly beautiful
And fortunately the soft moonlight
painted the surface of the lake with golden fringe
Playing its pirouette with the water,
And it threw a shadow behind the stones
Creating an illusion - is it a beast or a man?
No, it's just a trick of the imagination
, a motionless silhouette for centuries.
After the feast, everyone goes to
their bunks, it's time to rest
Only the wind is in the back,
the Owner of the mountains can not sleep.
They wake me up early in the morning
The guard took pity on me –
He's a ghoul Who brings me to
the boat.
The motor is finally started
by the screw, it is submerged in the water
, the start is given, and the boat cuts through the thick
blue expanse of Sarez.
I swam for no more than an hour
, having managed to explore
the supposed places of Parnassus
Where the Avtokrator could be.
The places are really beautiful
There are many zonal layers
of snow there the meadows are gorgeous
at the bottom the tufts are visible there.

We could call Sarez the undisputed Mecca of rare insects
, because it is located in the center
of the Chains of massifs of depth.
But my visit to the lake is over
And I step ashore again
My way to Murghab is planned
because my friends are waiting for me there.

This post was edited by Romyald - 19.08.2011 20: 13

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19.08.2011 19:50, Romyald

Part 3. MurKap (literally in Kyrgyz: Mur-moonbeam, Cap-bag)
The next morning I get into Pajerik
The driver-Kirghiz is driving people
Today is the day of the week – Monday
And by the evening he will arrive in Murghab.
So word for word I get acquainted with the Kyrgyz
Ask him to find friends
Give him the coordinates at once,
Just to see them soon.
In Murghab, we deliver passengers
While it is still quite light,
But we must hurry, because here somewhere nearby
the Sun Shone only behind a cloud.
We drive through the foothills of Mynhadjir until late at night,
but my friends are nowhere to be found,
just a visible mirage from the steam
of the day's heated rocks.
The next morning, another driver
and I hope

to find my friends again In the lifeless Murgab steppe.
But the steppe is silent - only the howling
of the cold Winds I hear,
And by the evening comes the understanding
To look for Anyuta I will.
And as if on purpose, all the coordinates
Are in the car with friends,
there is no salvation, and
I try to resurrect the postulates of the book in my memory.
On the third day I go to the mountains,
Looking for a familiar outline of the
One Where Anyuta seems to be found,
the Steppe of that scarlet petal.
This day does not bring any benefit,
Only a bunch of checkers and coronaz
Rule in the middle of the stony steppe,
And not the Parnassus I am looking for.
Maybe I was too hasty,
she'll be leaving a little later.
Still until it is
full The Anyuta bud is apparently asleep?
Where will my luck turn
up Where will I go again tomorrow?

I sat up with my hand on my brow until Anyuta woke up.
Arriving at my room after fishing
And at the dinner table
of a famous Pamir prospector
, the Lord blew me a breeze.
The guy was quite decent,
Although in the past he was a big cop
Felt my story
At the end of only giving one piece of advice.
He named the spots in the Pamirs
where he had seen people with a net,
And there were only four of them,
And all four of them - there is a cat with a bag.
I'll
have to pay a lot because it's a long way to
get to them.
"Here, poking my finger, my soul lies!”
That place was Alichur
Behind it lay Lake Zorkul
With a Kirghiz on the Uaz
, we drove up to Lake Kolyush Kul at a gait.
There was a yurt by the lake,
And shepherds lived in it there
, their life is difficult and the day seems
to pass like an hour from dawn.
They sat us down at the table
, treated us to a dairy kitchen
,And at the end they poured us gulls
.
I bowed good-bye
And went to the mountains to the snow for a date
, I slowly walked
Along the way And waved a net there.
At the bottom, only mother-of-pearl flowers flew,
Just above the shashechnitsa, yolks began
to fly Headlong here and there,
But at the snow - Giamonti himself
Suddenly appeared unexpectedly.
That day I worked hard,
And rested and refreshed,
And by the evening I was addicted to fishing,
And it was a beautiful day.
After that, and the three days
that followed, I was still happy.
The fourth day has come, it's time to change our place,
the Kyrgyz is taking me to Gambez-a really hot place.
There used to be a boarding house here at the Union
,where patients were treated with mud and thermal water,
and everyone would be happy to improve their health.
Now it seems
that the natural cure is in desolation,
But foreigners are right there
, they seem to be waiting for them all year round.
I steamed quickly
looked around the neighborhood in the distance
Saw a snow-white slope
not far From At least two hours away.
With the Kirghiz brother at dawn
, our UAZ purrs pleasantly
, We rush as if on a carriage
To the foot of the mountain that stands ahead.
The ridge is listed on the map
As Wakhan Range
Behind it is Afgan,
God forbid we get stuck in the ground
There are no people here, only argali.
Well, here we are, everything is in order
Now let's go to the mountain on foot
A little raised-look, and in the mountain fold
Argali darkness, almost packed.
Grazing peacefully at dawn
That white and gray handsome
Well, it looks like he noticed us,
Said to the herd-that's a bitch.
And now the whole herd was stirred
up by the most powerful noise from their hooves
Part of the herd suddenly shot up the mountain
And only dust from them stands.
I still took a couple of pictures
While their strong bodies,
Like a rocket launched
They didn't hide in the rocks until the end.
I waited for the weather for two days
Places are strange there
Are Only glacial flowers
In the photo the light drew.
And I hoisted Our flag there
And I left for Murghab in peace.
I wanted to stop by on my way to Anyuta's,
But my Kyrgyz brother started crying“
At least we could reach Murghab”,
" Well, let's go home-Cengiz."
The previous catch is good
, I lay down on the bed
And closed my eyes, but there is no sleep
Anyuta in my imagination staunchly
Hung up, as if frozen.
No need to go back,
Because I came in principle for her,
Yes, I will get ready tomorrow
, I will probably meet her there.
The next morning I'm going to Mynhadjir,
But it's cloudy, and the wind is getting stronger,
So here I will sit on the mountain
, But where are you, fly quickly.
As the minutes ticked by and the wind
blew violently down the mountain,
What kind of weather it was in this world,
I grieved there with annoyance.
But suddenly
, like a birch bark,Anyuta rushes straight down the mountain in a steep stream of wind,
Slowing down a little
so as not to be in a ditch
.
I randomly waved a stick there,
The Net passed right next to it
The bag is empty,
Again I'm an outsider
The attempt is in vain I was given fate.
But still there is hope
I'm going to Murghab
While luck is on the side
I need to buy goods
So that a couple of days to be closer to the mountain steeper
And see the pattern of that butterfly better.
Here come the decisive days,
the Kyrgyz are lucky to the bottom,
I unloaded the food from the inside
And set up the tent securely,
We agreed that he would return on Wednesday,
A moment
And dust would fall on his trail only.
I go again,
Once again,
Having scored the route on a roll,
a bend that I will first overcome on the rocks.
Here is the stone where I tried to take Anyuta yesterday
, And here I will sit down to rest,
And look around in a circle.
While everything is quiet
And suddenly a gust appeared out of nowhere
From over the hill to me suddenly three Pansies
Are Carried more quickly by fortune
And I froze then for a moment
Slightly numb
Because for the first time I saw in a moment
a Picture of them sprinkled.
Very close, two steps
away it flies silently
My hand did not flinch I
stand amazed.
The gust subsided, and with it the Parnassians changed their behavior
, first soaring like eagles
, then suddenly descending.
The reason is that the wind died
down And carried them to the clearing
, allowing them to dive into
their natural bait.
I dashed headlong from the rocks
Rushing to the bushes faster
The pattern of the wings is getting juicier,
And the contour is becoming more visible.
Another moment and I threw a net on the legend
, and a flower of my dreams fluttered in it.
I
couldn't believe my eyes for too long at that moment,
Parnassus meanwhile managed
to check my entire Net.
This place is also there
Bearish agility
Slid under the hoop my catch
Was saved by his agility.
What should I do now, I stand as if praying,
Because I could just have had a secret gift.
And so for so long I stood, grieving for the loss,
Thank you that at least I did not cry,
I remembered a couple of words in the mat.
And now not far away another attempt
Anyuta sat down on
a bush I run again
quickly And my feet get stuck deep in the loose rocky ground
To hold out a little
longer Not to let Anyuta flutter.
This time Parnassus in my hands
I hold a trophy I tenderly
Weariness light in my legs
In my soul the same serenity,
Well, I finally caught what I
saw in the pictures
Here the commander caught a long time ago
Today I'm on those paths.
The vision is fabulous as Charlton whirls in the sky
like a free bird in the blue
In ever-faster streams.
He can hide behind a rock
Or reappear,
Or he can merge with the earth,
And suddenly dissolve in it.
His abode is Mynhadjir (literally in Kirkiz: Myn – thousand, khadjir-in our understanding vulture).
And he is the lord of those mountains
Among a flock of a thousand eagles
, and he alone is the leader.
Today I'm coming down
With the long-awaited loot
And the scree is making an encore
for me Under every tired step.
And tomorrow morning
I'll go back to the saddle
And ride like a kangaroo
, Forgetting all about it.
And here is a tent, a primus lamp, tea
is already ready for lunch
And here is the Sun's thin edge
At the bottom of the sky,
Here, soon everything will be covered by darkness
, Leaving a farewell
to those joyful Minutes-Alas
, One memory.
Perhaps I will return here
To enjoy once again
The Red Sail of the steppe
That flows in the air.
And just like this time, he will play hide-and-seek,
And he will run away from the net without looking back,
and maybe he will test Us for perseverance and stubbornness
With a cold wind and rain, he will fill the space
And if all the hardships are behind
him, he will light
up the sky of the Pamirs with his beauty.
And this time I would like-to freeze
As a sign of respect
In the net, he will have time to stay
Now only impressions.
UAZ rushes across the steppe
Clouds of dust vzmetaya
I sit proudly in front
of the Canyons escorting.
The Kirghiz who is driving behind
can't enter in any way,
As it is possible to come from Moscow
for a butterfly like this.
And patiently I present to him the history
of Those white butterflies of the steppe and mountains
And their biology.
The educational program is over
And we have entered Murgab dear
It makes sense to sit in the restaurant
My stomach is rumbling languid.
And in the evening again the hotel,
Again the native bed
For tomorrow my way to Dushanbe
We go on Padzherakh deuce.
I lie sleeping, and dream a dream
I Stand on that hillock
And the ray of the moon has illuminated everything
To the smallest detail in the backyard.
In fact, the moonbeam
was sent down by fate
To highlight the center of those mountain steeps
Standing there by fate.
And the bosom of the earth was illuminated by a wonderful moonlight
, And only the magician saw in it, saying:
"MurKap is a holy place to be!”
This is how Murghab came into being later
, becoming the center of the road
going from Osh to Khorog
, Combining people's lives and worries.
Part 4. Conclusion.
Well, that's all
I'm already at home
On the bedside table next to the window
is still the book
With which the ride began.
All those who want to return
To those unruly places
again, I advise you not to forget about the book
It is the key to the gate there.
And if you can select everything in order:
If it's an odd year, day, or landmark,
then you can see that crested
woman wearing the same colorful uniform.
Mynhadjir Mynhadjir.July 2011

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