Siberia

There were also many bees and wasps. Undefined, caught days earlier
https://cloud.mail.ru/public/6UfG/Rxu2oUqWh .

What kind of wasps with bees? This is a sawfly!

No, there were many different bees and wasps, but most of them were ordinary. I thought it was also some kind of wasp. Was caught in a single instance

Report from the vicinity of Barnaul, 27.05.21
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I caught a praying mantis yesterday. This is the third season from Barnaul, and the fifth from the Altai Territory. They become banal. по

The main thing is bad luck, all 5 are males

Today I finally finished a report about my main campaign last summer. I became interested in writing... There will be a lot of text. And a lot of photos. The hike turned out to be an adventure, in some places - a blockbuster, and, what is most remarkable, we managed to shoot a lot of butterflies and other insects. This place is unique. Just go there again! In general, read it...

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE


Shaman won the Hydrometeorological Center! Forecasters promised a cold June in the Verkhoyansk mountains: +8-10, sometimes snow... The old shaman came out of his hut, looked at the forest, and said, " June will be warm, though. There are a lot of cedar trees. Nut means born. A nut is not born in a cold June." This is it about the arrival of cedar birds and the pine nut that the elfin tree gives... Such was the weather! The shaman lives in the village of Batagay-Alyt (Sakkyryr, as it is also called), from where I wanted to get to Verkhoyansk on my next expedition. And I was already thinking about taking air tickets, looking at the June forecast of Gismeteo at the end of May. Freeze in the mountains, and most importantly do not catch butterflies! Daytime birds don't fly in the cold... But the shaman defeated the Hydrometeorological Center. Map of my expedition.


On June 2, I arrived in Yakutsk. My way lay to the highest points of the Verkhoyansk Mountains (up to 2083 meters), or to the Orulgan ridge-another entomological Terra Incognita (I wrote about another three years ago: https://ussuri555.livejournal.com/1826.html my colleagues have never been here or even hundreds of kilometers away. Tourists are rare here, but how well Marina Galkina, a former botanist and current champion of Russia in extreme tourism, walked around Orulgan in the same 2019: https://youtu.be/FWgJL03ANa4! I highly recommend watching this movie, and especially its sixth part "Happy People". Amazing shots. Marina, you are also a champion in videography! Sad from the forecast of Gismeteo, but still hoping for the best, settled on arrival in Yakutsk again in Chochur Muran: https://chochurmuran.ru. My abode is a Merchant's House.


At the same time, a well-known ornithologist who also studies butterflies, Albert Lastukhin, was in the capital of Yakutia - "sagitated" by my above-mentioned report on an expedition to the Mom mountains. I knew about his stay, and invited him to take a joint tour in the vicinity of Chochur Muran. Albert in the photo was somehow predatory , but in general he is a very well-mannered and delicate person.


My companion waved a net, listened to the birds singing, and saw them perfectly... Field guru! Penochka-talovka, taken by Albert during our tour.


My plan was to work for a few days in the Yakutsk region and fly to Batagai-Alyta. I went through such birch groves.


And such pine forests.


Most of the butterflies were, as always, on the steppe slopes of the high Prilenskaya terrace. View from it to Chochur Muran.


The same things were flying as in previous years: tenedium (already rare-the Siberian crested in its places, on power lines, almost disappeared, replaced by other grasses), tyche's jaundice, embla's blackie, Yakut golubyanka (Pseudophilotes jacuticus), nanna's eneis, zorka and about two dozen other species. A cinxia draughtsman shot in the area a few years ago by my French friend Bernard Lalanne-Cassou.


On June 5, I took a minibus to the Yakut village of Oi: to get acquainted with the great enthusiast of studying Yakut history and nature, Prokopy Nogovitsyn, and to go to the place of the apollo butterfly (I wanted to look for its caterpillars, remove the forage plant...), known to him, to go together. Prokopiy works as a teacher at the Oisk secondary school, and in his spare time takes students on excursions to nature, and has an interesting Facebook page.: https://www.facebook.com/oyskayaschool.oyskayaschool. This is the kind of people we have going on a campaign: on the left - your author, in the center - Procopius, with an old entomological one... a joke - a Yakut fishing net (they catch crucian carp in winter, twisting deftly in the ice hole above the winter pit), and young naturalists of the village of Oi.


Go...


The Apollo caterpillars, alas, were not found (pupated? or did the view disappear in this place? - Procopius has not visited here for a long time), but they found a great rarity: a golden eagle's nest. We are watching...


There were chicks in the nest, but they were still too small to be photographed. At the end of July, Prokopiy photographed already grown golden eagles in another nest of the district (pictured).


Golden eagle feather as a keepsake... I also found one, but smaller.


After the tour, our guide invited me to his home. Almost to the Paleontological museum! Here is the skull of a musk ox and bison horns of bygone eras - found by his friend in the north of Yakutia and presented to Procopius.


Prints of ancient leaves-from one of his school excursions.


A trilobite.


In the evening I returned to Chochur Muran, wandered for two more days with a net near Yakutsk, and on June 8 on the ancient, but still strong (I believe in it!..) An-24 flew to Batagai-Alyta.

To be continued

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 03/10/2022 23: 38

I write in a slightly different style now. Last telegraph upraznen.

Something font on the Forum has become tiny... What's so weird?

Ctrl+ To help you!

Ctrl+ To help you!

I know, but it didn't happen before. It's like: yes, the book is on that table-take it! When she was lying on it... No extra movements are needed. I'll try to enlarge the report text in the edit panel, as here.

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 13.01.2022 19: 51

The font is not very good now... Previously, it was more elongated, pleasant to read. I didn't find this font on the panel. Well, come on - thank you for the fact that at least the photos began to join, which was not the case for three weeks. Molbiol lives...

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part Two


Rosehip drops pink color
On green mosses, on the lingonberry carpet.
Glaciers melt in the mountains
, The river bank,

My fire burns Over the Kabarog threshold.
Poems of the reindeer herder-even Mikhail Kolesov (rate: https://stihi.ru/avtor/ohotnik65 - poet with a capital letter!), that he became a member of my expedition and helped organize it. In the winter, I wrote a letter to the administration of the Eveno-Bytantaysky district of Yakutia - Batagai-Alytu, that is, asking to set me up with someone who could throw food on a snowmobile or something else for my scientific entomological expedition (I continue to work from the Altai University) to the place I need on the Orulgan ridge. Leave it in the reindeer breeders ' camp or in the hut, if you have one. I would have gone there light... And Mikhail called me. He said that my letter was delivered to him, and not only can he drop off food on his snowmobile, but he is also ready to go camping with me! Herbs for Even teas to collect, go fishing and hunt. He also added that he composes poetry, and his son, 19-year-old Dima, grows butterflies! That's the plot... I'm flying over the Verkhoyansk Mountains.


Clearly, I was happy with this favor, accepted Mikhail's offer and sent him money for gas for a snowmobile and food. He suggested that I visit the best places for entomology in Orulgan: the upper reaches of the Khobol River, where "butterflies cover the ice with a carpet" (??!..) and where the Kolesov family camp, with a hut, is located, I enthusiastically agreed, and in April my patron threw food into it. Mikhail during the reading of his poems on Yakut television.


Two hours of summer, he meets me with some relative at the Batagai-Aly airport (point 1 on the map), on a "museum" UAZ (model of the 60s!) he drives us to the village hotel - where I check in for the first two days of the expedition. I will dedicate them to the local early summer (spring more precisely - according to the local climate) butterflies, as planned. In general, Mikhail thought to place me at home, but his elderly father fell ill, and it didn't work out that way. Hotel-arranged. 3000 rubles a day, including three meals a day, a room-cell (pictured) - but this is because of the team of some social project (I didn't go into it...) from Yakutsk, who took normal rooms, and so they promised to move me to one of them after her departure.


Hotel.


The next day, Misha (as he began to call him) took me to the district administration building, the head's office, and introduced him to the "author of the letter" - in case I needed any help with the expedition. The head was called exotically: Gavril Gavrilevich (Old Russian and "church" names are very common among Yakuts and Evens of the older generation) Gorokhov, was very friendly, listened to my story about butterflies, I gave him a sailboat Ulysses in a glass box, and he thanked me-in response with a wide smile put a Yakut amulet around my neck (above in the photo). "Carry it with you, entomologist, everywhere, you can in a backpack - and the trouble will pass you, and everything will be uchugei: good - as they say in Yakutia!" - said Gavril Gavrilevich. I carried this thing made of beads and the horn of a chub (mountain ram) in my excursion backpack all the days on Orulgan - and maybe the amulet helped me: the extreme weather was still very bad... maybe it helped!


Man suggests, but God disposes! Even on June 6, I felt unwell: as if a file had been passed over my throat, some kind of weakness, stuffiness in my nose... It is understandable: I flew to Yakutsk side by side with a passenger who coughed and had a runny nose. I thought: "How was this allowed on the flight?" And - " Not to get infected!" I sat all 6 hours of the flight with a bandage on my face, but what does it do?.. Caught it. On the day of my arrival in Batagai-Alyta, I was already, sorry for the slang - hr ... new. Something like a fire began to engulf the lungs. I could smell things - not like Him, but... As a born extreme athlete who treats the onset of colds with 30-40-kilometer marches, I rushed to do push-ups and squats. I sat down 200 times in the evening and did push-ups 500 times, fell exhausted into bed, fell asleep, and in the morning I found that the enemy was afraid and stopped the offensive. But, surprisingly, he did not turn back, but dug in and set up bunkers. The disease was sitting in my throat and lungs, I was weak, it was gloomy outside the window, and I didn't go on a tour, but called Misha and confessed my illness. He soon brought me a tincture on the leaves of sagan-dali: Adams rhododendron, found in the mountains of Siberia and here and there in Verkhoyansk, which strengthens the immune system and treats colds. Here it is, the potion...


On the second day it didn't get any better, I had a bit of a fever, it felt like it was cold outside, it was drizzling, I was lying on my bed and mournfully thinking about the backward old shaman. Paintings in the interior of the hotel.


One more.


Archway to the dining room. My hotel was cozy, especially when I moved to twice the size of my room on the third day, but there was a sauna instead of a shower, which had to be heated every time to wash, a wooden toilet on the street with a "hole"... There is something to improve here; however, I was almost not burdened by everyday life - I was on an expedition!


And, despite the illness, I wanted to start on Orulgan on the same third day-according to the plan. I'll get better on the hike! I remember that in 2016 I had bronchitis, Suntar Hayata, the snow from the cyclone lay down, and my friend and I burned stones in the fire, according to his geological experience: to warm the "Gulag" (maybe without quotes) dugout that got in the way, I put some on my chest, and in the eight-day Stan, hopeless cured bronchitis! But:" The Quadric again could not cross the Dantai... " - Misha told me on the evening of this third day. He decided to go to our place, on Khobol, to drive - his friend on an ATV will throw us there. Bytantay is a nearby river, slightly above the knee, but it will collapse at times when it rains in the mountains. It turns out that the quadric (quadric-"Falcon"!) was coming to us from the village beyond it... I am ill, and I am waiting for this transport for the fourth day, and the fifth... The triumph of the Hydrometeorological Center in the form of November dankness outside the window and the slurping boots of passers-by, wheezing in the lungs, weakness, melancholy. I eat in the hotel dining room: simple food, like milk soup with vermicelli and sausages with rice, sometimes meatballs and horsemeat soup: something from the Soviet era, but eco-friendly in general and satisfying. Lunch arrived...


On the sixth day, Misha brought his son's collection - which he collected about 10 years ago around their camp on Khobol. "...оонньуурдарын уурар и ыыппыта..." Бог мой. The Yakut language is one of the most expressive in the world!


A net, a sheet of whatman paper, scotch tape, but it looks pretty good in general, and it can be stored forever. One of the "tablets" in the collection.


One more. Very picturesque layout, the quality of butterflies would only be better!


And more. Kozheed, it seems, still penetrated to one object.


The school teacher accused Dima of ignorance: it's not a swallowtail in his collection, this butterfly is not found in Verkhoyansk! When my father found out about this, he went to the local nature protection committee and was given such a certificate. Dima showed it to the teacher, who frowned and said nothing... The committee, however, took tenedius for the sailboat Ammosov (arcticus), and called the bears a bear (by the way, there are quite good species in the collection) - well, what can you do, there was no expert on butterflies in the staff of three people, and it is unlikely that such a person would be found in the entire huge, sparsely populated area: these excuses are excusable "typos", and so touching that "important" people helped this child.


And three years later, he also began to write poetry (genes?..), and even a small book with them was published in the district. One of its pages.


Dima at 12. I've hunted before. Every spring, he raises bears from the found caterpillars - different types of them, dreaming of entering the biofactory faculty of the University in Yakutsk. And continues to rhyme, writes miniatures.


On the seventh day, I demanded that Misha look for an alternative way to reach the place: a Ural truck, a motorboat... " No, only a quadric will get there! And then over the mountains-if. The Urals can drown in Bytantai, the ice won't let the motorboat in..." Mda. The dream of butterfly carpets was falling apart. However... I remembered that I had seen other ice deposits on satellite maps: in the upper reaches of the Tara Sala River. And high up there, too, there are a lot of black scree-an attractive area where one very interesting butterfly species can be found. And - where the aforementioned Galkina went: from where you can go on foot, if anything. "Can we get to the upper reaches of the Tarasala River?.."I think so. I'll try to negotiate with my sidekick here - he has the Urals..."Come on!" The sun was peeking through the clouds, a little warmer - I "crawled" out of the hotel and walked along the edge of the surrounding forest, then a little along the dirt road in it. Photo of the village. Tenedias fluttered here and there, Freya's mother-of-pearl "flowed" over the ground, and Tyche's yolks flickered... I was catching something. In the chest-wheezing, weakness in the body, walked for an hour and came to the room. Call from Misha: "Prepare butor! Tomorrow morning we will go to the mountains in the Urals... " I watch the weather forecast on my smartphone via the hotel Wi-fi (there is no mobile Internet in the village). Gismeteo suddenly changed it: in the following days, instead of cold weather in the mountains - plus 22-24! Shaman won the Hydrometeorological Center.

To be continued

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 14.01.2022 19: 57

No, I made a dumb font, although it was larger... the "imputed" one is more readable. I went back to him. But very much (as my Evens say) - small. I don't like to press Alt and + however... Then I will give you a link to this report of mine in LiveJournal - there is a very good font for both "sculpture" and size.

When my father found out about this, he went to the local nature protection committee and was given such a certificate.

Oh, what nonsense!!!...

The post was edited by Kharkovbut-15.01.2022 00: 37

He showed me the official certificate with which he had come to Petrograd. This certificate, issued by his native village council, read::

"The sim verifies that gr. Oleynikov Nikolai Makarovich is really beautiful. Given for admission to the Academy of Fine Arts."

Seal and signature. Oleynikov requested this certificate from the village Council, assuring the chairman that only the beautiful are accepted to the Academy of Arts. The chairman looked at him and gave him a certificate. ©

Well, like... The boy was dejected! They helped.

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part Three


In the morning I drove up to the Ural-vakhtovka hotel, I climbed into the booth with a backpack and a bag, moving Misha's husky, which was lying on the floor, he himself got into the cab, where the young driver was, we're going... We will stop six kilometers from Batagay-Alyty near the Sakkyryr River, along the valley of which we are planning part of the way.


Then they rolled into Sakkyrr, the water covered the wheels, after half a kilometer the Ural left for the other side, stood for a while, turned around and-back! "However, there is a lot of water in the river, there will be a canyon ahead - we will not pass. We'll go with a water cannon... " - said Misha. The price is the same: 60,000 rubles. one way, although I was counting on half as much for delivery to the place on an ATV, but I didn't care because of time constraints... We arrived at the other, on-board, Ural, loaded it with a water cannon-an inflatable rubber boat large and long, with a motor that takes water from the river and throws it out with a" jet " jet from behind: the ship is almost flying over the river! And here we are flying on a water cannon... Our driver is Leonid.


Misha.


On the river - such a thing, the path is dangerous, but Leonid deftly maneuvers between the ice floes. An experienced driver.


The river widened...


Let's go with the clamps.


Smoke break.


Past the ice-all the way to the mountains!


Having overcome three-quarters of the way, 80 kilometers somewhere, we got out on the shore, walked about one and a half km - and the hut appeared (point 2). Here Leonid's parents live in the summer and his three children: horse breeding base, family business, then spend the night higher in the mountains. Leonid brought some groceries to his family, and a case of beer to his father. Here I took a picture with the head of the family on his ATV.


There were as many as three antennas here (one - off to the side): in this unthinkable wilderness, there is Wi-Fi!


"Innovative" sleds with solar panels.


Deer antler deposits.


Then the river weakened and almost sank into the rocks. The journey is over. We went to the reindeer herders ' camp (point 3).


Main tent.


Here we are sitting in it... On the left extreme-Even Tikhon, on the right in the middle - Yakut Roman. Misha's good friends, they graze deer here. Alcohol, diluted with water, we taste, which he brought a little in a canister (more says-undesirable), so everything is slightly softened... And this will be our base for the first few days.


Lenya soon went back to the village on a water cannon, Tikhon our butor on a sled harnessed to a quadric brought, and settled the guests in this free, second tent.


Outdoor cuisine.


Deer hark in the distance. A herd of eight hundred heads!


Closer...

To be continued.

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part Four

I came to the pass...
To the limit of living silence,
Which
Breaks Off
From a high
Cliff With a crystal movement

, Breaks a rainbow of dreams On black granite,
And in an echoing grin
, a Glittering beast strives into the gorge of winds.
Mikhail Kolesov


June 17. In the morning, I walked around with a net and a camera. The place of warehouses.


My first Orulgan photo trophy: chernushka embla.


I took off the callidice whitewash.


Uh, I forgot to tell you about the local horror... Mosquitoes! The camp and the surrounding area was a mosquito inferno! Deet's spray worked for ten minutes, the ointment for twenty minutes (which worked confidently for half a day on Suntar Hayata and in the Mom Mountains), and I probably would have been a kayak: I just couldn't stick my nose out of the tent if Misha didn't take two nakomarniki with him. (In his case, he goes fishing today.)


After lunch, I climbed to the local scree.


I walked through the swamps.


Horse trails.


There were quite a lot of butterflies: several species of blackheads, of which the rare ones Magdalena and Erinnin were especially pleasing, Tyche's jaundice, Naina's whiteflies and kallidice, Frigga's mother-of-pearl, Selenis and Freya, Jutta's aeneis and Magna, and other miscellaneous things. I ambushed the female trifiza nervosa here.


The main idea of my expedition was to discover another subspecies of arcticus, in addition to the" sensational " Momsky: https://lenta.ru/news/2020/09/11/butterfly/ (the author of the photo is indicated for some reason Roman Yakovlev-a mistake...). The species lives on small-stony black scree of high mountains( in Yakutia it is from 1300 meters), their southern slopes. That's why I was thinking about the upper reaches of the Tarasala - the satellite map promised that all this would be there. Alas, the camp was located somewhat lower than those places, the scree of the surrounding area was all made of coarse stone, and there were no promises of arcticuses - so I decided to go to these upper reaches: to the pass where Tara-Sala begins (point 4). It is 25 kilometers from the camp. A big reindeer herders ' tent is there - Misha told me, I'll live in it, I'll look around for 2-3 days, or even longer, if something interesting happens, and I'll come back. On the morning of June 18, I took macaroni, sugar and a few other products from the expedition "ration" prepared by my guide (at his expense now), added to them two sticks of raw smoked sausage I bought in Yakutsk, left Mikhail a spare net to catch butterflies for me (I offered - he agreed, in exchange for some goods "out of town"), hoisted the backpack on his shoulders, and went...


It was hard going. An old all-terrain vehicle, but-marie is not uncommon, the feet are "astringent", the disease does not give up: shortness of breath, sometimes it got dark in the eyes... After a kilometer, I stopped and rested on my backpack. Five minutes later, the lake appeared, and on it - swans! I wanted to take a bigger picture of them, started to approach slowly, but they immediately took off...


Then he entered a thick larch grove. Bears are not uncommon in these places, they don't seem to be particularly naughty, but I took out such a weapon from my backpack and put it in the pocket of my windbreaker. I wear contact lenses (I've been nearsighted since childhood), use this liquid to wash and store them, and at home, when I ran out, I poured concentrated ammonia into one of the cans with a syringe! Well, when pressed, it squirts... You can, of course, carry a gun, but this is 3.5 kg of weight, and it's not a fact that you will fail the enemy from the first shot, pepper gas is not allowed on the plane, and here it is quite a serious defender. The main thing is to get in the face! ;)


Soon the hut peeked through the forest (point 5). Misha said that the reindeer herder Gena lives in it, and you can stop by for tea.


The poles are all around - somehow, I crawled under one, a big husky jumped out from somewhere, and grabbed me by the boot... A second later, the owner shouts from the door: "Oh, fuck! Ty! Ty! Don't touch..." The dog ran away, and now I was sitting in the hut, the master's kettle was warming up on my tourist burner (Gena invited a guest to tea, wanted to melt the stove, but then I got the gas...), and I was eating his treat: fried malma (Arctic char) in a frying pan. Incredibly delicious fish! Gena catches her with a net on the lake, which is not far from home. It's boring, he says, to live here. He reads old hunting magazines, plays solitaire games: will his wife come? And how many bottles of vodka will he bring: three or five? A good person is Gena.


Well, then I went. Already along the riverbed of the Tara-Sala. It was off to one side, and the smooth stones were laid almost like paving stones underfoot, with sand in some places: it was much easier to walk. But I didn't get any water, and I noticed too late that the river had disappeared! Dry riverbed, heat (28 degrees!) and-no stream, no bochaga... I was walking for two hours, swallowing "dry" saliva, and I was about to throw off my backpack and move from the riverbed to the taiga "shelf" to look for a stream or swamp with water, when I suddenly saw a winding stream ahead. Tara-Sala perforation! He drank greedily from a mug of cold, cloudy water, then boiled some tea, and made a snack.


An old friend of mine. The backpack is 12 years old! And I expect to spend the same amount of time with him. Beautiful, comfortable, the fabric is very strong-almost no darning yet, the straps were too narrow, but I made the overhead wide (here-removed: not particularly loaded). I rarely change my camping clothes - only when they are worn out badly. "They do not seek good from the good." And some of my friends change their backpacks almost every year...


The riverbed was deserted, but sometimes there were flocks of polar poppies - a touching symbol of the highlands of Yakutia.


We are going the right way: Such a scree mountain is approaching!


I go to the foot of it, it is very swampy there, I climb on the shelf-with the last of my strength already, the disease does not allow me to walk... I'm putting up a tent. Everything: dinner, sleep!


In the morning I walked along the mountain, climbed the scree. The stone is still too big - there are no arcticuses, as well as Gorodkov's tufts (you can see this plant in my Mom report).: https://ussuri555.livejournal.com/2603.html ). They are also sometimes found on large-stony scree, by the way. Is it cold in here?.. The latitude is high. Removed at the foot of the mountain of mating mother-of-pearl distinct.


Some mushrooms were caught... I wish I knew they were edible-I took them for soup!


At lunchtime, I packed my things, walked another four kilometers and saw the promised tent. He came closer...

To be continued.

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 01.02.2022 23: 47

What a beauty
I really wanted to go
there Russia is a big country
And Very beautiful

imp of precise definition

-"I'm sorry, master... The demon got confused...
-"What demon?"
-- Precise definition!


The post was edited by Kharkovbut - 23.01.2022 21: 24

If the hymenophore is tubular (i.e. the bolletaceae family) and the flesh on the cut is not bitter (lick raw and spit), then it was possible. If the hymenophore is lamellar, then there is already no exact definition of risky.

There were lamellar ones. In general, in those places there are a lot of larch oilseeds and podberezovikov happens, it was possible to "get hot", but this is from the middle of July, I went a little early...

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part Five

On a rocky outcrop
, Strong arms outstretched,
Illuminated by a scarlet fire,
Reveling in the wind-
the North Wind!
I am charged with the joyous power
of Pure Earth.
Mikhail Kolesov


The tent was torn, I started darning it with a nylon thread that I had in my luggage - the mosquitoes completely ate my hands, I had to put on disposable mittens, also taken with me. Mosquitoes and they were bitten with might and main (monsters! bearish, or what?), but from the palms of the mittens, fortunately, were rubberized: I took it to work with wet wood - turned it over, and the bites stopped ... Ugh. Half an hour of work - and here it is, happiness. I stayed in a tent.


Not far from it was another scree mountain. It's late afternoon, but the sun's out here at this time of day."


Oh, what a wonderful scree! If I were arcticus, I'd live here. But on the scree there was not a single tufted Gorodkov! The food plant of the caterpillars of this butterfly - that is. As well as the closely related Magadan crested duck (Corydalis magadanica), on which theoretically the species can also breed. Gorodkovii were also absent - the only arcticus nectaros (photo in my Mom report).: https://ussuri555.livejournal.com/2603.html The scree was sparsely alive, with sparse stalks of grasses in some places in the depressions. Well, the latitude is still to blame: the winters in this area are too cold for many plants, and you need to look south of the Verkhoyansk arcticus...


I walked along the ridge above the scree.


He climbed up... Where the ridge flattened out, it was quite picturesque.


Oh, what a beauty!


The tenderness of the earthly world.


View of the Tara Sala valley.


In the morning I went along the valley of the stream in the direction of the highest mountain in Verkhoyansk. I didn't find its name on the maps, Even: Dombach. It is about 2,400 meters high, but all of it is covered with glaciers: in these latitudes, they are" reduced " strongly. Willows were everywhere... It's kind of uncomfortable here. He shifted the spray bottle from his backpack to the pocket of his windbreaker...


On one of the willows I noticed a raspberry patch. Wow - I always saw them in Yakutia on the plain! And they met where raspberries and other rosaceae were, but here there are none... Willows only. And it's like she wants to lay an egg on a willow leaf?.. Uh, I scared you off with an awkward movement! But I managed to take a picture. I also saw a raspberry patch (or the same one?) and caught it. Then I took a few more... What if it's an undescribed doppelganger species, or at least an unknown subspecies of raspberries? We will study it.


In the" flowing " into the valley talus decay climbed.


Bah, gorodkovia! And it looks pretty good. There were others, too... A little bit. Gorodkov's Khokhlatok were not there. The scree here also turned out to be poor in life. Once, however, some large Parnassius flew by! I hope so, Phoebus...


I returned to the valley, where I caught Tyche's egg yolks (some very large, yellowish ones - are they?..), Erinnin's and Fletcher's blackheads, Callidice's whiteflies, Idun's draughtsmen... I took a picture of a babbling fly.


I came home. The Even poles were not far away. Reindeer herders use them to set up their large tents (you will understand the principle by looking at two samples in our camp: https://ussuri555.livejournal.com/5800.html ).


There are feathers in the sky, a harbinger of rain, if not snow, there will be no arcticuses here, and I decided to go back to the base tomorrow. In the morning and went... This time I did not follow the riverbed, but the adjacent tundra, where it was quite solid.


Here, too, there were willows, and on one tree I saw a bird squawking loudly and fluttering along the branches. The nest must be there...


We met such picturesque firewood.


Chernushka Kozhenchikova sat down on the backpack when he took it off during a "smoke break". By the way, I don't catch captured butterflies - except for particularly interesting ones-this is my rule. She fluttered away...


This time I decided to spend the night in the riverbed of Tara-Sala, where it is somehow more comfortable - you can clearly see everything around you,and you can hear the movement of stones... My house.


Neighbourhood. In the evening, I was sitting in my tent, boiling tea on the gas (mosquitoes were raging outside), when I suddenly heard approaching footsteps...

To be continued

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 28.01.2022 02: 13

If you are talking about the fly in the photo, then this is a murmur. And gadflies on flowers have nothing to do.

She's right... I thought babblers were all wasp-like. Thank you for your comment! Fixed.

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part Six


Oh, how I jumped out of the tent! In the hand-a sprinkler, the second - " Hunter's signal "(fires firecrackers)... Horses. Semi-wild Yakut horses. A dangerous animal, by the way. Yakuts warned that the stallion sometimes attacks a person if it feels threatened by the herd. Everyone stood up and looked at me intently... He began to whistle softly, shifting his weight on the spot. Everyone is watching... After a couple of seconds, they break off at once and are carried away as a single body along the dry riverbed towards the pass.


And I went on. And an hour later I came to see Gena. The net that Misha left is standing by the hut... It turned out that my guide has been staying with him since yesterday! But I went fishing - on the lake that is close. For the sake of which I came: malma is very large there, well, even sagan-dala is the same one growing in the area - it is posobirat.


Gena treated me to tea with dried fruits, then put the dough in molds on the stove to bake bread. It turns out very tasty. On yeast, without the now fashionable baking powder, simple flour - real, almost forgotten by us, city, bread.


After lunch, Misha arrived from a fishing trip: he flashed from the shore of the lake, set up a net - and two malmas fell into it. One of them was very decent. On the photo.


And I had a great dinner.


Why don't I stay with Gena for a couple of days? I catch butterflies in the surrounding forest-tundra, and go to the ice that adjoins it. They can cover you with a carpet! Gena said that I could live with him all summer-he immediately gave me one of the three skins that were in the hut, so Misha decided to stay here with me: go fishing and prepare various herbs. And the next morning I went on a tour of the area. I rented an iduna in a rare larch forest, not far from my house.


I went out to the Tara-Saly channel-and here it is, ice.


And don't climb...


But still passed on it, and... Got it! There are butterflies! Bear ornata.


They don't cover the ice with a carpet, of course , but there's one... there... Makhaon.


Skulda. Although-not much, the drawing is a little different: maybe the view is indescribable close? There is, for example, a pseudosculda in the south of Siberia, which is very similar to skulda. It would be necessary to understand...


You can't really walk through the ice-the ice canyon, the Tara-Sala channel in it. The walls are three and a half meters high. If you fall, you're dead: the water is waist-deep in the canyon, and the exit is almost a kilometer away...


I'm walking away from the canyon, collecting beetles. There are a lot of them here, too. Here's some kind of gold coin.


Moustache.


A polychrome wing and some hymenoptera.


Marigold Melissa (?). Spiders were found here, babbling flies, horsemen, bedbugs... The first to hunt resorted to the ice: they did not care about the cold, but all the others seemed to be thrown on it by gusts of wind - they cooled down quickly and critically for them, and could no longer fly up or crawl away. Well, when hawthorn trees are millions of years old-observed in Yakutia almost every year, the wind can throw these butterflies on the ice so much that they will cover it in places! Misha wasn't lying... I discovered for myself (or maybe science! I haven't heard of this...) a new method of collecting arthropods: tweezers, stain, you walk slowly through the magnificent whiteness, mosquitoes bite much less (it's too cold for them here, and the breeze "lands"...), having a chance to see predatory foes a kilometer away, and the fees are simply amazing. Orulgan is kinder to me!


The water under the ice shines with the brightest blue.


A lone deer.

To be continued

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 28.01.2022 19: 12

Sometimes I'm in a hurry - I don't write well. Corrected the beginning of the report and some other places in the text. I'll publish part 7 in two days.

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part seven

There the magic forest
keeps
the Reserved sign
of the Witchcraft Trail In silence,
Which leads
to Where the rocks sparkle
with a Bright turn
of Joyful fate...
Mikhail Kolesov


In the morning, I went to the ice again, and Simbo (pictured) joined me-Mishina Laika, who was in the Urals and then rode with us on a water cannon. Dima called the puppy that, after some cartoon character. I collected various insects on the ice, the dog ran along its edge, then ran away somewhere.


At lunchtime, Tara-Salu crossed the highway for robberies, then went up to the mountains along the Raspadka River. It was a little hard: the weakness was still in my body, and my chest was wheezing, but I was almost back to normal. View of the ice.


On the treeless mountainside, Menetrie's draughtsmen, Kallidice's whiteflies, and Pavlovsky's Chernushka were flying here and there, and a male Eversmann's sailboat suddenly raced along the stream! I was very interested in this species, an undescribed subspecies could still live in these mountains, but I caught the first Eversmann only after an hour - rare, rapid flight "zigzag": a difficult trophy. Well, then he took three more males, catching on. There were no females... Eversmann's forage plants were found only occasionally along the stream: Arctic crested flowers (pictured). On the Momsky ridge, they were in a mass, and the Eversmanns were just "swarming" there! Yes, it's not just the Arctic that can see the cold in these mountains...


On the Alpine meadow came across the horn of a wild ram chubuku.


A flock of bruises.


I came home and decided to go for a swim. Well, I can't not wash so much already! I usually bathe once two or three days on hikes, but here I don't have a bathhouse (even reindeer herders don't often have one), and mosquitoes don't let me wash from a bucket on the street: they stick to me instantly when I undress. Mosquitoes-arrows of some kind, I have not seen such yet... Every time I need to" seriously "go to the toilet (the Evens have a forest!), I smear the" halves " with deet's anti-mosquito cream, but while you're sitting, they kick your groin and everything that goes with it! Do not smear the same in front - no cream is not enough. Very quickly I learned to go to the toilet. And here - to wash... How? I came up with it! I put up a tent in the woods near the house, quickly undressed, dived inside with a bucket of water (all the same, a swarm of mosquitoes brought in, beat for 10 minutes...), heated it on gas and, sitting in a soft place on the bottom-let's splash on yourself with a ladle! Wow, I had a great bath... Just born again. My tent. She is also 12 years old!


On the morning of June 25, Misha and I went back to the reindeer herders ' camp. He gathered herbs, went fishing quite well, and I decided to stay in the camp for 3-4 days: go to the same ice, also close to him, the settled valley of the Keriske stream, which is generally adjacent to the camp, check for various butterflies, visit one decay with black scree: what if... When Misha arrived at the camp, he immediately found a job: he began to help Roma make a lasso. A long ribbon is cut from deer skins, dried inside, and a very strong tool that does not know wear is obtained. Ropes don't count here...


Freshly made lasso in the drying process. I haven't seen how it is applied, but you can see it in this report by Sergey Karpukhin mentioned above: https://dnevniki.ykt.ru/karpukhins/552763?mobile=true.


At night it rained - feathers rarely deceive, in the morning it cleared up a little, and I walked along the Keriske Valley not far from the camp. In the willows, on its damp radishes, there were a lot of pears.


And where it parted completely, charming flocks, or even whole fields of arnica flowers, were pleasing to the eye.


There were butterflies... Mother-of-pearl napaea (Boloria napaea). In the Verkhoyansk mountains, its subspecies vinokurovi is found.


She's got her wings open.


And this is a female.


In the afternoon, the rain began to fall, and I returned to the camp. By the way, those horse breeders - relatives of Leni-arrived in it yesterday. They put up their big tent. We arrived on the GAZ-66th-an amazing cross-country car that they had. Their plan was to appear here later, but they heard on the radio, "reindeer breeders 'chat", the weather forecast: rain, Tara-Sala promises to rise and not let go... They want to stay here for a week, and go up the Kerisk Valley to their "Alpine" base in the mountains. In the evening, I met the youngest member of the family: Leni's five-year-old son Zhorik. He came up to me every now and then with crosswords on his tablet, and we guessed the words together. I was struck by how many of them he knew for his age and seemingly uncivilized lifestyle. Talent! Here it is, Zhorik.


And this is me he took a picture on my Sony .


And this is Misha.


The next day I went to the same decay. The stones there turned out to be very large, there were no Gorodkov tufts-just like there were no arcticuses.


The golden root was often encountered.


I found a Phoebus caterpillar near one of them. Yeah, and here, as in the Moma Mountains, it feeds on it.


View of the valley where our camp is located (hidden on the right by the slope).


There were strange blackheads (pictured on the right). Like Rossi (left), but too small, almost no spots... I caught Rossi in the previous days down in the forest tundra. These were flying on the scree. Difference in phenotype and biotope... Did I discover a new kind of blackie?

To be continued

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 02/05/2022 00: 45

There were some doubts: do I have napeya in the photos in the last part, or is it altaika? Nevertheless, I decided to call it napea, a subspecies of vinokurovi - after Dubatolov: http://szmn.eco.nsc.ru/picts/butterfly/Nym...oria_napaea.htm. I caught similar butterflies on the Momsky ridge: https://ussuri555.livejournal.com/3119.html, and I recognized them, as Sasha Kurmaev (Stigma) indicated to me: Boloria banghaasi. Tonight I will publish part 8.

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part Eight


Surprised, inspired, I went home. There was such a forest all around.


Larch cones.


Beauty!


I ambushed a female peatgrass egg yolk.


I came out on the saddle of a nearby mountain.


Carnations. And nearby-faded dryads (see what their fields are in the Momsk mountains: https://ussuri555.livejournal.com/2603.html !).


Phoebus flew over kurumnik! I managed to catch it with a net. Slightly zamoril, removed. I usually take pictures of" free " butterflies-as it is in nature, but with Phoebus, I thought it wouldn't work this season...


The next day I went in the same direction. Fluffy Scheichtzer (?). What can be a forage plant of Magdalena and Erinnin blackheads, which were found in the area in the pushitsiev marshes. Today, the second species flew here - and did not let it get close to itself for photographing.


Something fluttered in the grass... Vilyui yolks! (Now also called hecla). Or maybe hyperborea. The male saw the hatching female and began to "molest" her.


I pushed it away, waited for the butterfly to finally spread its wings... One of my best entomological photos.


Well, for three more days I went to the ice and alone around the area - the types of butterflies are basically the same, and it's time to change the location... Misha in the morning, July 3, told me that today Lenya will arrive on a water cannon! The reindeer herders ' walkie-talkie reported... He'll bring his student sister, and he can drop us off somewhere else on the way to the village. Is free. Great! I suggested that Misha drop us off at point 6-at the Reindeer Herder's House, which he once told us about: the "terem" built by the district administration for a summer camp of schoolchildren and national holidays. There are beds, other amenities... Nearby-kurumnaya mountain, where butterflies can be interesting, meadows, mari: I'll look there with a net! And you can go to Batagai-Alyta from there on foot: 35 km in total, there are no impassable watercourses, even after heavy rains, along the way, there is a winter pass... In two weeks, I have a flight back to Yakutsk, a ticket on hand - and logistics already mattered. Misha supported the plan. But in the evening-news from the radio: Lenya did not pass the roll in 25 kilometers from the camp! Not enough water... Went back. Eh!.. "It doesn't matter. I have an inflatable boat, let's go to the place on it... " - Misha said. I can swim like an axe - well, come on, there's not much water in the river. The next morning he pumped up the boat, put it on the sled, put his things in it, untied Simbo from the larch tree in the camp, and with Lenin's father on his ATV they start for Tara-Sala...


I followed them on foot, watching Simbo run happily ahead of me. Boat "Dive"... Something bothered me about the title. Things fit in it, but three more objects - no way, even one barely. "Hey, Simbo will run along the shore!" said Misha. "And I?" He thought for a moment. "Let's go along the shore, too... There's a lot of butor." "Come on!" So it will be more reliable. I threw a backpack on my back, with a box of butterflies in it, a camera and other especially valuable things, Misha pushed the boat away from the shore, jumped into it with a "pistol", straddled my backpack - and now it's already rolling.


I walk fast, sometimes almost running along the shore. Ugh, the clamps.


It's going well...


After about eight kilometers, Misha is coming home. The boat is full of water! The bottom was broken by a rock... Not everywhere in the river is deep-ripples tear the bottom like a grater. "Dive", judging by the name, is still a lake boat, and for rafting there is clearly another need... Well, this is what my companion took. He sealed the hole with a special rubber patch-then we went on.


We decided to take our time and spend the night in the hut of our horse breeders, which turned out to be close to us in the evening. We took some of our things and went to her place. She's already shown up...


Closer.


They were comfortably accommodated.


The next morning, the smog from forest fires was covering the sky, I was walking quickly with a backpack on my back along the stony dry land, cutting the loop of Tara-Sala, to the right, behind a wide strip of willow and forest, Misha was rafting, suddenly I heard (or imagined?): there are loud screams coming from the other side...

To be continued.

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 07.02.2022 00: 24

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part nine

And not to know when it all started,
What drives us to look for something,
Where in this life we happened to be,
What else we will have to see.
Mikhail Kolesov


I dashed through the woods to the river. In the hand of a spray bottle with ammonia-you never know... But it was easier. The cork was knocked out of the boat, and the ship instantly deflated and was two-thirds in the water, caught on a rock. Misha could not get out of the boat, as it would immediately be swept away by a strong current, and called me for help. I'm glad I heard that! I threw myself into the river, rolling the brodniks as I went, grabbing my backpack from the boat with one hand, and Misha's bag with the other. Weight-a ton! Water has accumulated things, and the current pulls. With an incredible effort, I pull them ashore. Misha is already dragging the boat on a rope - I help him, we take it out to calm water in a small stream. Ufft...


Everything is wet, we ourselves are wet, we squeeze water out of things, it is not clear what is happening with the boat, and we decide to return to the hut to dry off and think about further actions. The oven is heated, we are drying well, and I say to Misha: "Why don't we stand here for a day? The ice is close, I'll go to it, pick up various insects, think about what we can do with the boat, and the day after tomorrow we'll continue our journey!" He supported the proposal. And the next morning I went to the ice.


Also-a big one, and not so long ago it appeared: the river broke through a new channel, taking the forest and "freezing" it. There were fewer insects, however. It wasn't very sunny yesterday - we weren't very active, obviously, and the wind was a little weak...


But-beautiful.


Well, I was collecting something. Eneis urda.


On the way back, I almost stepped on a partridge: I hid with the chicks, they scattered, and she began to pretend to be wounded, running around me, leading me away... It was possible to knock a stone on the roast-but it's a pity for me to kill big animals.


I saw Misha's boat at the place where Chalky was standing. Alive!.. And - became a catamaran. At home, he told me that the cork had survived - it was on the suspension. Misha did not fully twist it, with a large overload... In the afternoon, he decided to add the cans he saw in the shed to the boat to increase buoyancy. The radio was in the hut, with a long-distance connection, and someone told Mikhail on it that rain was expected in the mountains from this night. "Oh-ho... Tara-Sala will probably go wild. I don't think I can walk..." he said to me. My fellow traveler tore a tendon above his foot when he was hiking in the mountains from Gena, and-very lame. I have a plane ticket... Even if I drive in a breakaway - how to cross Sakkyryr, what will happen on the way? He does not "wander" everywhere even without rain... " Okay, I'll ask the head to send a water cannon! Maybe they'll skip it. For a tourist, he will definitely send... " - Misha said. He caught someone on the radio in Batagai-Alyt and asked them to tell the head (Gorokhov himself) to send a water cannon: we are in distress!


At night, the rain promised was not heavy , but long. Misha said that the Tara-Sala hardly had time to swell, and he decided to go rafting to the mouth of the Onnyuola stream-another 6 km (point 7), and I will step there, and we will meet there. We started at 10 am. Without a third team member... " Simbo! Simbo!" Misha shouted into the woods for a long time, but the dog didn't appear. "Uh, I should have tied her up. Apparently, he smelled prey, elk, now runs God knows where. But - catch up, or come back to the camp, then take ... " - he said. With all my stuff (I didn't want to risk it anymore!) I started for this mouth. An all-terrain vehicle at first, a trail... I crossed this stream in the middle reaches. The river-already! Water kept coming in from the night's rain, and I cut the channels by rolling my shutters. I wouldn't have crossed an hour later... I moved the edge of the last one, and it suddenly went straight into the forest! The stream, it turns out, had recently changed its course: the water was now flowing over grass and through bushes, and through windbreaks - a muddy deep stream. And I must cross it to get to the mouth of the Onnyol. Yes... In one place (in the photo) it was possible to walk on recumbent trees, but it was slippery, the trunks were flimsy: if you fall, the rapid will carry away your backpack, or even yourself. I climbed further through the forest, along the edge of the channel, to Tara-Sala: maybe I'll see Misha from the bank...


I went out to the river about three kilometers below this mouth, and waited for two hours on the rocky beach of our raftsman. Hooray, I showed up! The boat "nods" with its sides, and the oar itself steers sharply... Categorical alloy already-damn. I landed, and the boat was taken into a shallow pool. Misha hesitated to go rafting - he returned to the hut, Simbo called and looked for him, and also asked the village officers to tell his wife on the radio that we were in trouble. She's going to turn everyone on their toes... As he passed the mouth of Onnyuol and saw that there was little water in the stream, he realized that its channel had changed - he did not stop and went on. Well, we need to plan our meeting places more seriously, taking into account the vagaries of the landscape... It started to rain. Mikhail changed his mind about going on and suggested that we go to the hut - another one, not far from here: to stay until tomorrow. I agreed. They pulled on their raincoats, and I took my own things, and he took some of his own, and went along such a horse path in the direction of the hut.


We set foot on an old all-terrain vehicle on Marie and walked about three kilometers. There is no hut! My guide couldn't remember which way it was... They started looking at random. I took the all-terrain vehicle to the left, Misha-to the right. My feet are stuck in the hazy grass, my backpack and bag are heavy, and the rain is a nightmare... I couldn't stand it, so I put both packs on a ridge visible from afar, under a single larch tree - I'll pick them up when we find the hut. I walked about four kilometers back in the direction of the horse breeders ' hut. This one isn't here! It's raining all the time and it's getting cold: how hard it will be to put up a tent, wet to climb into it... No - search! We've been walking for three hours, but there's no hut... We met up with Misha on an all-terrain vehicle, and suddenly he noticed a faint track leading off into the mountains. "Over there! Remembered... We went there on a snowmobile with my nephew, and there was that hut!" Well, let's go... Where's my luggage?" It turned cold inside: it seems like this ridge and a tree like this, but it is not. For forty minutes I walked along the ridge, approaching each larch tree - to no avail! I was terrified: to be left without a tent and sleeping bag, a pile of clothes, most of the butterflies (only one box with them was in the backpack)... So, I walk again, looking around the area. Suddenly I notice a second ridge not far away! Eli-pali, why didn't you notice it earlier? I find my backpack and bag under that larch tree! Oh Mama Mia... My face is wild from the hardships and excitement I've endured.


"What a day... Can we appease the spirits?" I tell Misha, though I'm not superstitious. He told me about taiga spirits, even reindeer herders believe in them... "Ah, yes, it's time!" He lit a fire, offered me to burn something valuable for me. I did not become a butterfly-eckh! I put a lump of sugar and a cookie in the fire. Misha threw a cigarette at him. (He smokes, but not much, and he walked like two non-smokers before the leg injury!) Well, we boiled some tea, and somehow it got better... The spirits, however, did not get much kinder: we went up the mountain for another three and a half kilometers, Misha's leg ached completely, but on the last "exhale" we still came to the hut! (Point 8). Oh, I'll never forget that day...


In the hut, the stove was kindled, wet clothes were hung out to dry, and we slept right through to dinner... We decided to arrange a day trip, and continue the journey tomorrow-July 8. I walked around in the evening in the vicinity of the hut: it was overcast, there were no butterflies, a larch tree with a poor flora - I didn't even take anything off. We decided on tomorrow's plan: I go to the mouth of the next stream (without a name; point 9), on a forest all-terrain vehicle-also about 6 kilometers, and Misha will try to raft further along the Tara-Sala-and we will meet on the bank. Near the mouth of the stream, snuggling begins, we will not miss each other... And if a friend is absent for a long time, it means that the rafting has been canceled (water, it seems, will arrive...): then he will walk along the horse trail to another ice patch on Tara-Sala, three kilometers below this mouth (or point 10 on the map). And I'll have to go there in the evening or the next day to catch up. I got out first - all-terrain vehicle all down, in some places swampy, a tributary of the above stream crossed, on its rocky bank grew... I thought that monkshood, and the caterpillars of the rarest bear Menetrie, which is bred on it, were searched for on this plant - at home it turned out to be delphinium! I'm a bad nerd... ;)


Well, I soon met one caterpillar: it was sitting on a willow twig. Polychrome xanthomelas is a common species in these areas.


I came across a small curumnik, and on it I took a female mother-of-pearl freya.


I crossed the creeks, picked my way through some willow bushes, and came to the mouth of our stream. Misha isn't here... I was walking along the shore, looking at the Tara Sala, which had risen a lot, and was already dragging small trees. It is unlikely that he decided to go rafting, and in general I should have dissuaded him from it, even if the water had not arrived - I did not think... I waited for Misha for three hours. Vecheret became. No... So-the rafting was canceled after all. Or?... My stomach went cold. No, I'm not going to go to this ice, but I'll go along the shore to the place of Misha's chalka and a new start... And if he canceled the rafting trip , I'll help drag our luggage to the ice. One trip, with a bad leg, will not take it all away. I hid my backpack and bag in a willow tree and attached a white package with a note on it on a snag that was clearly visible from the river: "Misha, I'm here! I went back along the river to get my things. Wait by the ice! " - and walked with a backpack on his shoulders along the bank of the Tara-Sala.


I push my way through the thick willows, a spray bottle in my hand... Tara-Sala is not visible everywhere, it is not clear where the main channel is - I should not look for Misha, and I leave the willow floodplain in the larch forest, I follow the horse path. There are a lot of snags, the forest is mysterious, and sometimes it seems that you will see chuusun now - one of their Even spirits, who takes the form of incredible animals: a bear with a horse's head, a black wolf with long legs, and so on; Misha once told me about him.


An hour and a half later, I reached the place of his day-before-yesterday's mess. A lowered boat is lying, cans, a bag with a fishing net and two more are hanging from the trees: with Misha's herbs and our products. His big bag, tent, and gun are missing. Aha, he did not dare to go rafting and went to the ice... Right! I knotted the tops of the "grass" and grocery bags, slung them over my shoulder, took the third one with the net by the rope binding, and stomped back. I came back almost at night. By the way, the Arctic is already here-you can see it in the faint twilight... I climbed a steep slope above the stream, leveled it out in a more or less gentle place with a shovel (I take it for digging in plastic cups: I catch beetles, but I'm too lazy every time...) I set up a tent on the playground. It will be drier here than in the forest, and safer.


I placed the bags nearby. I climbed into the tent and fell asleep.


In the morning, I conducted an audit of the products. The bags of macaroni were almost all torn during the rafting, and inside there was "puree", in a bag with sugar - syrup, only flour that was in a waterproof strong bag and cans of stew survived. There are five of them left... Misha, it turns out, thought to get meat by hunting and fishing, in the course of our expedition - the "free shop" is local, but hunting is not always productive, and you can't put a fish net everywhere because of the lack of lakes and floods. Well, the products before the alloy would have to be packed in bags made of thick film or containers. Clearly, my guide has never rafted in a serious way. Yes, it seems that he never went hiking: he carried everything in a bag, with straps thrown over his shoulders - without a backpack. I thought that he had a "taiga experience" in the winter, and I didn't find out how everything was planned... Mda-century learn! I took out sugar syrup in one of my plastic cans, where I stuff things (the best herma!), put some flour in the other (it's hard to drag everything at once), put the remaining pasta in the cans with stew in my backpack. I rolled up the tent...


The area below it.


I went over the clip in the direction of the ice indicated by Misha. The horses were standing on an island in the middle of Tara Sala. Water cut off, or what? or maybe they are being saved from mosquitoes. Unclear..


I went on through the forest. Suddenly I saw something black ahead, about fifty meters away from me-strange... I looked closely and was petrified: in front of me was chuusung!

To be continued.

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 03.04.2022 22: 46

I corrected the ending, it was badly written. I'll publish a sequel in three days.

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part ten


Oh no... Still, he took a step toward the monster, then another. UFF: but this is the root extraction of a fallen larch tree! That's how he, chuusung, appears: someone didn't see something, ran away in fear...


I'm going further. 500 meters later I see Misha's tent!


But he's not. I install mine next to it. View from the bed of Tara-Sala (crossed the channel).


Evening. "On Earth, sunlight is called love..." (Mikhail Kolesov).


Morning. The same mountains. Everything is smoking, the wind is cold and smelling of snow... It looks like a cyclone is starting, and winter may come here soon. Misha isn't here... Went to spend the night in a hut on the mountain? It will be too far...


However, by lunchtime, the sun came out and warmed up. I went to the local ice patch. Most of it is behind the main channel of the Tara-Sala, but we managed to get to a smaller one. There were few insects on it, and no butterflies at all, but the weather played a role.


And in the camp - Misha! Indeed, I spent the night in that hut. His sleeping bag was flimsy, and it was going to be a cold night, and it wasn't too far from there to the rest of his things, so he left... Almost before I arrive! He says he saw a bear 400 meters away from the camp! He got up over the bushes on his hind legs and-draped, seeing the namesake; also shitting himself, as is the case with this animal. Small bear, three-year-olds. Dangerous... Teenagers are all fools. And I was lying in my tent that night, unable to sleep for a long time because of various thoughts, and suddenly: drin! Mishina has the stretch rope. I thought: did the deer come up and stumble? Did the bear approach?!!.. However, it is not uncommon for bears to check the" camps " of tourists at night on the topic of waste. Our house smelled like buckwheat porridge in the evening!.. It is good that I always wash the pots thoroughly at night, and I burn tin cans from stewed meat in the fire. Just like this time... While I was walking, Misha put the net I brought in in the Tara-Sala Bayou and caught two small grayling. Funny catch for these places, but - "black water", grayling all in the pits sitting... However, the soup on the fire from these fish turned out very tasty!


But I forgot my spoon in the horse breeders ' hut, the spare one, disposable, cracked, and Misha cut me out with a knife like this.


In the sky again feather rush... I don't like it very much.


"What are we going to do, Misha?..""Go. There will be no serious streams ahead - we will reach the end of another ice patch on the river, about 10 kilometers away-and there we will wait for the water cannon. Tara-Sala is walking through this ice like in a canyon, raging there now - he may not go any further..."Well, let's go, then!" On the morning of July 11, we packed up and started. To point 10 on the map - that is. And - separately. We agreed that I would go first - quickly, so as not to miss the water cannon... I'll wait for Misha to get some ice. If there is no transport until the day after tomorrow, then, we decided, I will go to Batagai-Alyta alone non-stop. In 4 days I have a flight... And I'll get Misha out: I'll come to the head of the district in the village or to the Ministry of Emergency Situations of them. But how do I cross the Sakkyryr River?.. Okay , I'll make a raft. My thoughts were muddled by the waning of time... And I didn't really feel sorry for the burnt 20 000 rubles. for a ticket - but you just can't buy a new one! The holiday season, air tickets are sold out in Batagai-Alyt, and I will be stuck there until the fall... I walked again through the larch trees, along the shelf above the Tarasala. Curly roots... No, we don't believe in Chuusung anymore!


Green currants (red in ripeness that) tore and ate sometimes: sour, tart, but vitamins, apparently, I wanted.


This is a miracle moss met.


I took off Eneis. (Norn, I think.) Good luck! Butterflies of this kind are very shy - they take off just a little, but the "shaded" sun with coolness helped me here: the model was half asleep.


Another squeeze... Yes, not for Misha's boat.


He crossed gullies-descending and climbing "vertical" slopes, climbing through windbreaks, elm trees in the marys... Dragging, with things, also three kilograms of food, five of flour. I unloaded Misha as much as I could. And who said it was time to retire at 58?.. In the evening I went out to this ice. Half of it has melted, the rest is behind the main channel of Tara-Sala. No one... I just walked along the shore. The water in the river is waning, it doesn't drag the trees anymore. And suddenly... Am I awake? In the distance, against the background of ice-people are standing! I run to them, the water channels flooded raised brodni, "dump" on the shore... Lenya and some guy, a bunch of young yakuts. Two water cannons are nearby. "Here we go to the herd to Tikhon. Nurse, veterinarians... Where's Misha?" Lenya asked me. "It's coming... I think-on the way. We split up so that we wouldn't miss the water cannon!" "On the way back, in about three hours, we'll pick you up... "" Thank you!" Then we went on...


I waited about four hours. I built a bonfire on the beach, dried my wet socks, and had tea... The hum of a water cannon! The two men arrived with Misha. He didn't catch them on the way there: he was about thirty meters from the shore and late he heard the hum - he broke down, fired a carbine into the air, but the engines covered the sound... Then I was sitting on the bank, waiting. A keepsake photo. I forgot the name of Lenin's partner - I'll ask Misha and then add it.


Let's fly back on the water cannon!


Smoking is high, it's cold - five degrees outside...


Tara-Sala is about the size of the Volga! Sakkyryr will be bigger. I was thinking of moving on...


Go home!

The ending follows.

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 02/20/2022 11: 18

YAKUTIA, ORULGAN RIDGE

Part eleven. Ending


Misha's house. This time I stayed with him. The district administration gave him a house - an old collective farm, but quite strong (larch!), and before that he lived in the hut and tents of their family camp on Khobol, with his wife, Dima and father. He also wrote poems there... He says it's hard for him to live in the village and in the "state-owned" house - next year he will go back to Khobol.


Dima's collection of various fossils found on Khobol (plus someone gave the Black Sea rapana as a gift).


And this is the gun of one of the Kolesovs ' long-time ancestors. Still shoots, and you can go hunting with it!


And these are the caterpillars grown by Dima. I don't know what it is...


Well, here's something he learned. And mated! Bears of fuliginosis.


I arrived in the village on July 12, the next day was overcast and cold (in the mountains, they say, snow even fell!), but on the 14th the sun began to show through, and I went on a tour. There were surprisingly few butterflies in the forest and on the edge of the forest. The desert! They say that the heat was great - everything "dried up". Such was the forest in the area...


And this is my "taxi" to the airport. The same "Sable", with the same Misha's friend. I broke through Bytantay later!


No, guys, next time it's better-like this.

---
Afterword.

Well, here is such a "story" turned out. I didn't even understand why I wrote it - with my eternal time constraints... ;) Craving for creative expression. Not overcome. And someone has more interesting stories on expeditions, I'm sure, but people don't write them. In vain. You need to write a story. It is necessary to perpetuate everything remarkable.
In general, I am satisfied with the expedition: both in terms of drama (although it would be more interesting if the bear "clicked" my tent, and chuusun came to life... :)), and in terms of the collected material. Well, I didn't find any arcticuses - and let's look further south in the next seasons. But he collected a lot of different chernushek, eneis, mother-of-pearl, raznoustyh butterflies of all kinds. I'm not even talking about this " pseudo-Russian!" (However, I have already been told that this is ero-considered a subspecies of Rossi, and now, it turns out, a separate species...).
The discovery for me (I hope that not all science... :) ) is great simply. Hundreds of different insects can be collected by walking with tweezers on perfect flatness with absolute visibility, and not running with a net over potholes, squinting at disturbing thickets-as in the forest. Very good fees. Naledi is a Klondike. Thank you, Mikhail!
Our Simbo is alive! Three days later, I ran back to the camp to see Roma and Tikhon. Then, with the next water cannon, he was taken to the village to Misha.
Time flies... Once I was an ordinary back-packer: a hotel, shops, preferably a cafe. So he spent all his entomological expeditions. Altai, Primorye, and the Elbrus region... Places where you constantly run into a person with a net. :) But about 10 years ago, I suddenly decided that I had lived enough and switched to "extreme" hiking. I put quotation marks, because my favorite Galkina has mine compared to these: https://youtu.be/FWgJL03ANa4 and Karpukhin: https://karpukhins.livejournal.com/128327.html - walks. But we will add!
Oh, guys, how great it is to be with pristine nature! Sit by the fire. Listen to the clouds drawing something over the mountains. Listen to a wordy mountain river. Turn your face to the fresh mountain wind and smile at the sun opening the morning.
And sometimes agree, in this solitude and overcoming, with the words of my guide, the poet Mikhail Kolesov:
We are all but the footsteps
of the Godhead in infinity,
All but
His Enchanted Path.

All the best and peace!

This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 22.02.2022 20: 10

Well, there will also be photos of mattresses with the material collected on the ice. I'm still sorting it out... Maybe someone will be interested in something. I'll trade it for butterflies.

I lay out mattresses with some of the material collected on the Orulgan ice. Bears, glassworms and barbels are already gone-illustration... Write to us if someone needs something. I'll exchange it for butterflies and grandmas. :) I'll post the rest tomorrow.













This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 03/19/2022 22: 52

I lay out mattresses with some of the material collected on the Orulgan ice. Bears, glassworms and barbels are already gone-illustration... Write to us if someone needs something. I'll exchange it for butterflies and grandmas.

Oh, lots of northern views! And you can post the same photos twice as big?

I can send it by mail - in general, the volume will be as it should be. Write to me: butterflies@mail.ru.

Well, here's the rest... Racehorses-from near Yakutsk.













This post was edited by Wild Yuri - 03/19/2022 19: 56

The moon is hanging over the taiga, creeping up to Chuchun's hut...


In the Verkhoyansk Mountains of Yakutia, there is a yeti, and it is called Chuchuna.
The Yakuts saw it.
The Evens saw it.
I ... but took it for a forest spirit-chuusun (read above). View from afar.


No, it was still chuchuna!
The astute Pavel Morozov (here - Morozzz) explained this to me with this collage of his.
Chuchuna is a four-legged larch!
And the reindeer herder Gena told me that chuchuna, however, often comes when too much vodka is brought...
Thank you, Pavel!