Chuval and Hut On Vishera

Chuval

From The Taiga, From the Lingonberry Swamp and Overgrown Bird Cherry, IT Slowly Rises, Dumps Out to the Sky
MIGHTY STONE FOREHEAD. This Is Chuval.

Mountains in the Urals Are Called Stones.
Denezhkin Stone.
Prayer Stone.
And this One Is Just Chuval.

The Clay Oven In Which Rye Cakes Are Baked Is Also Called Chuval. ON FROSTY DAY, RETURNING FROM THE FISHING INDUSTRY, HUNERS WARM THEIR HANDS ON HER ROUGH AND HOT SIDES.

AND WHO IS WARMED BY THE MOUNTAIN?

The Summit of Chuvala Has Been Smoothly Rolled by Time. Below, from the taiga. IT Sems That It Is Overgrown Wool With Moss Or That Soft Wool With Which Deer Antlers Are Covered in Spring. I WANT TO STROKE HER.

Mushrooms and 30Loto

Behind Chuval, On the Bank of the Vishera River, There Is a Hunting Hut. IT Was Built By Vadim - A Taiga Hunter.
- Here We Go Up to Chuval, - Says Vadim, - Then We Go Down, and there We are close to the hut.

We Climb The Chuvala Summit Along The Trail Laid by The Gold Prospectors. We Go to Visit Vadim.
THERE ARE PORCINI MUSHROOMS NEAR THE PATH UNDER THE TREES. I Saw A Mushroom, Reached for It and Almost Fell Into The Pit. ONCE A PROSPECTOR CUT IT DOWN IN THE STONY GROUND, REINFORCED THE WALLS WALLS WALLS WALLS. I GUESS I FOUND GOLD.
I Carefully Look Around to See IF Something Will Sparkle in the Grass or in the pebbles. But The Gold Is Not Visible Yet And There Are Many Mushrooms.

Dudki

A Barefoot Old Man Is Walking In Front Of US Along The Path. His Huge Paw Was Clearly Imprinted On The Damp Ground. "I Would Not Like to Shake This Paw" - I Think.
Barefoot Old Man Walks Exactly Our Way. Apparently, He Also Decided to Get To the Hut. He Breaks Pipes, Turns Them Out of the Ground and Eats a Sweet Root.

On The Right, On The Left - Pipes Are Blooming Everywhere, Their Flowers Are Like A Malachai Hat.
And The Roots That The Bear Loves So Much, We Will Cook Taiga Borscht.

Barefoot Old Man

The Dogs, Who Were Quietly Running Ahead, Suddenly Stopped and Grunted Angrily:

-We Catch Up With The Barefoot!
Photographer Vitya Screws His Worst Lens to the Camera and Steps Forward. He Sems To Be Carrying Something Like A Mortar in His Hands. Behind Him - Two With Guns. Just in Case. No Matter How The Old Man Tries to Sniff The Camera.

Barefoot Somewhere Nearby. ON THE TRAIL THERE ARE VERY FRESH TRACKS. JUICE OOZES FROM BROKEN PIPES. You Can Hear Someone Kissing and Chomping Ahead. This Is of Course The Old Man Champs. Eats Pipes.
A Brown Shaggy Head Suddenly Protrudes from the bushes and immediately hides. Juicy Pipes Break, Waving Their Caps. The Bear Runs Away, Frightened, As You Can See, by A PhotoMine Thrower.
- IT's a Pity, - Vitya IS UPSET. - Didn't Have Time to Take Off Barefoot.

But We Still Took Off The Bear. True, Not An Old Man, But A Very Young One - A Boy. And He Eats Not Pipes, But Carrots.
This Boy Lives In A Village With A Hunter. After The Shoot, He Ate My Cowboy Shirt.

Shiksha

We Climb On Chuval's Forehead. Long-Nosed Woodcocks and Speckled Blackbirds Fly Up From The Heather Bushes, Which The Summit Is Overgrown With. Partridges Fly Screaming. So That's Who Chuval Warms Up.
I Dropped My Heavy Backpack and FELL INTO THE GRASS. NO, NOT INTO THE GRASS. INTO THE SHIKSHA.
Small, Two Fingers Long, Christmas Trees Grew All Around Me, and On Them Were Black Berries.
- This Is A Shiksha, - Said Vadim. - EAT.

"SHIKSHA" IS An Interesting Word. Just Rearrange Two Letters, and You Get "Bump". INDITION, THE SHIKSHA LOOKS LIKE A CHRISTMAS TREE.
But There Are No Cones on the Shiksha. Black Berries. THEY SEEM TO BE FILLED WITH RESIN.
I TOOK A HANDFUL OF SHIKSHA AND IMMEDIATELY PUT IT IN MOTH.
UNDER THE BLACK SHINY PEEL THERE WAS A FRESH AND SWEET PULP, AND IN IT SMALL CRUNCHY BONES.
Good Shiksha Berry. She Smells a Little Apple.

Panteley Cakes

Last Night We Spent The Night At Grandfather Panteley. Long Ago, Fifty Years Ago, He Cut Down A House in the Taiga and Lives in It Alone.
WE GOT TO PANTELEI LATE AT NIGHT. HE WAS DELIGHTED WITH THE GESESTS, PUT THE SAMOVAR.

For a Long Time We Sat At The Table, Talked, Sang Songs. Panteley Was More Silent and Kept Looking At What Kind Of Urban People They Were. Our Conversations and Songs, Brought from the City, Seeemed Wonderful to Him. One Song He Liked: "IT's Raining Outside, Rain ..."

In The Morning We Got Up Early, After Dark, And The Grandfather Was Already Up. I LOOKED BEHIND THE PARTITION TO HIM. There Was A Candle Burning On The Table and In The Light of Her Grandfather Panteley Was Kneading Dough. Apparently Going To Bake Bread.

The Sun Came Up. We Began to Get Ready for the ROAD and At Parting Decided to Take a Picture of Pantelei.

-You, Grandfather, Take Off Your Hat - Why Take Pictures In A Hat?

-Why Take IT OFF? SHE WARMS MY HEAD.

-Okay, Then Pick Up the Net As If You Were Mending It.

PANTELEY DID NOT TAKE OFF HIS HAT, BUT TOOK THE NET IN HIS HANDS, SHAKING HIS HEAD AND SMILING AT THE ITEAS OF THE CITY MAN.
THEN HE WENT INTO THE HOUSE AND BROUGHT OUT SOMETHING WRAPPED IN A RAG. The Package Was Hot, Unfolded IT and Saw Thin Cakes Made Of Rye Flour.

-Take It, - Said Panteley. - ON THE ROAD.

WHEN WE CROSSED THE FELT AND STOPPED TO REST, I TOOK OUT PANTELEV CAKES FROM THE BAG. They Dried Up and Crumbled, WE Began to Eat Them, Soaking Them in A Stream.
There Was Neither Salt Nor Sweetness In Panteleev Cakes. THEY WERE AS FRESH AS WATER.
I Was Surprised: What Are These Strange Cakes, Why They Have no Taste. THEN I REALIZED THAT THERE IS A TASTE, ONLY VERY SIMPLE. Such Cakes Can Probably Only Be Baked By A Lonely Old Man Living In The Taiga.

Pulp-Pulp-Pulp

The Dry Root That Was Sticking Out Of The Heather Bushes Suddenly Stirred - And Slowly, Carefully, A Deer Came Out to Meet US.

-MEAT-PULP-SOFT ... - Vadim Said Quietly, Holding Out His Hand to the Deer. A PINCH OF SALT LAY IN HIS PALM.
The Stag Was Looking AT US. HE HAD SEEN PEOPLE BEFORE, BUT HE DID NOT MEET WITH US.
- Myak-Myak-Myak ... - Vadim Invited, - Myak ..

"Something Soft," The Deer Thougoht, Apparently, "But Still I See You for The First Time.".
The Bushes Began to Stir Again, and a Deer Came Out for the Stag. Vazhenka. Seeing Such A Crowd of People, The Vazhenka Was Shy, Hid Behind The Back Of the Stag.
THEN A FAWN JUMPED OUT. HE DID NOT ARGUE, JUMPED UP TO VADIM AND LICKED HIS PALM.
Dad and Mom Whispering Excitedly. But The Salt Attracted and Soon The Whole Family Licked Vadimov's Palm.
IT WAS TOO MUCH. Three Tongues In The Palm Clearly Did Not Fit.

I TOOK A HANDFUL OF SALT OUT OF MY POCKET AND BEGAN TO LURE THE DEER TO ME: - MEAT-PULP-SOFT ..
Pulp-Pulp-Pulp!.. - My Companions Shouted At Different Voices. EVERYBODY HAD SALT IN THEIR POCKET. Everyone Wanted to Salt The Deer.
Two More Deer Came Out Of The Bushes, But The Were Intercepted From Me. NOW EVERYONE WAS Feeding The Deer and Only I Walked With An Outstretched Hand.

Finally My Deer Appeared. HE WAS YOUNG, WITH SHORT HORNS.
The Tongue of A Deer Is Amazing. Rough, Strong, He Can Sed His Palm Right Through. I Fed My Deer With Sweet Salt For a Long Time:
Pulp-Pulp-Pulp ..

REINDEER MOSS

SO This Is Who Chuval Warms Up - Deer!
In Summer, At The Top of the Mountain, Deer Escape from HorseFlies and Spiders, and in Winter Here IS Easier to Get Reindeer Moss From Under The Snow - Deer Moss.

Reindeer Tear The Snow with their Hooves - Hoofs, Looking for Lichen.
In My Opinion, Lichen Is The Most Beautiful Moss.
Light, Light Green, IT Resiliently Breaks Out Of Cracks In The Stones, And Each Of Its Bush Looks Like An Explosion.

YAGEL TENDER, SOFT MOSS. It's a Pity To Walk On It, Trample, And If You Did, You Walk On A Down Pillow.
THEY SAY THAT A PERSON'S FOOTPRINT REMAINS IN THE REINDEER LICHEN FOR MANY YEARS.
THERE IS A LOT OF DEER MOSS ON THE SLOPES OF CHUVAL.
And in One Place Among The Lichen We Saw LingonBerries. She Seeemed Especially Ripe and Juicy In His Grayish Bushes.
We Ate LingonBerries, and Left Reindeer Lichen.

Cloudberry

UNDERFOOT MOSS - SOFT SHAGGY FUR.
Sunny Berries, Orange and Yellow, Scattered Across The Mokhovaya Glade. Cloudberry. Yellow - Ripe, Orange - About to Ripen.

CLOUDBERRIES ARE A BIT LIKE WHITE RASPBERRIES. IT Sems That These Are Small Raspberries Growing Among The Moss.
But Cloudberries Are Not AS Sweet and Fragrant as Raspberries. Still, I Won't TRADE CLOUDBERRIES FOR RASPBERRIES. She Has A Northern, Taiga Taste, And There Is Nothing to Compare It WITH - Except With The Taste of Dew.

CLOUDBERRY ABSORBED ALL THE FRESHNESS OF THE DAMP FOREST, ALL THE SWEETNESS OF THE MOSS SWAMP - AND THERE WAS A LOT OF FRESHNESS, BUT A LITTLE BIT OF SWEETINESS.
But Whoever Needs It - Some Drink Tea With A Bite, Others Overlap.
WHEN YOU GET TIRED UNDER THE BAG After A Long Journey, WHEN YOUR THROAT IS DRY - CLOUDBERRIES SEEM LIKE HONEY. Moss and Cool Marsh Honey.

Bag and Stove

We Descend From Chuvala. Below, In Front, Behind The Angular Tops of Fir Trees and Firs, No, No, The Vishera River Will Sparkle. AND THERE, ON THE BANK OF VADIMOV'S HUT. Hurry to Get there.

- You know What Felt? - ASKS Vadim. - I Know: The Stove.
NOT JUST A STOVE. A BAG IS ALSO CALLED A CHUVAL. "A Strange Mountain," I Think. - AND IT IS A STOVE, AND A BAG ".
- I DON'T Understand Why - A BAG. The Mountain Does Not Look Like A SACK IN ANY WAY.
- And What Is Under Our Feet? - Says Vadim. - UNDER OUR FEET IS GOLD. Goldmine.
SO That's Why The Bag! Chuval IS A BAG OF GOLD. Sense Of Gold.

Hut

From the Darkened Eveing Taiga We Went to Vishera and Saw a Hut.
SMALL, WITH TWO Windows, She Stood on the shore in spiky firs and Stood So Simply and Well, AS If She Had Grown Here On Its Own.
Something Flashd in the Dark Window. - Fire, - I Warned. - There Is Someone There.

-This Is a Sunset, - Vadim Answered. - No one is there. But Someone Was.

A Kite Was Sitting On The Roof Of The Hut. Seeing US, HE Screamed Cryingly, Rose Above The Trees and Disappeared, Burned Out, In The Sunset Sky.
We Threw Off Our Backpacks and Entered The Hut.
There Was A Can of Condensed Milk On The Table by the Window. A Sheet Of Paper Protruded From Under It, on Which It Was Written With a Chemical Pencil:

"We Have Been Walking Through The Taiga For a Month. We Have No Food Left, Except For This Can of Condensed Milk. We Accidentally Went To the Hut and Lived Here for Three Days. We Found Tea, Sugar and Crackers. Dear Host, Thank You. Drink Tea with Our Condensed Milk. We Will Never Forget This Hut ".

My Nuts

A NUTCRACKER FLEW ACROSS THE VISHERA RIVER TO THE EVENING, DORMANT CHUVALA. SHE CARRIED A LARGE CEDAR CONE IN HER BEAK.
Do You Want A Nut? - ASKED VADIM. We Stood in the Bushes on the shore and the nutcracker dip notice.
WHEN SHE FLEW CLOSER, VADIM JUMPED OUT OF THE BUSHES, CLAPPED HIS HANDS AND SHOUTED:

-My Nuts!

Nutcraccker Got Scared, Dropped A Bump. The Wave of the Vishera River Brought It Right to Our Feet.
Among The Sharp-Headed FIR Trees and Firs Along The Banks of the Vishera There Are Lonely Cedars. Mature Cones Hang Heavily On Their Tops.
Vadim and i Made More Nuts, Returned to the Hut. A BONFIRE WAS ALREADY BURNING THERE, FIERY REFLECTIONS DANCED ON THE TREE TRUNKS. IT WAS ALREADY NIGHT by The Fire.

In Hot Ash, Vadim Began to Bake Cedar Cones, Just Like Potatoes Are Baked.
WE DRANK TEA WITH CONDENSED MILK, WE HAMMERED OUT NUTS FROM CHARRED CONES, WHICH SMELLED OF HOT TAR.

Vandysh

ON THE THERE COAST OF VISHERA, RED-LEGGED BURDOCKS GROW RIGHT OUT OF THE WATER. In Burdocks, As in Glasses, Rainwater Collects.
Under the Burdocks, Along The Bottom of the River, Fishes The Size Of A Little Finger Scurry.
These Are Vandys. THEY ARE CURIOUS AND VORACIOUS. Throw A Jar Of Bread Crumbs Into The Water - The Vandyllas Instantly Crawl Into It.
Vishera Children Learn to Fish from Catching Vandyllas, And Adult Fishermen Scold Children With "Vandysh".

-Come on, Vandys, Let's Get Out of Here!

I Like Vandys. Dexterous, Nimble, Impudent, They Amuse The Underwater World.

Vasya Wormyachek

On The River, Not Far From The Shore, We Saw A Boat on Which A Lone Fisherman Was Sitting. IT Was Vasya Wormyachok. He Was Catching Grayling.
Grayling Is A Careful Fish. Keeps in Pits, Deep Brown.
The Grayling Fin Looks Like A Flag With Pearl Peas Scattered Over It.

-Hower You? - Shouted vadim.

-Lapti! - Answered Vasya, RespectFully Pointing His Finger in Depth.

"Vasya Calls Big Grayling with Bumps, and Little Ones -" Boys ". And The Biggest, Hugene Ones Are Y Basi "Logs".
Vasya Catches Grayling WITH A WORM. But There Are No Worms in the Taiga. THEY DO NOT LIVE IN DENSELY PACKED AND DECAYED NEEDLES. Vasya Brought Worms Into The Taiga and Settled Them Under The Chips Near The Hunting Hut. For this he is Called the Worm.

In The Evenings on Wide Stretches, Grayling Come to the Surface. The Dance On The Waves, Wriggle, Jump Out of the Water. Grayling Mushkaret. Catch The Fly.

GRAYLINGS ARE MUSHROOMING, AND WE ARE MUSHROOMING. Throwing a Tackle with An Artificial Fly. Grayling Firmly Grabs, Pulls The Line, Jumps Out Of The Water and then Trembles for a Long Time In The Stones on the shore and somehow Hums Escecially.

Yashka

The Kite Yashka Lives In The Old Fir Trees Next To the Hut. Every Time We Finish Lunch, Yashka Flies Up to the Fire to See If there Is a Head Left from the grayling.
For Yashka, I Catch Vandys. Pour A Whole Jar and Pour It Into The Grass. Yashka Flies from The Top of the Fir, Shouts Joyfully, Shrilly.

Once I Was Left Alone In A HUT. I Sat On A Felled Birch and Painted. Nearby Was a Bucket with Grayling Peeled for Fish Soup. Yashka Suddenly Flew Off The Tree, Sat On The Edge of the Bucket and Began to Peck at the grayling.
I Barked - Yashka Goggled His Yellow Eyes in Amazment and, Just In Case, Flew to the Side. But a Minute Later He Returned and Sat Down Again on the Edge of the Bucket. THEN I PUT ON MY GLOVES, CREPT UP TO THE BUCKET AND GRABBED THE KITE. He Screamed Indignantly, and I Slapped Him In The Place WHERE THE TAIL.

All Day Yashka Cried and Complained AT Top Of A Fir. He Just Couldn't Look At The Grayling. AND ON ME TOO.
One Morning, Snow Fell On The Top of Chuvala, and We Realized That We Had to Get Ready for Home. Spreading Gray And Brown Feathers, Yashka The Kite Sat On a Fir and Watched US Go Into The Taiga. He Thought We'd Hunt, Fish, and Come Back. But We Didn't Return. Winter Was Coming.

Vishera

What a Good Word - Vishera. Smooth, Rough. I WANT TO SAY IT, TOUCH IT WITH MY LIPS. Like a river on a rift, Rough Pebbles Rustle in It.
The Whole Bottom of Vishera and Its Banks ARE In These Pebbles. THEY LOOK LIKE FLINT KNIVES OR Arrowheads and Spearheads.

Vishera Wriggles Through the Taiga, Seethes Dully on the Rapids, Beats with Breakers Under A Rock with a Bell Ringing and Suddenly Spills Over Wide Stretches.
The Patterns of Its Channel Resemble Letters.
I Was Flying Over Vishera in An Airplane and Suddenly I Saw A River Bend, Similar to the Letter "L".
AND RIGHT BEHIND HER - "O".
I Was Worried, Pushed The Neighbors - What Kind of Word Would IT BE?
IT TURNED OUT THE WORD "MOOSE".

AT THE END OF THE STORY

Today I Published The Story "Hut On Vishera" YU.Kovalya. Unfortunately, I Have Not Yet Been To The Vishera River, On the Chuval Mountain, I Have Not Seen How Cloudberries, SHIKSHA AND LICHEN GROW.

But All this Was Seen and Described by The Author of this PhotoBook. I Photographed Her In The Lowest Quality and Using https: // www.Google.COM / INTL / RU / DRIVE Converted Graphic Files To Text. Of Course, I Still Had to Edit The Text For A Long Time, But i Consider This Experiment A Success. This Means That Over Time, New Similar Reviews Will Appear in the Category Trip. INDITION, ANOTHER INNOVATION WILL SOON APPEAR ON THE SITE HTTPS: // Cryptocoinexpert.info. But I Will Talk About This in the Following Publications.