When the mountains beckon. The fabulous beauty of Lake Mzy

- so say everyone who has visited this country. But really, what else can so stir up the whole gamut of sensations, no matter how bewitching mountain landscapes, clean air and an endless road among trees and mountain peaks. So I, in order to feel the soul of Abkhazia, chose the highest point to visit - Lake Mzy. The way there is not easy, but it fully satisfies the need for natural beauty.

Path through the mountain forest

The trail is clearly visible and only one, so it is difficult to get lost. In addition, in some places, red arrows are inscribed on the trees, indicating direction to lake Mzy. Although our dear Joe persistently urged to take a guide for 1000-2000 rubles, because you can easily get lost, and horses for 1000 rubles from the tail, because the path is difficult. Fortunately for us, we did not find the guides and went along the route ourselves. I note that they lead excursions here in organized groups.

Another view of the glacier

Travelers' halt

As you walk, it gets hot. Sometimes it rains, sometimes the sun comes out. We overcome the fir and boxwood forest. The air is amazing!

By the way, we completely forgot about our dear friend. He finally ended up in an incredibly wild nature for him. And now his eyes were burning with bursts of adrenaline, and his legs could not keep up with his body striving forward. And like a real mountain goat, he jumped from stone to stone, admiring the views around and swearing at the endlessness of the path. And the path really seemed endless.

It would seem that the long-awaited mountain lake Mza is already beyond the next pass, but climbing the hillock, you see the continuation of the path winding into the distance and meadows, meadows ...

Gentlemen-tourists

Alpine meadows delighted the eye with a scattering of flowers

And again a halt

Emerald green mountains

A herd of buffaloes peacefully sunbathed under the clouds

We have been going for more than 3 hours. Forces are running out. The glaciers are coming very close. Ahead is a wall of mountains, somewhere here it is. There is definitely no further way. And here is another hillock .... And, oh, miracle! There is a lake behind it!

A little more and the lake will appear before us)

There must be a lake in that bowl

On the way to the treasured reservoir))

A couple more steps!

Lake Mzy

Surrounded by a crown of mountains, on high 2000m above sea level lies the mirror of Lake Mzy. Snow descends directly to its smooth surface from the side opposite from us. A single cow walks in the meadow, ringing a bell. The lake itself is small, about 100 m long and 45 m wide, the water temperature is +4. But the depth is decent - 40 meters.

The wild nature of the Caucasus radiates something magical. You seem to find yourself in another space, untouched by man, cold, calm, emerald green, majestic. This is not a human world, this is the world of the Power of Origins. There are no words to describe the whole gamut of feelings that you experience when looking around. And even looking at the photos, I understand that we were somewhere not on earth. This is the space of the Earth.

We arrived first, meeting no one along the way, except for local hunters. And now they could fully enjoy the peace and harmony of the world.

And here is the long-awaited lake Mzy

The cow, initially embarrassingly running away, sensing something delicious, showed frank impudence, trying to lick off everything that was badly lying with its tongue. Here she really liked the pita bread. The cow had fluffy ears and a big wet nose.

Cow :)

Hare Pipus was also photographed in this amazing place

Meet the cow :)

Pipus was very interested in the horned muzzle :)

Cooling down after the rise, we felt that it was not even hot here. And I would sit and contemplate, but the cold forced me to go back faster. They didn’t even approach the glacier, they froze.

Without being too lazy, especially for those who still do not believe in the dead on the mountain, I found some memories of climbers and documentary evidence of the conquest of just one peak - Everest.

Everest is the modern Golgotha. Anyone who goes there knows that he has a chance not to return. Roulette with Mountain. Lucky - no luck. Not everything depends on you. Hurricane wind, frozen valve on an oxygen tank, wrong timing, avalanche, exhaustion, etc.

Everest often proves to people that they are mortal. At least the fact that when you go up you see the bodies of those who are never destined to go down again.
According to statistics, about 1500 people climbed the mountain.

Remained there (according to various sources) from 120 to 200. Can you imagine?

Here are very revealing statistics until 2002 about dead people on the mountain (name, nationality, date of death, place of death, cause of death, whether he reached the top).

Among these 200 people there are those who will always meet new conquerors. According to various sources, there are eight openly lying bodies on the northern route.
Among them are two Russians. From the south is about ten. And if you move left or right...

I will tell only about the most famous losses:

"Yes, in the mountains there are hundreds of corpses frozen from cold and exhaustion, fallen into the abyss." Valery Kuzin.

"Why are you going to Everest?" asked George Mallory.
"Because he is!"

I am among those who believe that Mallory was the first to conquer the summit and died already on the descent. In 1924, the Mallory-Irving team launched an assault. They were last seen through binoculars in a break in the clouds just 150 meters from the summit. Then the clouds converged and the climbers disappeared.

The mystery of their disappearance, the first Europeans who remained on Sagarmatha, worried many. But it took many years to find out what happened to the climber.
In 1975, one of the conquerors assured that he saw some body off the main path, but did not approach, so as not to lose strength. It took another twenty years for in 1999, when traversing the slope from the 6th high-altitude camp (8290 m) to the west, the expedition stumbled upon many bodies that had died over the past 5-10 years. Mallory was found among them.

He was lying on his stomach, sprawled, as if hugging a mountain, his head and hands were frozen into the slope.

The video clearly shows that the climber's tibia and fibula are broken. With such an injury, he was no longer able to continue the journey.

"They turned it over - the eyes are closed. So, he did not die suddenly: when they break, many of them remain open. They didn't lower them - they buried them there."

Irving was never found, although the harness on Mallory's body suggests that the couple were with each other until the very end. The rope was cut with a knife and perhaps Irving could move around and left his comrade, died somewhere down the slope.

In 1934, he made his way to Everest, disguised as Tibetan monk, an Englishman Wilson, who decided by prayers to cultivate in himself the willpower sufficient to climb to the top. After unsuccessful attempts to reach the North Col, abandoned by the Sherpas accompanying him, Wilson died of cold and exhaustion. His body, as well as the diary he wrote, were found by an expedition in 1935.

A well-known tragedy that shocked many occurred in May 1998. Then a married couple died - Sergey Arsentiev and Francis Distefano.

Sergey Arsentiev and Francis Distefano-Arsentiev, having spent three nights on 8,200 m (!), climbed and reached the summit on 22/05/2008 at 18:15. The ascent was made without the use of oxygen. Thus, Francis became the first American woman and only the second woman in history to climb without oxygen.

During the descent, the couple lost each other. He went down to the camp. She is not.

The next day, five Uzbek climbers went to the top past Francis - she was still alive. The Uzbeks could help, but for this they refused to climb. Although one of their comrades has already ascended, in this case the expedition is already considered successful.

On the descent we met Sergei. They said they saw Francis. He took oxygen tanks and went. But he disappeared. Probably blown away by a strong wind into a two-kilometer abyss.
The next day, three other Uzbeks, three Sherpas and two from South Africa- 8 people! They approach her - she has already spent the second cold night, but she is still alive! Again, everyone passes by - to the top.

“My heart sank when I realized that this man in a red and black suit was alive, but completely alone at an altitude of 8.5 km, just 350 meters from the top,” recalls the British climber. “Katy and I, without thinking, turned off the route and tried to do everything possible to save the dying.So ended our expedition, which we prepared for years, begging for money from sponsors ... We did not immediately manage to get to her, although she lay close. to run underwater...

We found her, tried to dress the woman, but her muscles atrophied, she looked like a rag doll and muttered all the time: "I'm an American. Please don't leave me" ...

We dressed her for two hours. My concentration was lost due to a bone-piercing rattling sound that broke the ominous silence, Woodhall continues his story. “I realized that Katie was about to freeze to death herself. We had to get out of there as soon as possible. I tried to lift Frances and carry her, but it was useless. My futile attempts to save her put Kathy at risk. We couldn't do anything."

Not a day went by that I didn't think about Frances. A year later, in 1999, Katie and I decided to try again to get to the top. We succeeded, but on the way back we were horrified to notice the body of Francis, she was lying exactly as we had left her, perfectly preserved under the influence of low temperatures. Nobody deserves such an end. Cathy and I promised each other to return to Everest again to bury Frances. It took 8 years to prepare a new expedition. I wrapped Francis in an American flag and included a note from my son. We pushed her body into a cliff, away from the eyes of other climbers. Now she rests in peace. Finally, I was able to do something for her."
Ian Woodhall.

A year later, Sergei Arseniev's body was found: "Sorry for the delay in taking photos of Sergei. We definitely saw him - I remember the purple puffy suit. He was in a sort of bowing position, lying just behind Jochen's "implicit rib" in the Mallory area for about 27150 ft. I think it's him." Jake Norton, member of the 1999 expedition.

But in the same year there was a case when people remained people. On the Ukrainian expedition, the guy spent almost the same place as the American, a cold night. His own people lowered him to the base camp, and then more than 40 people from other expeditions helped. He got off lightly - four fingers were removed.

"In such extreme situations, everyone has the right to decide: to save or not to save a partner ... Above 8000 meters you are completely occupied with yourself and it is quite natural that you do not help another, since you have no extra strength." Miko Imai.

"It is impossible to afford the luxury of morality at an altitude of more than 8000 meters"

In 1996, a group of climbers from the Japanese University of Fukuoka climbed Mount Everest. Very close to their route were three distressed climbers from India - emaciated, ill people got into a high-altitude storm. The Japanese passed by. A few hours later, all three were dead.

I highly recommend reading the article by the member of the expedition to Everest from the GEO magazine "Alone with Death". About the greatest catastrophe of the decade on Gor. About how, due to a bunch of circumstances, 8 people died, including two group commanders. Later, the film "Death on Everest" was filmed based on the author's book.

Terrifying footage of the Discovery Channel in the TV series Everest - Beyond the Limits of the Possible. When the group finds a freezing person, they film him, but only ask for his name, leaving him to die alone in an ice cave.

"The corpses on the route - good example and a reminder to be more careful on the mountain. But every year there are more and more climbers, and according to the statistics of corpses, it will increase every year. What is unacceptable in normal life is regarded as the norm at high altitudes." Alexander Abramov.

Bodies on the way to the top:

On the trail:

"You can't keep climbing between corpses and pretending it's okay." Alexander Abramov.

III. Mountains beckon

After graduating from the seven-year plan, the Tour in the fall of 1928 went to the eighth grade. For him, as for most of us, the transition to the second step was difficult. The new teachers, in their introductory talks, essentially read waste to childhood. Childhood is over, now we must learn to think, speak and behave like adults. We were advised to read newspapers and good books, and in newspapers the most boring is the most important. Reading will help us become independent thinkers and "useful members of society." And we wanted to be children a little more, we dreamed of sports, of adventures. I remember that I was not at all pleased with the thought of becoming an adult.

And the Tour was the least in a hurry to say goodbye to childhood. Younger in age, he did not keep up with the rest in development. It was immediately felt that he was not on his own. It was during this time that our friendship developed. We were introduced by a toy boat made of pine chocks, but we were really brought together by common dreams and views, similar impressions. At Tur, this is his Lord's Pond. All I have is a barrel of water. But what an incomparable barrel! My father was a gardener. In one of his greenhouses there was a huge barrel where he filled a watering can with water. Sometimes rose bushes or other plants stood in the barrel, prepared for planting, but more often only twigs and duckweed floated in the dark water, and at the bottom a mysterious forest of some nameless sprouts stuck out. As a kid, with my nose touching the edge of the barrel, I often looked at the unknown world in the water column, which came to life in a new way every time the slanting rays of the sun pierced the glass of the greenhouse. Forming bizarre combinations, colors shimmered, at the bottom - like dark red velvet, along the edges - a poisonous green edge. Between the stems, panicles and mud scurried all sorts of small things; at times brilliant bubbles rose up, as if someone was muttering there, in the depths. And the sun goes down, and I see myself in the barrel - blond hair and a freckled nose, which I kept trying to pick off with my fingernail.

As a high school student, I also found my way to the forest ponds and was mesmerized by their inhabitants. Tritons are like miniature lizards... Once upon a time, their ancient relatives roamed the earth, leaving a trail wider than an automobile track. They lived, fought for existence, but mighty natural disasters destroyed them. Tur and I saw it in an action movie." lost World". And we talked about dinosaurs, brontosaurs, plesiosaurs and other antediluvian giants. There was no shortage of topics for conversation, only we avoided talking about ourselves, afraid to betray some weakness of ours. Then youth problems were not discussed on the pages of newspapers and magazines, everyone kept their worries to themselves and tried to cope with them on their own.

At school, Tur was still an average student. Mathematics was better than other subjects. He liked the pure logic of equations, and geometric constructions were somewhat reminiscent of a game. Gradually, he got along with grammar.

But the passion for natural science has cooled down. Having met with plants in the textbooks for the second stage, he was disappointed. In them, the flowers were not a miracle of creation, but dull exhibits, grouped according to the shape of the petals and the number of stamens. Plants were cut, analyzed and discarded. Aroma and beauty did not play a role. Almost the same happened with zoology, although we still learned something about the life of animals. Here, the Tour was still able to shut everyone up by the belt, striking the class with his knowledge. But there was no former passion. Why? After all, animals were his forte. And there was no shortage of encouragement, he quickly became the favorite of the science teacher. He was set as an example to us, and the Tour preferred not to stand out. Often he was given indulgences that he did not want. And the class looked at Tur in surprise when he began to come to science lessons unprepared. But when he began to refuse to answer even simple questions, we finally figured out what was wrong. Only the teacher did not understand. However, he forgave Tura everything and continued to consider him his most capable student in all the years.

But the real stumbling block was the law of God. The subject was led by a priest who knew the Bible perfectly, but did not know how to touch the soul of the student. Know by heart long psalms with all sorts of difficult words and Luther's small catechism. For Tour, this was infinitely far from what his father had told him. And extremely intricate next to the mother's views on life and evolution.

In general, during these years, the school seemed to Tour completely out of touch with life. It was difficult to force myself to concentrate on the lessons; Thoughts just drifted far, far away. The pencil tirelessly drew palm trees, thatched huts, amazing animals on the covers of textbooks.

Perhaps the most upsetting of the Tour was physical education. Here he was hopelessly behind the others. He had no talent for football, and he did not like it either. And when the guys were divided into teams, they remembered him in the end.

When we went to the sea to swim, Tur sat on the shore and looked. True, few could compare with him in cross-country, but this sport was not in honor.

Apparently, it was then that Tour decided to take on himself, because in secret a thorough preparation began. At home, in the corner of the yard, my father dug two tall pillars with a crossbar at the top. I hung up the rope for climbing, strengthened the horizontal bar, rings. And soon the Tour was doing tricks that we couldn't do. Pulls up on one hand and hangs. Why is there on one hand - he could pull himself up on one finger! At the same time, he developed endurance in himself. He will hit his knuckles on the edge of the table - and at least that, he will not even wrinkle. We were not very drawn to repeat this test after him, and when we had to, we did it much more carefully.

At this time, two brothers obsessed with sports settled in one of the neighboring houses. In the summer they went in for athletics, in the winter - skiing. Both were sociable guys, and the Tour found support from them. They invited him to cross-country skiing and ski trips, even persuaded him to participate in competitions with other guys. But the Tour did not care about the victory, it was important for him to exercise in order to become strong and enduring. If he got tired during the cross-country, then he sat down to rest on a stone or stump, then he ran on. And in the footsteps of the beast, he could completely leave the race. The protocol with the results of two crosses has been preserved. In one of them, the Tour came last. In another, he was the fourth of five contestants. And even then, thanks to the fact that one of the runners got lost on the track.

Parents also noticed that something was happening to the guy. And the mother understood: it was time to give him more freedom, otherwise he would have a hard time in the world of adults. She agreed with her father that there was only benefit from exercise.

Heyerdahl Sr. bought and inherited several estates and "shelters". Most of all, he loved the house in Ustauset, where many built summer cottages for themselves and it was always possible to meet acquaintances and have fun. Mrs. Alison preferred another house, on the shores of Lake Hurnsjö, in the mountains beyond Lillehammer. Nature here met her taste: a lot of air, a huge sky, long ridges with heather and dwarf birches stretching into the distance, shimmering lakes and wide plateaus, in the blue distance - wild massifs of Jutunheimen and Rondane with caps of eternal snow and ice.

Tur was only five years old when he first came to Hurnsjö. This corner in the wilderness played a big role for him. From year to year he came there for the summer. Once he was allowed to spend the night with a friend in a tent near the house. It was a real highlight for the boys. They couldn't sleep from excitement. From the distant forest below came the voices of nocturnal birds and beasts. The wind shook the tent, and it seemed that someone was wandering nearby.

Unforgettable was the first night that the guys spent under the spruce without a tent. How good it is in the forest! People have obviously lost something important: they live in boxes, breathe smoke and dust instead of forest and mountain air...

Once in the summer a man came to the mountains with a knapsack over his shoulders, and more than that, he had nothing more to say. His name was Ola Bjørneby. This tanned, hardened mountain dweller was surprisingly cheerful, despite the hardships he had endured. Until recently, he lived in the house of a wealthy timber merchant in one of the cities of Estland. It turned out that the family went bankrupt. Taking the essentials, Ula went to the mountains to engage in hunting. In the valley east of Hurnsjö, he settled in an old sheepfold with an earthen floor. Along the wall between the bottom log and the floor was a hole for sheep. An iron cauldron stood on stones in the corner of the sheepfold. Here Ula cooked. A homemade table and two stools - that's the whole situation. Slept Ula all year round on a high shelf, covered with sheepskins and blankets.

Tur and his mother came here during one of their long walks. Both were immediately fascinated by it. an unusual person. To Tour he was the personification of Tarzan, to Mrs. Alison he was a cheerful adventurer with an inexhaustible supply of stories from the life of animals. Ula told about his hunting life, showed how he carves beautiful bowls and cups from intricately curved branches.

And something completely unexpected happened: the fourteen-year-old Tur was allowed to spend the summer with Ula and help him. The tour saw with his own eyes how an urban man from a cultural family managed to get used to nature so much that the forest and mountains became the same home for him as for a hare and an elk.

For the first time in his life, Tour really worked. He walked a lot, dragged a load, but did not show that it was hard for him, even when his legs gave way from fatigue. If they fished at night, then during the day they slept right there on a flat stone.

Ola Bjørneby taught him to read footprints in the grass, explained what a piece of wool stuck to the bark means, how to hide from the weather. Later, Tour said more than once that the science that he studied with Bjørneby was perhaps the most important for his upbringing.

The mountains have become a symbol of freedom for Tours. Here he spent summer vacation, best time of the year. The highlands were a vast playground, where adventure awaited wherever you turned. Mountain plateaus with their meager soil, where groves of white-trunked birch trees give way to juniper and dwarf birch clinging to the slope, modest flowers and stones with wigs of gray, green, yellow lichen - this was true Norway, his Norway. Sharp peaks in the hazy distance, forest valleys and a sparkling strip of the river far below, as if in underworld… And here, above, goats are jumping on stones, cows are ringing bells, birds are chirping, and the wind breaks into the fragrance of flowers warmed by the sun. Here was his realm - secluded mountain farms with gray walls and sod roofs.

From mountain kingdom he returned every year to his city on the banks of the Oslofjord. Larvik personified autumn and winter, gray days and school webbing. How could he compare with the highlands - the world of light, freedom, adventure. I had never climbed so high into the mountains, and my city seemed to me differently: sunny streets run up, winding, to the slopes; beech, spruce and pine approach the houses; football baked in the sun White beach. And the port is the gate to the big, unknown world. Tour agreed: the latter is indeed a considerable plus. And he will use it someday - when he starts his travels, he will go to foreign unexplored lands. But everything is already open, I objected. Africa has ceased to be the Black Continent. Australia has been mapped for a long time. Only in the Amazon basin there are still little explored places, but this area cannot be called completely unknown.

Discoveries can be not only geographical, - Tour answered. - There are many more mysteries in the world, for example, the mystery of Easter Island.

Honestly! That's what he said, and I still hear those words to this day.

Of course, we also talked about girls. Movies and illustrated magazines had not yet begun to profit from youth and gender issues. Girls attracted us, but we were terribly embarrassed, Tour especially, he was wildly afraid that no one would notice his interest in them.

Undoubtedly, his mother played a role here, although she probably did not suspect this.

What are you, Tur is indifferent to girls, she said. - He is interested only in zoology.

Hearing this again and again, Tur himself finally decided that it was embarrassing to admit how much more his girls interested him than zoology. They were ethereal creatures from another world. Here is his then ideal: a girl should be beautiful, cordial and fair. Furthermore, natural and simple: she should not paint her lips, do a manicure. It is absurd to try to embellish what is given to you by nature itself.

In matters of faith, he was strongly influenced by the views of his mother. He admitted that there are things incomprehensible to the mind, but priests, rituals, psalms and church services are all far-fetched, artificial. Only something primordial remained in communion, albeit with a touch of sacrifice and cannibalism, which seemed disgusting to him. He stubbornly, stubbornly spoke about it.

It was only one step from religion to a question that had occupied Tour's thoughts from a young age and prompted him to make a very important decision. The charm of mountain freedom, half-religious admiration for nature and the animal world, minor sorrows that none of us can escape, a feeling of loneliness, difficult domestic circumstances - all this made him doubt that civilization is good for humanity. What is valuable in it? Over time, this problem has become one of the main ones for him.

During these years, the Tour was often left to its own devices. Mother went about her business, father constantly traveled around, schoolmates were fond of what did not interest him. At that time, he opened his soul to me. We made sure that we look at many things in the same way, while remaining dissimilar enough so that we have something to argue about. I was into music. Tour also loved her, but did not want to study. The feelings evoked by music were important to him, and not technique and theory. He was even more indifferent to literature. Poems did not reach him, he considered novels a surrogate for life. When his mother advised him to read Hamsun or Undset, he objected with the aplomb of youth that he did not want to be influenced by someone else's fiction. It is better to know life yourself, and to learn by closely communicating with nature.

In ninth grade, Tour's thoughts about the contrast between nature and civilization began to take shape in a worldview. He constantly talked about "returning to nature." Brain modern people is stuffed to capacity not so much with his own observations, but with what books, newspapers, magazines, radio and cinema present. And in the end - brain overload and limited ability to perceive. The man of the uncivilized world loads the brain only with everyday observations, cognizes only what he draws from his own experience and oral traditions. Therefore, the mind of such a person is always sharp and open to the new, his instincts are not muffled, all feelings are alive in him.

Of course, this problem is complex and multifaceted. To understand the shortcomings and vices of civilization, they need to be seen from the outside. The members of our society themselves cannot judge whether what they have created is good or bad, for this they must have something to compare with. Civilization is like a house full of people who never went out the door. None of them even know what the house they live in looks like. Someone has to make up his mind and go out of the house to tell others what it is like. Someone has to be first.

For the first time, I noticed indecision in the Tour when he spoke about his plans for the future. Perhaps he will not stop at natural science. Maybe he was destined to walk out the door and see what no one else saw.

The older Tour became, the clearer it became to him that something was wrong between his parents. Father showed up at home less and less, and finally left Larvik altogether. It was said that he was going to rest in Ustauset, but in fact it turned out differently. While Mrs. Alison lived in the old house, he never returned there. Unbeknownst to Tour, the parents agreed to separate. Both tried to keep it a secret, and it did not come to a legal divorce, they spared their son. Of course, the Tour was upset, but everything developed so slowly, so gradually, that this outcome was not a blow to him. And after all, he was used to the fact that his father was traveling all the time. Realizing that his father would not return, Tur tried to use every opportunity to see him.

In the year Turom graduated from school, the rooms of the house were quiet, sad and dreary. But just this year was rich in bright and interesting events who helped Tur cope with loneliness and sadness. All of us, regardless of academic performance, were looking forward to graduation, that time of short but vigorous flowering, when we turn into red flowers in a rather colorless city. We had a lot of things to do. It was necessary to prepare a graduation paper, put on a school review. As always in such cases, the main burden fell on the shoulders of a few enthusiasts. Tour and I were among them, and, of course, this was reflected in our certificate. Throughout the school year, in dreams and in reality, at the table and in the classroom, we thought and talked only about the revue. There were meetings almost every day for important meetings, and I spent most of my evenings in Tour's room, a cozy "lair" with light-colored furniture, next to which the bright red upholstery of the couch stood out. In this room, I - the longest in the class - under the influence of temporary insanity succumbed to persuasion to perform "The Dying Swan". And here Tour overcame his timidity one evening and offered to play the main role - the role of the famous Professor Picard, ascending to heaven in a beer barrel, in a play that he wrote himself. Stage tour! Tour in front of thousands of eyes! Incredible.

Reviews for the review were brilliant. Never before had the city newspapers used such epithets. For us, graduates, it was a sensation that the Tour performed and showed undoubted ability in the role of a comedian. We knew what it cost him. But for the Tour itself, this victory was much more important than we then suspected. For him, this was a test, after which he became a different person. Shyness did not leave him, but from now on he was not so aloof from people and firmly entered our company.

That spring, we all went to the holidays of graduates in neighboring cities together. And they noticed that the Tour feels much freer than before. He walked the longest at night, sometimes until dawn. The girls started looking at him. At the evenings, it happened more than once that some girl chose Tour as her gentleman and let him know that if he was a man, he should take her home after the dance. Of course Tur was a man, but he always found a way to call on me for help, as he was afraid to turn into a pillar of salt, left alone with a girl. I would like to know how many respectable ladies, now already at a dangerous age, commemorate my faux pas with an unkind word. I honestly fulfilled the duty of friendship, did not lag behind the Tour and pretended to be a fool when we passed by my house and the girl asked:

Wait, Arnold, don't you live here?

Having safely delivered the young and disappointed lady to our native harbor, we became ourselves. They wandered the streets in the waves of a lilac spirit and spoke with fervor about the wonders of nature and the absurdities of civilization. The tour talked about how good it was for people before the birth of any culture, when they lived in complete harmony with nature. He took apart our varnished society piece by piece and asked: what genuine, natural joys can modern life offer us? We are building a new Tower of Babel, which only complicates things. And even if we create something good, then these are only patches on the vices of civilization.

He pointed to the factory chimneys in the eastern part of the city. After a few hours, they will again begin to spew poisonous smoke and steam. Early in the morning, the workers will enter the workshops lit by electric light and go out gloomy, gloomy, only in the evening, when the city lights are lit. And so for almost a whole year. He compared these people with the mountain dweller Ula Bjørneby - he is always lively and cheerful, full of strength and health. Yes, when he, Tur, is finally convinced of the correctness of his view, then he will act accordingly, he himself will carry out a "return to nature." He will find a girl who is willing to spend such an experience with him. The girl must be strong and firmly believing in his plan, otherwise she will not dare to break with civilization. He asked my opinion: is it possible to find such a girl? Perhaps, I thought, but how and where is he going to look for her?

The tour acted as it did more than once. Went straight and found her. The girl's name was Liv, she was light and slender, like a birch. At the celebration of graduates in one of the neighboring cities, I suddenly lost Tur. Only late in the evening I managed to find him in a secluded corner. He sat there with his precious find. I approached, coughing carefully, but he didn't see or hear anything. Then Tur excitedly told me that a miracle had happened. He met the chosen one, the only one who can handle what he had conceived. They were introduced by mutual friends. The tour did not dance, but somehow it was necessary to keep her, and he persuaded the girl to take a walk along the seashore. Here they talked. She conquered him at once, and before he had time to come to his senses, he burst out:

What do you think about returning to nature?

In the next second, he was ready to bite off his own tongue and spit it out into the waves. Messed up everything! She will take him for a lunatic ...

The girl paused, then turned to him and said sternly:

But it must be a full, real return.

Didn't he hear right?

The tour would change itself if now it would simply part with it, as with a pipe dream. They agreed to meet at the next graduation party. But she didn't come. He grieved terribly. I had to think of something to help him somehow. One of Tour's comrades borrowed my father's car, and we drove to the city where Liv lived. There we spent several hours, like detectives, sitting in the car in front of her house. No one could muster the courage to walk up and press the doorbell button, not to mention Tour, who had lost faith in himself again. So we left with nothing. For many days he walked as if in a fever and kept trying to figure out why she no longer showed up. The only thing he achieved was that he met one guy who, without hiding gloating, said that Liv has another. The tour couldn't, didn't want to believe it, but Liv didn't show up for graduation parties anymore. And then the streak of holidays ended. And school years ended with her.