Follow the deer through the snow! The new hunting season started. The end of September. Gorny Altai. I and four hunters from Poland, came to hunt maral, roe deer or an ibex. The main hunting object at that time was the maral. The rut season was in full swing, so we thought that we had a good chance to get a beautiful trophy of that noble animal. Everything pointed to a favorable result of the hunt. It was the usual weather for this period in the Altai Mountains. Day temperature was about 10-15 degrees and slight frosts at night. Problems were waiting for us, not where we could expect them. To begin with, our host party was unable to issue properly the necessary documents to obtain licenses for the hunting of animals. It was their fault that we had to stay in Gorno-Altaysk for one extra day. We had to stay in a small cottage on the banks of the Katun River, where we decided to make up for the sleepless night that we spent the day before when flying from Moscow to Barnaul. I already assumed that it would not be our last problem that I would have to solve during the hunting tour, thanks to my outfitting experience. I knew those organizers of hunts pretty well; they practically disrupted my hunts who more than once for various reasons. So, I was already preparing to find thousands of "objective" reasons for our clients to explain the current situation and possible inconsistencies in the future. The next day, the situation did not clear up and there were still no licenses. The clients started to cast unhappy glances at me. I understood them perfectly, but I couldn't do anything for them. In the end, I forced my partners to send us to the hunting area without licenses. People did not come to us to breathe the clean Siberian air, infused with the aromas of mountain herbs, and admire the purity of mountain rivers. I found it impossible to sit and wait for one of the negligent bureaucrats to sort out a pile of papers and problems that should have been solved before the hunters arrived. We agreed that the licenses would have to be sent by courier to the hunting land later. The journey was quite a long one to one of the most remote corners of the Altai Mountains - the Ulagan district. Our local organizers assured me that the guides with horses would wait for us at the agreed place where they planned the construction of a hunting base. From there we would ride horses to the hunting areas. But I could guess from personal experience what those assurances might be worth. UAZ-452 came for us. We loaded up all the things and set off. Traveling in the Altai Mountains is very exciting. But it's so only when the burden of unresolved problems does not hang on your shoulders. In any case, I shouldn't have shown it to my clients. On the contrary, I had to inspire them with confidence in the unconditional success of our journey, which I did during the entire journey of our journey. The road was not wide. One lane in each direction. Magnificent landscapes, in their spatial scale and beauty, changed in succession outside the window of the car. Then we parted with the queen of Altai rivers - the Katun, found increasingly ourselves in mountain gorges of various sizes and lengths. The road pressed against a small mountain river, then licked the bends of the mountains hanging directly over the roadway. It was practically impossible to fall asleep in the UAZ with its suspension and on the road so broken in places that you only thought about not falling into the gorge. Even if you succeed, then you come out of a state of mild prostration at the nearest pothole. Time and space merge into one inseparable whole in such situations. You can only define one thing. How long you drive. But if you ask the driver how much to go to the place , you will never get an answer. I often recalled the army parable about the merging of time and space. We know how the commander sets the task to the fighters, orders: "You have to dig from the fence, and before lunch!” I couldn’t say that our driver wanted to confuse us in every possible way, but even he could not guess what the condition of the road was on the last part of the way. The last segments of such trips associated with a visit to the Siberian taiga frighten us always. You could expect anything there. You could find the ruts of the roads broken by logging trucks to the last degree, and the forests fallen across the road, the absence of bridges and deep fords. Once in Khakassia, , we drove successfully into the grounds on two UAZs by what was seemed to be a capital and reliable bridge. Then we hunted bears successfully. But when we drove back to civilization and there were only 200 meters away, we were horrified to see that two spans of the bridge were washed away by stormy, thawed spring waters. And we still had to go to Abakan about 250 km. We had a plane to Moscow in the next morning. So, we had to build an army-style bridge from the forests and connect time and space. So, we were still moving towards our goal making some small biological breaks. In the last place of civilization on our way, we replenished the necessary food supplies (on the road it often turns out that we forgot something), stopped by for a local guide and set off further into the unknown of the Siberian taiga. The last section of the road was full of various obstacles. There were detours of broken sections of the road, and river crossings, but the greatest danger was represented by large swampy areas. Nothing portends trouble at first glance. But we all become sad from the knowledge that we would have to tear it out of the sticky muck once again, once the UAZ put its front axle into a small hummock with an abundance of water. And it was not our last meeting with the treacherous swamp shrubs. It would interfere our adventures on the final part of our tour. But everything ends at some point. Finally, our way to our destination had ended. Evening came, and our main task was to accommodate for the night. We didn't have to think much about that topic, because there was only one structure made of logs and covered partially with a roof in the form of a local Altai dwelling – an ail. That building was planned as a bathhouse according to the idea of the owners. But at the moment it was the best hotel for us after that way on the wheels of the UAZ. Wooden shelves (or bunks) were located along the perimeter of the multi-faceted ail. We used them as beds. There was a stove in the center. A stove is always necessary in cold conditions. It warms, dries clothes, and creates comfort. Our guides built a table near one of the walls, at which we had to eat at our base camp. We even had a generator with us to light the cabin. But that French generator, had already failed my team in Yakutia, and refused to work normally there too. To be honest, we didn't care anymore whether there was light or not. We wanted to eat and sleep. According to our organizers, the guides with horses should have already been waiting for us at that place. But, ... alas! There were none of them. New headaches were added to me in addition to the general fatigue. We have already lost one day of hunting, which spent in Gorno-Altaysk. And there were no guides and horses, without which it was impossible to hunt. That situation could threaten the loss of authority for me and loss of money in the form of penalties for non-provision of services. Many people and even my partners did not understand that there should be no simple technical problems when organizing hunting tours. There may be no luck on the hunt, but if you add a bad organization, then your credibility as an outfitter falls significantly. Customers don't care that it's not your fault, but the local slobs who couldn't get licenses or agree on the payment of guides with horses during the time. You are always the last one. And all the problems are yours. It is often necessary to come up with plausible fairy tales so that customers don't doubt for a minute that everything will be fine tomorrow. So that time, I told the Polish hunters that they would have a busy day tomorrow. And we went to the kingdom of Morpheus. The morning turned out to be gloomy, as was my mood. There were no horses with guides. I didn't know what to do with my clients. And the most important thing was that I didn't know when something would change and we would start hunting. It was also impossible to get any answers from my Altaians accompanying me. One of the ways to occupy the hunters and distract yourself a little from the problems is to check and shoot the weapon. After breakfast, we went to the side of a small copse where equipped a place with targets, and began shooting. It turned out that we made the right decision, because the sight of a carbine from one of the hunters was shot down. That hunter was already my regular customer and went hunting with me not for the first time. It took a lot of time to shoot that carbine again. Finally, all the weapons were checked, and the hunters were eager for action. About 2pm several guides with horses came up. But it was only part of the team that was supposed to serve our hunt. I was well aware that it was necessary to use the slightest opportunity for hunting. I talked immediately to the senior in the camp. It was Sergey, who brought us to this place on the UAZ, and we decided to give the hunters the opportunity to go exploring in the nearby lands. There is a fairly decent population of Siberian roe deer living there judging by the tracks and the stories of local guides who came up. In addition, we would have fresh meat in the case of shooting a male roe deer. So, we decided. A spark of hope shone immediately on the faces of the hunters. The hunters had a quick snack and went on their routes, some on foot to the nearest glades, some on horseback to the far ones. In total, there were four Polish hunters in our big team, Rafal, Przemyslaw, Vieslav and Witold. All the hunters were in good physical shape and ready, to overcome snow-covered mountain passes. The weather was beginning to deteriorate. The rain that had passed the day before, turned into snow, turned out to be a harbinger of a serious change in the weather for the worse. It was not uncommon in the mountainous areas. If we took into account the season, the end of September, it became clear that bad weather in that area and at that time was more a pattern than an exception. So it happened that time. By evening, the hunters began to return to the base to a warm hearth. One of the hunters got a roe deer. We were very happy about that fact and more for the reason that we had fresh and very tasty meat. Well, the Polish hunters made sure that the guides did not deceive them. In fact, there were quite a few fresh roe deer tracks everywhere. The guys started cooking meat. Everyone helped as much as they could. There was a slight rise in morale after the trophy in the camp. I could even feel the birth of hopes for the extraction of larger animals of the maral and an ibex, for which we arrived in this God-forsaken corner. But I was most concerned about the weather at that moment. Not everyone noticed that the wind began to intensify during the revival in the camp. It throws rain charges at us and our house, which turned into snow later. It became colder. I understood that in addition to the overdue days of hunting, there would be several more due to the hurricane gaining strength. The natural element raged for almost two days. There were two days of mist, strong wind and heavy snowfall. Fortunately, another group of guides with horses finally reached us during this hurricane though it is not known how. The team was fully assembled. The heavy snowfall lasted about two days in total. Snow fell almost knee-deep near our cabin during this time. The snowfall ended suddenly. In the morning, a picture of stunning beauty opened before us. We had managed to sleep off and gain strength during our forced stay in our hut. So, we were able to perceive the beauty of the nearby landscape with all the fullness of our senses. The place, where we stayed, was actually very beautiful. There was a beautiful lake with crystal clear water began just in thirty meters from our hut. There was a muksun in the lake, a beautiful and very tasty fish that we had a chance to taste. The opposite side of the lake was framed by a small larch forest. The trees were already dressed up in their autumn orange attire, and they looked like flames bursting out from under the snowdrifts, which hung on the branches in the rays of the morning sun. On the other side, the lake was held by a rocky shore that looked like a warrior in a battle helmet. The water in the lake was still warm compared to the air and gave its heat to the cooler air with a misty haze above the surface. The landscape was looked as a single living organism that lived according to its own laws known only to him, which only added a special mystery to the natural beauty of the lake. Bright blue sky hanging over the water surface gave the shade of crystal purity and volume. Everything around seemed to be born anew in its virgin beauty after the last hurricane. Our hunters and I grabbed immediately our cameras and video cameras. It was impossible not to capture such beauty. We even forgot about hunting for a while. Our guides sent horses and filled the bags (side bags that are attached to the saddle of the horse) with provisions and equipment while we were enjoying, like children, the beauty of the local nature. I must say that the slightest detail is important in long-distance transitions on horseback, from the location and volume of the bags, to the quality of the entire harness as a whole. We saw later how important it was to have a good harness. So, we had spent a fair amount of film on landscapes and reports, then threw quickly our equipment into backpacks and bags and were ready to move to hunting areas. I realized that it would not be easy for us on the way judging by the expressions on the faces of our Altaians. But even experienced guides- conquerors of mountain ranges could not predict how difficult it would be. Sergei and I and the head of the Polish hunters, Rafal, had divided previously the hunters and guides into teams, depending on the priorities of the hunting objects. We only had to jump into the saddles of our loyal assistants and set off. Our caravan was on its way. The picture was very beautiful, from the outside. There were snow-capped mountain ranges against a piercing blue sky. Riders on horseback were dissecting the sparkling snow blanket. The whole procession went quietly, without talking (it was agreed in advance). Only occasionally a harness tinkled or a horse snorted. We were like a day watch on the expanses of the Altai mountains and valleys. So, we walked for about an hour, or a little more. We reached the place where each team had to split up and go in its own direction. The whole ceremony looked as if we were parting not for three or four days, but for an eternity. In my opinion, nature contributed to the presence of a slight sadness in our hearts. We wanted to share these beauties with our like-minded people, which were always hunters. I went with Witold as always, my regular customer. We were accompanied by two Altai guides. One of them was Volodya. He was the Altai man, short, had just come from the army. He was young and excessively hot sometimes. The second one was Andrey (the names of the guides, at their request, are given in the Russian version because they are sometimes difficult to pronounce in the Altai language) was already an experienced taiga and hunter. We descended into a small valley, from which we had to start climbing the pass. I tried to find out from the guides where our path lies and how long we'd have to go, although I knew perfectly well that no one would say it for sure. But it is rare to hear detailed information from local guides. They also didn't speak Russian very well yet. Andrey nodded towards a small saddle on the ridge and said that it usually took them 2.5-3 hours to overcome this pass. It meant that there was no snow on the pass itself. But in our case, there was snow, and there was a lot of it. The height of the snow cover in the valley reached the knee of a horse. The depth of the snow cover began to gradually increase when we started to climb up the slope. We overcame a small forest, carefully picking our way through bushes, trees and fallen trees, and came out into the subalpine zone, where there were practically no trees. We constantly encountered traces of local representatives of the animal world along the way. A squirrel, a sable, a wolverine and even a wolf marked and signed on the freshly fallen snow in a manner unique to them. There is often a surge in animal activity after such hurricanes, because animals prefer to stay mostly in their shelters: burrows, hollows or just under a fallen tree during bad weather. This open book of nature always pleases my eye, you understand that this area is not deserted, but inhabited by our smaller brothers. The sun in a cloudless sky made it impossible to take off dark glasses even for a short time. The ultraviolet rays of the sun reflected off the snow and hung in the clear mountain air. We walked like a snake to make the way easier for the horses. This was a little more in distance, but our assistants were not so tired. A horse in the mountains is your reliable support. I know of cases when local hunters were forced to stay in the taiga for about two weeks, waiting for one of the horses to heal a wounded leg. Our progress became more difficult with every meter. The smooth snow sheet turned out to be deceptive. The snow along with the wind leveled only the upper part. Sometimes, the horse suddenly fell into another hole, swept by snow, moving through not very deep snow. It was very difficult to stay in the saddle in such cases, and the horse was simply stuck in the snow that had formed and thickened from the wind. Then we just had to get off the horse and help it get out of the trap. We climbed for hours, and it became clear to our guides, and to Witold and me that we would not be able to reach the mountain saddle we needed. The guides had not used another road until that day. The snow was getting deeper. We were already at a height under 3,000 meters. We didn't get on horseback anymore. So, we had to walk mostly through deep snow. The snow began to melt, warmed up by the sun at such a height. We all were wet, our feet from deep snow, the upper part of our clothes from sweat during physical exertion. It was obvious that the horses were also having a hard time, to put it mildly. Witold had obvious doubts that we would be able to reach the pass, and he tried to insist on returning. It was the worst thing you can expect from a member of your team at the most stressful moment. The horses simply drowned in the snow in the sense of the word when crossing one very deep snow place. The snow somehow held the man, and we did not fall so deep. But the horses collapsed due to their much greater weight so that they hung on their bellies and could not move from their place. They were all breathing very hard. Their eyes said that they had "had enough" of that ascent. We were very sorry for them at that moment. We gave them a little rest, then began to trample the dense snow around Andrew's first horse. We tried to shovel some of the snow out from under the horse's belly so that it would stand on its feet. They were practically all hanging on their bellies before that. That operation had much in common with the liberation of a car from snow or mud captivity. We began to trample their way through the loose snow ourselves when the horses were able to get their hooves on solid ground. We had even to throw snow around with our feet in some places to make the trail suitable for the passage of horses. But they also carried the luggage we needed besides us. Suddenly, at the moment when I was walking my horse through another snowdrift, one of its girths was tearing up. The whole harness got very wet from the heated horse and wet snow, and it burst there where it was thinnest. That was why I had already said that a serviceable and properly fitted harness was a big component of the success of a horse crossing in the mountains. There could be very big problems with a burst girth if it couldn't be repaired. It should be noted that the Altaians treat the harness of horses rather carelessly. They will not bother to change, repair it or take a spare one with them even they see that one of the girth is almost broken. When I traveled with Russian guides in the same conditions, I was amazed at the speed of their response to the problems with the harness that had arisen on a much smaller scale than the one that we had at that moment. They repaired the broken strap and reins right on the place with a special needle and special threads. They always had such a set at their fingertips. But I could not said the same about the Altaians. It was a good thing that our horses had three girths. Volodya just pulled one out from under the saddle and put it in the back. I looked at the other two girths, and was not optimistic that they would survive the climb to that pass. We got out of this trap, step by step, together with the horses, and thought about where the next one was waiting for us. Physical strength was running out. It was very difficult to maintain morale with at least some perspective, without seeing the destination and the way to it. I tried to smile so that Witold would not lose heart, but I managed it with great difficulty. He was already thinking very seriously about going back to base camp. A short break on the ascent helped out, during which Volodya went to look for a way up. We could not see the entire terrain because of the overhang of the rock. That was the reason why we could not plan the route. I took my camera out of its case to take pictures of the most beautiful landscape of mountain valleys. The path that we have already passed was impressive in its scale. I offered Witold to make a picture of him against the background of a beautiful mountain valley, but he refused to be photographed in such a "disassembled" form. And we probably didn't really look so good. Those parts of our face that could not be covered were badly burned from ultraviolet radiation: nose, lips and cheeks. Our internal "furnace" was experiencing a calorie deficit due to the high energy costs. The eyes and cheeks were sunken for that reason. The waist belt had to be tightened by one more hole. The horses also had a hard time. Snow covered all the sparse vegetation that usually grew at such a height. We saw only the tops of grass stems and shrubs in places. We had to pay tribute to those animals. One of their advantages was the ability to dig and get food from under the snow. Any other horses would have simply died on such mountain crossings. We always tried to find a place during our short stops, where the horses could dig up grass or bushes suitable for them to eat. I managed to get to my "strategic" stocks of chocolate during the stop, and we managed to deceive our body for a while and make it change the composition of the blood, which would not remind us of hunger every minute. Volodya returned. It looked like he had found the ascent route. It was already quite a bit before the pass, but it could be the hardest part of the route. There have been cases in my practice when we walked a distance of 100 meters through the snow for about 30 minutes in the mountains . Volodya and his horse were given the opportunity to rest a little. We had been on the road for about 5 hours by that time. Volodya said that it was necessary to bypass the rocky path next to the saddle, then turn sharply to the left and there would be a long, but a gentle ascent. It was very important for us and our horses. It would be incredibly difficult to go into a steep climb after such a path already passed. Five minutes later we were already in the saddles and moving towards the goal. The climb turned out to be actually much easier than we could even imagine. We moved choosing those places on the ground where the tips of the stems of mountain grass were visible. It was on the basis that we identified places where there could not be deep snow. That sign helped us a lot. We overcame a strip of snow and came out on a shallow rock without much difficulty. Fortunately, that part of the slope was completely clear of snow due to constant winds. It was on that rock that we were already walking along Broadway to the pass itself. It was about 4 pm. The sun was shining right in our eyes. We went to the top of the pass. There was a small mountain plateau. The plateau seemed to us a true paradise after the intense assault of the pass, wind and deep snow. There was no wind, no deep snow, and time seemed to have slowed down its rapid run. At first, we moved strictly to the south, then turned slightly to the southwest. The horses walked, rocking the riders rhythmically and sometimes grabbing with their soft lips the scanty vegetation that came in their way. We were brought out of such a relaxed state by the shout of Andrei, who always went first. He pointed to the saddle through which they passed usually and through which we also had to pass. They say: "We assume, but God disposes!” Our happiness of calm rocking in the saddle did not last long. Another test began after 15 minutes. It usually seems that going down is always easier than going up. But not in our case. Andrey led us to the places of the maral rut. He said that he was sure in that place and tested it for years, and the deer always stayed there. But we first of all we had to descend from the pass down the gorge to get to those places . It immediately became clear that the trials were not over yet when we started doing it. There was even more snow on the slopes of that gorge than on the other side of the pass we were climbing. Obviously, all the snow that had fallen during the entire time of the hurricane remained in the gorge. The wind just couldn't blow it away. We simply had to not go, but swim in snow drifts at the first meters of the descent. The only difference from the snow on the pass was that that show was not so dense, but in some places the snowdrifts were waist-deep. And it would be nothing, if there were no stone scree with large boulders under such deep snow. Believe me, it is very dangerous to move on such slopes. We dismounted, took the reins and chembur (chembur is a long rein) of the horses in our hands and began to descend slowly. We were falling when getting our foot into a crevice between large stones, not distinguishable under the snow, our horses stumbled. It is also very important in such situation to position yourself correctly, even in relation to your own horse. It was difficult to walk next to a horse, because it was a virgin snow. You can walk from behind, but it's inconvenient, because you can't distinguish the path well and you can't control the horse. It was sometimes dangerous to go ahead of the horse, which was proved by the example of Witold. He followed me in front of his horse holding the reins in his hand. He liked quiet horses. That time he got a black horse, which he immediately named Champion. At one moment, that Champion slipped and fell with its whole huge mass on Witold walking in front. We found out about it by the cry that Witold gave out. Neither the horse could get up, nor Witold himself could crawl out from under it. I had already thought that a fracture was possible, and we might have even more serious problems. Andrey and I immediately rushed to help. Andrey began to lift the horse, and I pulled the hunter out from under it. Fortunately for us, everything went well. The horse was not injured and Witold did not break his leg. It was the deep snow that saved him, which partly held the horse, which could have just pinned Witold's foot to the rocks, and then ... everything could have been much worse. We made the proper conclusions about the precautions, and moved on. Soon we descended to the very bottom of the gorge, where the next test awaited us. There we could already get into the saddle, but ... we had to walk mainly on the ice of a frozen river. The river was almost completely frozen over, and open water was visible only in some places. Huge boulders lay everywhere, some covered with a thin crust of ice, some just snow. There was still the same snow and huge boulders on the banks of the river. It was very difficult at that moment to choose a priority for any of the reliefs that had to be followed. Meanwhile, the sun was already hiding behind the mountain ranges. An unpleasant cold breeze began to blow through the gorge, and we had to hurry up to reach the parking lot at least at dusk. But the most important thing was to pass this, the most dangerous part of our path. Any fall of a horse and rider could lead to very disastrous consequences. We decided to choose the path as we went through individual sections. I had already had a serious fall from a horse in the mountains of Kyrgyzstan, and I knew perfectly well what could happen with such a fall, among ice and boulders. So I took my feet out of the stirrups and told Witold to do the same. The forged hooves of horses parted often on treacherous ice. Sometimes they fell through the ice into the water, and were frightened by surprise and made sudden movements to maintain balance. We had to have special feeling to react quickly to that and stay in the saddle. But not everyone in the team took such weather conditions seriously. Our young guide Volodya was too hot and decided to show the elements of the jigging (but only exhausted the horse). As a result of such maneuvers, the horse fell on its side with him, pinning him down. We were able to pull Volodya unharmed from under the horse, but the horse itself could not get up for some reason. I thought the worst thing- a broken leg. But, thank God, I was wrong! He began to pull the reins zealously, trying to get the horse to stand up. But it had no sense. The reason was something else, and it was necessary to calmly figure it out and make the right decision. I had already ordered him in my strong-willed tone to stop pulling the horse and leave it alone. We began to trample the path around the horse to create the necessary free space for it. The problem was that when it fell the supporting hind leg of the horse bent and rested against a huge boulder. The horse couldn't even move it to get up. If we remember that horses got tired too and how much they had done for us on that difficult path, then we were already obliged to help them. When the snow around it was almost completely removed, I took the reins, and Volodya and Andrey began to pull the horse's leg out of the trap. We had succeeded! The horse got up immediately, which we were immensely happy about. I didn't say anything to Vovka at that moment about the treatment of the horse. I left it for later, because I considered it extremely necessary to educate the young "mountaineer" in love with our smaller brothers. They were surprised that my horse even on the ascent to the pass, because it allowed me to sit on it both on the left and on the right side. Usually, the horse is mounted only on the left. My horse calmly allowed me to jump into the saddle from both sides. I will not say that I am some kind of special rider, but I always try to find a common language with the animal through love and affection. Attention is pleasant to everyone and always. It is always necessary for our assistants, and especially in such difficult conditions of a mountain riding. Do not forget that the Spanish school of horse training is based only (!) on the love of the animal. Unfortunately, in our country it is based on coercion in most cases, and mainly by force, and through punishment. Finally, we were back in the saddle, moving again, and very soon the terrain leveled out. We descended into the forest zone and moved along animal trails, which we were immensely happy about. However, it was already getting dark, and we had to reach the base. Andrey said that it was already a little bit before it. Soon we passed through a small shrubbery, and came to a clearing pressed against the mountainside. That clearing turned out to be our destination. It was necessary to unsaddle the horses quickly, take them to a place where they could find grass. That factor (the presence of grass) was one of the decisive ones when choosing a place to hunt maral. You can find grass for horses not everywhere in the mountains, and no living creature can not only work intensively, but also move without food. Andrey knew those places well and that's why we ended up there, albeit with great difficulties. We quickly divided the responsibilities. The guides took care of the horses, Witold and I were preparing firewood for the bonfire. Fire was very important for us in this situation. The temperature dropped rapidly, and by that time it was already – 7 degrees on Witold's watch with a built-in thermometer. It should have been minus 15 degrees at night, and maybe even more judging by the clear sky. We were all wet from the top and from the inside. It was very unpleasant to stay without fire and heat in such a situation. Fortunately, there were enough dry twigs in the area, and soon the first flames leaped up. But it was too early to relax. As soon as the fire broke out, I broke a cedar elfin wood and began to install a small two-person tent on it. My hands were constantly freezing from the cold material, and I resorted to the fire to warm them up. After 10 minutes, the tent was set. Witold and I spread out the tourist mats and threw our things in there. Meanwhile Witold was keeping the fire going. The guides took and identified the horses in the pasture and tied them to long ropes so that they would have more opportunities to choose food. They also set up a tent and began to cook a simple dinner. I don't remember if I wanted to eat, although it was necessary, but we all really wanted strong, hot tea. We didn't wait for a dinner, which was cooked from our canned food, we quickly drank a large pot of tea and put immediately a second one on the fire. We decided not to cook a lot of food, because tea with simple sandwiches had already satisfied partially the body's need for calories. We heated canned meat to add calories. Meanwhile, it was getting noticeably colder, and if you put a metal mug on the snow, the tea in it was already cold after a few moments. We had to drink tea and not be distracted even by maintaining the fire. It was already ten o'clock in the evening. We were on the way for more than 12 hours and decided that tomorrow would be another day, and began to go to bed. But it wasn't that easy as it turned out. The wet clothes froze right on us. The hardest thing was to take off with the trousers to get into the sleeping bag. Then I had to go back to the fire again to warm up my trousers, and only then, I could slipe into the tent, I was able to pull them off and get into the sleeping bag. But I was seized by thoughts about how I should be with wet clothes tomorrow. It would freeze overnight, and how to get into it was the main question. I needed to warm up myself first, and then half an hour later, I dragged all my wet clothes into a sleeping bag despite the desire to fall asleep faster and the unpleasantness of the procedure. There was a feeling of a cold shower. I laid out on myself all small things: socks, gloves, shoe insoles, but larger ones: trousers, jacket, hat I put next to. I had to heat everything with my body again. Only after an hour I was able to plunge into a light, restless sleep. The inconvenience was that I needed to keep the batteries of my video and photographic equipment charged. So, all the batteries also migrated to my sleeping bag. So, I made it to the morning, regularly waking up and checking my drying things. A lyrical digression. I remembered everything once again and experienced it inside myself when I wrote these lines. I often worked "hard" during my outfitter career but I definitely came to the conclusion that I had not had such a difficult day in difficult weather and mountain conditions until then. Later I had to go through more difficult obstacles. In the morning we woke up after dark, while the stars were still visible in the sky. I had to get dressed right in my sleeping bag, because it was really cold in the tent. Witold's thermometer in his watch even failed from moisture and frost It was even colder outside, somewhere between – 15 and -20. The hardest thing was to get into the clothes that were still left nearby in the tent. I just had to pushed it apart with the hands. At the same time, the frozen fabric made a "beautiful" creaking sound, and Witold and I could only laugh Humor and jokes always make it easier to endure tense moments in life. Another problem was to get my feet into my shoes. They could not dry overnight, only froze even more and began to look like wooden stocks. I had to warm them by breathing. But I did it. But to walk in them was like walking in stocks. We all understood it perfectly well that our salvation was in the saving bonfire. So, we divided into groups again, as in the evening. Witold and I made fire while the guides were engaged with the horses. Soon we were already "caressed" by the bright flames of the campfire with their warmth and light. The pot promised an early hot breakfast in the form of fragrant tea and something else with its increasing noise, which, however, was not so important. TEA!!! That's what each of us dreamed of at that moment. It was at this moment that we turned from frozen zombies into living people, when the thick, hot drink spread like a miraculous balm inside our bodies, spreading warmth into every cell. The brain began to work more actively, and we remembered! We "remembered" why we went all that way yesterday and froze all night in tents. We wanted to hunt deer here! We had always remembered it. It was unlikely that we would have been able to overcome all that we have overcome if we didn't have such a strong motivation (trophy deer extraction). The rising sun had already begun to gild the tops of the mountain ranges. It was time to go off. Saddles, harness, everything was frozen, but there was hope for the daytime sun and for the strength of the hands. The place for the roar of the deer was actually excellent. We immediately saw the tracks of a small herd of deer, six or seven animals. Obviously, the animals had passed the day before just 50 meters from our camp place. There was one good male among them, judging by its tracks. It was a good sign. The deer prefer to stay there. It remained to find out if there were any poachers there, who often interfered with such hunts. We came across the tracks of a pair of wolves not far from the deer tracks. So, we found just some four-legged poachers. It looked like they were the ones who drove the herd of deer through a small pass, where we were heading. We walked about 200 meters, and realized that we were not mistaken. The deer went with huge leaps, and those who wanted to taste their meat were galloping snow next to them. It became clear that it was simply useless to pursue that group of deer. It was somewhat alarming that we did not hear the roar of the deer. Bad weather always brings down the moods of animals and sometimes you may get the impression that there are no deer where you've come. But as soon as the weather improves, the "eternal call" takes its toll, and the rut flares up with renewed vigor. Soon we heard the battle call of two male deer. Our path ran along the slope towards one of the small plateaus at the very top of the slope. We could view the entire surrounding area for kilometers in different directions from there. We just admired the mountain peaks for a while. The place was so beautiful that partially covered with freshly fallen snow, exhibiting all the beauty of the primeval nature of the pointed stone, rocky ledges. The morning sun had already illuminated some of the mountain peaks, and they sparkled with crystal-golden purity in its rays. The roar that we heard came from a very far distance, which left us no chance of moving in that direction due to the complexity of the terrain. Later, we analyzed the situation, and came to the conclusion that the gray predators did a pretty good job to disperse the local deer. That was the reason why we could not find any traces of the presence of deer in that gorge, except for the herd that was drove by wolves, right before our arrival. It remained to hope only for luck and the will of chance, as it often happens on the hunt. We returned to the camp, packed our tents and camping gear, loaded everything onto horses and set off down the valley of a small river. We decided to change the location. Andrey knew those places perfectly well and brought us to a new place in a picturesque place. There was a small flat plateau among not old cedars. A mountain river with clean and very tasty water murmured nearby. Our new SHERATON was ready in half an hour. The place under the tents was completely cleared of snow. We also put cedar branches on a thick layer of fallen needles. It seemed to us that this camp would be very comfortable after the first night. When we had finished with the tents, we decided to cook something substantial to restore our strength. There was enough dry wood. Everything was cooked very quickly. Mother Nature had mercy on us, and the beautiful sunny and relatively warm weather was established. We sat and enjoyed the silence, the gentle rays of our luminary, delicious camp soup and fragrant tea. I couldn't even believe that yesterday one could only dream about all this. Clothes and equipment began to dry out, and it gave us some confidence that the further journey would not be as stressful and unpleasant as crossing the pass. We spent the rest of the day resting and listening. We hoped to hear the cherished song of the eternal call. But there was an amazing silence around, broken only by the murmur of the river. Andrey tried several times to lure the deer with a decoy, but there was no response. There was the only hope for the evening and the night. We could not believe that there could not be an animal in such typical places for the rut. But it was as quiet in the evening as in the afternoon. It remained only to drink tea and go to bed because the next day we planned an early rise and go hunting. Andrey beckoned the deer a couple more times, and then we went to bed. It was much more pleasant to sleep in a dry sleeping bag and when you didn't have to dry anything wet on yourself, someone who had already gone through all it could appreciate. General fatigue and relative comfort allowed Witold and me to plunge into a pleasant sleep immediately. That condition allowed to feel it with every cell of your body even experience some special, conscious pleasure from the fact that you could do it. The mobilized organism recovers very quickly in a short time in such extreme situations. In the middle of the night, I woke up from some vague, but very familiar sound. I began to listen through my sleep. Vigilance was necessary, because the probability of the presence of a bear, the intelligent, powerful and insidious predator was also quite high. This beast requires special attention to itself. The dream disappeared immediately. I heard very far away what we were all glad to hear. Definitely, it was a deer. I got up and went outside to determine the approximate distance and direction of the deer's roar. The huge moon shone like a lantern in a sky studded with diamond chips of stars. The snow sparkling in the moonlight gave a special beauty in that night. Just a fabulous picture. I managed to determine the direction from which the cherished roar of the deer for us came from. No one could resist to go out and listen to the deer, and to enjoy the beauty of the moonlit night at the same time. No one regretted leaving their warm sleeping bag despite the fact that the frost was at least 10 degrees. Then we returned to the heated places, and fell asleep with the pleasant realization that the beast was still present in those places. Let’s hope. Tomorrow it would be possible to hunt. We heard through a dream that the deer was approaching our camp. The wake up was at 5 am. It was even dark. The moon had gone behind the mountain ranges. And only stars stayed. We gathered in complete silence (as far as it was possible with the equipment of horses). The fire was not lit. We drank tea that we had cooked since the evening, in thermos flasks. Then jumped into saddles and set off. The horses' hooves were breaking the treacherous ice crust on the snow. It was the main problem. Such sounds carried for kilometers in the silence of the night, and it was almost impossible to deceive an animal that knew every rustle in its native element. But hunting was hunting, and we had to go and didn't hang our noses! The maral came to a distance of no more than 500 meters from our camp during the night. And it was a big challenge for us. The most important thing was not to frighten the beast. That is why we began to go up sharply, in order to make the deer look for us from there. This tactic of hunting deer during the rut is common and is successfully used by competent hunters. The essence of such tactics is to be above the deer. It'll deprive it of the opportunity to smell you, lure you to the distance of the shot. The rest is a matter of technique and strong hands, as they say. Another advantage to be higher than a deer is that it is less likely that a deer can hear a possible noise when you move. It was especially important in our situation with an ice crust. So, we reached the top of the ridge. We jumped off the horses to give them a rest, took them away to the side, and began to listen intently to the morning silence. Each of us hoped to hear the roar of a deer or at least a twig cracked under its hooves. Andrey called it a couple of times. No reply. The activity of the roar of a deer during the rut is influenced by many factors, and therefore it can be difficult to explain why it is roaring now, and then silenced for a long time. This is nature, and there is nothing and no one in it who lives by the rules or according to a schedule! Our maral was keeping silence. It's not recommended to call it in such cases. So, we decided to go around it from behind and try to chase it in the hope that we could just see the beast. We began to descend very carefully, hiding behind all sorts of small mountain folds, so as not to frighten the beast. Suddenly, we spotted a female in one of the small gorges. It was grazing peacefully at a distance of 250-300 meters below us. We began to descend slowly, because it was impossible to delay. We were glad that the female let us get quite close, looking at the aliens with its beautiful eyes. It was evidence fact that the local animal was not frightened by man because it did not disappear into the forest immediately. Then we found the trail of a deer in the valley of the river that was walking towards our camp. We went on even more cautiously. We scanned carefully all the nearby ridges, gorges and slopes to see the trophy beast. There was a trace, there was no beast. So we got to the camp and couldn't believe our eyes. The maral left it just before us and it could even look into our tents. Its trail was only 15-20 meters away from them. It turned out that we could sit quietly in the camp and wait for the trophy to come to our feet. It was very frustrating that we didn't see the beast at all. But it became even more insulting when a deer came to visit us, and we were not at home. The deer went higher up the river. According to our assumptions, It heard Andrey's decoy, determined the location and moved gradually in our direction. But it could have just come to that area on its own. Anyway, we decided not to chase it, but to have a snack and wait until the evening. The wind was blowing down the valley, the deer went up and that's why we were not afraid to make a fire and cook a hot full-fledged lunch. Our dinner was cooked from canned food, because all the other products we either froze or spilled out of the bags during the assault of the pass. The assortment was not rich, but it helped to survive. The most important thing was that we had water, and there was tea. In Sayan, we sometimes stayed without water for a long time in the 25-degree heat. It was very unpleasant with heavy loads and high temperatures. We had a snack, drank hot tea, and regained strength then we decided to move out at 4pm. The sun melted the ice crust, softened the snow, and it was possible to move much quieter than in the morning. We moved 500-600 meters away from the camp and began to climb the slope. Our group reached a small plateau, where we decided to leave the horses in a small lowland and hunt on foot. It became possible to move even quieter. We moved 200-300 meters away from the horses, and began to carefully scan the slopes surrounding us in the hope to detect signs of the presence of a deer. Andrey called it. And we all waited for the deer’s reply. Few minutes passed. It was quiet all around, only a nutcracker chirped somewhere on the opposite slope of a large thicket, which was formed by a fold of rocks. We exchanged glances. Birds often betray the presence of outsiders on their territory. And waited for a while. Suddenly, perhaps nothing happens in this world without a reason. Especially when you strive for, what you really want and what you dream about and go through the snowy passes. We heard the deer's roar. Its voice in silence turned out to be a magnificent operatic solo with clear transitions. We exchanged glances. There was fire in the eyes of each of us. Finally, Mother Nature sent us the opportunity to get a trophy after all the trials. We tried to beckon it a couple more times, but the beast did not respond. We managed to see the trail of a deer at the opposite slope in those places where the snow lay. The roar came from a small cedar grove, but the beast itself was not visible. The deer didn't respond. We did not call it once again, fearing that it might notice the falsity. We decided to try to approach. We walked down into the valley and began to move in the direction of the cedar grove. It was necessary to move very carefully, because the deer could hear us and hide. We left Volodya on the slope to control the situation and report to us about the movement of the beast if anything would change. We walked one after the other: Andrey, Witold and I, we were following practically in the footsteps. Suddenly we noticed a small movement on the slope perpendicular to our movement. We managed to see only the ass of the fleeing roe deer. It was running not from us. But from whom? Then we saw a beautiful deer that stood like a monument in the gap between two huge fir trees in the place from where roe deer had just escaped. We couldn't believe our eyes, but it was definitely a deer. Our hearts was pounding at that moment. That side of the slope was well blown by the wind, and therefore there was practically no snow left there. The sun and wind had done their job. The deer stood motionless, turning its head in our direction. Obviously, it was moving in the direction from which we were calling it, but did not want to reveal itself. We continued to move very smoothly, chose places without snow, where it was more difficult for the maral to see us. The wind was from it, which made our approach easier. The three of us looked like some kind of caterpillar, smoothly flowing around small obstacles. At last we reached the line, beyond which it was already dangerous to approach, and decided to shoot. I turned on the camera and started shooting We asked the guide how many meters it was to the deer. He said, about 150m. It was a huge mistake. Witold and I had no time to think about the distance. He was preparing to shoot. I was making video. Witold had BLASER cal. 300 Win. Short Mag. He shot well, but missed the first shot. The deer stood rooted to the spot to our surprise. We didn't even have time to get upset, as Witold made another shot. The deer jerked forward, kicked its hind legs and disappeared from our field of vision. Then there was silence and complete uncertainty with what happened. Later, when everyone came out of their stupor, we began to analyze the situation. It turned out that everyone heard the hit (as it seemed to us) of a bullet on the trunk of a deer. Its behavior indicated that the second shot was accurate. But where it could disappear from the open space. The first mistake was due to the fact that the distance to the maral was from 250 to 300 meters as we determined later. The difference of 100-150 meters played a significant role for the ballistics of the Witold carbine cartridge. Our guide made a big mistake in determining the distance. That's why the first shot was unsuccessful, and the bullet passed below the deer. But the experienced hunter corrected it quickly and made an accurate shot. We found almost nothing when arrived at the place where the maral stood. There was no deer, no blood, no bullet-beaten wool Andrey and Volodya assured us that the beast was in that definite place. But Witold and I doubted it very much. Meanwhile, it was getting dark, and we decided that it was better to leave the search until morning. Tea, light dinner. That day gave us a lot of impressions, but there was some uncertainty at the same time. There was no case in my practice, that we had a lost wounded animal. It would annoy me if the wounded animal left and disappeared for us as a trophy, and for nature as one of its components. Anyway, we could no influence the course of events, and it only remained to fall asleep faster in order to continue the search in the morning. Witold and I still had hope and confidence that the trophy would be found. At dawn, we moved into the hunting area even without breakfast. The frozen grass crunched under the horses' hooves and the icy crust on the snow broke, but we didn't paid attention to it. We were happy that we could not sneak around like a cat listening to every rustle or sound of snow falling from the branches. We followed the trophy! And our confidence was justified. The guides began to search, moving in a circle at the place where the maral was standing according to their assumption. Witold and I decided to go higher. After 5 minutes, he and I found the first drops of scarlet arterial blood on the ground. We assumed that the bullet hit the area of the lungs of the deer. It was something, and we were able to get attached to something to continue the search. Soon we found a lot of blood on the honeysuckle and acacia bushes, through which the deer passed, leaving for a rare woodland on the side where we heard it. The scarlet blood was clearly visible both on the vegetation and on the frozen ground. We followed only 250-300 meters by the blood trail, and found our handsome maral. It lay on the slope, leaning against small fir trees, and resting its head with a gorgeous crown of horns on the ground. It looked as if it was sleeping. The beast was actually beautiful like any creation of nature. The guides rushed to butcher the carcass immediately, but I stopped them. It was impossible to look at our beautiful trophy just like a piece of meat, after all the way we went through. Witold and I discussed all the details of the hunt, took some pictures with a camera and a short interview on camera. I heartily congratulated him on the trophy he had suffered, and he thanked the God of Hunting for the luck sent to him, and our team for the good work. After all the ceremonies, it was necessary to hurry. First of all, it was necessary to carve up the carcass of a deer, roll up the skin, pack and load equipment on horses. Secondly, we had to get out of the heights and snow on the plain. Thirdly, we should get to the base camp somehow. It took about two hours to cut up the carcass and pack it. Then we set off. There was no question to return the same way we came. It would be simply madness to storm the pass a second time. Moreover, we had to take out another trophy and meat. And Andrey suggested a plan. We would have to go down the gorge where the river flowed and our camp was located, down to the asphalt road. There we should leave the horses, and Andrey would hitch a ride back to his village, take his on-board UAZ, come to us. Then we would go to the base camp together. It sounded reasonable. The main thing was to get out of the snow area. As we descended, we felt that our body was coming out of a state of physical stress. The degree of mobilization of physical strength was very high almost all the time, we spent at altitude, in the snow and on horseback. The body was already used to the cold, and to mild hypoxia, to lack of sleep, and to constant heavy physical exertion. But then the body seemed to thaw, when we were descending slowly from the height. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. There was no wind. We were moving in a caravan along the river valley. There was no other way in that place. Our lungs immediately began to fill with the autumn aromas of mountain herbs, plants, the smells of fallen leaves and greenery that has not yet withered as soon as we left the snow zone. Mosquitoes and small midges appeared. At that moment the realization came that we were alive, healthy, unharmed and that we had not yet lost the ability to rejoice in all those little things that floated past us unnoticed in the measured daily life. It's hard to describe my feelings at that moment. It was the joy that we came out of the serious trials sent to us by fate with honor, and the fact that we felt the world of wildlife around , but there was some regret that we would see in the near future that cold, but fascinating beauty of mountains and snow. But there was always hope that you would come back there again. There were two very difficult places to pass on our way. The gorge narrowed sharply in one of them, and the rock overhung the path. The path itself was very narrow. A river flowed below, it had already gained strength and rumbled over the stones in a stormy stream. The horses had full side bags and special duffel bags behind the saddles. In addition, we were carrying the most valuable cargo – deer horns. We dismounted in order to safely pass this place, and went on very carefully, checking every step of the horse and the dimensions of the load to a millimeter. We should control ourselves because we all and horses were tired that it was much more difficult to keep the balance and not slide into the gorge than when we were in good physical shape. You should always think about this in order to protect yourself, your horse and your friends from the team with whom you are going through this difficult path. The second difficult place was a small dilapidated bridge across the river. It was possible to cross the river only in one place, because both upstream and downstream there were solid huge boulders and a very steep descent. We went on foot carefully taking the horses. There was a danger to fall on the rocks and get a minimum of bruises and bruises, a maximum of a fracture and bathing in icy water. Volodya, who somewhat neglected the latter precautions, received water baptism in icy water. He slipped on one of the rocks, lost the balance and fell into the water. Fortunately, it happened near the bank and saved him, from getting all his clothes wet. As a result, only the trousers were wet. But civilization was just around the corner, and we moved on after a short technical pause. An hour later we were in a small Altai village. Audrey's relatives met us with hospitality. We settled down with all our belongings in a spacious ail (the national dwelling of the Altaians). The owners lit a fire and we changed clothes and quenched our thirst with a bottle of beer that Andrey brought from a local store, settled around the fire. The ail is a log polyhedron, the roof of which has a hole through which smoke from the fire escapes. The hearth is always located in the center. All people have access to the fire at any time, and the smoke can safely escape into the hole in the center of the roof. Altaians love ails. When I asked them why you spend more time in the ail, though you had a solid wooden house. They answered that there was more air and more free space in the ail. And it’s true. I've spend lots of nights in ails and the huge advantage of this accommodation is that you have a hearth for cooking and a source of heat without going outside, where there may not be very comfortable weather conditions. Thanks to the large space you get more oxygen when you sleep and get much better sleep than in a tent. In general, the ail is somewhat similar to an Indian wigwam. But wigwam can be disassembled, moved and put in any other place, while the ail is a stationary structure. They are united by the presence of an open hearth inside and a smoke hole at the top. However, the smoke pockets of the wigwam can be closed when it's necessary. But the Altaians also came up with a small device in order to close the smoke hole. Andrey changed his clothes, and went out on the road that passed not far from the house with the hope to hitch a ride in order to get to his village. But he managed to leave only two hours later. There were very few cars passed, and not every driver wanted to take a fellow traveler. The sun had already disappeared behind the peaks of the mountains when, finally, Andrey arrived on his UAZ. We said goodbye to our faithful helpers, who carried us on themselves through the pass and snow then loaded up quickly and went to the base camp. We lay three of us in the back on a mattress, things and covered with a tarpaulin awning. We were shaking like on a vibrating stand on a bumpy road and a cool wind blew over us, but the only thought warmed us that all the most difficult things were over, and we would be able to sleep in normal conditions. We drove for about an hour along a broken, but still asphalt road. Then we turned onto a country road, which was replaced by a forest road, beaten by the ruts of logging trucks. We were already looking forward to a warm and hot dinner. But, as it turned out, it was too early to relax. We found ourselves in the trap of the same swampy hummock, which I spoke about at the very beginning of my story. It happened due to Andrey's ignorance of the road to our hut, and his not very good driving skills on four-wheel drive vehicles. The swampy muck sucked in the front axle of the UAZ like a vacuum suction cup, and refused to let go, despite all our efforts to help the car. It was already dark, and we decided to leave the UAZ and go to the hut on foot. Andrey showed us the approximate direction. The camp was not far away according to him. We decided to take only the most necessary of our things, and return for the rest the next day. I took on my army bag, which could also be transported as a backpack and we moved into the night to new adventures. I took out my GPS navigator, found the base camp, the coordinates of which I had entered there beforehand. The arrow showed the direction and distance to the camp, which was 1.7 km. It was difficult to call it a walk in the night with a decent backpack on your back. But we knew clearly the distance and direction of the long-awaited end of our journey. Witold behaved well. His backpack was much smaller. Our guides took his carbine. So, It was about 10.30 pm when we arrived at the camp in pitch darkness. All the other teams were already there. The hunters began immediately to exchange impressions. Almost everyone got into difficult conditions. It was a little easier for other hunters, but they were still limited in movement. They had to shoot from a distance of 400-450 meters. They shot at ibex and deer. But no one else was lucky except Witold that time. To be honest, Witold deserved such a trophy on such a hard hunt. There were enough impressions that evening for a month of stories in the evenings by the fireplace, but it was necessary to go back to Gorno-Altaysk in the morning. We had some vodka left; our hunting chief cooked a magnificent fish soup from a muksun caught in the lake. There was nothing else to dream about that evening. We sat in the warmth with electricity provided by a small generator. We all burnt in the mountain sun and snow, had white streaks from sunglasses, we were tired and restrained like people who have gone through what may never happen to them again in their lives. But I was sure that my hunters were still satisfied in their hearts that they had withstood such a severe test that had fallen to their lot at the most unexpected moment of their hunting adventure. We didn't sleep for more than four or five hours. We got up with the first rays of the sun, gathered and moved out on the way back. On the way back, we pulled out our car and said goodbye to the guides. We even tried to make up for the lack of sleep despite the rigid suspension of the UAZ 452. It was possible, but with difficulty. On the way back, we stopped for a snack at a roadside cafe, equipped in a very beautiful ail, and moved on. It was a long way. We got to Barnaul airport all day and all night. The plane took off early in the morning. In Moscow, I had to see off my hunters to Warsaw. So we all had to sleep off only two days after leaving the base camp. My clients still remember that trip with delight despite all the difficulties during their stay in the Altai Mountains.
04.12.2022
