Europe

[Visited: October 2018]

Early morning light is filling the sleepy streets of Esso as I walk out of my guesthouse at the far south of town. After buying a ticket for the bus for the next day, I am on my way north: after some deliberations, I have decided to hike the Vulkashiki trail, 33km. As far as I could see on the map, it doesn't go too high, which is good as fresh snow already covers the tops of the mountains towering above the Bystraya valley. It is one of the few one-day hike loops, which helped me pick this particular one, as I hate to back-track. To top it off, the description of the trail talks about a plateau with cones, which sparked my curiosity. After hiking up the Pionerskaya hill just north of town the previous evening, I decided to do the loop counter-clockwise, which means I first have to follow the main road to Milkovo for around 6km. Bad thing about the hike: it is not marked on the app of my phone. But after doing the hike to Lake Ikar the previous day, I am confident that markings will be abundant. There is no sign at the trailhead, but according to the photo of the map of the visitor centre (strangely enough closed on weekends), the first dirt road heading up after crossing a small river should be the one. Indeed, I soon see a blue sign with the name of the trail. However, following it takes me through lots of waste, and the trail abruptly ends in a big crater in the forest, where digging machines are loading earth and stones on trucks. When asked, the drivers don't have a clue, but one of them tells me there is a road behind, and I assume that must be my trail. I search the woods behind the crater, until I find the track, and work my way up through the forest. I instantly feel that this track is not used often, and as I am all alone, I start whistling songs to make some noise, in case bears are interested in me more than I want them to. I see lots of droppings which I imagine are theirs (and get this confirmed later). The pine forest is not very interesting, but as soon as I break the tree-line and the landscape around me opens up, I am in awe. I see snowy mountains lined up on my left, and when I get even higher, they are everywhere around me. Too bad the clouds cover their tops. There are some infinitesimal traces snow on the trail as it turns towards the southwest, giving me the wind in my back. The views are just terrific, and I often stop to enjoy, and take pictures. Meanwhile, there are signs at regular intervals, confirming me that I am on the right way more than is really necessary. After all, there are no turn-offs here: there is only one trail ahead - where it disappears at the horizon.
The higher I get, the more snow there is, and the small pockets of water are all frozen. It is cold here, and I am wearing my jacket and gloves. I see lots of traces of animals, and between the slightly smaller and different ones, I notice impressive footprints with nails: they are bear prints; the others might be lynx, wolf, reindeer or some of the other large animals roaming the Kamchatkan lands. The snow has fallen the day before, so I keep a watchful eye over my surroundings to scan for the creatures in whose lands I am a guest. At one moment, there is yet another trail-sign, strangely pointing to my right, while the track continues straight ahead. There is no trail here, but since the sign is so markedly pointing away from the track, I decide to follow it. The direction coincides with what I can make of the picture of the map. It brings me through thick layers of taiga, shrubberies, deep holes, a small river, thick layers of snow, and lots more footprints of bears. Then, strangely enough, I see a familiar blue wooden sign again, in the distance, and when I work my way up there, it appears to be standing right next to the familiar track I had been following until the previous sign sent me off it. Weird. At least it is now clear where I am headed: right between two volcanic cones, precisely as indicated by the trail map. The snow gets progressively thicker now, and my feet sink into it well over my ankles. When I finally reach the pass, there is a small old caravan standing, closed of course, rusting away right next to antlers lying on the floor as testimonies of the reindeer that roam here. I take a short break to eat something protected from the strong wind and snow, and then wonder: where to go? Definitely not descend beyond the pass. According to the map, the trail should go around the base of the southernmost cone, but I see no trail, no markings, nothing. I decide to descend a little bit, thinking I see a marker, but alas, after pushing myself through the softly bouncing and snow-covered plants, it turns out to be a fata morgana. I decide to continue in the same direction: my map tells me that I should head in a southwesterly direction away from the cone, in a straight line. After descending a steep slope covered in loose rocks, I end up in a river bed which I follow downstream for some time, until I realize that I will never find the trail like this. Instead, I am now convinced the trail should be more to the northwest, where it must pass the same riverbed. Just a matter of finding that crossing: surely there must be a marker, or at least some sign of a trail? But the higher I hike through this small valley, the more it becomes obvious that I will not find the trail here. Now, it is time to consider my options; I still have five hours until sunset. Giving up searching the trail, meaning: hiking back to Esso for more than 20 km, the same way I have come. Or: following the GPS of my phone in the direction of the valley leading to Esso: the trail is supposed to follow the rim of the valley. As an emergency plan, I now consider following the riverbed: it surely must end in the valley of the Bystraya river north of Esso. I am confident that I will see a trail marker somewhere once I am higher up, but no matter how I search the environment with the help of my strong zoom-lens, I do not see any sign.
The hill I am on is covered with snow, which is deep in places where the wind has blown it against the small plants. I now decide to go for it: crossing this plateau, crossing another river bed, and continuing to the edge of the valley. The going is tough: my feet disappear in deep holes, and I try to be as careful as I can not to damage anything. Any mishap now would be very serious, if not fatal: there is no coverage for phones here, and probably no one will pass here until spring has come. I follow the second riverbed downstream, thinking that the further east I reach the edge of the valley, the better the chance to hit the trail. It is tough here: water runs through the valley, here and there it is frozen, stones are slippery, and when I work my way up the other side of the shallow valley, I work my way through bushes to push myself up the hill. Sometimes, I follow footprints of what I imagine are reindeer, and I keep on hiking in the direction of the edge of the valley, until I reach lower bushes which make the going even more difficult. And then, suddenly, the landscape opens up before my eyes, I see deep into a valley below, I can even see the rim almost all the way to where I know Esso must be. Below, glistening in the afternoon sun: the Uksichan river! Second surprise: I see small pieces of plastic tied to branches and plants: surely man-made, and I must assume, marking the trail. My heart skips a beat: I am safe now! Well, apart from the bears: they seem to use the same trail I do: their footprints are all over the place, with their impressive nails and all. I am whistling again as I cross the low bushes here, always keeping my eyes on the small pieces of plastic, guiding me through this labyrinth of bush. But often, there hardly is a trail, so I work my way through the bouncing soft surface, sometimes losing my balance and almost falling, always careful, as I am still far from Esso, and still out of reach of phone coverage. Even though I can see the plateau that I know is the last one before Esso, it takes much more time than I anticipated to get there, thanks to the trail that takes me left and right, passing through branches of trees, between bushes, through bushes, zigzagging through the landscape. At one point, on a large plain, I lose the trail again, and just hike in the direction of the viewpoint of Pionerskaya Sopka, until I finally see plastic tied to a branch again. And then, suddenly, I see the small shelter on the lookout point. Another short climb takes me to the viewpoint, and when I walk to the edge, I put my bag down, and let my eyes rest on Esso. All the risks I have taken in the last few hours, the desperation, the hardships, and against all odds - I made it! What separates me from a hot bath to relax my sore legs followed by a hearty Russian meal is an extremely steep downhill path to the outskirts of town.

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Bystrinsky Nature Park (Russia)

Bystrinsky Nature Park > Russia > Europe

[Visited: October 2018]

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