Rus Articles Journal

The most summer adventure of

Many thanks to this competition which helped me to endure once again those cheerful days when to us there was this history.

So, 2010, ahead summer, adventures and mass of expectations. I sit at work, rubbing hands and anticipating future vacation. But for some reason at such moments when my head is occupied with dreams and hopes, one history which happened still is remembered to me when I studied at school and waited for these adventures at all not less. In one summer such adventures, at last, waited for me and all my family which is so passionately eager for rest.

Every summer all our family amicable crowd went to the cape Sandy (that in Primorsky Krai) in Soviet period rest house under the hot name “Brigantine“. There we lived in separate lodges with man`s and female offices, ate in the dining room and hired catamarans, and in the evenings went to a disco where ottantsovyval under hits of the ninetieth. Even the toilet was “original“, with holes in a floor and walls there. And still in the distance, on other coast, it was visible the hills inherent only in that place. We called them “the turned plates“. Those mountains in the form of trapezes. Only in that place I saw such mountains which were pleasing every morning to the eye, and disappeared in the dark in the evening and giving up the most sweet hopes.

to me at that time was years twelve, I began to gather for “Brigantine“ in March when meter snowdrifts lay in the yard, and the sun hardly - hardly kept in the sky till six in the evening. In July I already just was exhausted from expectation, crossing out in a calendar last days and counting the remained days before the departure which is led round in a red circle of so long-awaited day.

we Went to the vacation spot by train, only six - seven hours to reserved seats. And here we stand on the platform, gazing about and inhaling fresh sea air. Still from a distance I tried to see “the turned plates“ in fog... And it was necessary to go to rest house still kilometers five by the truck, sitting directly in a body and holding bags that they did not jump out of the car on our good roads.

we went To that summer all by the same train, but only without girlfriend of my mother who was always our conductor. But as my mother was already skilled on such trips, she undertook to accompany us. By the way, still a good few of our car therefore my mother loud organizing tone declared everything that it will accompany all went to “Brigantine“ and will warn about collecting and unloading from the car as the station was called “On demand“, and the train stopped on it only according to the oral arrangement with the chief of the train through conductors.

Well, here... We as always cheerfully spent time: I, my mother, my aunt with the grandson and a half more of the car with children and suitcases. All waiting looked at the landscapes flashing behind windows, dreamed of fast rest and dreamed of adventures, noncommittal acquaintances and walks. So, mother loudly declared to all: “The following station - ours!“ And everything is noisy started to hurry, stretched to the platform. The train sharply braked, everything is cheerful as peas got enough sleep from the car, amicably thanked my mother for what she prompted where and when to go, mother modestly nodded: “Don`t mention it“. And politely instructed all in the one who will meet us and where all to go further. Relatives who by the time of our arrival already were in the vacation spot and expected only us had to meet ourselves.

I here we descended from car steps, mother perplexedly looked on the parties:“ It is necessary, in a year the building was built on the platform“. Then attentively peered at the plate with the name of Barsovo station. The pause hung. All stood on the platform, looked around, and then stared at my mother. The train already departed from station, and by that moment when the sense of the incident began to reach us, it was already far from us and cheerfully hooted at parting as though wished happy rest. The fact that except our crowd from the sixth car from other cars the people were not in general was strange already. How so? A rest season, all have to be here, really on “Brigantine“ of all seated only in our car that it was cheerful? No... No, no, cannot be... All vacationers simply... left at other station. They were mistaken? No, cannot be how so? Perhaps, we got not on that train? All passengers waiting looked at my mother who for only a few seconds turned from the kind aunt into the cheat. Everything was clear, we passed the station. On the platform us was the person fifteen, from them a half - children aged till fourteen years. And still there were bags, it is a lot of bags. Bags and children who it was planned to transport at least in a truck body, but not on the back in any way. Generally, at station we were not pleased, back on cross ties we should go eight kilometers. And then to rest house five kilometers. Holy Christ, and that will be with our relatives who it is not aware at all of what happened to us?!

In the nineties mobile communication was not. Even if also was, hardly in mountains there would be antennas which could connect the desperate passengers though to someone from the real civilized world. We went on foot. And my mother very strongly was afraid to go in group of other passengers: suddenly will kill? Ridiculously it sounds now, and then it seemed quite plausibly. We went at some distance from other passengers, mother absolutely drooped. It was terrible. Circle of one mountain, on rails continually came across some animals, snakes. Naturally, the trains which visited under wheels. Our way took about three hours, and by that moment when we approached the railway bridge behind which our treasured station hid, already began to bite mosquitoes. Legs were black knee-deep (and I put on the favourite white sneakers which could already be thrown out only!) and the sun rolled down closer and closer to the line of the horizon. And here ahead the railway bridge consisting only from a rail and cross ties. Under them the river lifting up foamy splashes raged. It became very terrible. We in single file overcame the bridge, trying not to be hooked by legs for cross ties and not to fail between them. The river rustled and frightened by the menacing look though we tried not to look down because from it the head began to be turned. The bridge was about one hundred meters long... Having overcome it, we, at last, took seat on a platform and breathed sigh of relief. Other passengers looked at us gloomy: they were tired, hungry and angry. Children were already on the last legs, and all very much wanted to come already, and still the way to five kilometers, a way from station to rest house, now on the road, but not on cross ties ahead lay.

We already started to hurry further as in the distance saw the freight train rushing at a mad speed to us. All indifferently looked at how it rushes on the bridge, and represented what would be if it passed several minutes earlier. Or if we only went on it. It is difficult to present where it would be possible to hide from the large object rushing at a mad speed. And there was no wish to represent it by that moment any more. Through several meters after again started on on a way, at last, our relatives appeared. They joyfully waved to us a hand and asked about ten questions a minute. We were violently seated in the car, but my mother hot refused it: in total - sense of guilt was quite strong. It was necessary to bring to our relatives all lost passengers, and my mother resolutely walked.

in the same evening, sitting in our wooden lodge and being treated with tea, we with laughter remembered the happened history and with pleasure inhaled fresh sea air.“ The turned plates“ already disappeared in the dark, but already tomorrow them it will be visible, and there will come the first day from ten happy days of rest in “Brigantine“. Mother some more days after that avoided the meeting tourists who overcame with us eight kilometers on foot, but soon everything there was only a cheerful and naughty deposit something adventure in all this history which we still remember with heat and love, we consider as the “family history“.

Happy time was, even failure of that time seems now the best and expensive reminiscence which still causes nervousness in a breast, and on a face a smile.