I went on my solo hike more out of curiosity than the proverbial "testing myself," which doesn't really apply here either. I chose a route through a very familiar gorge that starts from a road just twenty-five kilometers from the city. The area is inhabited, with a settlement at the beginning of the gorge and various homesteads like gardens and summer houses scattered throughout. Local residents are often encountered, but of course, the farther into the gorge you go, the fewer there are. I have been alone in the mountains several times, but not far away and without an overnight stay, only day trips. I have also gone hiking with overnight stays, but always with someone, either in a group or at least with one or two other people. But I had never gone on a solo hike with an overnight stay before.
So I decided to go on this hike, to a familiar and relatively safe place, but at the same time far from people and civilization. The main thing was to spend the night alone in the mountains. As I was gathering my things and heading to the first overnight spot, I thought about this fact. Objectively, there doesn't seem to be any danger - it's not far from the city, there are no people around, and the wildlife is scared and avoids people. But subjectively, it didn't feel right, especially for the first time. There was some irrational fear present, and no matter how I tried to think logically, something constantly undermined my confidence, and all sorts of unpleasant thoughts crept in.
But I won't jump ahead, I'll tell everything in order. I planned to go for two days and one night, but it turned out that I walked for three days and spent two nights. I brought enough food, so it turned out even better than expected. On the morning of the first day, I got dressed without hurrying and packed everything into my backpack. Immediately, I found the first advantage of a solo trip - I didn't have to constantly look at my watch, afraid of being late or arriving too early. In other words, I calmly and without fuss gathered my things, got to the suburban minibuses, went to the village, and after passing through it, started my journey along the Ojuk gorge.
The route I took on my hike has its own history. It's an old, long-forgotten tourist route called the "Ojuk Loop." From the word "loop" in the name, it's clear that if you follow the route, you will return to where you started. The route goes like this: you walk through the entire gorge to the pass and reach the plateau; after walking a couple of kilometers along the plateau, you come across another pass; you descend into a small gorge with a tributary of the Obi-Dzhuk River and reach the Ojuk gorge again. Soviet tourists laid it out in the 60-70s of the last century.
On the trail, about ten kilometers closer to the city, there was a tourist base called "Varzob," as they used to say, of union significance. From there, guides and instructors led tourists from all over the Soviet Union on this and many other routes, until the union collapsed. The current renaissance of tourism hasn't touched these places, now only local residents walk on these paths, and herds are driven along the old routes. Of course, they always drove them there, but in the past, you could still meet tourists there.
The Ojuk Gorge itself is about twenty-four kilometers long. The gorge likely borrowed its name from a local stream called Obi-Juk. The trail follows this river, constantly crossing from one bank to the other due to the terrain. Because of this, the gorge is also known as the "Gorge of Seven Bridges," although this is a bit confusing. Firstly, the bridges that cross the river are more like footbridges than actual "bridges." Secondly, there are ten of these footbridges, as I personally confirmed. However, it's possible that there were indeed only seven of them in the past.
The place where I planned to stop for the night is located at an altitude of 2,300-2,400 meters above sea level. The trail leading to this spot follows the gorge without any significant elevation changes, so the climb is gradual. You simply walk along the river and notice small changes in your surroundings throughout the day as the altitude increases. At the beginning of the gorge, the trees and shrubs are similar to those found in the city, but at around 1,500 meters, you start to encounter birch, alder, and walnut trees.
The walnuts are particularly interesting. They usually grow along the river and appear to be ownerless, but this is not the case. If you simply walk and collect fallen nuts, no one will say anything. But if you start to shake and collect them directly from the tree, the tree's owner may appear from hiding. I happened to be passing through a walnut grove and decided to take a break and collect some nuts. As I was leaving, I noticed a guy approaching. The grove was not on the trail, so he was clearly coming towards me. But he didn't say anything about the nuts, and it was obvious that I was just a tourist collecting them, not a thief.
They chatted for a bit and then continued on together. The man said that some cows were missing and they needed to go look for them. They walked about a kilometer and a half, then he turned into a small side valley, saying that the cow had gone that way. Just before meeting him, the man passed by a fresh, torn-up cow carcass lying by the river. When asked if it was his cow, he replied that it had fallen ill. When asked why it was torn up, he said that wolves or a bear might have come during the night. He also mentioned that leaving a cow out overnight could result in it being attacked. When asked if the animals would attack humans, he said that they would leave as soon as they smelled a human scent.
After saying goodbye, the narrator continued on and found himself frequently wandering into hazelnut groves. In the deepest part of the valley, he reached the tenth bridge, but it was missing, replaced by a log. A few months ago, heavy rain had caused flooding, and all the bridges were washed away. On the way back, he saw that the eighth bridge was being repaired, so it would be a while before the tenth one was fixed. Although it may not have been significant for the story, the narrator felt it was worth taking a photo of the place where the tenth bridge used to be, as only the supports on either side of the bank remained. He had never been here before, as it was an extensive and remote valley that could only be reached with an overnight stay.
As he stood there taking photos of the destroyed bridge, a local man in rubber boots approached him from behind, startling him. He hadn't heard him coming because of the man's footwear, and because he had been walking on the same trail as the narrator. The narrator noted that he had chosen his footwear carefully for hiking, as had all the people he knew who went to the mountains. However, the locals didn't seem to mind what they wore, whether it be slippers, rubber boots, or sneakers.
Besides galoshes, there was also something unusual about this guy - instead of a backpack, he had a box on his back. It was an ordinary plywood box with rails on the edges, similar to a parcel box but much larger. Thick ropes tied the box to his back and served as backpack straps. At first, I didn't think much of it and assumed he simply preferred this type of "backpack," so I didn't ask about it. However, I noticed something vaguely familiar inside the box - a smoker used by beekeepers. That's when I realized he was a beekeeper and carried the box to store honeycombs. I asked him about it, and he confirmed my suspicion.
I also asked him about the trail since I was in an area where I had never been before. I had a general idea, having studied everything thoroughly through Google and topographic maps, but it never hurts to ask, and it turned out to be a good idea. If I hadn't asked, I would have turned in the wrong direction and would have had to backtrack to the bridge, wasting time setting up camp, collecting firewood, and cooking dinner. In other words, meeting this beekeeper was timely.
We walked another four kilometers together to his campsite, chatting along the way. He was a resident of a nearby settlement, but they had a plot of land in the gorge. The local authorities allocate plots of land for lease to residents, and they grow berries, nuts, apples, honey, and many other things, some for themselves and some for sale. It's a local farm that takes into account the area's specific conditions. Along the way, we also encountered another guy with two donkeys, his brother, who was presumably picking up something. I didn't inquire about it and was more interested in the local trails since Google Maps are great, but reality can be a bit different, and it's easy to get lost.
The guys offered to stay at their parking spot, and we had just arrived there. However, there were still several kilometers left until the end of the gorge, and I refused, or rather used it as an excuse to refuse. Otherwise, the whole idea of a solo hike would lose its meaning. But it would also be good to get closer to the pass so that in the morning, I could wake up and immediately climb the pass, rather than walk these extra kilometers through the gorge. I believe that whatever can be done today should be done today.
When I started to refuse, the guys began to scare me, saying that it was dangerous to be alone in the mountains, there are bears here, see these tracks, and those broken bushes, it's all from a bear. There are also wolves and many other things here, but it's safe with us. Let's have dinner, chat, and relax. Apparently, they really wanted me to stay with them, and in the mountains, in general, very hospitable people live. I listened to them, thanked them again for their hospitality, politely but firmly refused and went further along the gorge. Well, you can't explain your motives to every passerby. I continued walking, feeling uneasy, with their words still haunting me.
But, no matter what, I think fear is good. Fear mobilizes and plays the role of a signaling system. In ordinary life, in a familiar and comfortable environment, consciousness tends to fall asleep, and we do many things automatically. This sleep can last a lifetime if we don't periodically shake ourselves out of our comfort zone. In this case, fear shows us where to go, the direction, the path where we can meet it face to face. Overcome it and ultimately become stronger. Treasures are always hidden in the darkest corners, and the deeper you dig, the more you will find.
After walking the remaining couple of kilometers, I started looking for a place to camp. I quickly found such a place, apparently also someone's parking spot, like those guys, and maybe even theirs from last year, for example. Right near the archway grove, there was a small clearing, a leveled spot for a tent, a few fire pits, and some firewood. I quickly set up the tent and, before it got dark, started gathering more firewood. I finished in the darkness, started a fire, and began preparing dinner. In the light of the fire, I changed my clothes, laid everything out, and in a somewhat uplifted mood because everything had worked out well, sat down to eat.
He had gathered a lot of firewood, so he made a big bonfire, feeling uplifted and distracted from his worries by the bustle. However, petty thoughts kept flitting through his mind. These thoughts would break through his uplifted state, but he managed to calm down and take control of his thoughts. In reality, it was quite easy to do so. He looked around, thought to himself, "There is some danger here and now - no, nobody or nothing is attacking me," and simply noted this state of mind, trying to remain in it constantly and without thinking about anything else. Whatever you consciously focus your attention on tends to expand.
After having dinner, he sat and watched the fire, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over him. It was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the muffled gurgling of the river down below, which looked more like a stream at this point. The moon had not yet risen, but it wasn't dark either; the entire sky was studded with unbelievably bright, shining stars. A light breeze carried the intoxicating mountain air, scented with juniper and grass. Being fully present and absorbing all this magnificence, his consciousness expanded to include everything visible. This would have been difficult to achieve if he were with someone else, as his attention would have been focused on his companions, and the surroundings would have merely been background noise, rather than a part of him, as they were now.
He briefly entertained the happy thought that had he not insisted on going on this hike or stayed with the guys at their camp, his petty thoughts might have deprived him of all this magic. But the thought quickly passed without triggering his usual internal grumbling. In the mountains, due to the lower oxygen level, a meditative state arises naturally, without any coercion, especially if you are accustomed to it. The evening dragged on, and he didn't want to move or do anything else, feeling the effects of the day's hike. So he simply sat and enjoyed the evening, tossing firewood onto the fire every now and then.
After a couple of hours, the wind picked up - it was already autumn - and I started to prepare for bed. I gathered my remaining belongings, folded them into my tent, and placed a thick log in the fire to keep it smoldering until morning. It's good not to be afraid, but it's also not wise to be foolish - the fire would scare off any unwanted guests, meaning animals. I climbed into the tent, crawled into my sleeping bag, and slept like a baby. I only woke up once during the night, stirred by what seemed like daylight. I checked the time - it was two in the morning, clearly not dawn. I emerged from the tent and found that the moon had risen - it was a full moon, and as bright as day.
In the morning, my awakening was marked by an extraordinary emotional uplift, a sense of victory over myself. Perhaps there will be no more such nights in my life when I am alone in the mountains, or perhaps there will be hundreds of them, but this night will forever remain special. Despite fears and doubts, I made a conscious decision and carried it out, overcoming another psychological barrier. Overcoming, in this case, means the destruction of these invisible barriers that separate us from ourselves and disconnect us from the surrounding world.
During breakfast, some shouts became audible. Locals usually shout at each other if they are far away from each other. At first, I did not pay attention because they sounded from afar, but over time I noticed that these shouts were approaching. I thought they were just walking around and shouting. But it turned out to be simpler than that. They were driving a herd of sheep and goats. First, some very serious-looking dogs ran past me, took a careful look at me, and ran on. Then the herd followed. After that, the shepherds came, two of them just said hello and walked on, while the third, apparently the elder, stopped and we chatted for a bit. They had just come from the pass that I was going to climb.
I packed up camp and set out, the ascent to the pass starting right away from my campsite. At first, it was a gradual incline, gradually becoming steeper. Several kilometers of uphill trek remained until the pass, providing a good morning workout. To be honest, the ascent was not very easy for me. I don't know what influenced it, yesterday's hike or the altitude already starting to weigh on me, or rather, the combination of these factors, but it was a difficult climb. But, whatever it was, a few hours later, the struggles were over, and I reached the pass. Instead of going straight on the trail from the pass, I went left to the edge of the plateau to take some photos from there.
This decision significantly extended my stay in the hike. It wasn't the small detour that affected me, but rather the fact that the edge of the plateau resembled a roller coaster. So, I walked up and down, up and down along the edge, and by the time I reached the next pass, I simply didn't have the strength to climb it. The ascent to the pass was a long one, and one interesting feature was that the trail went through the summit, with cliffs on either side of the gorge. At that moment, I didn't know this and therefore decided to bypass it, also searching for a place to camp. It was becoming clear that I was going to spend another night in the mountains.
After bypassing the mountain with the pass, I saw another gorge on the other side, but I still didn't climb to the pass. The water had run out, and there would be no more water at the pass or beyond, so the path remained the same, descending into the gorge where a spring could be seen at the bottom. It was a serious adventure, and it took me two to three hours to descend to the water. After drinking and collecting water, I climbed to the other side of the gorge while the sun was setting. But that wasn't a problem because I decided to camp for the night right on the ridge that stretches from the mountain with the pass. At the top, first in the twilight and then in the starlight, everything was clearly visible, and I had even started a fire. However, I didn't cook dinner, just had some tea with nuts.
This night didn't cause any doubts or fears anymore, as if I wasn't alone. I confirmed to myself once again that the Rubicon was crossed, as they say. While I was busy setting up the tent and heating water for tea, I didn't pay much attention to my surroundings. But finally, when I sat down, cut some extra nuts, brewed tea, and started to look around, everything was incredibly beautiful. I was now higher up, and the stars seemed even more abundant. Mountains stretched in every direction, visible in a soft light, and the wind was stronger here, blowing constantly, causing the tent to flap, adding to the atmosphere of the surroundings.
In the mountains, every evening is special in its own way, whether you are alone or with companions. There are great advantages to hiking with friends, such as sitting around the campfire, sharing stories and experiences, and feeling a sense of camaraderie against the backdrop of the vast stars, crackling fire, and muted sounds. This connection with nature cannot be replaced by any surrogate experience such as watching TV or browsing the internet. However, on this particular evening, the exhaustion caught up with me and I decided to retire to my tent for the night.
I woke up before sunrise to another beautiful morning. I stepped out of my tent and sat there for half an hour, taking in the surroundings. It's hard to describe the feeling - a serene clarity without thoughts or judgments. But then my mind woke up and reminded me that I hadn't been to the pass yet. I packed up my things, skipped breakfast, and headed for the pass in the chilly air. After reaching the top, I took in the views, took photos, and then descended back down, packed up my tent, and started down the well-trodden path.
It took me four hours to descend from the pass, and eventually, I arrived at the river running through the Ojuk gorge. Now I could confidently say that I completed the Ojuk loop. The hike was wonderful, and I had accomplished everything I had set out to do. All that was left was to follow the path through the gorge to the road that leads back to the city.
P.S. This story is based on a real hiking experience and photo review: "Hiking the Odzhuk Ring"
