Amateur travellers exploring Nether-Polar Urals

Amateur but rather sophisticated traveller Andrei Kipyatkov is going to share his experience about his latest journey. // It so happens that during the summer vacation season, when everyone relocates south to warmer climes, my friends and I prefer to head to the far north of the Ural Mountains. This type of domestic tourism was very popular in the Soviet Union. But when the opportunity arose to travel abroad, interest in such tourism waned. Today, demand for this rather unusual extreme form of travel is again on the rise.

A lot of good-quality travel gear is now available, and there are companies that specialize in arranging treks and expeditions. There are seven of us — all friends from school. None of us works in tourism professionally, of course, but a couple of times a year we invariably do something to give ourselves a jolt. This summer, our choice fell upon the Ural Mountains and the Yugyd-Va National Park (about 1800 km from Moscow in the north-east direction).

We, of course, never use travel agencies, but instead find all the information we need online in reports and other materials from tourist clubs. After several months of waiting, a northbound train finally took us away from the sweltering heat of Moscow.

The contingent traveling in the direction of Vorkuta (1880 km from Moscow) could not be described as overly friendly, but after a day in each other's company we got acquainted with the guys, who weren't so bad after all. The stuffy train, which did not even have the saving grace of open windows, filled up with at least some freshness as the Arctic Circle approached.

The vehicle went back to base, leaving us alone, still jelly-like after the trip but embraced by euphoria — the weather helped, it has to be said. The criteria for selecting the destination are fairly straightforward: in first place is the beauty of the local wildlife and the absence of humanity within a radius of several kilometers — this adds drama and tickles the nerves.

Another condition is that there must be some obstacles. Of course, it's possible to plunge into the taiga forest and sit and relax there. But we’ve always wanted to immerse ourselves in harsh conditions. After setting up camp, I set off to explore the lake for fish, but to no avail. Although there were many small minnows, salmon clearly did not swim up this far. As I looked, a few people ascended the nearby peak of Old Woman Iz Mountain.

The next day, we set off on the first march towards the foot of the Kar-Kar pass with the intention of stopping at Lake Bagel. Although just 10 km, it took 14 hours to complete due to the weight of our rucksacks and the difficult terrain, which was mostly a stone run.

We always begin discussing ours trips about six months in advance: not because of the complexity involved, but because the process of selecting a destination and stocking up on equipment is almost as enjoyable as the trek itself. Though evidently some nature is unpredictable and you can get stuck in the middle of nowhere if the rain start to pour, or the river is too vulnerable.

But it was worth it. After the hike, we had trouble finding a flat area for the tents, but eventually lay down to sleep only to be woken up by the shouts of another group of tourists (from Perm), informing us that our stuff was being swept across the plateau by the wind.

Having regathered all our things, some of the group headed for Mount Narodnaya, which at 1850 meters is the highest point of the Urals. The rest of us scouted out the Kar-Kar pass, which still lay before us. We crossed the pass in two trips — with a lighter load it would have taken a total of 11 hours. During the second leg, a storm cloud descended over the pass.

Even though we guessed our rubber soles made us poor conductors of electricity, it was a tad scary. Less than 10 seconds after the first flash of lightning, everyone was hiding in the crevices under the rocks. After the section on foot, a rafting trip down the Kosyu and Manaraga rivers awaited us.

Initially, the river was more like a large stream — we were constantly getting off the catamaran to haul it along. But after a couple of days, it turned into a powerful mountain river with pressure zones, rapids, and strong currents, which made the outing more fun.

There were no clear stopping places along the river. We decided that we were probably are at the center of some primeval force, an ideal location for self-discovery, for honing one's skills in the ancient martial arts, or something...

Due to the weather and lethargy, we were unable to climb Mount Manaraga, another local landmark. In the lower reaches of the river, we began to encounter equipped cabins offering accommodation, and met the staff of Yugyd-Va National Park.

Whereas at the start of the trip the day was polar (although technically we were in the nether-polar Urals, not the actual polar region itself), by the end the nights were getting dark. On the other hand, the sunsets were stunning, while the river flattened out and dispersed, leaving only a swift current.