Mototouristik. Who had seen all the vaults of the Kazan station in Moscow than it is difficult to surprise, and by the appearance of the luggage outside the four dilapidated motorcycles long remained unnoticed. As long as strict receptionist, hopping from one group of women — from carpets to another similar — with washing machines, not stumbled suddenly motorcycle and not looked at their eyes.
— What’s this? — Dumbfounded, she asked. — And do not look like they are sports! There are huge tanks, and no thorns! ..
Evidently, I saw it once on TV, and maybe had to send bikes to race on ice, with their memorable appearance.
— So it’s very special — we shouted in unison — it’s this, well … in! To rally! — He remembered someone had a magic word, become familiar in the inscriptions on bags and boxes with toys. The unpleasant incident was closed.
And so we race in a comfortable car to meet our route and new adventures.
As in any tourist group, all the duties among its members are distributed in advance, given the experience of individual abilities and inclinations of each. We have a manager, mechanic, photographer, steward, cook and doctor. As the author (aka — Head), in his narrative could not resist the temptation here and there on your own interpretations that are not facts and events, it is thought best not to name specific names, but stayed in their place build only job titles. Merits it, it’s not me …
Even writing this, the author suddenly thought: what if the readers of the word «mototouristik» associated with a crowd of «riders» on the dirty monsters, wearing the night streets en masse, without meaning and purpose?
And there was a desire at least a few things clear.
Mototouristik after a stormy surge, which took place in the fifties — sixties, stuck somewhere at the intersection of departmental interests. Managers of sports look down on him or do not notice at all because of his «neolimpiadnosti. Managers of tourist agencies do not want to hear about him, because he, like, do not promise huge profits.
In the meantime, and the first and second views are incorrect in the bud.
This form of motorcycle sport, so a trial, which now held the world championships, is descended from mototouristik, in the depths of which it developed and in our country before 1986 in the competition program for all-round motorcycle is always present at least one of such elements as «sprintleman», or «the rise of the hill», or «figure-driving», and they too came from the motorcycle tourism.
As for profits, with a little attention, our kind of tourism can quickly become the most profitable because it does not require (or almost does not require) the initial investment and is able to develop «from scratch». For the value in it as precisely what is so rich in our long-suffering motherland: bad roads, or their complete absence. Western riders have long forgotten what it is willing today to pay huge money for the pleasure crosses the dirt and feed the mosquitoes. And pay currency …
Before we existed Central Club Auto — motto — tourists, were clubs in almost every area. Not difficult to obtain advice, to register a trip, complete a sports category. Today trodden by many corridors, in order to create a campaign and get a route book. Life is still a glimmer in some clubs, but if it does not support (at least, but the morality!), It stall and then resurrect mototouristik will be much harder.
Before you continue the story, I want to clarify that campaign, of which I am speaking, was preceded by another, committed the year before.
Then after a week of completely autonomous existence, we were at the end of petrol and food, was threatened with collapse of the expedition. At an emergency meeting of the group, happily chewing abundant taiga flora, it was decided to throw one motorcycle. At the «mourning rally» we vowed to come back with the rescue team.
And so this hour has come …
The twenty-eighth day of July, as expected, our bikes stopped at the entrance to the village Srostki — here on this day gather admirers and fans of the talent of the famous Russian writer and actor Basil Shukshin. Very beautiful place: a magnificent panorama of the Katun River, lost in the haze peaks looming above the valley of Mount picket. In all this there is something from the time when nature and man were inseparable. Is it because only in such places and are born great thinkers? ..
From splices in the mountains leaving the famous Chu tract, which lies on our path. At first the road quite heavily loaded. But farther, the less cars. And to Teletskoye Lake we approach, as they say, in splendid isolation.
Lake deservedly fame pearl of Altai. But from the contemplation of its beauty is very distracting mosquitoes, the clouds hanging over us.
After a short walk on the boat «Pioneer of Altai», after hundreds of kilometers long road grader in the picturesque valleys, we once again come out on the highway. He repeats the intricate curves of Katun, and this proximity of mountains, rivers and roads makes uniquely beautiful landscapes.
For passes and Seminsky Chiketmanom we find ourselves in a completely different world, a desert in Central Asia: the intersection of irrigation canals plain, camels and ancient Muslim burial. In these parts people settled much earlier than the European Plain. And evidence of that — rock paintings, in particular about Kokori. Incidentally, it was from here that the most difficult part of the route. Then there will be no Altai villages. The most one can hope for — lonely yurt shepherds. The road, as such, disappears completely. Guided on a lonely road tracks, gossamer beset the hills, is extremely difficult but, as it is unknown when and by whom they were submitted: these tracks are not overgrown for years. You can, of course, to get information from the oncoming truck, but the complexity of that found such a vehicle can be a few hours or a few days. How much luck.
At the Head was, however, picture a shepherd, a yurt which last year stood at the pass. We showed it in every jur those — and it paved the surest and most direct route among the innumerable twists and forks.
There were all this easy. Tuvans and Altai — the people hospitable. We are always invited to the tent, treated mare’s milk, and factories slow, detailed discussions, to suspend that was a matter entirely impossible.
Living most of his time in remote pastures, where, of course, no electricity and television, people have not lost their curiosity and lively interest in everything that happens in the world and the country. We are for them — the carriers of the latest information. And respecting them would simply not conceivable.
Finally we got up to the yurt Uotkana Zinuldamova — the same whose picture was a pass and a map. Further to the tens of kilometers desolate tundra. And the mountains. The passes in the mountains there. And the nearest of them — Sarozek. But go there very rarely, and then only on powerful ATVs. Even the local fishermen to get to the lakes located beyond the pass, and offering an abundance of grayling and trout, prefer to hook into a hundred kilometers on a relatively tolerable cross-country road through the lower and convenient passes Burguzun and Tuva.
But our task — to overcome Sarozek. So far as we know, no one group of tourists here did not pass.
As luck goes bad weather: fine soggy rain delays the vicinity of thin muslin and compels us to don the «rain gear».
The rise becomes steeper. Bikes are going well, thanks in no small measure contributed Cross tires and stars, will increase gear ratio in reverse gear. However, the group has one old bike, which put an asterisk could not — and he is in the mountain «not felt». Head decided to rush the passenger, and part of the cargo and extra gasoline to keep the bottom to return them the next day. Who could have imagined then that the events would unfold in quite a different scenario! ..
Mountains approached quite closely. Their gray mass hanging over us, oppressing and crushing its power significantly. We went into the clouds, visibility has deteriorated dramatically. Car track, on which we move, becoming sinuous. Here it is twisted, literally a corkscrew going into the clouds. The rise of the already steep, it becomes even steeper. But you can not stop and rest at least for a moment: then do not you touch. Even when under the wheel fall large stones, you can not reset the gas. The motor roars from the strain, the front wheel tries to break away from the earth. You have to literally lie down on the handlebars. This is taken once a rocky rise. I think he will be a bit easier and will have the opportunity to rest, if not himself, so even if the car … But in front of the slope again and should be immediately stormed it, and then large rocks … Instantly cape slowly paving a new trajectory, and — just would not stop! ..
The pass was covered with snow. While cooled motorcycles, we played snowballs. And as a gift to us, a gust of wind parted the clouds — like a wide open window to the bottom of the valley which lies far Bogoyasha.
On the pass marks are lost, and they should look for three hundred meters below. We started the descent with fears Coy, passed safely the most difficult part, found the trail. Everything went fine. Both wheels are inhibited to «Hughes», the ignition is turned off, including the first transmission, gas open «full», but sometimes this is not enough and the bike begins to accelerate. The motor spins and howls so that seems about to be smashed to pieces. His eyes are searching for that rock, which can be
will be a last resort to use as the last obstacle …
Unfortunately, all the wisdom of technique and tactics of motorcycle tourism, each of us had to discover anew and independently. In my opinion, over the past 15 years have not published any pamphlets on this subject, but the fact that published earlier, it became a rarity, which will not find the day with fire.
But the mountains begin to recede, the descent becomes more gentle. I think we can consider weak …
Here and comes retribution.
Trying to overtake the last group of large stones, warden made one wrong move and his motorcycle began zavalivatsya side. To keep him, the driver put his foot, but she slipped on a wet boulder and was under the motorcycle …
Victim splint, using three knives, and improvised stretchers, erected the tent, carried on down to the nearest stream, which immediately broke unscheduled camp.
After dinner, a campfire under dwarf birch discussed this difficult situation.
Rate alpine Tuva can only be traveling this way, on a motorcycle. The mountain slopes covered with stunted tundra vegetation, directly overhead, floating clouds, the wind blowing all the time. In the hottest time of year can not be removed and warm clothing. And the great emptiness, for many tens of kilometers around a single living soul. With all this decision is made, and early in the morning and head Beginner on one motorbike without luggage sent for help. According to preliminary estimates, before standing up two deep ford, a few bogs and steep mountain passes. The first ford across Bogoyash quite close, about three kilometers from the camp. Force a lot, and after clearing the channel of large stones, he is overcome outright. Then a few tens of kilometers off-road trail winds through the valley among the thickets, and occasionally crosses the small swamp. Here is the way Cross training for managers: in an unloaded bike you can afford and prolonged jumps and cornering with the drifts. Next forks. But the route is familiar with the previous year, and we do not stray.
When begins the ascent to the pass, Beginner jumps. Lightweight motorcycle flies into a mountain bird. We are so keen on a quick ride that almost shooting through past the big white tent, taking it for a large boulder. In the yurt only women and children. With difficulty in sign language show that we have wounded and need a car. I think, understand, and show a response somewhere beyond the mountain. We go there and find parking, and then another one. Machine nowhere, namely the machine we need. However, already know something encouraging: there is a haircut sarlyks (so called here shaggy yaks) and shearing machines are. A few tens of kilometers at the same rate, another ford across Mogvn — Buren (fortunately, the river was very little water) — and here it is, the place haircuts on the lake Ak-Khol, and here they are, all-terrain vehicles.
For a long time to explain nothing had: tuvinets with the Russian name Ivan in the first words left the factory brand new GAZ-66. As we become estranged from such responsiveness!
The way back turned out to be unexpectedly long, and we spent it more than four hours, came to camp in the afternoon. And then tell us so quickly was not expected and very glad.
By Ak-Holyu already returned late at night. In the morning the victim was coming 40-kilometer route in a jeep to the village of Kyzyl-Khaya, there is the medical UAZ — 100 kilometers to the district center Mugur-Aqsa and then another ambulance helicopter to Kyzyl.
After this emergency operation, we gathered again at the campfire under the stunted birch, and again discussed the plan of action. Now, when the number of motorcycles and drivers equalized, the salvation of the abandoned motorcycle in the forest could be no question. To clear conscience we Decide whether at least go and look at it. Send three: Head, Mechanics and Beginner. Took with them only the bare necessities: a hatchet, binoculars, two sleeping bags and food for two days. Before the burial place was to tramped about 25 kilometers along the river valleys Bogoyash, Kolbakaya and Karak and beat two passes …
The motorcycle we have found in the same place — under the rotten cedar. No rust, it was yesterday left. Once again I said goodbye — now, probably for a long time …
Turning into the camp, get to the Ak-grooming. Here on the shores of Lake arrange a day’s rest. On all sides we are surrounded by mountains, and wind on the lake is almost there. We deal with who does what. Mechanic torn between the desire reviled in the surrounding hills on a motorcycle and fishing. Leader develops sign language, communicating with the shepherds. Newbie which now can rightfully be called Experienced, teaches doctor to manage a motorcycle, and it just does not end the group swim. Photographer, finally, removes fishing. A cook sweet sleep, though Primus undercooked dinner.
Everyone knows that the journey is essentially over. From carriageway road between us and only pass Burguzun yes Chu steppe. But how afraid they are now trained and cohesive group. For a second: only now truly feel sad at the thought of parting with this wonderful land.
Giving his characters «wind» last miles, the author thought. Did it even to a small extent, not only to trace the path and the adventures of a group, but also show specific mototouristik, to approve the legality of its existence among the other species? , Could he show that mototouristik may become an important means of educating young people, able to reveal the beauty of her native land, nature and people? I so want to hope so, so want to believe that our ranks filled with new romantics! ..
I. Ksenofontov, PhD. master of sports (he — Head) Moscow-Altai

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