I noticed something recently. Before I didn't care, now I know it - and I didn't like it. In all these corporate trainings of yours, as well as starting from the elementary grades at school, we are told a lot of things, where, as a rule, there is not enough room for adventurism, recklessness and the triumph of the human spirit in its pure, sublimated form. All sorts of films are being made, documentaries and feature films, but only a few of them tell about events so outstanding that it is hard to believe in them. And those that are filmed have a low budget and rarely gather a lot of viewers. Nobody is considered to be interested. And no one needs to be reminded. Who knows, suddenly someone will be inspired out of place and ... also want to. And then losses and continuous frustration. Anonymous sits in his cozy office without ventilation, then comes to his house in a panel Khrushchev on the outskirts of the sleeping area, where salted borscht is waiting for him for dinner. At this time, perhaps, somewhere in the world a drama is unfolding that will go down in history, and which almost everyone will immediately forget about. But we don't know about it. But we know about some - and, of course, not all - stories about incredible adventures that happened to people in the past. I want to talk about some of them that impressed me the most. I will not tell about all that I know, despite the fact that I, of course, do not know about all. The list is subjective, here is only what, in my opinion, is especially worthy of mention. So, 7 most incredible stories. Not all of them ended happily, but I promise there won't be one that could be called ridiculous.
7. Mutiny Bounty
Without a doubt, Britain owes its greatness to its fleet and its colonial policy. In the past, for centuries, she equipped expeditions for something useful, forming an entire era of great geographical discoveries. One of these ordinary, but important expeditions was to be a sea voyage for breadfruit. Tree seedlings were supposed to be taken on the island of Tahiti, and then delivered to the southern possessions of England, where to introduce and overcome . In general, the state task was not completed, and the events became much more interesting than expected.
The Royal Navy allocated a new three-masted ship Bounty, just in case, equipped with 14 (!) Guns, commanded by Captain William Bligh.
The team was recruited voluntarily-compulsorily - as it should be in the navy. A certain Fletcher Christian, a bright person of future events, became the captain's assistant. On September 3, 1788, the dream team weighed anchor and set out towards Tahiti.
An exhausting voyage of 250 days with hardships in the form of scurvy and a stern captain Bligh, who, in particular, to raise the spirits, made the team sing and dance to the accompaniment of a violin every day, successfully arrived at their destination. Bligh had already been to Tahiti before, and was received by the natives in a friendly manner. Taking advantage of his position, and for the sake of bribing local influential people, he received permission to camp on the island and collect seedlings of the breadfruit, which was found in these places. For six months, the team collected seedlings and prepared to sail home. The ship had a suitable carrying capacity, so a lot of seedlings were harvested, which explains the long stay on the island, as well as the fact that the crew just wanted to relax.
Of course, a free life in the tropics was much better than sailing on a ship in conditions typical of the 18th century. The team members developed relationships with the local population, including romantic ones. Therefore, several people, shortly before sailing on April 4, 1789, escaped. The captain, with the help of the natives, found them and punished them. In short, from the newly fallen tests and the severity of the captain, the team began to grumble. Everyone was especially outraged by the fact that the captain saved on water for people in favor of plants that required watering. You can hardly blame Bligh for this: his task was to deliver the trees, and he fulfilled it. And the expenditure of human resources was the cost of the decision.
On April 28, 1789, the patience of most of the crew ran out. The mutiny was led by the first person after the captain - the same assistant Fletcher Christian. In the morning, the rebels took the captain in his cabin and tied him up in bed, and then brought him on deck and held a trial under Christian's presidency. To the credit of the rebels, they did not create chaos and acted relatively mildly: Blay and 18 people who refused to support the rebellion were put on a longboat, given some provisions, water, a few rusty sabers and released. Of the navigation equipment Bligh had only a sextant and a pocket watch. They landed on the island of Tofua, 30 miles away. Fate was not favorable to everyone - one person was killed by locals on the island, but the rest sailed away and, having covered 6701 km (!!!), reached the island of Timor in 47 days, which is an incredible adventure in itself. But it's not about them. The captain was later tried, but he was acquitted. From this moment, the actual adventure begins, and everything that was earlier is a saying.
24 people remained on board the ship: 20 conspirators and 4 more team members loyal to the former captain, who did not have enough space on the longboat (I remind you that the rebels were not lawless). Of course, they did not dare to sail back to Tahiti, fearing punishment from their native state. What to do? That's right...found his a state with breadfruit and Tahitian women. But that, too, was easy to say. To begin with, the fighters with the system went to the island of Tubuai and tried to live there, but did not get along with the natives, which is why they were forced to return to Tahiti after 3 months. When asked where the captain had gone, the natives were told that he met with Cook, with whom he was friends. The irony was that Bly managed to tell the locals about Cook's death, so they had no more questions. Although, in fact, the unfortunate captain lived for many more years and died in his bed from natural causes.
In Tahiti, Christian immediately began planning a further rebellion scenario in order to consolidate success and not fall on trial - representatives of the punitive detachment on the Pandora ship under the command of Edward Edwards had already left for them. 8 Englishmen, together with Christian, decided to leave the friendly island on the Bounty in search of a more peaceful place, while the rest, guided by considerations of their innocence (they saw it so), decided to stay. After some time, they really came for the rest and took them into custody (by the time of the arrest, two had already died on their own, then four died in the crash of the Pandora, four more - those who did not have enough space on the longboat - were acquitted, one was pardoned, five more were hanged - two of them for non-resistance to the rebellion, and three for participating in it). And the "Bounty" with more efficient citizens, who prudently took 12 local women and 6 men loyal to them, left to wander the expanses of the Pacific Ocean.
After a while, the ship landed on a desert island, on which the notorious breadfruit and bananas grew, there was water, a beach, a jungle - in short, everything that is supposed to be on a desert island. It was Pitcairn Island, which was discovered relatively recently, in 1767, by the navigator Philip Carteret. On this island, the fugitives were incredibly lucky: its coordinates were mapped with an error of 350 kilometers, and therefore the search expedition of the Royal Navy could not find them, although it regularly searched each island. Thus arose and still exists a new dwarf state on Pitcairn Island. The Bounty had to be burned so as not to leave evidence and not be tempted to sail away somewhere. It is said that the ship's ballast stones can still be seen in the island's lagoon.
Further, the fate of free settlers developed as follows. After a few years of free life, in 1793, a conflict broke out between the Tahitian men and the British, as a result of which the former no longer remained, and Christian was also killed. Presumably, the causes of the conflict were the lack of women and the oppression of the Tahitians, who were treated as slaves by the whites (who, however, were no longer white). Two more Englishmen soon died of alcoholism - they learned to extract alcohol from the roots of a local plant. One died of asthma. Three Tahitian women also died. In total, by 1800, about 10 years after the rebellion, only one participant remained alive, still able to properly use the results of his demarche. It was John Adams (also known as Alexander Smith). He was surrounded by 9 women and 10 minor children. Then the children became 25: Adams did not waste time in vain. In addition, he brought order to the community, accustomed the inhabitants to Christianity and organized the education of young people. In this form, after another 8 years, the βstateβ discovered the American whaler βTopazβ accidentally passing by. The captain of this ship told the world about a paradise island on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, to which the British government reacted surprisingly mildly and forgave Adams for the statute of limitations. Adams died in 1829, at the age of 62, surrounded by numerous and passionately loving children and women. The only settlement on the island, Adamstown, is named after him.
Today, about 100 people live in the state of Pitcairn, which is not so small for an island with an area of ββββ4.6 square kilometers. The peak population of 233 was reached in 1937, after which the population declined due to emigration to New Zealand and Australia, but on the other hand, there were those who came to live on the island. Formally, Pitcairn is considered a British Overseas Territory. It has its own parliament, school, 128 kbps Internet channel and even its own .pn domain, a phone code with a beautiful value of +64. The basis of the economy is tourism with a small share of agriculture. For Russians, a British visa is required, but in agreement with the local authorities, they can let you in without a visa for up to 2 weeks.
6. Red tent
I learned about this story from the movie of the same name. That rare case when the film is good. He is good for many reasons. Firstly, a very beautiful film is being filmed there. (she is still alive, she is over 80 years old). Secondly, the film is in color (the title obliges), which is not a matter of course for 1969, and was shot with the joint participation of the USSR and Great Britain, which is also unusual and had a positive effect on the picture. Thirdly, the presentation of the story in the film is incomparable. What is the final dialogue of the characters worth. Fourthly, the film has historical value, and this story requires special attention.
Before the space race and before the Second World War, there was an aeronautics race in the world. Stratostats of various shapes and sizes were built, and new height records were achieved. USSR, of course, too . It was a matter of national importance, everyone wanted to be the first and risked their lives for this no less than the era of the beginning of space exploration. The media described the achievements in aeronautics in great detail, so you can easily find many articles on this topic on the Internet. So, one of such high-profile projects was . An Italian (obviously) aircraft arrived in Svalbard to take off on May 23, 1928 towards the North Pole.
The goal was to reach the Pole and return back, and the tasks were scientific: to explore Franz Josef Land, Severnaya Zemlya, the area north of Greenland and the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, to finally resolve the issue of the existence of the hypothetical Crocker Land, which was allegedly observed by Robert Peary in 1906, as well as to make observations in the field of atmospheric electricity, oceanography and terrestrial magnetism. The hype of the idea is hard to overestimate. The Pope gave the team a wooden cross, which was supposed to be installed on the pole.
Airship under command successfully reached the pole. Previously, he had already participated in a similar under the guidance of , but then, it seems, their relationship went wrong. The film mentions an interview Amundsen gave to the press, here are some excerpts:
- What significance for science can the expedition of General Nobile have if it turns out to be successful?
βVery important,β said Amundsen.
Why aren't you leading the expedition?
She is no longer for me. Besides, I wasn't invited.
β But Nobile is not an expert on the Arctic, is he?
He takes them with him. Some I know. You can rely on them. And Nobile himself is a magnificent airship builder. I made sure of this during our flight
to the North Pole on the airship "Norway" built by him. But this time he not only built an airship, but also leads an expedition.
What are their chances of success?
- Chances are good. I know Nobile - he's a great commander.
Technically, the airship was a fabric semi-rigid balloon filled with explosive hydrogen - a typical airship of that time. However, this was not what killed him. On the way back, the ship was blown off course due to the wind, so it spent more time in flight than planned. On the third day, in the morning, the airship flew at an altitude of 200-300 meters and suddenly began to descend. The reasons given are weather conditions. The immediate cause is not known for certain, but most likely it was icing. Another version considers the rupture of the shell and the subsequent leakage of hydrogen. The crew's actions failed to prevent the airship from descending, causing it to hit the ice about 3 minutes later. The mechanic died in the collision. The ship was dragged by the wind for about 50 meters, during which part of the crew, including Nobele, was on the surface, along with some equipment. The other 6 people remained inside the gondola (as well as the main cargo), which were carried further by the wind on the broken airship - their further fate is unknown, only a column of smoke was seen, but there was no flash and sound of the explosion, which does not suggest the ignition of hydrogen.
Thus, a group of 9 people led by Captain Nobele, who, however, was wounded, ended up on the ice in the Arctic Ocean. There was also Nobele's dog named Titina. The group as a whole was very lucky: the bags and containers that fell on the ice contained food (including 71 kg of canned meat, 41 kg of chocolate), a radio station, a pistol with cartridges, a sextant and chronometers, a sleeping bag and a tent. The tent, however, is only four-seater. It was made red for visibility by pouring paint from marker balls, which also fell out of the airship (it is she who is meant in the film).
The radio operator (Biagi) immediately set about setting up the radio station and began trying to get in touch with the expedition's support ship, the Citta de Milano. Several days were unsuccessful. As Nobile later claimed, the radio operators of the Citta de Milano, instead of trying to pick up the signal of the expedition's transmitter, were sending personal telegrams. The ship went out to sea in search of the missing, but without the coordinates of the crash site, it had no serious chance of success. On May 29, the radio operator of the Citta de Milano heard Biaggi's signal, but he mistook it for the call sign of the station in Mogadishu and did nothing. On the same day, one of the members of the group, Malmgren, shot a polar bear, whose meat was put into food. He, as well as two more (Mariano and Zappi), separated the next day (Nobele was against it, but allowed the separation) from the main group and independently advanced towards the base. During the transition, Malmgren died, two survived, however, one of them (navigator Adalberto Mariano) froze his leg. Meanwhile, nothing was known about the fate of the airship. So in total about a week passed, during which the Nobele group waited for it to be discovered.
On June 3, we were very lucky again. Soviet amateur radio operator from the outback (the village of Voznesenye-Vokhma, North Dvina province) on a makeshift receiver, I caught the signal βItalie Nobile Fran Uosof Sos Sos Sos Sos Tirri teno EhHβ of the Biaggi radio station. He sent a telegram to his friends in Moscow, the next day the information was transferred to the official level. At (the same one that was actively involved in aeronautical activities), an aid headquarters was created, headed by Joseph Unshlikht, Deputy People's Commissar for Military and Naval Affairs of the USSR. On the same day, the distress signal was reported to the Italian government, but only 4 days later (June 8) did the Citta de Milano finally establish contact with Biaggi and receive the exact coordinates.
It didn't really mean anything. We still had to get to the camp. Various countries and communities participated in the rescue operation. On June 17, two planes chartered by Italy flew over the camp but did not spot it due to poor visibility. Amundsen also died in the search. He could not remain without participation, and on June 18, on a French seaplane assigned to him, he flew out in search, after which, together with the crew, he disappeared without a trace (later, a float from his plane was found in the sea, and then an empty fuel tank - probably the plane got lost, and he ran out of fuel). Only on June 20 did they manage to find the camp by plane and deliver the goods 2 days later. On June 23, General Nobele was evacuated from the camp on a light plane - it was assumed that he would provide assistance, coordinating the rescue of the rest. This would later be used against him, the public blaming the general for the crash of the airship. The film has this dialogue:
I had 50 reasons to leave and 50 to stay.
- No. 50 to stay and 51 to leave. You flew away. What is the 51st?
- I don't know.
Do you remember what you thought then, at the moment of departure? You are sitting in the cockpit, the plane is in the air. Have you thought about those who remained on the ice floe?
- Yes.
βAnd about those who were blown away in the airship?β
- Yes.
βAbout Malmgren, Zappi and Mariano?β About Krasin?
- Yes.
- About Romagna?
- About me?
- Yes.
- About the daughter?
- Yes.
β A hot bath?
- Yes. My God! I thought about the hot tub in Kingsbay too.
The Soviet icebreaker Krasin also took part in the rescue work, delivering a small disassembled aircraft to the search area - it was already assembled on the spot, on the ice. On July 10, his crew discovered the group, dropped food and clothing. A day later, Malmgren's group was found. One of them was lying on the ice (presumably it was the deceased Malmgren, but then it turned out that these were most likely things, and Malmgren himself could not walk much earlier and therefore asked him to quit). The pilot could not return to the icebreaker due to poor visibility, so he made an emergency landing, damaging the plane, and radioed that the crew was completely safe and asked to save the Italians first, and then them. Krasin took Mariano and Zappi on 12 July. Zappi was wearing Malmgren's warm clothes and was generally very well dressed and in good physical condition. On the contrary, Mariano was half-dressed and severely emaciated, his leg was amputated. Zappi was accused, but there was no hard evidence against him. In the evening of the same day, the icebreaker took 5 people from the main camp, after which they transferred everyone together on board the Citta de Milano. Nobile insisted on looking for an airship with six members of the expedition remaining in the shell. However, the captain of the Krasin Samoylovich said that he was unable to conduct searches due to the lack of coal and the absence of aircraft, so he removed the pilots and the aircraft from the ice floe on July 16 and was about to go home. And the captain of the "Citta di Milano" Romagna referred to the order from Rome to immediately return to Italy. However, "Krasin" nevertheless took part in the search for the shell, which ended in nothing (October 4, he arrived in Leningrad). On September 29, another search aircraft crashed, after which the rescue operation was stopped.
In March 1929, a state commission recognized Nobile as the main culprit in the disaster. Immediately after this, Nobile resigned from the Italian Air Force, and in 1931 he left for the Soviet Union to head the airship building program. After the victory over fascism in 1945, all charges were dropped from him. Nobile was reinstated to the rank of major general and died many years later, at the age of 93.
The Nobile expedition was one of the most tragic and unusual expeditions of its kind. The large variation in estimates is that too many people were put at risk to save the group, of whom more died than were saved as a result of the search operation. At that time, apparently, this was treated differently. The very idea of ββflying in a clumsy airship, God knows where, is worthy of respect. It is emblematic of the steampunk era. At the beginning of the twentieth century, it seemed to mankind that almost everything was already possible, and there were no limits to technical progress, there was its own reckless adventurism in testing the ultimate strength of technical solutions. Primitive? And don't care! In search of adventure, many lost their lives and put others at unreasonable risk, so this story is the most controversial of all, although, of course, very interesting. Well, the movie is good.
5. Kon Tiki
The story about Kon Tiki is known mainly thanks to the film (I admit, good adventure films are still being made a little more often than I first thought). Actually Kon Tiki is not only the name of the movie. This is the name of the raft on which the Norwegian traveler in 1947 he swam across the Pacific Ocean (well, not quite, but nonetheless). And the raft, in turn, is named after some Polynesian deity.
The fact is that Tour developed a theory according to which people from South America on primitive ships, presumably rafts, reached the islands of the Pacific Ocean and thus settled them. The raft was chosen for the reason that it is the most reliable of the simplest means of navigation. Few people believed Tour (according to the film, so few that, in general, no one), and he decided to prove the possibility of such a sea passage by deed, and at the same time test his theory. To do this, he recruited a somewhat dubious team to his support group. Well, who else would agree to this? Tour was well acquainted with some, not so much with some. For more information about recruiting a team, it is best to watch the movie. By the way, there is a book, and more than one, but I have not read them.
We must start with the fact that Tur was, in principle, an adventurous citizen, in which his wife supported him. Together with her, he somehow lived in his youth for some time in semi-wild conditions on the island of Fatu Hiva. This is a small volcanic island, which Tur called βparadiseβ (in paradise, however, the climate and medicine were not very good, and a non-healing wound formed on his wifeβs leg, because of which the island had to be urgently left). In other words, he was ready and able to dare something like that.
The expedition members did not know each other. All had different personalities. Therefore, we will not soon get bored on the raft with those stories that we will tell each other. No storm clouds and no pressure that promises bad weather were more dangerous for us than depressed morale. After all, we six will be completely alone on a raft for many months, and under such conditions a good joke is often as valuable as a life belt.
In general, I will not describe the trip for a long time, it is best to actually see the movie. It's not just that he won an Oscar. The story is very unusual, I just could not forget about it, but I can hardly add anything of value. Swimming completed successfully. As Tur predicted, the ocean currents carried the raft towards the islands of Polynesia. They landed safely on one of the islands. Along the way, we made observations, collecting scientific data. But in the end, it didnβt work out with his wife - she was tired of her husbandβs adventures, she left him. Uncle led a very active life and lived to 87 years.
4. Touching the void
It was not so long ago, in 1985. A climbing couple climbed the summit of Siula Grande (6344) in the Andes in South America. There are beautiful and unusual mountains: despite the steepness of the slopes, the snowy firn holds, which, of course, simplified the ascent. They went to the top. And then, according to the classics, difficulties should begin. The descent is always harder and more dangerous than the ascent. Everything went quietly, peacefully, as usually happens in such cases. For example, it was evening - which is quite natural. As usual, the weather deteriorated, fatigue accumulated. The duo (Joe Simpson and Simon Yates) walked near the summit ridge to use a more logical route. In short, everything was as it should be on a standard, albeit technically difficult, climb: hard work, but nothing like that.
But then something happened that, in general, could well happen: Joe falls. This is bad, but still not dangerous. Partners, of course, should, and were ready for it. Simon stopped Joe. And they would have gone further, but only Joe fell unsuccessfully. His leg fell between the stones, the body continued to move by inertia and broke his leg. Walking in twos is an ambiguous thing in itself, because together everything goes well until something starts to go badly. In these cases, the campaign can break up into two solo trips, and this is a completely different conversation (the same, however, can be said about any group). And they were not quite ready for it. Or rather, Joe was. He then thought something like: βNow Simon will say that he will go for help, he will try to calm me down. I understand him, he must do so. And he will understand that I understood, we will both understand it. But there is no other way." Because to carry out rescue work on such peaks only means to increase the number of those being rescued, and this is not at all what they are carried out for. However, Simon did not say so. He suggested that we descend right from here, right now, by the shortest route, taking advantage of the steep slope. Let the terrain be unfamiliar, the main thing is to quickly drop the height and go to a flat area, and then, they say, weβll figure it out further.
With the help of descenders, the partners began to descend. Joe was mostly in the role of ballast: he was lowered on a rope by Simon. Joe descends, secures, then Simon passes one rope, removes, repeat. Here we must admit the relatively high efficiency of the idea, as well as the good preparation of the participants. The descent really went well, there were no insurmountable difficulties on the terrain. A certain number of iterations performed allowed us to noticeably move down. By this time it was almost dark. But here Joe was hurt for the second time in a row - he again breaks down during the next descent with a rope. During the fall, he flies to the snow bridge with his back, breaks through it and flies further into the crack. Simon, meanwhile, is trying to linger, and, we must pay tribute to his preparation, he succeeds. Exactly up to this point, the situation was not exactly normal, but by no means catastrophic: the descent was controlled, injury was a natural risk for such events, and the fact that it is dark and the weather has deteriorated is a common thing in the mountains. But now Simon was crouched on the slope, holding Joe, who had flown over the kink and about whom nothing was known. Simon shouted, but heard no answer. He also could not get up and down, for fear of not holding Joe. So he sat for two hours.
Joe meanwhile hung in the crack. Standard rope is 50 meters long, I don't know what they had, but probably about that length. This is not so much, but in bad weather, behind the bend, in the crevice, it was quite likely that it really was not audible. Simon began to freeze and, seeing no prospect of improving the situation, cut the rope. Joe flew some more distance, and only now the bad luck was replaced by unspeakable luck, which is the meaning of the story. He got on another snow bridge inside the crack and accidentally lingered on it. A piece of rope followed.
Simon, meanwhile, went down over the bend and saw the broken bridge and the crack. It was so dark and bottomless that there could be no thought that there could be a living person in it. Simon "buried" his friend and went down to the camp on his own. He is blamed for this - he did not check, did not make sure, did not provide assistance ... However, this is comparable to how if you knock down a pedestrian and in the mirror you see how the head and torso fly in different directions. You have to stop, but does it make sense? So Simon decided it didn't make sense. Even assuming that Joe is still alive, we still need to get him out of there. And they do not live long in cracks. And indefinitely without food and rest at a height it is also impossible to work.
Joe was sitting on a small bridge in the middle of the crack. He had, among other things, a backpack, a flashlight, a system, a descender and a rope. He sat like that for a long time and came to the conclusion that it was not possible to get upstairs. What happened to Syson is also unknown, perhaps now he is not in the best position. Joe could either continue to sit or do something, and that something was to see what was downstairs. He decided to do so. He set up a base and slowly descended to the bottom of the crack. The bottom turned out to be passable, in addition, by this time it was already dawn. Joe managed to find a way out of the crack on the glacier.
On the glacier, Joe also had a hard time. This was just the beginning of his long journey. He crawled, dragging his broken leg. It was difficult to find the way among the labyrinth of cracks and pieces of ice. He had to crawl, raise the front of his body in his arms, look around, choose a landmark and crawl on. On the other hand, the slope and snow cover provided creep. So by the time Joe, exhausted, reached the bottom of the glacier, two pieces of news awaited him. The good news was that at last he was able to drink water - a muddy slurry with particles of rock washed out from under the glacier. And the bad, of course, is that the terrain has become flatter, even less smooth and, most importantly, not so slippery. Now it cost him much more work to drag his body.
For several days Joe crawled towards the camp. Simon was still there at the time, along with another member of the group who didn't go up the mountain. Night was falling, it was supposed to be the last, the next morning they were going to turn off the camp and leave. The usual evening rain began. Joe by this point was a few hundred meters from the camp. He was no longer expected, his clothes and belongings were burned. Joe no longer had the strength to crawl on a horizontal surface, and he began to scream - the only thing he could do. They couldn't hear him because of the rain. Then a scream seemed to be heard by the people sitting in the tent, but you never know what the wind will bring? When you sit in a tent by the river, you can hear conversations that are not there. We decided that it was Joe's spirit that had come. And yet Simon went out to look with a lantern. And then he found Joe. Exhausted, hungry, shabby, but alive. He was quickly taken to a tent, where he was given first aid. He could no longer walk. Then there was a long treatment, many operations (apparently, Joe had the funds for this), and he was able to recover. He didnβt abandon the mountains, he continued climbing difficult peaks, then once again he injured his leg (other) and face, and even then he continued to engage in technical mountaineering. Rough uncle. And generally lucky. The miraculous rescue is not the only such case. Once he was on, as he thought, a saddle, stuck an ice ax, which went inside. Joe thought it was a hole and covered it with snow. Then it turned out that this was not a hole, but a hole in the snow cornice.
Joe wrote a book about this ascent, and in 2007 a detailed .
3. 127 hours
I wonβt stop much here, itβs better ... right, to watch the film of the same name. But the power of tragedy is amazing. In short, the essence is this. One guy named walked along the canyon in North America (Utah). The walk ended with the fact that he fell into the gap, in the process of falling he carried away a large boulder, which squeezed his hand. At the same time, the rest of Aron remained unharmed. The book "Between the Hammer and the Anvil", written by him later, became the basis for the film.
Aron lived for several days at the bottom of the crack, where the sun fell only for a short time. Tried to drink urine. Then he decided to cut off the clamped hand, because no one climbed into this hole, it was useless to scream. The trouble was aggravated by the fact that there was nothing special to cut with: there was only a blunt household folding knife. The bones of the forearm had to be broken. There was a problem with cutting a nerve. The film shows all this well. Having escaped from the hand with great torment, Aaron left the canyon, where he stumbled upon a walking couple who gave him water to drink and called a rescue helicopter. This is where the story ends.
The case is certainly impressive. The stone was then lifted and the mass was estimated - according to various sources, it ranges from 300 to 400 kg. Of course, it would be impossible to raise it on your own. Aaron made a cruel but correct decision. Judging by the smile in the photo and the hype in the media, the fact that he remained a cripple did not sadden the guy much. He even got married later. As you can see in the photo, he attached a prosthesis in the form of an ice ax to his hand, so that it would be more convenient to climb the mountains.
2. Death will wait for me
This is not even a story, but rather a story and the title of the book of the same name by Grigory Fedoseev, in which he described his life in the Siberian wilds of the mid-20th century. Originally from the Kuban (now the place of birth is on the territory of the KChR), a pass on the ridge is named after him. Abishira-Akhuba in the vicinity of the village. Arkhyz (~3000, n/a, herbaceous-scree). Wikipedia says Gregory briefly: "Soviet writer, geodetic engineer." In general, it is, he gained fame thanks to his notes and books written later. Honestly, the writer from him is not that bad, but not Leo Tolstoy either. The book leaves a controversial impression in the literary sense, but in the documentary sense, it undoubtedly has a high value. This book describes the most interesting segment of his life. It was published in 1962, but the events happened earlier, in 1948-1954.
The book is highly recommended for reading. Here I will only briefly summarize the main plot. By that time, Grigory Fedoseev had become the head of the expedition in the Okhotsk region, where he commanded several detachments of surveyors and cartographers, and he himself was directly involved in the work. It was a harsh wild land in the no less harsh USSR. In the sense that, by modern standards, the expedition did not have equipment. There was a plane, some equipment, drop-offs, provisions, and military-style logistics. But at the same time, in terms of everyday life, poverty reigned in the expedition, as, indeed, it was almost everywhere in the Union. So, people themselves built rafts and shelters with the help of an ax, ate flour cakes, hunted game. Then they carried sacks of cement and iron to the mountain in order to equip a geodetic point there. Then another, and another, and another. Yes, these are the same trigopoints that were used for peaceful purposes for mapping the area, and in the military for guiding compasses according to the same maps compiled earlier. There are many such places scattered throughout the country. Now they are in a dilapidated state, because there are GPS and satellite images, and the idea of ββa full-scale war with the use of massive artillery strikes, thank God, remained unrealized by the Soviet doctrine. But every time I saw the remains of a trigopoint on some pimple, I thought, how was it built here? Fedoseev tells how.
In addition to the construction of trigopoints and mapping (determining distances, heights, etc.), the tasks of the expeditions of those years included the study of the geology and wildlife of Siberia. Gregory also describes the life and appearance of the local people, the Evenks. In general, he tells a lot about everything he saw. Thanks to the work of his team, we now have maps of Siberia, which were then used to build roads and oil pipelines. The scale of his work is difficult to exaggerate. But why was I so impressed with the book and put it in second place? And the fact is that the uncle is extremely tenacious and wear-resistant. In his place, I would have died in a month. But he did not die and lived normally for his time (69 years).
The culmination of the book is the autumn rafting on the Mae River. About Maya, the locals said that the log would not swim to the mouth without turning into chips. And so Fedoseev and two comrades decided to carry out the first ascent. The alloy turned out to be successful, but in the process the trinity went beyond the bounds of reason. The boat, hollowed out with an ax, was smashed almost immediately. Then they built a raft. He regularly turned over, he was caught, lost, made a new one. In the river canyon it was damp and cold, in addition, frost was approaching. At some point, the situation got completely out of control. There is no raft, no things, one comrade is paralyzed at death, the other has gone to God knows where. Grigory hugs a dying comrade, being with him on a stone in the middle of the river. It starts to rain, the water rises and is about to wash them off the stone. But, nevertheless, everyone was saved, and not by the will of a miracle, but thanks to their own strength. The title of the book is not about that at all. In general, if you are interested, it is better to read the source.
With regards to the personality of Fedoseev and the events described by him, my opinion is ambiguous. The book is positioned as a work of art. The author does not hide this, but does not specify what exactly, limiting himself to the fact that he deliberately compressed time for the sake of the plot, and asks for forgiveness for this. Indeed, there is little inaccuracy. But something else is disturbing. It's all very natural. He, like the immortal Rimbaud, storms adversity one after another, where each subsequent one is more serious and requires unprecedented efforts. One danger - lucky. The other got out. Third, a friend helped. Ten is the same. Despite the fact that each is worthy, if not of a book, then of a story, and the hero had to die at the very beginning. I hope there is little exaggeration. Grigory Fedoseev was, after all, a Soviet person in the good sense of the word (not like the generation of the 60s, who pissed off all polymers), then it was fashionable to behave decently. On the other hand, even if the author exaggerated, all the same, even if at least a tenth of it really was as described, it is already worthy of mention in the top three incredible stories, and the title of the book rightly reflects the essence.
1. Crystal Horizon
There are brave climbers. There are old climbers. But there are no brave old climbers. Unless, of course, it's Reinhold Messner. This citizen, at 74, being the world's leading climber, still lives in his castle, sometimes runs into some kind of pimple and, in his free time from these activities, builds models of the visited mountains in the garden. βIf he was on a big mountain, let him bring big stones from it,β as was the case in The Little Prince - Messner, obviously, is still a troll. He is famous for many things, but most of all he became famous for the first solo ascent of Everest. The ascent itself, as well as everything that accompanied and preceded it, Messner wrote in detail in the book "Crystal Horizon". He is also a good writer. But the character is bad. He directly states that he wanted to be the first, and his ascent to Everest is somewhat reminiscent of the launch of the first Earth satellite. During the campaign, he psychologically mocked his girlfriend Nena, who accompanied him all the way, which is directly written in the book (it seems that there was love, but there are no details about this either in the book or in popular sources). Finally, Messner is a committed character, and he made the ascent in relatively modern conditions, with appropriate equipment, and the level of training was fully consistent. He even flew a depressurized plane at 9000 to acclimatize. Yes, the event required enormous effort, and physically devastated him. But in fact, this is a lie. Messner himself later stated, after K2, that Everest was just a warm-up.
To better understand the essence of Messner and his ascent, let us recall the very beginning of the path. Moving away from the camp, where Nena was waiting for him, a few hundred meters, he fell into a crack. The state of emergency happened inopportunely and threatened the worst. Messner then remembered God and asked to get him out of there, promising that if this happens, he will refuse to climb. And in general, he will refuse to climb (but only eight-thousanders) in the future. Having cut himself to death, Messner got out of the crack and continued on his way, thinking: "what kind of stupidity does not come to mind." Nena later wrote (by the way, she drove to the mountains):
The indefatigability of this man cannot be described in words ... Reinhold's phenomenon is that he is constantly inflated, although his nerves are in perfect order
But enough about Messner. I think I have explained enough why his outstanding achievement does not qualify as one of the most incredible. Many films have already been made about him, books have been written, and every second well-known journalist has interviewed him. It will not be about him.
Remembering Messner, one cannot fail to mention climber No. 2, Anatoly Bukreev, or, as he is also called, βRussian Messnerβ. By the way, they were friends (there is a joint ). Yes, itβs about him, including the low-quality film Everest, which I donβt recommend for viewing, but I recommend reading a book that is thoroughly understood , including transcripts of interviews with participants. Alas, Anatoly did not become the second Messner and, being a brave climber, died in an avalanche near Annapurna. It was impossible not to mention it, however, we will not talk about it either. Because the most interesting is historically the first ascent.
The first documented ascent was made by the team of Edmund Hillary from Britain. A lot is known about him too. And there is no need to repeat - yes, the story is not about Hillary. It was a well-planned, state-level expedition without any extraordinary incidents. Then why is it all? Let's get back to Messner. Let me remind you that this outstanding person is also a snob, and the thought of superiority did not let him go. Taking the matter extremely seriously, he began his preparations by studying the "current state of affairs", going through the sources for any information about anyone who had ever been to Everest. All this is in the book, which, by the level of detail, can claim to be a scientific work. Thanks to Messner, his fame and meticulousness, we now know about the almost forgotten, but no less, and perhaps more extraordinary ascent of Everest, which was long before Messner and Hillary. Messner dug, and unearthed data on a man named Maurice Wilson. It is his story that I am going to put in the first place.
(also British, like Hillary), was born and raised in England, fought in the First World War, where he was wounded and was demobilized. During the war, he began to have health problems (cough, pain in his arm). In an attempt to recover, Wilson did not find success in traditional medicine and turned to God, who, according to his own assurances, helped him cope with the disease. By chance, in a cafe from a newspaper, Maurice learned about another forthcoming expedition to Everest in 1924 (which ended unsuccessfully), and decided that he must climb to the top. And prayer and faith in God will help in this difficult matter (Maurice was probably aware of this).
However, it was impossible to just take and go to Everest. At that time there was no such engagement as now, but the other extreme reigned. Climbing was considered a matter of state, or, if you like, political, and took place in a militarized style with a clear delegation, the supply of supplies, work in the rear and an assault on the summit by a specially trained unit. This is largely due to the poor development of mountain equipment in those years. To get on the expedition, one had to be a member. It doesn't matter what, the main thing is respected. The more member you are, the better. Maurice was not. Therefore, the British official, to whom Maurice turned for support, said that he would not assist anyone in such a scrupulous state business and, moreover, would do everything in order to prevent his plans. Theoretically, of course, there was another way, for example, as in Nazi Germany for the glory of the Fuhrer, or, in order not to go far, as in the Union: it is not at all clear why this particular idiot should go up the mountain at all at a time when it is necessary to forge a labor feat , but if we timed this case to Leninβs birthday, Victory Day, or at worst, to the date of some kind of congress, then no one had any questions - they were released at work, the state gave preferences and was not averse to helping with money, grubs, travel and anything at all. But Maurice was in England, where there was no suitable excuse.
In addition, a couple of other problems loomed. Everest had to be somehow reached. Maurice chose the air route. It was 1933, civil aviation was still poorly developed. To do it well, Wilson decided to do it himself. He bought (he did not have a question of finance) a used aircraft and, having written "Ever Wrest" on its board, he began to prepare for the flight. Maurice, however, did not know how to fly. So you have to study. Maurice went to flight school, where in one of his first practice sessions he successfully crashed a training aircraft after being lectured by an evil instructor that he would never learn to fly and that he had better quit. But Maurice did not quit. He began to fly his plane and mastered the controls normally, although not completely. In the summer, he crashed and had to repair the plane, which finally attracted attention, because of which he was issued an official ban on flying to Tibet. Another problem was no less serious. Maurice knew no more about mountains than he did about airplanes. He began training in order to improve his physical fitness on the low hills in England, for which he was criticized by friends who rightly believed that it would be better for him to walk in the same Alps.
The maximum range of the aircraft was about 1000 kilometers. Therefore, the journey from London to Tibet must have consisted of many stops. Wilson tore up a telegram from the Air Department stating that his flight was forbidden, and on May 21, 1933, he set off. First, Germany (Freiburg), then, on the second attempt (it was not possible to fly over the Alps the first time), Italy (Rome). Then the Mediterranean, where Maurice encountered zero visibility on her way to Tunis. Further Egypt, Iraq. In Bahrain, a set-up was waiting for the pilot: the native government, through the consulate, petitioned for a flight ban, which is why he was denied refueling the plane and asked to get out, and in case of disobedience they promised arrest. The conversation took place at the police station. There was a map on the wall. It must be said that, in general, Wilson did not have good maps (in the process of preparation, he was forced to use even a school atlas), therefore, listening to the policeman and nodding, Wilson used the opportunity in his favor and carefully studied this map. The plane was refueled under a promise to fly towards Baghdad, after which Maurice was released.
Departing for Baghdad, Maurice turned towards India. He intended to fly 1200 kilometers - a prohibitive distance for an antediluvian aircraft. But whether the wind was lucky, or the Arab fuel was exceptionally good, or the aircraft was designed with a range margin, Maurice successfully reached India's westernmost airfield at Gwadar in 9 hours. A few days later, several simple flights were made across India towards Nepal. Considering that India at that time was under the influence of Britain, it is surprising that the plane was arrested only now, citing the fact that the flight of foreigners over Nepal is prohibited, and given the stubbornness of the pilot, as if nothing had happened. There were 300 kilometers to the border with Nepal, which Wilson overcame by land, from where he called Kathmandu to request permission to move around Nepal and to climb itself. The official on the other end of the line preferred to remain indifferent to the needs of the novice climber, permission was denied. Maurice also tried to get permission to pass from Tibet (i.e. from the north, where Messner came from, then Tibet had already become China, while the southern Khumbu icefall on the way from Nepal was considered impassable, which is no longer the case), but and then got rejected. Meanwhile, the rainy season began, and then the winter, which Maurice spent in Darjeeling, where he was watched by the police. Maurice managed to lull the vigilance of the authorities, saying that he refused to climb, now he is an ordinary tourist. But he did not stop collecting information and preparing in every possible way. The money was running out. He met three Sherpas (Tewang, Rinzing and Tsering, who had worked for the British expedition in 1933 the previous year), who agreed to accompany him and helped find the horse, packing equipment in wheat bags. On March 21, 1934, Wilson and the Sherpas walked out of the city. The Sherpas dressed as Buddhist monks, and Maurice himself disguised himself as a Tibetan lama (at the hotel, he said that he had gone hunting for tigers). They moved at night. During the journey, only one old man discovered the deception, who, having learned that a lama had stopped near his house, wanted to get into his tent, but he remained silent. In 10 days we managed to get to Tibet and cross the border.
Now in front of Wilson from the Kongra La pass, the boundless ridges of the Tibetan Plateau opened up. The path ran through passes with a height of under 4000-5000. On April 12, Wilson saw Everest for the first time. Surely the landscapes that Messner admired gave strength to Wilson. On April 14, with Sherpas, he reached the Rongbuk Monastery at the foot of the northern slope of Everest. The monks received him kindly and allowed him to stay with them, and after learning about the purpose of the visit, they offered to use the equipment that was stored in the monastery after the British expedition. When he woke up the next morning, he heard the monks singing and thought they were praying for him. Maurice immediately took up the passage of the Rongbuk glacier, so that on April 21 - on his birthday - he would rise to the mark of 8848, which is the top of the world. The monastery itself is located at an altitude of ~4500. Just over 4 miles left. Not much, if it were some kind of Alps or the Caucasus, but it is unlikely that Maurice knew much about high-altitude ascents. In addition, first you need to overcome the glacier.
Since everything he read about this area was written by climbers, who considered it good form to downplay difficulties, he was in a difficult situation. A tangled labyrinth of ice towers, cracks and rock blocks appeared before him. With amazing persistence, following in the footsteps of his compatriots, Wilson managed to overcome almost 2 kilometers. Which, of course, is too little, but more than worthy for a start. He lost his way many times, in the region of 6000 he found camp No. 2 of previous expeditions. At 6250 he was met by a heavy snowfall, which forced him to wait out the bad weather for two days in his tent on the glacier. There, alone and away from the summit, he celebrated his 36th birthday. At night, the storm stopped, and Wilson went down to the monastery in 16 hours on fresh snow, where he told the Sherpas about his adventures and ate hot soup for the first time in 10 days, after which he fell asleep and slept for 38 hours.
An attempt to climb to the top from a swoop greatly spoiled Wilson's health. The wounds received in the war ached, his eyes became inflamed, his vision fell due to snow blindness. He was physically exhausted. He was treated with fasting and prayer for 18 days. By May 12, he declared that he was ready for a new attempt, and asked the Sherpas to go with him. The Sherpas refused under various pretexts, but seeing Wilson's obsession, they agreed that they would accompany him to the third camp. Before leaving, Maurice wrote a letter in which he asked the authorities to forgive the Sherpas for violating the ban on climbing. Apparently, he already knew that he was going to stay here forever.
Since the Sherpas knew the route, the group climbed relatively quickly (in 3 days) to 6500 m, where they dug up equipment and food leftovers abandoned by the expedition. Above the camp is the North Col at an altitude of 7000 (the next camp is usually arranged there). Maurice and the Sherpas spent a few days camping at 6500m, waiting out bad weather, after which, on May 21, Maurice made an unsuccessful climb attempt that took four days. He crawled over the crack along the bridge, went out to the ice wall 12 meters high and was forced to return. This happened, apparently, due to the fact that Wilson for some reason refused to walk along the railing fixed by the expedition. On the evening of May 24, Wilson, half-dead, sliding and falling, descended from the icefall and fell into the hands of the Sherpas, admitting that he could not climb Everest. Sherpas persuaded him to immediately go down to the monastery, but Wilson wanted to make another attempt on May 29, asking him to wait 10 days. In reality, the Sherpas considered the idea crazy and went downhill, and they never saw Wilson again.
Everything that happened next is known from Maurice's diary. But for now, some things need to be cleared up. For the third week after recovering from a recent illness, Maurice was at an altitude of a little less than 7000. That in itself is quite a lot and raises some questions. These questions were first seriously decided to study a French citizen named Nicolas Jaeger. Being not only a climber, but also a doctor, in 1979 he went on an experiment, during which he spent 2 months at an altitude of 6768, living alone and observing the state of his body (he even had an apparatus for recording a cardiogram). Namely, Zhezhe wanted to answer whether it is possible for a person to stay at such a height for a long time without oxygen. After all, it never occurs to anyone to live in a glacier zone, and climbers rarely stay at an altitude of more than a few days. Now we know that above 8000 the death zone begins, where walking without oxygen is basically dangerous (in fact, Zhezhe wanted to refute this too), but as for the range of 6000-8000 (less - not interesting), the traditional opinion is that, as a rule, nothing threatens a healthy and acclimatized person. Nicholas came to the same conclusion. Coming down after 60 days, he noted that he felt great. But it wasn't true. The doctors conducted an examination and found that Nicolas was on the verge of not only physical, but also nervous exhaustion, he had ceased to perceive reality adequately and, most likely, he could not withstand another 2 months at an altitude above 6000. Nicolas was a trained athlete, what can we say about Maurice? Time was working against him.
Actually, it's not long now. The next day, May 30, Maurice wrote: βGreat day. Forward!". So we know that at least the weather was fine that morning. Clear visibility at altitude is always uplifting. Dying at the foot of the North Col in his tent, Maurice was most likely happy. His body was found the following year by Eric Shipton. The tent is torn, the clothes too, for some reason there is no boot on one leg. We now know the details of the story only from the diary and stories of the Sherpas. His presence, as well as the presence of Maurice himself, formally cast doubt on Messner's solo championship. However, common sense and a conservative assessment are unlikely to give serious grounds for this. If Maurice nevertheless went up and died on the descent, why did he not climb the north col earlier, when he was not yet so exhausted? Suppose he still managed to reach 7000 (Wikipedia says that he reached 7400, but this is obviously not true). But further, closer to the top, the Hillary step would have been waiting for him, which is technically even more difficult. Speculation about the possible achievement of the goal is based on the statement of the Tibetan climber Gombu, who allegedly saw an old tent at an altitude of 8500 in 1960. This mark is higher than any of the camps left by the British expeditions, and thus, if the tent really existed, it could only belong to Wilson. His words are not confirmed by the words of other participants in the ascent, and, moreover, the organization of a camp at such a height without oxygen is extremely doubtful. Most likely, Gombu confused something.
But talking about failure would be completely inappropriate in this case. Maurice demonstrated a number of qualities, each of which, and all the more so at the same time, testify, on the contrary, to a very significant success. Firstly, he showed the ability to master aircraft technology in short lines and proved himself not only as a pilot who flew half the globe without experience, but also as an engineer, strengthening the aircraft landing gear and integrating an additional tank into it, and these solutions worked. Secondly, he showed diplomatic skills, avoiding a premature arrest of the plane and obtaining fuel, and subsequently finding Sherpas, who, to their credit, were with him almost to the last. Thirdly, among other things, Maurice overcame significant difficulties all the way, being under the yoke of overwhelming circumstances. Even the supreme lama assisted him, impressed by his perseverance, and the first climber of the planet devoted a paragraph to Wilson in his, let's not dissemble, ambitious book. Finally, climbing 6500 for the first time in itself, without normal equipment, without skills, partly solo, is also worth noting. It is harder and taller than such popular peaks as Mont Blanc, Elbrus or Kilimanjaro and is comparable to the highest peaks in the Andes. During his journey, Maurice did nothing wrong and did not endanger anyone. He had no family, no rescue work was carried out, he did not beg for money. The maximum he can be accused of is the inconsistent use of equipment abandoned by previous expeditions in the camps and unused throws left there, but this practice is generally acceptable to this day (if it does not cause direct harm to other groups). Through the chaos of accidents, he went to his need to be on top. He did not reach the geographic, but Maurice Wilson apparently reached his own peak.
God Mode
It would seem that what could be more incredible than the stubborn, crazy Maurice, who, for the sake of a dream, gave everything 100%, not in words, but in deeds? I thought that nothing could. Messner, too, wondered if he was on par with Maurice in terms of insanity, or not yet. However, there is another case that shows how a person can not only know the limit of his abilities, but also look beyond it. The unusualness of this case, in addition to the incredible improbability, is also given by a violation of the law. In case of failure, the hero would have been waiting for 10 years in prison, and the act after almost 50 years is still being discussed. Despite the fact that there was no lawlessness and was not planned. At first I wanted to write a separate article, but then I decided to include it in the main one, but I put it in a separate paragraph. Because this story, in terms of the degree of madness, leaves far behind not only Maurice Wilson, but in general everything that was said earlier taken together. This simply could not happen. But it happened, and, unlike many other spontaneous adventures, being carefully planned and impeccably executed, without unnecessary words and emotions, without witnesses, without direct harm to anyone, without a single shot, but with the effect of a bomb explosion.
It's all about Stanislav Kurilov. Born in Vladikavkaz in 1936 (then still Ordzhonikidze), then the family moved to Semipalatinsk. He served in the USSR army in the chemical troops. Then he graduated from the Nautical School, after which he entered the Oceanographic Institute in Leningrad. From that moment began a long story for many, many years, ending so unusually. Like Maurice, Slava Kurilov had a dream. It was a dream of the sea. He worked as a diver, instructor and wanted to see the world's oceans with coral reefs, living creatures and uninhabited islands, which he read about in books as a child. However, then it was impossible to buy a ticket to Sharm El Sheikh or to the same Male. I needed to get an exit visa. It wasn't easy to do this. And everything foreign aroused an unhealthy interest. Here is one of the memories:
There were three hundred of us on the "Bataysk" - students of oceanography and cadets of nautical schools. We, the students, were just the most distrusted, fearing all sorts of troubles. In the Bosporus, the ship still had to make a short stop in order to take on board a local pilot who would lead the Bataysk through a narrow strait.
In the morning, all the students and cadets poured out onto the deck to look at the minarets of Istanbul at least from a distance. The captain's assistant immediately got alarmed and began to drive everyone away from the sides. (By the way, he was the only one on the ship who had nothing to do with the sea and knew nothing about maritime affairs. It was said that in his previous job - as a commissar at a nautical school - he could not get used to the word βcome inβ for a long time and, calling cadets for conversation, continued to say βenterβ out of habit.) I was sitting above the navigational bridge and could see everything that was happening on the deck. When the curious were driven away from the port side, they immediately ran to the starboard side. The assistant captain rushed after them to drive them out of there as well. They obviously didn't want to go downstairs. I saw a crowd of no less than three hundred people several times run from side to side. "Bataysk" began to roll slowly from side to side, as in good sea rolling. The Turkish pilot, in bewilderment and anxiety, turned to the captain for clarification. By this time, a crowd of local residents had already gathered on both banks of the narrow Bosphorus, who watched in amazement as the Soviet ship swayed sharply on the mirror-calm surface of the strait, as if in a strong storm, and in addition, over its sides, they either appear or disappear somewhere several hundred faces at the same time.
The case ended with the enraged captain ordering the captain's assistant to be immediately removed from the deck and locked in the cabin, which two hefty cadets immediately did with pleasure. But we were still able to see Istanbul - from both sides of the ship.
When Slava was preparing to participate in the expedition , who was just then beginning his career as a researcher, was refused. "To Comrade Kurilov - we consider it inappropriate to visit the capitalist states" - such a visa was listed on Kurilov's statement. But Slava did not lose heart, and simply worked. Wherever I could, I went there. Traveled the Union, visited Lake Baikal in winter. Gradually began to show interest in religion and especially yoga. In this sense, he is also similar to Wilson, as he believed that the training of the spirit, prayer and meditation will expand the possibilities and achieve the impossible. Maurice, however, did not achieve it, but Glory - more than. Yoga, of course, also could not be done just like that. Literature was banned and spread from hand to hand (like, for example, literature about karate), which in the pre-Internet era created significant difficulties for Kurilov.
Slava's interest in religion and yoga was rather pragmatic and specific. He learned that experienced yogis were said to have hallucinations. And he diligently meditated, asking God to send him at least a small, the simplest hallucination (this was not achieved, only something similar happened once) to feel what it was like. He was also very interested in the statement of the doctor Bombar Alain, in 1952 ocean on an inflatable boat: βVictims of the legendary shipwrecks who died prematurely, I know: it was not the sea that killed you, it was not hunger that killed you, it was not thirst that killed you! Swinging on the waves to the plaintive cries of seagulls, you died of fear. Kurilov spent a day in meditation, and in general periods could last a week or a month. At this time, he dropped out of work and family. The wife did not drink. Didn't ask to hammer a nail or take out the trash. Of course, sex was out of the question. The woman of Glory silently endured all this, for which he later thanked her and asked for forgiveness for the broken life. Most likely, she understood that her husband was unhappy, and preferred not to disturb him.
Thanks to yoga exercises, Slava has trained psychologically very well. Here is what he wrote about the refusal to participate in the Cousteau expedition:
What an amazing state it is when there is no more fear. I wanted to go out into the square and laugh in front of the whole world. I was ready for the craziest action
The opportunity for such actions turned up unexpectedly. Slava read in the newspaper, as did Maurice (another coincidence!), an article about the upcoming cruise of the Sovetsky Soyuz liner from Vladivostok to the equator and back. The tour was called "From Winter to Summer". The ship did not plan to enter ports and was limited to sailing in neutral waters, so a visa was not needed, and there was no strict selection, which gave Slava the opportunity to take part in it. He decided that the cruise would be useful in any case. At a minimum, it will become training, and then how it will turn out. By the way, here's the ship:
Its name represents some kind of trolling. The ship is German, military, originally called "Hansa" and served as a transport in the Nazi army. In March 1945, Hansa hit a mine and sank after lying at the bottom for 4 years. After the division of the German fleet, the ship went to the USSR, was raised and repaired, being ready by 1955 under the new name "Soviet Union". The vessel carried out passenger flights and cruise charter flights. Just such a flight was the one for which Kurilov bought a ticket (the ticket clerk, suddenly, was not left without punishment later).
So, Slava left his family without saying anything provocative to his wife and came to Vladivostok. Here he is on a ship with another 1200 idle passengers. The description of what is happening in the words of Kurilov in itself delivers lulz. He notes that compatriots, having escaped from their gray dwellings, understanding the short duration of rest, behave as if they are living the last day. There were few entertainments on the ship, all of them quickly got tired, so the passengers came up with activities for themselves in whatever way they could. Resort romances immediately formed, which is why groans were regularly heard behind the walls of the cabins. In order to raise the culture and at the same time entertain the vacationers a little more, the captain came up with the idea of ββorganizing a fire drill. βWhat does a Russian person do when he hears a fire alarm?β Slava asks. And then he answers: "That's right, he continues to drink." Undoubtedly, with humor, as well as with writing skills, he is in full order. To better understand Kurilov, and just enjoy reading, I recommend a couple of stories: "Serving the Soviet Union" and "Night and the Sea." And also, especially, the "City of Childhood" about Semipalatinsk. They are small.
Walking around the ship, Slava somehow went to the navigator in the wheelhouse. He initiated him into the details of the route. It passed, among other things, by the Philippines. The nearest point is the island of Siargao. It is located in the very east of the Philippines. Later, a map appeared on the ship, on which, for visualization, from Here is an approximate map on which the island and the approximate area where the ship is located are indicated:
The future route, however, was not reported. According to Kurilov's calculations, if the ship does not change course, the next night it will be just opposite the island of Siargao at a distance of about 30 kilometers.
After waiting for night, Slava went down to the wing of the navigational bridge and asked the sailor on duty about the coastal lights. He replied that no lights were visible, which, however, was understandable anyway. A thunderstorm was starting. The sea was covered with 8-meter waves. Kurilov rejoiced: the weather contributed to the success. I went to the restaurant towards the end of dinner. The deck swayed, empty chairs moving back and forth. After dinner, he returned to his cabin and left it with a small bag and a towel. Passing along the corridor, which seemed to him like a rope over an abyss, he went out on deck.
"Young man!" came a voice from behind. Kurilov was taken aback. How to get into the radio room? Slava explained the way, the man listened and left. Slava took a breath. Then he walked along the illuminated part of the deck, past the dancing couples. βI said goodbye to my native land of Russia earlier, in Vladivostok Bay,β he thought. He went aft and approached the bulwark, looked over it. The waterline was not visible, only the sea. The fact is that the design of the liner has convex sides, and the cut surface of the water was hidden behind the bend. It was about 15 meters before it (the height of a 5-storey Khrushchev building). At the stern, on a cot, sat three sailors. Slava left there and walked a little more, then, returning, he found with satisfaction that two sailors had gone somewhere, and the third was making a bed, turning his back to him. Further, Kurilov did what is worthy of a Hollywood film, but, apparently, was not spectacular enough for such a film to appear. Because he did not take the sailor hostage and steal the ship. A NATO submarine did not surface from the high waves, American helicopters did not fly from the Angeles air base (I remind you that the Philippines is a pro-American state). Slava Kurilov leaned with one hand on the bulwark, threw the body overboard and pushed off hard. The sailor didn't notice.
The jump was good. Entry into the water was with feet. The water twisted the body, but Slava managed to press the bag to his stomach. Floated to the surface. He was now at arm's length from the hull of the ship, which was moving at high speed. There was no bomb in the bag, as one might think. He was not going to blow up the ship and was not a suicide bomber. And yet, he froze in fear of death - a huge screw was spinning nearby.
I can almost physically feel the movement of its blades - they mercilessly cut through the water right next to me. Some inexorable force is pulling me closer and closer. I make a desperate effort, trying to swim away - and get bogged down in a dense mass of stagnant water, tightly entangled with the propeller. It seems to me that the liner suddenly stopped - and yet, just a few moments ago, it was traveling at a speed of eighteen knots! Terrifying vibrations of hellish noise, the rumble and buzz of the hull pass through my body, they slowly and inexorably try to push me into a black abyss. I feel myself crawling into this sound ... The screw rotates above my head, I clearly distinguish its rhythm in this monstrous roar. Screw seems to me animated - he has a maliciously smiling face, his invisible hands hold me tightly. Suddenly, something throws me to the side, and I quickly fly into the gaping abyss. I was hit by a strong jet of water to the right of the propeller, and I was thrown to the side.
The aft spotlights flashed. It seemed that they noticed him - they shone for so long - but then it became completely dark. The bag contained a handkerchief, fins, a snorkel mask and webbed gloves. Slava put them on and threw away the bag along with the unnecessary towel. The clock was 20:15 ship time (later the clock also had to be thrown away, as it stopped). In the Philippines, the water was relatively warm. You can spend a lot of time in such water. The ship moved away and soon disappeared from view. Only from the height of the ninth rampart was it possible to see its lights on the horizon. Even if a person has already been found missing, no one will send a lifeboat after him in such a storm.
And then silence fell over me. The sensation was sudden and startled me. It was like I was on the other side of reality. I still didn't fully understand what had happened. The dark ocean waves, the prickly spray, the luminous ridges all around seemed to me something like a hallucination or a dream - just open your eyes and everything will disappear, and I will again find myself on a ship, with friends, among the noise, bright light and fun. By an effort of will, I tried to return myself to the former world, but nothing changed, there was still a stormy ocean around me. This new reality did not lend itself to perception. But as time went on, the crests of the waves overwhelmed me, and I had to carefully monitor so as not to lose my breath. And I finally fully realized that I was completely alone in the ocean. Help is nowhere to be found. And I have almost no chance of making it to shore alive. At that moment, my mind sarcastically remarked: βBut now you are completely free! Isnβt that what you so passionately desired?!β
I did not see the Kuril coast. He could not even see it, because the ship deviated from the intended course, presumably due to a storm, and in fact was not 30, as Slava assumed, but about 100 kilometers from the coast. At the moment, he was most afraid that the search would begin, so he leaned out of the water and tried to make out the ship. He kept moving away. So it took about half an hour. Kurilov began to swim to the west. At first, it was possible to navigate by the lights of the departing ship, then they disappeared, the storm subsided, and the sky became evenly overcast with clouds, it began to rain, it became impossible to determine one's position. Fear came up again, in which he could not hold out for half an hour, but Slava overcame him. It didn't even feel like midnight. This is not how Slava imagined the tropics. However, the storm began to subside. Jupiter appeared. Then the stars. Slava knew the sky a little. The waves decreased, it became easier to maintain the direction.
With dawn, Slava began to try to see the shore. Ahead, to the west, were only mountains of cumulus clouds. For the third time, fear set in. It became clear: either the calculations were wrong, or the ship changed its course a lot, or the currents swept aside during the night. But this fear was quickly superseded by another. Now, in the afternoon, the liner can return and easily detect it. We need to get to the Philippine maritime border as soon as possible. At one point, an unidentified ship really appeared on the horizon - most likely, the "Soviet Union", but it did not approach. Closer to noon, it became noticeable that in the west, rain clouds clustered around one point, while in other places they appeared and disappeared. And then the barely perceptible outlines of the mountain appeared.
It was an island. Now he was visible from any position. It's a good news. The bad news was that the sun was now at its zenith and the clouds had disappeared. Somehow I foolishly swam in the Philippine Sulu Sea, contemplating the fish, for 2 hours. Then I spent 3 days in my room. Slava, however, had an orange T-shirt (he read that this color scares away sharks, then, however, he read the opposite), but his face and hands were on fire. The second night has come. You could already see the lights of the villages on the island. The sea has calmed down. The mask showed a phosphorescent underwater world. Each movement caused burning spray - it was plankton that glowed. Hallucinations began: sounds were heard that could not be on Earth. A severe burn, and a cluster of physalis jellyfish swam by, hitting which, you can get paralysis. By sunrise, the island already looked like a large rock, at the foot of which fog was creeping.
Glory continued to swim. By this time he was already very tired. Legs began to take away, began to freeze. Already almost two days of swimming! A fishing boat appeared in front of him, it was heading straight for him. Slava was delighted, because he was already in coastal waters, and it could only be a Philippine ship, which means that he was noticed and will soon be pulled out of the water, he will be saved. He even stopped rowing. The ship passed by without noticing him. Evening came. The palm trees were already visible. Big birds were fishing. And then the island current picked up Slava and carried her away. Around each island there are currents, they are quite strong and dangerous. Every year they carry gullible tourists who have swum too far into the sea. With luck, the current will wash up on some other island, but often it just takes you out to sea. It's useless to fight him. Kurilov, being a professional swimmer, also could not overcome it. Muscles tired, and he hung in the water. He noticed with horror that the island began to deviate to the north and decrease. For the fourth time, I was afraid. Sunset faded, the third night at sea began. The muscles no longer worked. The visions began. Slava thought about death. He wondered if it was worth prolonging the torment for a few hours, or throwing off the equipment and quickly swallowing water? Then he fell asleep. The body still continued to automatically float on the water, while the brain gave out pictures of some other life, which Kurilov later described as a divine presence. Meanwhile, the current that carried him away from the island washed him back closer to the shore, but from the opposite side. Slava woke up from the roar of the surf and realized that he was on a reef. All around were huge, as it seemed from below, waves rolling out onto corals. Behind the reef there should be a calm lagoon, but there was none. For some time, Slava struggled with the waves, thinking that each new one would be his last, but in the end he was able to master them and ride the crests that carried him to the shore. Suddenly he found himself standing waist-deep in water.
The next wave washed him away, and he lost his footing, and the bottom was no longer groped. The excitement has subsided. Slava realized that he was in a lagoon. I tried to return to the reef to rest, but I could not, the waves did not allow me to climb it. Then he decided with the last of his strength to swim in a straight line away from the noise of the surf. Next will be the coast - it's obvious. The swim in the lagoon lasted for about an hour, and the bottom was still quite deep. It was already possible to take off the mask, look around and bandage the knees peeled on the reef with a handkerchief. Then he continued to swim towards the lights. As soon as the crowns of palm trees appeared in the black sky, the forces left the body again. The dreams started again. Having made one more effort, Slava felt the bottom with his feet. Now it was possible to walk chest-deep in water. Then to the waist. Slava stepped onto the white coral sand, which is so popular today in advertising, and leaning against a palm tree, sat down on it. Hallucinations immediately covered - Slava finally achieved all his desires at once. Then he fell asleep.
Woke up from insect bites. In search of a more pleasant place in the coastal thickets, I came across an unfinished pirogue, where I slept a little more. I didn't want to eat. I wanted to drink, but not in the way that those who are dying of thirst want to drink. A coconut was caught underfoot, Slava broke it with difficulty, but did not find any liquid - the nut was ripe. For some reason, it seemed to Kurilov that he, like a Robinson, would now live on this island and had already begun to dream of building a hut out of bamboo. Then I remembered that the island is inhabited. βIβll have to look for an uninhabited one nearby tomorrow,β he thought. Movement was heard from the side, and then people appeared. They were extremely surprised by the appearance in their area of ββKurilov, who was still glowing with plankton, like a Christmas tree. The highlight was that there was a cemetery nearby, and the locals thought they saw a ghost. It was a family returning from evening fishing. The children came first. They touched it and said something about "american". Then they decided that Slava survived the shipwreck and began to question him about the details. When they learned that nothing of the sort happened, that he himself had jumped off the ship and sailed here, they asked a question to which he did not have a clear answer: βWhy?β
The locals escorted him to the village and let him into their house. Hallucinations began again, the floor left from under his feet. They gave him some hot drink, and Slava drank the whole teapot. I still couldn't eat because of my sore mouth. Most of all, the locals were interested in how sharks did not eat it. Slava demonstrated the amulet around his neck - such an answer suited them perfectly. It turned out that a white man (Swarty Filipinos) had never appeared from the ocean in the entire history of the island. Then a policeman was brought in. He asked to state the case on a piece of paper and left. Slava Kurilov was put to bed. And in the morning the whole population of the village came to meet him. Then he saw a jeep and guards with machine guns. The military took him to prison, and did not allow him to enjoy the paradise (according to Slava's ideas) islands.
The prison did not really know what to do with him. He was not a criminal, except for illegal border crossing. We were sent along with the rest to corrective work to dig trenches. So a month and a half passed. I must say that even in the Philippine prison Kurilov liked it more than at home. Around were the tropics to which he aspired. The head of the prison, feeling the difference between Slava and other thugs, sometimes took him to the city in the evening after work, where they went to bars. Once after the bar he invited me to visit him. Kurilov recalled this moment with admiration for local women. Having met them at 5 in the morning drunk at home, the wife not only did not say anything against it, but, on the contrary, affectionately greeted them and began to prepare breakfast. And after a few months he was released.
For all interested persons and organizations. This document confirms that Mr. Stanislav Vasilievich Kurilov, aged 38, Russian, was sent to this commission by the military authorities and after investigation it turned out that he was found by local fishermen on the shore of General Luna, Siargao Island, Surigao, on December 15, 1974 , after he jumped from a Soviet ship on December 13, 1974. Mr. Kurilov does not have travel documents or any other document proving his identity. He claims to have been born in Vladikavkaz (Caucasus) on July 17, 1936. Mr. Kurilov expressed his desire to seek asylum in any Western country, preferably Canada, where he said his sister lives, and said that he had already sent a letter to the Canadian Embassy in Manila asking him to be allowed to reside in Canada. This commission will have no objection to his deportation from the country for the said purpose. This certificate was issued on June 2, 1975 in Manila, Philippines.
It was the sister from Canada who first proved to be an obstacle, and then the key to Kurilov's freedom. It was because of her that he was not allowed out of the country, because she married an Indian and emigrated to Canada. In Canada, he got a job as a laborer and spent some time there, subsequently working for firms engaged in marine research. His story was admired by the Israelis, who decided to make a film and invited him to Israel for this purpose, giving an advance payment of $1000. The film, however, was never made (instead, a home movie was made in 2012 based on the memoirs of his new wife, Elena, whom he found there). And in 1986 he moved to live in Israel permanently. Where, 2 years later, he died while performing diving work, entangled in fishing nets, at the age of 61. We know the main information about the history of Kurilov from his notes and published on the initiative of his new wife. And the home-made film, it seems, was even shown on domestic television.
Source: habr.com