Baydar Gates is one of the amazing sights of the Crimean peninsula. Baydar gates are located on the old Sevastopol road, between the villages of Foros and Orlinoe.
Geographical coordinates of the Baidar Gates on the map of Crimea GPS N 44.406153, E 33.782005.
- a monument that was built in 1848 in honor of the end of the grandiose construction at that time, namely the road that connected the city of Yalta and Sevastopol. It is difficult to overestimate the strategic importance of this road - at that time it was the second road leading to Yalta. The first one was built in 1837, it connected Yalta and Simferopol, as a result the city received a new direction for communication and trade. Now Yalta had three possible routes: the sea and two roads to the western and northern direction of the Crimea. In the middle of the 19th century, Turkey's claims to the Crimean peninsula were still strong, and each new road provided significant opportunities for maneuvering troops, their quick and imperceptible transfer on the peninsula.
Vorontsov was engaged in construction work and development of this part of the Crimea. By his order, in honor of the completion of construction work, a portico was built by the architect K.I. Ashliman, along with an observation deck that offers a wonderful view of the sea.
Baydar gates are located at an altitude of 604 meters above sea level, between the Chhu-Bair and Chelebi mountains. One of the best views of the Foros Church, Cape Aya and Laspi Bay opens from the Baydar Gate.
Planning a trip to the Baydar Gates, usually visit the second attraction located on the route, namely the Foros Church. Its construction gave invaluable experience in the construction of complex objects on the edge of a cliff and on steep terrain in the Crimea. After the Foros Church, one of the most famous sights of the Crimea, the Swallow's Nest, was built.
You can get to the Baydar Gates from Sevastopol: after passing Balaklava and the biker club "Night Wolves", you need to find a turn to the village of Orlinoe or find the sign "Shalash restaurant"; further along the main road and in 20 minutes you are at the destination. The second option: climb from the side of Foros, there is a turn towards the gate, indicated by a large sign "Shalash restaurant"; the road in front of the tunnel goes sharply to the right, 20 minutes ascent and you are at the Foros Church, another 5 minutes uphill and you are at the Baydar Gates.
Near the Baydar Gate there is a restaurant with great views and good food, mainly ethnic Crimean cuisine. As well as a small market with souvenirs and fur products. Almost all products on the market are handmade, sellers are mainly from the nearby mountain village of Orlinoe.
Visit to the Baydar Gate and - a very interesting adventure, the road is much better than on, the slopes and turns are not so sharp and the serpentine is not so strongly felt. On the way, from the side, there will be several mountain springs built at the end of the 19th century. In the summer, water flows from only one, and the rest of the time both sources work. Therefore, if possible, take a container for a set of water with you.
Baydar gates on the map of CrimeaThe car jerked - and behind,
With semi-family naval antiquity,
Repulsed by dust, Sevastopol disappeared.
And the gaze is an impatient string:
The sea would soon rise in a wave,
To shame before a magnificent country
With all the deafening height
And cypress and poplar!
We fly - and as if the Crimea withered,
We fly - and, as if in hoops,
We are circling in the ridges of expectation:
Will the waves spin soon?
We fly - and right on the shoulders
Masses of rocks… Touch and fuck!
We fly, teasing fear, -
Now under the mountains, then on the mountains, -
And if only the distant shimmer of the sea!
The censure of Crimea is already ready ...
We fly, we fly… Dusty ashes frolic.
We fly, we fly - and in a hurry
In the span of the gate and - oh! And - ah!
Oh! And in open eyes
Spaces brilliant scope,
Space sea exclamation!
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The work of K. Zhukov “Notes on the way to the southern coast of Crimea”, published in St. Petersburg in 1865, is not very well known to lovers of Yalta antiquity, especially when compared, for example, with the popular “Essays on Crimea” by E. Markov. Nevertheless, this is a very curious document of its time, interesting for the accuracy and originality of everyday sketches. In the proposed passage, which tells about Yalta and its environs, the author's punctuation and, often, spelling are preserved.
In the month of May, an extraordinary movement begins in St. Petersburg. There are big boats on the Neva River, and carts on the streets, taking away furniture and all kinds of household items. On the shores of Vasilyevsky Island, foreign and Finnish steamships are smoking. On the railways, the number of those leaving St. Petersburg is increasing. It is clear that a large number of residents are in a hurry to leave the city.
One should not be surprised at such a migration when warm days come. After eight months of seclusion, anyone who has any means, unless he is bound by exceptional duties, leaves for his dacha, village, or abroad.
Recently, travel abroad, for an educated society, has become a kind of disease, curable only by the fulfillment of the desire to leave, at all costs, even with the undermining of the necessary funds in the future. Therefore, in any circle that claims to belong to an educated society, no matter how small this circle may be, there will always be people who have been or have been abroad. Meanwhile, there are very few people who have traveled in Russia and could talk about its riches and diversity. Here it is clear, on the one hand, an indomitable passion, and on the other, a striking indifference.
If it is impossible to admit that in Russia there are no wonderful places for curiosity and for treatment, then does not indifference to travel in Russia mean that it is impossible to travel here conveniently and cheaply?
To resolve this issue, if possible, I will try to tell how I, who left Petersburg only for Moscow, happened to go to the southern coast of the Crimea.
June 16, 1864, I set off. Having flown by rail to the city of Ostrov, Pskov province, I rode on postal cars to Kyiv and then to Vasilkovsky district, Kiev province. Having lived here until July 12, I went to the town of Rzhishchev, on the banks of the river. Dnieper, in order to get on the boat, this river and the Black Sea, to the southern coast of Crimea.
I don't know if St. Petersburg bookstores are rich in guides to this charming part of the Crimea? But, on the way, I didn't find printed signs. Mr. Shevelev's notes, published in 1847, 23 pages in 16 parts of a sheet, are very brief, although one must be grateful for them, especially since they contain historical indications. Of course, there are scholarly writings about the Crimea, but the traveler, without a scholarly goal, is looking for other details. Meanwhile, the stories of oncoming faces were different, depending on the look. Some assured us that starvation awaited us; others, that it is necessary to have with you everything that a person who is accustomed to certain conveniences of life needs, others, on the contrary, reassured, proving from experience that everything you need can be found - if only there was money.
Believing that I will not be alone in such a dubious position - which makes it especially difficult when traveling as a family, as it was with me - I decide to describe my trip to the southern coast of the Crimea, in order to clarify for many the question of the convenience or inconvenience of traveling around Russia.
I will not go into details about the route from St. Petersburg to Kyiv, because the passage by rail and postal routes does not require explanation. The carriage rolled along the smooth, beautiful highway, there was no shortage of horses. It is true that horses often came across exhausted from the transportation of post stagecoaches, constantly scurrying along the road, but still these poor animals did not refuse to serve, and I had no pretensions to galloping headlong. Poor post horses! If the belief about the transmigration of souls into animals can be realized, then, in my opinion, the poorest souls will be those who will migrate into Russian mail horses. I will not talk about the convenience with which you can get on the boat of the Dnieper Shipping Company, from Kiev to Rzhishchev metro station, which is one crossing, because I started the journey along the Dnieper from Rzhishchev metro station. I'll start with my departure from this place.
On July 12, 1864, at 12 o'clock in the afternoon, I boarded the boat "Dnepr", in the town of Rzhishchev, Countess Dzyalinsky, upon the arrival of this boat from Kiev. The steamer "Dnepr" is not quite adapted for the convenience of passengers, which is especially experienced by the ladies, who are assigned very small cabins. It is true that, if impossible, according to the known height of the water in the river. Dnieper, to make the steamer longer, wider or higher, not one inch, as they say, is impossible, and special conveniences cannot be demanded. But just as a steamship stops for the night at the shore, on which there is nowhere to shelter, and therefore it is necessary to spend the night in a cabin, it seems to me that the Dnieper Shipping Company would very much oblige passengers of the 1st and 2nd classes by making pull-out beds with those benches with pillows , which now serve as the only refuges in each class, insufficient for men if there are more than ten of them, and for ladies even less, or to have several folding sleeping chairs on the ship. As for food, you can get everything you need in the steamer's buffet, but at a high price accepted for steamers. It is not bad to have with you your own tea and sugar, a travel nesse and linen for the morning toilet and wash.
They talk about a noticeable shallowing of the Dnieper River. On the part of the Main Department of Railways, there was a significant nobility to clear this river from stones, but the work did not reach the goal. The stones were blown up shallowly, and although the tops of the stones are not visible, they remained in place, covered with water, which makes them more dangerous.
Practical people say that by disturbing the stones in the rapids between Yekaterinoslav and Nikopol, they increased the shallowing of the river.
The steamer is heated by firewood. It is known, however, that on the way of the shipping company there is a place Smela of Count Bobrinsky, where, or nearby, there are rich coal mines, tested and heated by the count's sugar factory. During the journey, a lot or a stick is constantly lowered from the ship, the end of which is painted in different colors. Sometimes the ship, unexpectedly, stops in the sight of a shoal, formed by chance and never known. Sand deposits form shoals there. In some places, carts, seen by special jets on the surface of the water, are dangerous for steamers. Under the karzhs, trees are known here, cut off from the coast and stopping under water. The bottom of the steamer "Vladimir" was torn out by such a log. It would seem that the engineers should not so much work on the explosion of stones, which does not achieve the goal, but rather clean the river from karzh. Steamboats cannot sail from them at night, which lengthens the time and increases inconvenience.
Society on the ship was mixed. At the very beginning of our voyage, it began to rain. Passengers of the 1st and 2nd classes hid in their cabins, and the poor 3rd class, on deck, experienced the full burden of his open position. But, apparently, passengers of this class are used to that. I noticed a lady dressed very simply, who was called the captain. She, under the pouring rain, covered with a tiny umbrella, smoked from a pipe with a long stem, releasing clouds of smoke. There were also other women smoking cigarettes. Nothing can be said against it, if smoking alleviates suffering and perhaps prevents disease. Driving 300 or more days in the rain, spending a day and a half on deck, is not easy. On the way, the ship stops to disembark passengers, or take on new ones. The appearance of new faces revitalizes society. Thus, we stopped at Cherkasy metro station, near the mountains. Canon, as well as Krylov, formerly Settlement. We met large masted boats with luggage, called Berlins here.
Leaving Rzhishchev, as they say, at 12 o'clock in the afternoon, we arrived, the next day in the morning, in the mountains. Kremenchug. Having time until the next day, we transferred things to another steamer, called the Kremenchug, which must be done by our own worries on a cab or cart, not relying on the assistance of the steamship office, which had prepared neither people, nor horses, nor boats for this. . Although the servants of the steamboat are called to carry on the boat, we almost drowned in a wretched fishing boat, and were very sorry that we trusted the carriers; Moreover, it turned out to be possible to swim only to the drawbridge of the Dnieper, which was not divorced, and therefore it was still necessary to hire a horse, and to cross the bank knee-deep in sand.
It is impossible not to protest against such indifference of the management of the Dnieper steamships, to the conveniences of passengers, from whom they take good money. No, in many respects we have lagged behind the foreigners in this respect, and, in my opinion, no objection from the management can be substantiated. The cashier said that, as if, a transport carriage had been brought in, but that there were no hunters to ride in it or carry luggage; but such a weak sympathy of the public probably followed from the fact that here, too, prices were set very high ...
... The horses were ready, and we moved further to the Baidar valley, 25 miles from Balaklava. Soon, we arrived at the Baidarskaya station, and again there were no horses, and there was no hope of getting them, before late in the evening. We did not want to drive through the picturesque Baidarskaya valley and enter the southern coast of Crimea at night. Therefore, we stayed overnight at Baidarskaya, literally nasty, purely Tatar station, and went for a walk. Here is a Tatar village, quite populated, but so dirty in its surroundings that all the poetry of the area, not devoid of pleasantness here, disappeared at the sight of dirty, and even partly half-naked Tatars and their dwellings.
For the first time I met a woman here, covered with a veil, through which one could see only shining eyes. The woman was sitting on the grass and was decently dressed; but immediately passed - which we saw in the Crimea for the first and last time - a young Tatar girl with a load of tree branches, almost naked, because the tatters that covered only some parts of the body, and even then not completely, could not be attributed to any what kind of clothes. Soon, it began to get dark, and we had to return to the station. Near the road, Tatar cemetery. Oxen were driven along the road. Tatar arbs (carts) with unoiled wheels - which is not an accident among the Tatars, but in the order of things - produced an unpleasant, unbearable creak. Some freshness began to appear in the air, but not northern, and we returned to the station house, where we settled down as comfortably as possible, thanks to the fact that there were no other travelers.
With nothing to do, I began to consider the stationmaster. What is the life of a stationmaster? Coachmen and horses - with whom he cannot have company - and travelers with whom he has nothing in common, such is the position of a stationmaster. Passers-by, for the most part, try either to end the conversation by asking a few questions, or to begin and end with unpleasant complaints, and often with unfair abuse. Meanwhile, you see in front of you, very often, a young, decent man, dressed in the uniform of an official; near him is a sword, a sign of nobility; all the rooms at the station except his are clean and well furnished. Meanwhile, there are many caretakers who are married, with heaps of children deprived of education.
I traveled through many stations in Russia and saw everywhere, not so much material need, which can be satisfied with little, but everywhere moral poverty, which makes a person rubbish. At one station, early in the morning, I found the stationmaster teaching his little daughter to pray. She diligently pounded her forehead on the wooden floor of the room and briskly repeated the words of the prayer commanded by the Savior, “Our Father.” In Baidary, the caretaker, as if answering my thoughts, put forward, not on purpose, all kinds of his gloomy life. But this is not so bad in a southern country, where nature ennobles the feeling. What is the situation in other places?
We got up early in the morning, but the fog covering the objects made it impossible for us to leave immediately. Soon, the air cleared, and we drove into the picturesque Baydarskaya valley. How wonderful everything is here, how little it resembles the surroundings of the Petersburg Pit, where many people are swarming, while here, closer to paradise, in a place of greenery, it is so empty. There is the kingdom of people, here - birds and insects.
Here are the Baydar Gates. Rising along the meanders of the road, becoming delighted with the surrounding views, we must drive up to a place from which we suddenly see the entire southern coast. At this point, the royal family stopped for breakfast, and, in remembrance of this, a gate made of stone quarried from the rocks was built here. Indeed, when we drove up to the gate, surprise and delight were complete. I will consider this moment one of the happiest in my life.
Artists, poets, come, write, sing! Before you is an endless calm sea, huge rocks around you, and above them soaring eagles. Below, a winding strip of the highway, on the left side of the road, rocks covered with picturesque vegetation and running, here and there, streams of the purest water; and to the right is a magnificent green-velvet slope, dotted with vineyards, orchards, and ending in a sea so impressive that one does not want to take one's eyes off under the influence of this wonderful view. It can be said that here God threw paradise on earth in order to prepare for the concept of a heavenly paradise.
And so we rolled on and on, it seemed that we remained in the same place, because the gate - about which I said - is not lost from view. Meanwhile, versts disappear. We meet Tatars and Tatars, in local two-wheeled boxes with canopies, or horsemen galloping on horseback. Oriental colorful clothes, Muslim greetings, and villages hanging on the rocks, all this was new to us, and the road, becoming more and more picturesque, presented more and more amusements. But here is the Kikeneiz station, from which there is one crossing to Alupka, Prince Vorontsov, crowning the Crimea with its splendor.
It is known from the published descriptions of the Crimea that the Tatar villages found from the Baidar valley along the southern coast bear the Greek names that belonged to them before the resettlement of the former inhabitants, in the reign of Catherine II, to the shores of the Sea of Azov. So, not far from Baydar, the village of Faros, in the middle of a wooded mountain, Mishatka, Merdven, with a stone staircase winding around the abysses; Kuchuk-koy, part of which collapsed in 1786, with houses and gardens, and formed abysses, and then Kikeneiz, with a post station of the same name.
Intending to go to Alupka, and therefore turn off the postal road before reaching the next station, we met with difficulty in Kikeneiz. We were told that the coachman had no right to turn off the road, but that we could, having reached the next station, take private horses there to Alupka. It was clear that there was only one landlord at both stations, and that this oppression was nothing more than a desire to extort postal runs from us and for a private rent back a few miles to Alupka.
Seeing such a Jewish calculation, we decided to try whether it was possible to hire a horse or a porter for suitcases on the road, and we ourselves prepared to walk to Alupka, from the main road, on foot, which is not a big deal. Of course, we risked packing our bags on the road; but it turned out that “the devil is not as terrible as he is portrayed,” and our driver was tempted by the offered fifty kopecks, and, turning off the road, brought us to Alupka to the hotel itself.
Here we are in Alupka. But before describing the poetic side of this delightful shelter, let's take care of the arrangement of our abode. We need to take a breath from the impressions that did not leave us.
Prince Vorontsov, so famous for his many-sided excellent qualities, made Alupka an object of curiosity for travelers. Everyone who happened to be in this direction, or on purpose, went to Alupka, and it was necessary to arrange a refuge in order to provide the opportunity to stay in this hospitable corner, without embarrassment of the owner. I don’t know who the idea of the hotel belongs to: the prince’s father or his son, the current owner of Alupka, but the fact is that you find a hotel here, very clean, equipped with comfortable, good furniture and utensils from the prince. I have heard that it is on loan, but, unfortunately, to the Frenchman, probably left over from the tail of the French army, in which he may be supposed to have served, at the stables, or in the camp at the redant.
He has his own staff: 1, his wife, mistress, obliged to make incorrect, increased accounts and represent a model of French female illiteracy; 2, girl N, sister of his or his wife, cook, laundress, dishwasher and companion at the hotel, in a word, of all trades, and 3, in one person, a porter, footman and janitor who served in the French army with donkeys, therefore borrowing from there are many donkeys who lost their handkerchiefs - if they were - during the siege of Sevastopol. The question is, how could the Frenchman deserve attention, and why exactly did he get an advantage over the renters?
We occupied very good rooms here, and before our walk found it necessary to explain about dinner. No matter how the hostess covered up her insolvency, one could guess that she had neither reserves nor money, and that we would have to borrow only the poetry of the area and imagine ourselves as incorporeal spirits living in paradise. However, there was no refusal, and the hostess spoke the names of various dishes with such dignity that one could already get enough of the variety of amusing sounds. Entrusting ourselves to the protection of fate, we went for a walk.
Before us is the sea, and on the shore Alupka is spread out with its palace, an Orthodox church, in the form of the Pantheon, a mosque and such vegetation that it resembles all the countries of the world. Cypresses, olives, creepers, oranges, flowers of all kinds scattered everywhere, including in the garden: grottoes, hermitages, ponds, etc. postal fatigue.
We return to the hotel hungry, with an appetite capable of swallowing all the kingdoms of nature. In the dining room there was a served table d'hotel, and the servant, who turned his dirty blouse inside out, with the dexterity of an almost military man, gave us the lunch menu: 1. potage a la reine; 2. saute aux roynons and 3. roastbeef a I'anglaise. What more? We were fed as badly as one would have expected in an inn that was not devoid of visitors. In the dining room, we found a Russian merchant, traveling around the Crimea, in his carriage with a long-brimmed footman. The merchant affably began to talk to us about the innkeeper. He scolded for being fed with kidney soup, the only dish he had to share, and pointed to the samovar standing in front of him as his savior, from which he, in a sad mood of spirit, blew out the tenth glass of tea.
Soon, the venerable merchant weighed anchor, and so frankly, with such details, which nevertheless did not go out of decorum, scolded the Frenchwoman that she should be satisfied if she understood at least one quarter of the cute epithets.
I regret that I did not accustom myself to expressing my feelings, and there were so many of them in Alupka. A wonderful, southern and, moreover, moonlit night has come. The air here is so quiet, soft and fragrant, that all the senses were in a particularly pleasant mood. Maybe for me, as a Petersburger, a resident of a city where everyone is busy, even those who have nothing to do, the very freedom and rest contributed, to a certain extent, to a passion for a new personal position, but I do not agree that the same sensations would be possible in this new position of mine, in another place, less charming.
Away from the shore, stood a Greek ship, the only object on the boundless expanse of water, illuminated by the moon. This ship arrived here to pull out from the bottom of the sea the fragments of the Yenikol steamer that sank here during a storm.
Tatars, like the inhabitants of the south, are content with very little for food. I do not know how the richer of them lived, many of whom left during the recent eviction from the Crimea; I saw the remnants of the Tatar population, simple people, workers. Someone called all the Tatars, both those who left and those who remained, rubbish, and, as it seems, this is true, because the Tatars inhabited the Crimea for many years, and the latter does not represent progress. It can be assumed that the rich Tatars did not outstrip their poor brethren in their way of life. Tatars eat excellent mutton, but rarely, because it is not cheap, and besides, here, in the south, meat is not as necessary as it is in the north. The predominant dish of the Tatar is millet gruel, with sour milk, katyk, and nothing more. Unfortunately, but I noticed that our Russian civilization has taken root here too, which should not be grafted.
Let me tell you about my comment. Tartar day laborers were hired in the hotel, who were having dinner at the time when we returned to our dinner. On the stone, which served as their dining table, lay a piece of white bread and a bottle of vodka. I asked: how long ago did Mohammed allow drinking wine? The Tatar replied that the Koran forbade drinking wine, and that he would not take a drop in his mouth for a thousand rubles, but that vodka was not forbidden, because it was not wine. This is no longer naive, but cunningly invented, I thought, and guessed that the great teacher in this case was, of blessed memory, a brilliant payoff, and then the signboards for drinking and takeaway, which are widespread everywhere, which adorn all entrances and exits. It was sad, when entering county and provincial cities, to read such signboards at every step, and it was even sadder to meet them on the southern coast of Crimea.
The poetry of the morning has replaced the poetry of the evening. We went to see Alupka. The house of Prince Vorontsov is an example of Moorish architecture from the outside, as close as possible to the nature of this area, on which a building in a different style would not be consistent with the nature of the surrounding dwellings. Inside the prince's house, the connection between the east and the west is so well maintained that the latter does not destroy the former. The view from the house, its furnishings, and all the little things show what taste led the owner and what means he possessed.
When we walked around the garden, where we were so well able to take advantage of the rich nature in general and the stone masses torn away from the mountains, it seemed to us that we were in some kind of magical place. Grotto, under a rock, a cliff, to which a staircase leads; ponds with the most transparent water and with many clearly visible fish; swans, cascades, mulberry trees, oranges, oranges, laurels, olives, lemons, pomegranates, roses of all kinds, the most magnificent magnolias, cypresses, poplars, palms, grapes, figs, cedars, walnuts, tobacco, tropical vegetation, etc. , all this together represents such wealth that the steppe dweller is amazed. And how many objects hid from our eyes; how many are here for the personal enjoyment and enjoyment of the owner.
The heat, inevitable as noon approached, forced us to hasten to bathe. For this purpose, a place was chosen by the rock, not at all convenient for those who do not swim; moreover, the bottom here is rocky, so that it is unpleasant to walk without shoes. But all this is eliminated when entering the water. One must, however, by all means have shoes for bathing, which are sold in Odessa, but which are better made from camel's thick cloth, in the form of a sock tied with ribbons. This cloth is soft, withstands more straw braids - such as I saw in Odessa - and after squeezing it dries out soon.
Alupka is visited mainly on Sundays by the residents of Yalta, and there are crews there, which will be discussed below. But even on weekdays, Alupka is not without visitors.
Looking at the heights of the mountains, over which eagles soar, and seeing a cross on the mountain, you want to know what is there, beyond the mountains, and to your surprise you learn that beyond the mountains there is a steppe surface, and there is neither the vegetation nor the air that is on southern coast of Crimea.
Our lunch that day was more plentiful. The innkeeper, having received some money, bought meat, bread, etc., and fed us with great attention. Unfortunately, the blouse footman was not reborn, and his habits of taking a glass, dipping his nasty fingers into it, and taking flies out of the cream with the same five, remained ignorant at the same time. But we, on the road, often encountering such habits, managed to remove the participation of a dirty servant, whom fate, as if in mockery, having appointed to the French swineherds, finally raised him to the rank of Russian hotel lackey.
May the reader forgive me for occupying him with such details; but I wish to save him from the caresses of the plucked French, who, it seems, originate from Judea, which cannot be doubted when considering the type of the family of the innkeeper, and that ability to trade without capital, which the Jewish tribe is most capable of.
After lunch, we went to the village of Alupka, which is near the prince's house and represents a series of flat roofs with Tatars, Tatars and Tatar women sitting on them. The Tatar woman dug in the garden, and, seeing my wife, gave her a cucumber with a smile, and when she accepted it with gratitude, the Tatar wanted to repeat her courtesy. Here the women are without veils, but perhaps because they are at home; however, we later met many women and girls, here in Alupka, but outside the village, and all of them were without veils. We did not enter the interior of the hut, but, as one could see, we did not lose much from that. We wanted to keep a good impression and not break it.
Near the village there is a market, consisting of several shops, and a mosque. The old mullah entered the minaret and shouted the call to prayer in a very pleasant voice. With the permission of the mullah, and one might say at the invitation of all the Tatars who were at the mosque, we entered it. Many lamps descend from the ceiling; the floor is covered with mats and in some places with carpets. Ahead, there is a small recess in the wall, in which some kind of rag is hung, sacred because it was taken out of Mecca, from the tomb of Mohammed.
In front of this rag, the mullah, sitting on his knees, read prayers, which were repeated by all those present, sitting in the same position. Each Muslim, entering the mosque, put on his shoes and bowed, pressing his hands to different parts of the body, and then prostrated himself. They all prayed very humbly, and each one separately; but later, the prayer became common, or the repetition of the words of the mullah. There were moments of such concentration of those praying in themselves that I wondered if they had fallen asleep.
The costume of the Tatar women is very beautiful in front, but not beautiful in the back. By the reservoir, we saw several young women and girls, of very pleasant appearance. They have good eyes; but dyeing hair and teeth makes them unpleasant. They slap with their shoes, and this makes the gait unsteady and irregular. I noticed the Tatars were cross-legged, probably from the awkward sitting on their feet. A group of women and girls by the pond completed the picture of the oriental setting. When we caught up with one separate hut, we saw a dexterous young Tatar galloping up. He jumped off the saddle at the feet of his girlfriend, very pretty and graceful, who was waiting for him with a smile. Then a lively speech rained down, and the young beautiful couple hid in the sakla. This scene of a date is imprinted in my memory.
But enough for Alupka; we must move on to Yalta. Prince Vorontsov, in his concern for the convenience of travelers, allowed to turn a beautiful cart into a modest stagecoach and a very pretty 8-seat stagecoach in the Tatar style, but on springs and with greased wheels, came out. When we hired a stagecoach in order to have stops at Ariyanda and Livadia, the coachman agreed with us, asking for such an exception to the rules up to 6 rubles, assuring us that he would not give anyone a place in this box except us. Therefore, we believed that the price depends on the arbitrariness, although the fee is posted in the hotel. But before departure, a clerk came to us, who took 3 p. for four places, and 1 p. for luggage and announced that we would not have enough time to stop, but would go alone, in the absence of other passengers. The coachman was appointed not the one who wanted to deceive us, and thus we experienced by experience that we should not apply to individuals, but directly to the prince's office.
Leaving Alupka on July 31, at 4:25, in the afternoon, we arrived in Yalta by 7 pm. The whole road is an endless garden, with wonderful views of the sea and rocks. Everywhere streams of the purest water flow down from the mountains into arranged reservoirs and from there to vineyards across the road. Here and there a pleasant sound of cascades. Having passed the picturesque estates of Maltsev, Kochubey, Princess Meshcherskaya, Naryshkin and then Ariyanda of the Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich and the upper and lower Livadias of Empress Maria Alexandrovna, as well as the Korsakov estate and beautiful summer cottages near Yalta itself, we arrived here, delighted with the road.
Yalta, a small provincial town. Here a fast stream flows from the mountains and flows into the sea. At the top, a beautiful Orthodox church. At the entrance to the city, from the side from which we entered, down the coast are: the barracks of the garrison soldiers, the still unfinished house for the persons of the Imperial Family, the hotel of the French Sobes, the customs office and the hotel of Galakhov Hotel de la cote; the best house in Yalta. We ask the coachman where they stop more, and he points to the French hotel, saying that Galakhovskaya is better, but there are a lot of insects. Bargaining with the French begins. They asked twice: 3 p. for every dirty room; moreover, there was no shortage of French tricks, as on the pr. they agreed to charge for two rooms on the first day 6 rubles, on the second 5 rubles. and in the third 4, and stop there.
When we decided to leave, the Frenchman gave in for 3 r. two rooms or two rooms. Such a concession, however, is nothing more than an accident, which would not have followed if the Frenchman had known that at the moment of our agreement, in the Galakhov hotel, all the rooms were occupied for the retinue of Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolaevich expected from the Caucasus. Of course, in Yalta - as I noticed later - there are apartments; but maybe they wouldn't give them away for a few days, or we might not have servants at the same time.
Yalta is a very small town on the shore of a bay; the coast forms a semicircle, and the city is very beautiful from a distance, because, behind it and around it, magnificent mountains covered with wonderful vegetation, and the sea. If we consider the houses separately, then all of them, except for the Galakhov hotel, do not deserve attention. Such a city, in another locality, would be called shoddy, in fairness. They say that when the city of Yalta needed to set up a hospital, there was no place, and that this happened due to the seizure of city land by adjacent owners, who, having legalized, albeit incorrect plans, had proof of ownership, while the city, which did not care about the plan, was too late learned about the seizure of his land.
The enemy invasion left several plucked French blouses in the Crimea. The house of the inn is also owned by a rude blouse-maker who has amassed a huge fortune over the course of a few years. He, having now given his house to his countrymen, for a hotel, is himself engaged in trade or maintenance of horse carriages. They say that the store with various goods located in his house belongs to him, which can be assumed from the high cost, possible in the absence of competition. The hotel is maintained by the French: one, who runs the household, and another, a fat peasant, who prepares meals. This triumvirate has the newcomers in their hands, and the picking of pockets is carried out to the point of genius.
If some clever Russian merchant took it into his head to compete, it would be difficult now to knock these vampires out of a position that provides a means of sucking the blood of travelers increasing every year. After all, they knew how to spread the rumor about bedbugs in the Galakhov hotel, while in the French hotel, not only bedbugs, but also other animals, not excluding the owners and servants, did not enter the fable. It is a long time to wait for the decline of our affection for everything foreign, and for a long time our merchants still have to learn the art of satisfying the needs of the public with small means.
There is a boulevard on the shore, but without trees, because here, under the influence of the sun, in an open place, there is no vegetation. Here are baths, male and female, separated by small wooden booths on the shore, and several boards, under water and on water. The water here, in Yalta, too, - against expectations - was cold, and there were a lot of sharp stones at the bottom, so that without shoes it was impossible to walk at all, and there were cases of large cuts on the legs. But despite the unevenness of the water, which became either warmer or colder, bathing here is very useful and pleasant. The more often it happens to swim, the more desire to continue. In early August in St. Petersburg, there are few or no swimmers, but in Yalta and other places on the southern coast of Crimea, the best months for swimming are September and October, and even November, but not always. During these months, grapes ripen, and in general an abundance of fruits.
We went for a walk along the boulevard in the evening. Musicians played in the middle, Czechs, two men and one woman. The music is not bad, but very modest for a boulevard where a significant number of walkers gather and it would be even more. But here the harmonic melody of the evening breeze that freshens the air, and the surf of the waves breaking near the coastal stones can replace any music. That same evening, a steamer of the same name sailed to the city of Kerch, and music played on it. Passengers were transported to the ship from the shore by boat, due to the impossibility of arranging piers near the shore itself and the high cost of the pier, the arrangement of which, it seems to me, would spoil the picture of the bay.
The moon, emerging from behind the clouds, illuminated infinity, and disposed us to dreams. Interrupting them, we went to the bazaar, which in the evening, in the southern darkness - being lit by lanterns put up by fruit sellers - is quite picturesque. The merchants here are predominantly Greeks. There are also many Tatars offering riding horses, and several Russian shops with various goods, such as: sugar, tea, coffee, butter, candles, etc. There are several bakeries, of which one is German. It seems to me that a city cannot exist without a German bakery. In Vitebsk, I stopped at a shop where I noticed rolls of a familiar type, and it turned out that the rolls were German. In other cities, we noticed the same. Therefore, I can assume that the Germans took over the all-Russian bakery trade.
At the beginning of August, in Yalta, there were no good fruits. Early sour grapes - what happened from the cold that was in 1864, after the onset of spring warmth; pears, plums and apples, sold by the pound, turned out to be bad and expensive. I liked some figs. As for melons, they were delicious, from Sevastopol, but they are called peasants here, as a very common fruit. And here in the north, I thought, melon occupies an honorable, expensive place.
The morning of August 1st was as good as the previous days. Having bathed, - in shoes, prepared for 75 kopecks. for a couple of bath watchmen - we drank tea in the garden, or rather the garden of the hotel, in a gazebo entwined with vines. The south coast was visible in the distance. The heights of the mountains were covered, as if with steam, from the clouds descending on them, which, little by little disappearing, revealed the mountains in all their splendor. The sun illuminated several streams falling from the mountains, and the greenery had such a wonderful color that if it were not for the heat that increased in our shelter, we would have admired the picture of the coast for a long time. Unfortunately, the heat here is very tiring, and there are hours of the day when time is wasted because of the impossibility of walking under the scorching southern sun and doing anything because of the heat. However, in 1864, there were no those heats that distinguish the local area.
My hat was covered with a white turban bought in Odessa. The ends were lowered to the shoulders, which protected the head and neck from the sun. I did not attach anything special to my physiognomy through this bandage, and did not in any way think to serve as an object of special attention, but it turned out like this. Several handsome and elegant young people came to Yalta from St. Petersburg. They rode on Tatar horses, dressed decently for horse riding and hiking. But they lacked the kind of turbans I had, and it was impossible to get them in Yalta.
However, there is no irreparable evil in the world, and happiness or self-satisfaction returns as soon as it leaves. The next morning we saw that the cavalcade was moving for a walk with white muslin stripes on their hats, so that the ends flew through the air. The residents of the hotel immediately called the young people brides. I advise the reader not to tie such ribbons to the hat, but it is better to lower a white cambric scarf from under the hat - what is closer to the goal is not funny, and what the British do wherever the sun is scorching.
On the 1st of August, after dinner, when the heat began to give way to pleasant coolness, we drove to Arianda, the estate of Grand Duke Konstantin Nikolayevich, on the southern coast of the Crimea. The area is majestically wild, but the artificial cleanliness of roads, paths and playgrounds, and in general art at every step, destroyed that wild charm that was so used in Alupka. There is a lot of taste and luxury in the palace. The flower garden is beautiful; on the rotunda rock. But no matter how hard the builders and gardeners tried to decorate the area, the wild beauty of the surrounding mountains and the sea, the view of which is most delightful of all seen in the Grand Duke's Palace, will still be the best decoration of Apianda.
Returning from Arianda, we stopped at Livadia, the estate of the Empress Empress Maria Alexandrovna, which formerly belonged to the Pototsky family, probably counts. The palace is being rebuilt; but we were not deprived of the opportunity to see some of the rooms, so that - one might say - were in the palace. When all the alterations and rebuildings, as well as new buildings, are completed, then of course Livadia will be one of the most elegant shelters for improving health and relaxing. The church, which is finally being finished, was built in the Byzantine style. Italian artists work here, who are alien to Byzantine painting, which does not prevent them from fulfilling the order, with great skill, of course, according to these samples. All works are directed by the architect Monighetti.
But it was getting dark and we had to return to our hotel. Our rooms seemed disgusting, after seeing them in the palaces, and our comforts were pitiful, but they were not bought cheaply. But even such luxury, which we saw in palaces, could weigh us down. The royal vineyards are no small decoration of the described dachas and probably bring a large harvest of this pleasant fruit, good for health and for winemaking.
Upon returning to Yalta, again swimming, again evening on the seashore, again the surf. The wind increased and a great swell began, which was explained by a distant storm on the sea, although rare in August, but still possible. In the city, between the policemen, movement began, running around, and on the shore near the boat pier we noticed a gathering. They were expecting the arrival of the Grand Duke Mikhail Nikolaevich, which was known by telegraph; with which it was ordered to prepare rooms in the Galakhov hotel for the Grand Duke's retinue. In the bay there was a military steamer, on which one could notice something in common with the preparations on the shore. The next day, August 2, we saw a pier decorated with flowers - which, of course, was more noticeable during the day, and scales and bowls prepared on the city buildings.
On August 2, in the evening, signals began on the military ship, and in the evening, with great sea excitement, the ship arrived with the Grand Duke and his retinue. Soon after the boats pulled up to the shore, the Grand Duke left for one of the Imperial dachas, and the festivities continued in the illuminated city, which, it seemed to me, could hardly do more with its means. I liked here the fact that the Grand Duke, who had the honor to decorate the pages of national history with the final conquest of the Caucasus, the first reception, expressing gratitude and devotion, made the town very small and poor, but sympathetic to the great event no less than other large cities.
When it became known about the conquest of the Caucasus, I was in Malorossia, and I saw that this event made a great impression. Later, when I was sailing along the Dnieper and the Black Sea, the Caucasian event was the first subject of conversation of people traveling on steamers. Immediately there appeared people who had goals and views of the Caucasus, calling to their localities, unusually rich in nature and promising to serve as a golden fleece for trade and manufactories. With the arrival of the Grand Duke, Yalta perked up even more. The Grand Duke and persons from his retinue visited the city.
On August 3, the bathing amazed me. In the morning, at 7 o'clock, it was eight degrees in the water, and at 8 o'clock thirteen. The pleasure of bathing was inexpressible, despite the freshness of the water. You don't have to stay long in the water. It is enough to dip two or three times in cold water, or stay up to 10 minutes in water when it is warm. Bathing in the sea - I'm talking about the Black Sea - in water that is subject to incessant changes and has a great force of blows, is not suitable for weak-chested and suffering from colds. For them, it is better to take in the same sea, but in Odessa, warm baths, which I spoke about in my place. To protect hair from the influence of sea water, the so-called sea soap is used. If sea water will have too much influence, that is, it will produce on the body, not only itching, due to a small rash, but will cause wounds, boils, etc., then it is very useful to rub the body, before bathing, with the yolks of chicken eggs.
Passing to my room, I could not help but admire the friendliness with which the French triumvirate robs its guests. “How could a rude blouse-maker make a huge fortune for himself in a town so small if he didn’t have the audacity. His successor no longer walks in a blouse, but his manners and appearance prove that they are brothers both in the land where they got their start and in character. I won’t say the same about the third one, which is completely dependent on the stomach, and I’m afraid that someday, standing at a hot stove, it will melt and completely deprive you of the opportunity to unravel its properties.
Wishing, before leaving, to survey the surroundings, we went on horseback to the Uchan-su waterfall, behind the Greek village of Autkoyu. We set out in the morning, on Tatar horses, with Tatar saddles and with a Tatar guide. The road to the mountains is picturesque, and the further we went deeper into the thicket of the forest and drove closer to the waterfall, the wilder the area became. In some places the paths are on the very cliffs, so that, finally, we were forced to leave the horses and continue on foot. One must be surprised at the Tatar horses, how they are accustomed to walking in the mountains. In some places, the intelligent animal walks completely vertically, and in others, on narrow paths, it will stop, knock with its foot, whether a stone or earth is firmly held, and then already steps. Without such horses, it is impossible to drive up to the waterfall. They say that the Tatars are lazy and lead into such wilderness, shortening the road, but that it is possible to drive more conveniently.
The Wuchang-su waterfall must be magnificent after the rains, when there is a lot of water; but when we were here, the water descended vertically, along a stony, even, sheer cliff, in a small amount, and therefore we did not find a noisy, roaring waterfall, with water spray, as it should be at other times. But we were at a great height, we saw the whole of Yalta and the sea, which has no end in its infinity. Arianda, Livadia, Mashtar, Autka - all this was visible. In sight of Autka are the ruins of an ancient fortress. There is a Greek church in Autka, with a very elderly priest. It was impossible not to notice that in this picturesque area there are many taverns.
Upon returning to Yalta, we met Academician Makarov, who seems to be in military service, who showed us several views of the surroundings he had taken, such as the city of Yalta and the Uchansu waterfall. After Aivazovsky, all art will seem weak, and I cannot say that Mr. Makarov's paintings and drawings made an impression. Looking at the work of the artist and not finding in it what the eye saw in the pictures of nature, I come to the conclusion that it is impossible to convey correctly that for which neither the art of painting nor the ability to describe the visible is sufficient.
On August 5, we decided to leave Yalta in a carriage hired from Sobes for Simferopol. It was a very comfortable chaise with six seats, including a place for the coachman. But the horses were bad. They bargained for a long time, and finally, they hired cheaper than what the owner of the only, but very pretty crew, a Tatar, the only competitor of Sobes, requested. We were supposed to arrive in Simferopol the next day, after spending the night in Alushta. The weather was beautiful, quiet, but without the sun, which appeared then already when it could not disturb.
Driving along a picturesque road, we passed the estates: Islenyev, Mordvinov, the Nikitsky Botanical Garden of the State Property Department, which should not be left without inspection; what we could not do due to circumstances - the estate of Aidanil and Massandra of Prince Vorontsov, Gurzuf, at the foot of Yaila and Ayudag, in ancient times Cape Criumetonon. From here you can already see Mount Chatyr-Dag (Tent-Mountain), in ancient times Trepezus, the highest in the Crimea, where constant snow lies in the gorges. In addition, we passed the estates of Gagarin and Fundukley. If the view of the sea and the wonderful coast from Baydar to Yalta can be called picturesque, then the road from Yalta to Alushta deserves the same name.
It can be said that the entire southern coast is one common row with mountains, rocks, winding roads, streams, forests, vineyards and summer cottages, each of which, connecting vegetation around it that needs care, is at the same time surrounded by wild terrain, which has its own special vegetation. In general, the vegetation here is amazing. There are walnut trees in Miskhor, with Volosh nuts, which we call walnuts, so huge that one tree, giving the shade of a whole circle, feeds three families with its fruits, that is, it brings so much income through the sale of fruits that three families have a year's food. In the estate of Funduklei, we saw a camellia so huge that the flowers covering it are considered to be thousands, but here, too, this tree, during the winter months, is covered with boards, from which something like a shed is made. In Prince Vorontsov's Massandra, tobacco is not inferior to Turkish and the wine is excellent.
Finally, we arrive at the Tatar village of Alushta, from where, turning towards Chatyr-Dag, we part with the southern coast ...
In the month of May, an extraordinary movement begins in St. Petersburg. There are big boats on the Neva River, and carts on the streets, taking away furniture and all kinds of household items. On the shores of Vasilyevsky Island, foreign and Finnish steamships are smoking. On the railways, the number of those leaving St. Petersburg is increasing. It is clear that a large number of residents are in a hurry to leave the city.If it is impossible to admit that in Russia there are no wonderful places for curiosity and for treatment, then does not indifference to travel in Russia mean that it is impossible to travel here conveniently and cheaply?
Practical people say that by disturbing the stones in the rapids between Yekaterinoslav and Nikopol, they increased the shallowing of the river.
Directly from the gates of the sanatorium "Foros" begins a serpentine leading to the Baydar gates. The Baydar Gates is a pass on the old Sevastopol-Alupka highway built in the middle of the 19th century. This was the second crew exit to the South Bank. Before the conquest of the Crimea by the Russians, there were no carriage exits to the South Bank at all. There were only pack and hiking trails. After the Crimea went to Russia, a road was built from Simferopol to Alushta through the Angarsk Pass, and in 1848 - the Sevastopol-Alupka highway.
The Baydar Gates are named after the Baydar Valley, which is located on the other side of the Crimean Mountains. She, in turn, was called so after the village of Baydary. This is a Tatar name. In our time, the village was called Eagle. Baydar gates are described in many literary works, as they are very spectacular. From the side of the Baidarskaya valley you go up a winding road, which is constrained by rocks on both sides. The terrain is gloomy, with many twists and turns. Suddenly you see a really “gate” ahead: a corridor cut into the rock, on top of which several slabs are laid. When you pass through these gates, the sea distance and the most extensive view of the entire southern coast of Crimea suddenly open up before you. For people traveling here for the first time, it always makes an indelible impression. Tour guides always stop groups here and enjoy the effect produced on the sightseers. Catherine II also looked at the southern coast of Crimea from Baydar when she made a trip to the Crimea in 1787. She arrived here from Sevastopol, which at that time was not yet any Sevastopol, but was Akhtiyar, and it was Catherine who renamed it. But she could not get to the South Bank, there were no roads. Then Potemkin brought her to Baydary, set up a tent for her there, in which she lived for a day or two and admired from here her new possessions - the South Coast.
When we were at Baidary, a restaurant was set up there near the pass on the south coast slope, from which, in good weather, the South coast was visible all the way to the Bear Mountain. A very good place.
The descent to the sea begins from the Baydar Gates. This is a fairly gentle serpentine, on which there are many long turns. We went down on foot, so where possible these loops were cut off. One turn, another turn - and suddenly a small beautiful church hovering over the South Bank opened before us. Very colorful and surprisingly fitting into the landscape.
I recognized her immediately. As a child, I had a wooden toy box. The box was from under tea - a cube with a side of seventy centimeters, all pasted over with color pictures. GUM and Red Square were depicted on one side of this box. The monument to Minin and Pozharsky was still in the old place, approximately opposite the future Mausoleum, and not at St. Basil's Cathedral. And at GUM there was a big sign "Kuznetsov - Gubkin's successor". It was a box of Kuznetsov tea. On the second side of the box, there was an image of this very Church of the Transfiguration of the Lord, which opened before us on the descent from the Baydar Gates. It was built at the expense of Kuznetsov in 1888 to commemorate the miraculous rescue of the royal family during the train explosion in Gorki. Kuznetsov made the image of this church his logo. It flickered all over the country on tea packages that came from Kuznetsov, signs and so on. And then I saw this church with my own eyes. She really was very beautiful. The entrance was crowded with people waiting for the start of the service. Service there was very rare in those years. And so the audience was waiting for the priest to arrive and let everyone inside. We never waited for this moment. And they went, they went, they went, they went along the serpentine and eventually descended from a height of five hundred meters (on which the Baydar Gates are located) to Foros itself.
The Baidarskaya Valley is a charming and lovely place in the southwestern Crimea. Even the toponym Baydar-Ova confirms what has been said: Paydar in the Turkic languages is magnificent, excellent, Ova is a valley.
The old road from Sevastopol to Yalta has been preserved here; it crosses the valley and through a shallow gorge reaches the Baidar Pass (527 m above sea level). To the west of the Baidar Gates rise the spurs of the Chelyaby peak (655 m) with a rocky cliff protruding to the south - Mount Foros (563 m) or Gap-mountain, to the east Mount Chhu-Bair (705 meters).
In 1787, having made an exceptionally difficult and lengthy journey of 5657 versts for those times (14 carriages, 124 pairs of sledges were involved, the retinue reached 3000 people), Her Imperial Majesty Catherine II visited here. Her route travel across the Crimea did not include, unfortunately (due to the lack of equipped roads), the entire South Bank, however, following from Balaclavas towards Karasubazar (now Belogorsk), the empress nevertheless climbed to the then wild Baydar-bogaz pass and literally “out of the corner of her eye” looked into a fairy-tale country, which she later called the “best pearl” of her crown ... Years later when the pass was already fully equipped, and the road from Yalta to Sevastopol did not seem to be a serious obstacle to traveling in carriages, Emperor Nicholas I also visited here. fashion of the Russian aristocracy Gorny Crimea.
The road passing through the pass was built by order of the Governor of Novorossia M.S. Vorontsov, built under the guidance of engineer-colonel Slavich.
The construction of the road was carried out by military builders, Russian soldiers. Construction work was repeatedly interrupted (in 1830-1831 due to epidemics of plague and cholera), accompanied by human casualties (in 1834, a mountain collapse occurred at the pass, under which four soldiers-builders died ...). But still, in spite of everything, the road was built. .
In memory of the completion of construction in 1848, according to the project of the architect K.I. Ashliman, a stone arch was erected at the pass point, which has survived to our time— Baydar gates, a kind of "front" entrance to Southshore. From an architectural point of view, the Baidar gates are a portico made of limestone blocks mined here with a complex cornice, flanked by semi-columns and covered with an entablature. On the sides of the portico adjoin pedestals in the form of rectangles made of limestone and giving a monumental look to the Gate. A staircase leads to the viewing platforms in the upper part of the propylaea.
The Baidar Pass is not the highest in the Crimea, but the strip of the South Coast is quite narrow here and the sea rises to the very foot of the mountain cliffs and cliffs. And, of course, the view from this pass is perhaps the most spectacular and impressive. And the most unexpected.
The road had just climbed the comparatively gentle northern slopes of the Main Ridge, meandering through the mountain forest like a graceful green tunnel. And here, on the pass, the horizon suddenly opened up. Ahead, as far as the eye can see, the sea sparkles and shimmers; deep below, a green carpet of gardens, parks and vineyards spreads; the church on the rock completes this picturesque picture and, as if on guard of all this beauty, like giants, the bulks of steep and torn rocks hang.
Of course, this view is unlikely to leave anyone indifferent - and even more so creative people, people of art who have been here: artists, poets, writers, musicians.
The road winds. Thickets, valleys ... The day is cloudless and ardent.
We go without rest on a long road, And suddenly I hear: Baidara!
I look - the gate ... Two desert rocks, And then? Next... Or is it a spell?!
These enthusiastic, wonderful lines belong to the outstanding Ukrainian poetess Lesya Ukrainka (L.P. Kosach-Kvitka).
In 1890, while in the Crimea, the mortally ill poetess traveled a lot, drawing inspiration for her work and, probably, vitality from the Crimean nature. In the same year, on her way from Sevastopol to Yalta, she also visited Baidary. The canoes conquered her, this poem was born, which later became part of the Crimean Memoirs poetic cycle.
Modest Mussorgsky wrote the piano piece "Baidars".
The Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz, the author of the amazing Crimean Sonnets cycle, which became the crowning achievement of his trip to the Crimea in the summer of 1825, dedicated one of his sonnets to these places. I. Bunin was very fond of these lines, which prompted him to study the Polish language.
Baydarskaya valley.
I ride like a madman on a mad horse:
Valleys, rocks, forest flash before me,
Changing like wave after wave...
To revel in that whirlwind of images - I love it!
But the horse was exhausted. It pours softly on the ground
Mysterious haze from darkening skies
And before tired eyes everything rushes
That whirlwind of images - valleys, rocks, forest...
Everything sleeps, I can't sleep - and to the sea
I run:
Here, with a noise, a black shaft approaches: greedily I
I bow to him and stretch out my hands ...
Splashed, he closed: chaos led me -
And I, like a boat spinning in the abyss, I expect
That my thought will taste even for a moment of oblivion.
And the well-known Russian journalist Uncle Gilyai, Moscow reporter and poet Vladimir Gilyarovsky expressed his feelings no less emotionally:
Above us and below us
Now azure, now seas of steel -
With clouds and waves
Pearly distance...
On the way we rush down,
Intoxicating aroma
Prism Gemstones
They burn in the brilliance of the sun.
Gemstones are not only a poetic image. In the southern cliff of the mountain with the half-forgotten name Jaurn-Chaurn-Beli, underground balls were discovered, once filled with Icelandic spar (and this is the same caplcite, but only colorless, transparent and having the ability to refract light in two ways). When studying vein calcite, voids were found in it. The fact that crystals of transparent minerals sometimes contain "prisoners" - voids with a liquid in which a gas bubble floats, was known even in ancient times: "... like a hostage, a drop lurks in it. It is water that gives special value to the crystal,” wrote the Roman poet Octavius Claudian.
Once upon a time, in the old days, they sold transparent crystals of Icelandic from a vein, which, unfortunately, is now depleted.
The most consonant with the solemn beauty of these places are the marvelous lines of the poet A.K. Tolstoy, who lived in Melas. He drove through the pass with his bride Sofya Andreevna in 1865.
The fog rises at the bottom of the rapids,
In the middle of the midnight chill
Wild cumin smells stronger
The waterfalls rumble louder.
How dazzling is the moon!
How mountains are outlined peaks!
Visible in the silvery twilight
Below the Baydarskaya valley.
Heaven is shining above us
Blacker is the veil before us,
Shiny dew trembles
On the leaves with large tears ...
The soul is light: I do not hear
The shackles of earthly existence,
No fear, no hope
What will happen in the future, what was before -
I don't care - and that me
Always, like a chain, pulled to the ground,
All gone with the anxiety of the day,
Everything was drowned in the moonlight ...
Where did the thought go?
What does she see so drowsily?
Is it not in the middle of a magical dream
We ride together along the cliff?
Is it you, full of shyness,
Leaning towards me in silence?
I don't see in my dreams
As the stars shine above
Like a horse treads carefully
How does your chest breathe anxiously?
Or under a deceptive moon
I'm only teased by a false ghost
And is this a dream? Oh if I
It was impossible to wake up!
Ivan Bunin, the Nobel laureate, visited the Crimea many times, became firmly attached to this land, and love never passed, even in distant emigration.
It's getting light... Over the sea, over the canopy of clouds,
The azure morning brightens:
Peaks of canoe bizarre steeps
It is unclear and soft blue.
Like a mirror - the sea ... The surf does not splash ...
Under a light veil of fog,
In the gorges, where dusk crowds the night,
It's still cold and early...
But with every minute in the dawn rays
Both the shore and the sea are clear...
How wonderful here, in these green mountains,
Spring fresh dawns!..
In conclusion - an excerpt from the Guide to the Crimea by Grigory Moskvich for 1912.
“As soon as you crossed the other side of the gate, the majestic sea opens in all its beauty and indescribable splendor: down there, far away, it swirls in a deep fog, laughing, sparkling, sparkling and kissing the shore blooming with plantings. At sunrise, the purple-golden clouds covering the horizon by the sea with a solid wall, combined with the luxurious greenery of the valley, on which the night freshness still lies, gives the picture that opens from the Baydar Gate a special charm. A platform has been arranged above the gate, from which the views are even more majestic, even more grandiose.”
P.S. From 1848 to 1972, the Baydarsky Pass was the only road leading to Sevastopol from the south coast, and only after the construction of the Yalta-Sevastopol highway through the Laspinsky Pass, the Baydarsky Gates become not just a “travelling” attraction, but a place that once again symbolizes the opening of the south coast Crimea