Mystical Realism Stories
Dear friends, we decided to make a new rubric about the breathtaking stories right from the witnesses
Mystical Realism Stories ⠀
About mystics in mountains, real stories.
Someone in a yellow jacket
Himalayas. Lhotse peak (8516 м). 2009.
Mountain climbing team of Kazakhstan expects to ascend the last eight-thousander in the list of 14 highest peaks of the world:scream:. But that year only Alexander Sofrygin reached the summit:muscle:.
There were strange things happening with young mountaineer.
When the technical part of the route finished ⛏, he descended several meters ahead of his group.
The ropes in one place got tangled, and while Sofrygin unraveled them, someone appeared nearby :bust_in_silhouette:– it looked like a real person:person_with_blond_hair:♂, which started to ask Alex what he was doing in that places and who he was, and the main thing – that guy suggested:thought_balloon: to go without line-ups further.
– And who are you? – asked Alexander.
-You will never know it.
The realization that Sofrygin had met a Russian-speaking guy was stunned … There was no any Russian expedition in the mountains that time.
When the rest of group came up to him, that somebody:bust_in_silhouette: in yellow jacket, black pants and boots disappeared.
The only thing was stressed in his appearance – he was without hat at such high altitude♂.
:sunrise_over_mountains: Night came down, cold intensified the whipping wind.
The one whom Sofrygin called Andrey (because there were words of the song:musical_note: “Hello, Andrey…” in his mind), appeared periodically in his sight :mag_right:.
Alexander Sofrygin descended in couple with Evgeniy Shutov, who hurt his knees and went slow.
Sasha himself caught a cold and hurried up to descend the altitude.
Pneumonia didn’t allow him to “speed up” and he often stopped, sat near the pathway, turned the flashlight off:flashlight:, waiting for his colleague. And someone :bust_in_silhouette: woke him up all the time: don’t sleep, you will freeze.
This happens to most of mountaineers at an altitude, and these spirits, visions, ghosts:ghost: help to find the right way , save from unreasonable actions:sleeping:.
-There was a man in my head, who who made me do everything right, as they teach in books:books:, – recalls Alexander.
– I was sick and tired. One my lung stopped functioning:cold_sweat:, I used medicines all my way and realized my brain was experiencing tremendous oxygen starvation.
Group of alpinists left in camp 4 for night:tent:, only two of them continued descent. Those two were: Sofrygin – with pulmonary edema, Shutov – with hurting knees.
– We moved from 8400 – it was a turn back point, up to the base camp. It was already the second day without rest and sleep:person_frowning:♂.
Suddenty, I saw :eyes: a group of people, making ice mamonth :snowflake:, but at that time I assumed that it seems to me, because I kept on injections :syringe: and understood that I might had a raving.
We descended from the mountain to the glacier Khumbu :mount_fuji:, I realized that I want to drink:droplet:, I didn’t think, that it was a nighttime and ice melts only when sun shines :sunny:, and I told Zhenya to go to the camp alone.
Only 100 meters left to the tents, but I chose the wrong way and woke up in icefall:flushed:. Flashlight switches for several meters long, but where to go if there are huge blocks of ice around me?
My companion in the yellow jacket, ghostly Andrey:bust_in_silhouette:, appeared in the right moment. He advised me to try to find the traces of my crampons with my fingers, and only this advice helped me to find the right way.
Zhenya Shutov – my mate, never saw my helper ♂, but he noticed me talking to somebody from time to time.
:point_right:But in the base camp my story didn’t wonder even anyone, but they started to joke:joy:, that I ascended the summit in couple with Andrey :busts_in_silhouette:.
The first story:
My friends usually open ascensions season in the end of May, when at 3000 meters snow still lies.
May 29, 1999, we went by 4WD to the uphills of Small Almaty gorge (Maloye Almatinskoye gorge), the plan was like this: overnight at the glacier T-1 and in the morning – ascension , but… we couldn’t overcome avalanche by car and set our tent not far from the road leading to the glacier.
– Tien Shan maid came to us that night,- Evgenii remembers.
-We went to bed earlier, to wake up before sunrise. It was cold, really. We boiled water for coffee, drank it and fell asleep. I remember well that I left matches near the gas-jet – in order not to look for them in the morning. We got into our sleeping bags and fell asleep… Suddenly, somebody’s calm voice woke me up in the middle of the night. There was someone who came up to our tent and asked: “Hey guys, do you have matches?”
I unzipped my sleeping bag and saw a female figure. When my eyes adapted, I focused. The picture was quite realistic, and a fresh wind breathed into the tent from the street.
I took a match box, held out my hand, took a closer look – mature, slender, black-haired woman.
I didn’t manage to see her face in details, only in general.
I noticed that the night guest was in something white, something like sari, clothes worn by Indian women. I started to think how did she appear here, cause smart tourists do not make overnights in mountains this time and moreover they don’t climb in such clothes.⠀
-I gave her matches and realized that she didn’t turn back to go away, but moved a bit. That time I didn’t pay much attention on in, cause I wanted to sleep very much.
In the morning Viktor asked me to boil water, but there were no matches at the place.
I told my friend about the night visit, but the absence of matches and unzipped tent were the only confirmation of my words. But I really couldn’t unzip the tent and go unconscious for a walk at night!
Later I heard a legend about Tien Shan maid, and if I heard it earlier, I might behave differently when met that night guest.
As that trip to the mountains was an open season trip, without acclimatization, but… the altitude a bit more then three thousands is not a reason for hallucinations.
Story from the book of Galina Mulenkova.