The story that happened in the early 1990s with me and my friend Nikolai could have happened at any time and, probably, in any place, so time and place do not really matter. The main thing in history is itself, practically, a mystical fact.
We, avid lovers of fishing on our northern lakes and rivers, bought a map of the Murmansk region in a store on a scale of 1: 2. They were in short supply before perestroika, and we used re-shot for blueprint. And then such "happiness" rolled over. Well, let's "walk" along it, looking for lakes and streams with trout, brown trout and harryuz.
We noticed a small lake, "suspicious" at the expense of the onny fish with its flowing stream. We got together and set off at the very beginning of July to look for this lake on the map. It had no name on the map, it was very small, about 200x300 meters. We gave it our name - Lokkaz, after the first letters of our surnames.
Not having enough experience of walking on real maps, we, naturally, were not very deluded that we would quickly find the destination of the route. But the hope of a stream flowing out of the lake gave our idea a lot of optimism.
We started the route from the lower reaches, on the map - two kilometers. The stream wound mercilessly over the terrain, now burrowing into bog bushes, then diving and branching into sleeves, then began to gradually decrease to completely inconspicuous in the bushes and grass. Finally, having reached his complete disappearance in the swamp, we stopped for a smoke break.
Nights in our North in July cannot be distinguished from days, if someone does not know, and after having a snack, we decided not to go further, but to turn back and check for trout in this brook. I had to go back half a kilometer to the normal 1-1.5 meters wide stream.
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We unwound the fishing rods and began the usual process of hypnotizing the float with all the procedures that follow from it. There were no bites, which seemed strange in such places on trout streams with holes and branches of trees and bushes hanging over the water. My friend always tried to stay ahead of me, hoping for an unafraid fish, and I followed him - it so happened out of friendship.
And here the most interesting thing happened. Nikolai, carried away by the process, remained on the stream, and it seemed to me that there might be some other lake beyond the slope, although nothing was visible on the map, and the scale did not painfully paint all sorts of small puddles.
Downstream of the stream, spruce and birch trees of a decent size were already growing, and in order to see what was behind them, I climbed a hillock about 20 meters from the stream and suddenly saw boots under the paw of a tree, a simple rubber boot, not a swamp one.
Farther under the barrel I immediately noticed a bucket, an ordinary plastic bucket, and on the side of it something that caused the hair on the head to start moving from the unexpected sight. Under the spruce lay something that looked like a mummy in its color, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt, trousers and a second boot with an unnaturally twisted leg.
In September last year, the team of one enterprise went by bus to the forest. When one person from the group did not appear at the appointed time, everyone realized that he was lost. In September, the nights are already dark and cold. He was naturally looked for immediately, then in the following days, but to no avail.
The young man turned 25 that day. His mother gave him a watch with a personalized inscription. And for the first time in his life he went out into the forest. His mother said so. As the medical examination later established, his leg was broken. He walked leaning on a stick, and to the place of disembarkation from the bus in a straight line on the map - about 10 kilometers.
The mysticism is that I went spontaneously to the place of his last breath. Who led me to the remains?
Vladimir Lokko