In Gorny Altai there is an amazing corner of nature - the Chulyshman Valley. It is very beautiful here, and the climate is similar to subtropical. The deep river Chulyshman flows along it. It flows into the pearl of Siberia - Lake Teletskoye.
The village of Balykchy is about ten kilometers from the lake. The district center is 120 kilometers from here. Until the 1990s, there was no road there, they rode horses. Moreover, on the way it was necessary to cross the very turbulent mountain river Bashkaus.
In June 1969 there was a large flood, the rivers overflowed their banks. Many livestock camps and half of the village were under water. I then worked as the chairman of the Balykchy village council. The flood swept away the newly built wooden bridge across Bashkaus, knocked down the telephone poles. We were cut off from the regional center. On the other side of Bashkaus is the village of Kok-Pash, where telephone communication, as far as we knew, was still working.
The secretary of the party organization Gavril Moiseevich Sugunushev and I decided to somehow get across Bashkaus in order to report the emergency situation to the regional leadership by phone. We rode ashore on horses. The river boils, sweeps away everything in its path, the water is dark, the bottom is not visible. Gavril Moiseevich says:
- We have nothing to do here. Let's go home.
However, I swam well and, of course, hoped for my horse. Stripped down to his underpants, tied his clothes to the saddle. I just wanted to send the horse into the water, Gavril Moiseevich blocks my way:
- I won't let you in. Drown - how can I be? What will I tell people and your relatives?
They stood for a long time, persuading each other. Nevertheless, I convinced him.
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The horse entered the water and swam. I lay on his back and, with my hands and feet, as best I could, clung to the powerful current not to tear me away from him. It was still very far to the opposite shore, but here a whirlpool … I see - the horse has lost its reference point, does not know which way to swim. I understand that now we will both go to the bottom.
I was not, I think. I got up on the saddle and jumped to the side. Somehow I got my bearings, swam to the shore. I see that the horse is away from me. I feel that my hands are already tired, the current is carrying me away. Involuntarily I burst out: "Ene, ene!" - that is, "mom, mom!"
I have been in extreme situations before, but I have never called my mother. And then, after my words, through the seething roar of water, I heard a distant female voice from somewhere: "Not bolds?" ("What happened?")
The comrade turned out to be a chatterbox
Then I seemed to wake up from a dream. The fatigue was gone, I started to row with both hands. He swam to the shore, grabbed some snag and got out of the water. I wanted to lie down a little after everything, but the thought came to my mind: where is my horse? I jumped up and run along the shore, shouting:
- Where are you, where are you?
Again I hear:
- Not bolds?
Lo and behold, my horse is already in front of me. The poor fellow, you see, also had a hard time, the sides still go.
So we both ended up on the right bank of the Bashkaus in the village of Kok-Pash. My aunt Klavdia lived here. Instead of feeling sorry for me, seeing that we are both wet, let's scold me.
I informed the district center about the flood. I swam back in a boat. I left the horse to my aunt. We agreed with Gavril Moiseevich that he would not tell my family about this incident. I had to stay in the village council on business, I come home in the evening, and let my relatives educate me, what, they say, for heroism? Gavril Moiseevich could not resist - all the same he blabbed to them.
So much time has passed, and I still think: have I really heard the question: "Not bold?" And who saved me and the horse?
Alexey Nikolaevich KACHANOV, p. Ulagan, Republic of Altai