Camping

 I've been used to hiking since I was a kid. It doesn't matter if you go on a picnic for a couple of hours or go for a few days on a free route with serious equipment — it always seemed to me that this was the best pastime. You don't get bored, you do something all the time, you don't sit still - that's the most pleasant thing about such trips. And you're learning a little bit to figure out completely different things — how to light a campfire, how to set up a tent, and how to walk properly so as not to exhaust yourself, but not to circle around the forest, and go back to your start. In general, there are solid advantages and a feeling of pleasant fatigue at the end of the hike, thanks to which plopping down on the sofa after a bath turns into an unearthly pleasure and serves as almost the highest reward. Every year, from the moment of the thaw until late autumn, I go out into nature as much as I can, whether alone or with friends, but I definitely go to the forest.

It was in 2007, at the beginning of July. We agreed to gather at our favorite place, a small clearing with oak trees, since it takes only forty minutes to take the train, and it's close to seven or eight kilometers. The gathering was timed to coincide with Ivan Kupala, everything was one to one — and there was an excuse to meet to sit around the campfire, and to celebrate the holiday and take a day off, and almost anyone can go on the route — to anyone who likes more.

In order not to waste time, we decided: those who were free to leave in advance, put the clearing in order, prepare for the arrival of the rest of the people, prepare firewood, put tents. It doesn't seem like much time is needed, but one by one, the day flew by unnoticed. It was getting late. We decided to make a last pass through the forest, around the camp, and gather dried wood for a fire and remove driftwood from under our feet at the same time. By the way, we were also waiting for nonresident friends, we expected to gather 40 people then, but we didn't specifically discuss who, when and from where to get to the camp: something like a competition — who would approach better unnoticed, or they would still be welcomed at the approaches. One case was considered the ultimate chic — a huntsman nicknamed Leshi managed to put up a tent in the middle of the camp before he was noticed and identified; so now everyone was trying to repeat this "feat"...

To be honest, I really love blueberries, but here, as if to order, one bush with berries filled with juice, then several at once stretch out in a chain... And so he wandered, picking bushes, rejoicing in life. Everything inside me was already ringing with happiness — no thoughts of work, no worries — babble! However, it didn't last long — until it finally got dark. It was only then that I discovered the absence of a flashlight in my pockets, as well as a mobile phone. It's not fatal, but with my "chicken blindness" it's very unpleasant and annoying to poke through the vague outlines of trees, bushes and paths... I didn't seem to be poking for long, but I realized from the subsidence of the moss that I was no longer in the forest, but in the swampy part of it, making circles. I tried to find at least some positive moment in this idiotic situation - I found it! I was pleased with my equipment and foresight, but immediately lost myself in black melancholy about the same foresight — I took the flashlight, but left it in my backpack — THEN WHY did I take it?!

By the reflection of the lights, I knew where to go, and I went. I didn't go far, because almost immediately I fell into some kind of hole flooded almost to my waist, which didn't cheer me up at all. Cursing and somehow shaking off the fallen leaves mixed up with something, he moved on. Right up to the next pit! Nature finally lost all its charm in my eyes, and I lost the feeling of dryness and warmth, because I managed to practically "dive" into this stagnant "font". Twenty minutes later, the roar of a savage Homo sapiens was ready to burst out of my throat, I just wanted to break something, or better yet, kill someone! My feet seemed to "find" roots and slippery gnarled sticks on their own, the stick-stick stuck into the "strong" bumps as if alive and could only withstand pressure, but not my weight, but the reflections of the lights, which I was guided by, as if they began to dance around me — so often I lost sight of them. kind of... He was silent only from a sharp sense of shame and fear of "becoming famous" — so many years had passed like a campaign, and now — on you! — I got lost in the swamp near the camp!

Gritting my teeth, through which an irritated growl still sounded, I moved on, and then... A miracle! A miracle has happened! A friend saved a friend! One of the guys from other cities was standing in front of me. They usually go out into nature, some in armor, some in their costumes, role—playing games. Even now, some kind of role-playing player in the form of a monk goes into the water and holds a staff in his hands. I tried to turn my grin into at least some semblance of a smile - it's dark, suddenly it doesn't look scary? And with the air of a "cunning partisan" he asked:

— What, you decided to cut it too?

The answer just "killed" me:

— No, I came out at your splash, follow me and I'll take you out.

And off he went, my good bastard guide, without even turning around! And I'm almost steaming out of my ears with anger. Well, I guess it's okay for you, we're not made of anything ourselves!

— You go, and I'll walk myself, I'm not a kid anymore, I won't get lost!

I got it, I see, I've already turned around.

— Don't worry, but follow me, I see a path, but judging by your appearance, you're looking for it!

It became a shame — a man helps a fool out, and he spits into his helping hand.

— I'm sorry, I just can't see very well in the dark, I can almost feel my way...

"I can see that... Let's go already.

They moved. But somehow we moved strangely - the "monk" walks easily, as if on a sidewalk, and not on a swamp, and my legs go up to my ankles! Although maybe he's not wearing boots like me, but moccasins of what kind? And you can't tell by the look of him, maybe it's just that his cassock is hanging on him like a hoodie, and he's thin as a roach?

"Listen,— I say. — I have a request for you: don't tell our people that I got lost in the swamp, okay?

— Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.

And then I just failed. It happened so suddenly, as if I had jumped from a tower into this swamp! I'm trying to swim out, but I'm being pulled down by my legs. I panicked, of course, and tried to shout, but stale water and duckweed were climbing into my mouth, I couldn't see anything, I didn't understand where I was or where I needed to move, and my heart was beating like a crazy drummer, as if it hadn't jumped out of my chest! I'm floundering, waving my arms in all directions, kicking my legs like crazy — and above me, the voice sounds so calm:

— Have you eaten too much fly agaric?

Lo and behold, I'm not in a barrel, but I'm not drowning in a swamp, but I'm sitting in a deep puddle and slapping my hands on it, and I put my feet in a hole with green leaves. And the "monk" stands and looks at me in a characteristic way, with a squint.

— Do you like it here more or will we go further?

I feel the blood rushing to my face — it seemed to me that I began to glow in the dark.

— Let's move on...

Let's go... Again, the "monk" is like walking on the sidewalk, and I'm swimming. And that's when I realize that I don't recognize my "guide" at all. We don't have such guys. And, as I notice, we are not walking towards the campfires, but somewhere sideways... I twisted the cookie in my pocket and poked the guy in the back:

— What's your name anyway, Susanin the hero?

— They call you a swamper...

And that's when I got really scared. Instead of a guy, there's a guy in front of me, overgrown like a guerrilla and puffy like a homeless alcoholic. And he turns around and stares at me.:

"What are you doing," he says, "you're all green?"

"Look at you,— I mutter. — His beard is already overgrown with mud...

I'm afraid to look, and it's impossible not to look, I'm backing away like a crab, I don't even think about the swamp... And then the Swamper exhaled sharply... and burst! He exhaled as if the whole swamp had been stirred up at once — the stench was suffocating, his eyes were watering, he couldn't see anything, and his head was buzzing from lack of air, as if with a concussion... And a piece of ice just formed in my stomach, and my legs, I feel, began to give way... That's when I screamed. I ran so fast that it didn't matter to me whether it was a swamp, a forest, a sidewalk, or even an abstract nothing at all — I had never run like this before or since...

I ran to the camp in a demented state, where they gave me tea and tincture for a couple more hours... I went home on Kupala, and I had absolutely no energy or desire to stay... At first, the guys thought that I was trying to intimidate them before going out at night, but when I just packed up my things and walked along the path to the village, and not directly through the forest to the station.,

At first, the guys thought that I was trying to intimidate them before going out at night, but when I just packed up my things and walked along the path to the village, rather than directly through the woods to the station, they tried to hold me back, but I couldn't stay — I'd never had such anxiety, I felt like I could just break into any moment now, if I stay here a little longer.

Upon arrival home, I started looking for information on the Swamp and this is what I found:

"A swamper is one of the atypical representatives of the evil spirits living in a swamp. There are some differences in the description of the appearance of the marsh, which is mainly due to the sedentary lifestyle of this creature in extremely inaccessible places. According to some reports, it is a sedentary bottom creature, a sullen and eyeless fat man with matted hair, a body covered with a thick layer of mud, fish scales, snails and the like. According to other descriptions, he is an old man with gray fur, long arms and an equally long curled tail with a wide yellowish face (the color of swamp mud) and goose (according to other descriptions — toad) paws instead of legs. The swamper always has big bulging eyes, the same big belly and a huge, matted, tangled beard.

An important fact is that, unlike most other representatives of the evil spirits, the swamper does NOT know how to change his appearance, but he knows how to cause great trouble, and often an unlucky lover of swamp walks sees a monk or a lonely traveler. However, most often it is a black man with a lantern in his hands, moving along the edge of the swamp."

.. Already in August, I went hiking again, as I continued to do in the future, but now, before entering the forest or swamp, I pray and check if the amulet and cross are in place.