I woke up in a ruined room at 6:30. It turned out that at night the room was more “attractive” than in daylight. I photographed my “colony” for memory. The collected and unwashed backpack climbed onto the track. At that time, grandfather and grandmother passed in front of old Zhiguli . They took me out of Taishet . I decided to vote near the crossing. Nearby was a source of water, and managed to get drunk, wash. The vote did not yield results, despite the comfortable position. I noticed that in the nearby village, the cars turned left. I walked to the fork. I stand in the middle of the village. I want to eat The locals, sitting near the door, watch me curiously, like a strange animal that escaped from the zoo. At half-past eight I could not stand it anymore and went with a pot to the nearest “watcher” and asked him to boil some boiling water. The guy offered to put the kettle, they say, so fast. I accepted and said that I would go to vote longer and let him call when the kettle was boiling.
At 8:40 he stopped the Volga going to Nizhneudinsk . Waving the hand to the peasant who came out with a hot kettle, I sat in the Volga, empty stomach. The paved road ends behind the village. Then comes the dusty primer, in places, strewn with rubble. Around the forest, all trees along the road are white with dust. Suddenly, a completely new highway starts, right “highway”, with markings and roadblocks along the road on steep slopes.
From 9h30 to 10h, we stopped in a brand new cafe. I prepared mashed potatoes and tea, the driver drank coffee. The asphalt ended as suddenly as it started. Until Nizhneudinsk , there was a dirt road, more or less qualitative. At 11:35, the driver took me out of town and dropped me off at the closed station.
I vote on the outskirts of the city. It began to rain, many summer residents travel. Dalnoboev not at all. Two hours later, I sit in a jeep and return to the city. At my request, the driver delivers directly to the station. Entered the manager. He says: “There, on the third path, is the Irkutsk” postal “, go, try.”
I went to see the machinist, I exposed the problem and he replied:
– Yes, I can not wear anyone! Vaughn , discover the leaders, expelled from work!
– Yes, nobody will know. I sit on the floor and will not see me.
– Someone will certainly see how you climb and inform.
“Well, please, bring me at least to the next station, otherwise you’ll have to spend the night at the station …”
– No, I will not take it. Come on, get out, in the cars for the postmen ask … Maybe they’ll take.
The “senders” sit at the open door and smoke in silence.
– Good afternoon . I am a hitchhiker traveling to Baikal without money from Moscow. Take at least to Tulun .
– What do you mean! It is “strictly” forbidden even to allow foreigners to enter the carriage!
– And nobody will know it.
– Well yes. We can check at any station. Unauthorized!
How many did not convince in all cars, no one took “under the fear of dismissal.” Returned to the manager, drinking tea. Next freight in two hours. In the breaking street. Dispatchers have changed. I still drink tea.
Here is the long-awaited freight train. He applied all his eloquence, all the arguments he could think of. The driver in everything! “Fired!” And that’s all. Said
– I can only wear with the permission of the deposit manager. Do you have such permission? No, and can not be. Because the order of the Ministry of Railways “Passengers do not take!” I can not even transport the railwaymen.
– But I already drove. And nothing happened.
– Yes, even at Taishet .
– Well, it’s probably not as strict as ours.
– And if I go to the head of the deposit and he resolves, take?
– You can go. Only he will not allow. Does not have the right to violate the order from above.
– How to find this boss?
– Look, you see, two people with briefcases and caps. Go with them, they will ask.
– I’m coming now.
People in the form of a railroad, were also a kind of boss. On the way, they convinced me that it was useless for me to speak with the chief of the depot, he can not always put anyone to the locomotive.
Then I decided to change the purpose of the conversation. I was shown the chief deposit. I stopped him at the door of the window.
– Good afternoon . I am a hitchhiker. Food without money from Moscow to Baikal . I wanted to ask you: please, hand over the prize to the locomotive brigade, which is now sent to Irkutsk from the third lane …
“I tried to persuade them to drive me for twenty minutes …”
– It’s for nothing. We have an order for the IPU. You can not carry anyone!
– Absolutely. They told me that too. That’s why I ask you to pay them the price “For the exemplary performance of Instruction and the strongest discipline …”
“I’ll fix that myself.”
– You will understand, of course, but I ask you, it is this brigade …
… You’re welcome.
Surprised by our conversation, railwaymen were piling up. Many nod, “Yes. Speaking correctly … “and smiling.
By making sure that the desired effect is achieved, I wish the Head Depot “Good luck at work and good luck in my personal life!” I shake his hand, say goodbye and leave for the city.
All this is of course great, but soon at night, it rains, but I did not leave anywhere.
I went out in the streets of the city and I do not know where to go. No passers bad weather and twilight. I stop the white Toyota:
– Good evening, you will not tell me which way I should leave for Irkutsk?
– ?! What do you walk?
– No, I’m a hitchhiker. I’m going to catch a ride.
– Listen, I have a child from behind. I’m going to take it now, not far from here. And you stay here, I’ll take you to the right place.
– thanks If only someone else at that time did not take me away …
– Wait, I instantly …
I’m standing. I am wet
Back in a few minutes. The food is hot and comfortable. It’s a familiar place on the road. I say goodbye to the Toyota driver. The car turns around and goes to town.
The post is already a young policeman. He goes home to the village. Already about half an hour is worth it. Well, if the policeman did not leave, I do not even shine!
Held behind him, by all the rules of hitchhiking. After 15 minutes of exhaustion, the Volga jumps on the highway shouting tires and sprinkling the ground. I wonder who is so in a hurry? The policeman, who already knows all the cars in the city, comments: “It’s local, it’s far from going.” However, I can and not very far, just to change position. I vote
– Where are you going? – the voice of a drunk little man. No, I think I will not go with a drunk. At that moment, a jet of cold water ran down my collar and I neglected the consequences, consoling me that it “does not go far anyway” and that it is possible to change position.
– Yes, in general, at Lake Baikal.
– From where?
– Moscow, I’m going.
– Well, you give! Haha From Moscow ?!
– Pick them up, how many along the way.
– Yes, I’m here in the city of food geologists, just 25 km away.
– Well at least a little tour with you.
Sit in the “Volga”. Immediately, I attach , causing a raging storm of indignation. “… Yes, I am a lieutenant-colonel of police! Every dog knows me here. I am now on vacation and drink the second week. And I do not regret anything! Along the way, we rush to less than 110 years, splashing dirt and scary dogs. We entered the village. I say:
“Do you even have the lights on?”
It is already dark, the rain protects the glass and there are no lights.
– Yes, why do I need lights, everyone already knows I’m going!
Indeed, many people, seeing a roaring “Volga”, leave the road in advance. The lieutenant colonel asks who I work and where.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m going to take you to the same artist now, to our village. He’s as crazy as you. Also in kayak trips goes. You should definitely meet him!
– Let’s go to him. Maybe I’ll spend the night with him.
“Now I will only visit a friend for a minute …”
I stayed in the car and went to see a friend. They leave together, the lieutenant-colonel puts a finger on me through the wet window and tells a friend that he has caught a rare beast and boasts:
– Here, you see, I do not lie. On the rides in Baikal.
-Well, let me see. Are you really going to Baikal ?
Well, now, probably, they will cut pieces of wool for memory …
– Or maybe we will organize a collective viewing? But the whole village will now be approached and considered.
– No, we’ll take you to the artist now. And then, I’m sorry, I’m going to drink with a friend and today I will not go any further.
Three go to the artist. His house on the edge of the village, near the river. The windows do not shine. I say:
– Well, if he goes camping, then he’s probably on a camping trip now. After all, you have a short summer here …
– Yes, they have not thought … Well, nothing, now we will take you on the track by a short way.
A short path was a dirt track winding among the trees. “Volga” flew with the lights off, on the muddy slopes and bumps, rushing between the nearby pines in different directions. Suddenly, we roared on a steep slope, plowing the bottom of the clay, and we stopped at the light source.
The light source turned out to be a café open 24 hours a day in a caravan. Nearby, there were several cars and … a familiar policeman. It’s the meeting!
During the last half hour, he drove only in this cafe. Stop until 19:00. There were cars, but they only went to a cafe. Here everyone was unloaded and went for a walk in the trailer. At midnight local time, I came for dinner. No one was surprised at my appearance, apparently the lieutenant-colonel had already talked to me about everyone. However, no one volunteered to feed me. (Ugly, Fleur, you know!) I myself had to ask for boiling water and prepare pasta and tea. After dinner, went to the forest, crossed a fence. He set up a tent near him and went to bed at 8 pm.