Partridge's snow house. Victor Anatolievich Tarasov-Slishin

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СКАЧАТЬ . The most interesting thing in this story was that, under hypnotic suggestion, I completely forgot it. I could not remember until recently. Indirect evidence that something happened to me was enough. But what exactly happened. Where and when, I – did not know. I did not remember. How did three days fall from memory without a trace?

      I agreed with the version of Fedorov’s senior working topographic detachment. That I sat all the time under the snow. In a small snow cave. That all calling – partridge's snow house. Keeping my body warm. Such auto-suggestion reassured me. As it turned out, completely – in vain. Because it was on these days that I experienced an adventure. What influenced my whole future life.

      But it is one thing to gradually acquire different human abilities. Another thing is to constantly be surprised. Where did they come from? Where is the source of my superpowers hidden?

      Five years ago, I worked as a surveyor for the Iconic Seismic Group. Taimyr geophysical expedition. I lived in the Arctic city – Dudinka. With my family in a two-room apartment, and I considered myself an ordinary, unremarkable person.

      The base of the field party was located near the mouth of the Ondodomi River. On the right bank of the Chopka River. That winter, we worked northeast of the base. Toward the village – Volochanka.

      I will not describe in detail the specifics of work in the tundra. I will only say that. Our seismic group. With the help of resonance-frequency explosions and with the help of special reading and receiving equipment. I was looking for underground storage of oil and gas, in the strata of rocks. Where they have accumulated over millions of years.

      My topographic squad. It was considered an auxiliary unit of the seismic party. Our responsibilities included laying a road. Installation of geophysical pickets and instrumental shooting of the area.

      The hardest time for work, it is the polar night. Twilight, which we out of habit called – day. Not conducive to performance. It’s hard to work on a polar night. Worker, tractor driver and, of course, a surveyor. Had to catch short hours of dusk. When at least something was visible. Hurry to process as much distance as possible during this time. Even at such a fast pace. Most of the time I had to move in the dark.

      This story began precisely at the darkest time of the polar night. December 17th. In the morning, a southwest wind began to blow. Blowing snow made a noise. But visibility remained satisfactory. I gave a command. Everyone to go to work. We laid a seismic profile against the wind. On the bare, without a single bush, hilly tundra.

      On the flat tops of each hill. Large boulders and pebbles lay. Left by the last glaciation. Snow from the tops of the mountains was blown away by snow. Nearly. Two days later, according to my calculations. We needed to get to the border of the northern forest. Where forward movement will slow.

      Have to clear the clearing in the forest. To pave the way next to the milestones. For machinery and equipment.

      There was still a bare tundra around. Therefore, the guys immediately went ahead. The tractor driver pulled next to them, our home. I carefully took the testimony. The first stamp of theodolite. Then, I slowly followed.

      In an hour and a half. I was stuck on the next brand of theodolite move. The guys have already gone far ahead. Together with a tractor and Central Universal Beam. Which we called – CUB. I still couldn’t take the next brand. It was getting worse every minute – blowing snow.

      The wind was getting stronger. I watched with alarm his impulses. Again and again, trying to make out the theodolite at the crosshairs of the optical tube, the front one is a mark. The air stream beat in the face, cut through the eyes, squeezing tears. Whistled and howled in a theodolite tripod.

      Small and gray eddies above the snow surface. This is a widespread phenomenon in the Subpolar regions of the Far North. Snow whirls increasingly began to come off the surface. Rising higher and higher, to the theodolite optics. In the theodolite pipe, not a single dark spot was already visible. There was no light from the tiny bulb of a flashlight. Which, the senior worker Fedorov, hung on each mark of the theodolite move. Together with frost-resistant batteries. A plain gray haze filled the field of view of the device.

      Damn the weather! I swore mentally. It is necessary to quit work and get off. Until it's not too late! It can twist so that then I can not get to CUB. I do not want to hide in a snow hole again!

      Once in my life, I already experienced such a pleasure. I sat in the ravine. Snow covered during a blizzard. Two and a half days. This experience was enough for my whole life. To remember what a Partridge's snow house is. I sat in wet clothes, trembling with cold and damp. Constantly poured a hole in the snow mass for breathing. All the time I had to fiercely struggle with drowsiness!

      An hour later I gave up. Packed in a canvas cover theodolite. I arranged and drove into the hard crust the sharp tips of a metal tripod. I put the theodolite logbook in my pocket and put my feet into the ski mounts.

      I was annoyed. More than an hour – stood! The guys during this time managed to go three kilometers ahead. If not more! And CUB dragged to the end of the breakdown. Now they are standing on a small pond and waiting.

      Snow on the Taimyr Peninsula is not at all the same as on the mainland. This snow is hard. Shoveled a hundred times, endless blizzards. Caked and frozen from frost in a strong crust. Skis do not slide on the crust. Because crust is very hard, like sandpaper.

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