Joined: 13 Aug 2017
|Posted: Sun Aug 13, 2017 10:59 am Post subject: Установка плагинов
|There were three of us in the chum [teepee]--my husband Ivan and I,
and the old man Vasily. Suddenly someone gave our chum a hard jolt. I
was startled, cried out, and woke up Ivan, and we started to climb out
of the sleeping bag. Again someone gave our chum a hard jolt, and we
fell onto the ground. Old man Vasily fell on top of us, as if someone
had tossed him up in the air. There was noise all around, someone was
making noise and banging on the ellyun [the reindeer hide covering of
the chum]. Suddenly it became very light, a bright sun was shining on us
and a strong wind was blowing. Then someone fired a mighty shot, as if
ice was exploding the way it does in the winter on the Katanga, and a
dancing Uchir [tornado] immediately swooped down and grabbed the ellyun,
started to twist it and spin it and then carried it off somewhere. There
was nothing left but the dyukcha [frame of the chum]. I was scared out
of my wits and started to go bucho [lose consciousness]; I saw the Uchir
dancing. I cried out and immediately came back to life. The Uchir dumped
the entire dyukcha on me and banged up my leg with one of the poles. I
crawled out from under the poles and started to cry: the chest with the
dishware had been thrown out of the tent and it was lying far away,
opened and with many of the cups broken.
How To Choose The Right Sleeping Bag For Camping.
I was looking at our forest and
I couldn't see it. Many tree trunks were standing branchless, leafless.
Many, many trunks were lying on the ground. Dry tree trunks, branches,
and reindeer moss were burning on the ground. I looked around and saw
some kind of clothing burning; I walked up and saw that it was our
rabbit-fur blanket and the fur sleeping bag that Ivan and I slept in.
A bright summer night dawned and the fire began to die out. Instead of
heat we started to have cold. We decided to move toward the Katanga. All
around were wonders, horrible wonders. It wasn't our forest. I had never
seen such a forest. It was some kind of alien forest--we had a thick
forest, an old forest. And now in many places there was no forest at
all. On the mountains, all the tree trunks were lying down, and it was
light, and you could see everything off in the distance. But you
couldn't walk through the swamps at the foot of the mountains: some tree
trunks were standing some were lying, some were leaning, some had fallen
on one another. Many tree trunks were burned, and the dried sticks and
moss were still burning and smoking.
SUCH WERE THE RECOLLECTIONS of an Evenk woman named Akulina about the events of July 30, 1908 in the Siberian taiga. Today, one hundred years later, all the eyewitnesses have passed on, yet, thanks to the dedicated work of scholars, we have their first-person accounts--and plenty of people saw and/or heard the strange explosion that resounded in the sky over the Podkamennaya Tunguska River (the headwaters of which Akulina refers to as the Katanga), a place extremely distant from any city or town.
If you can look past the stories which claim that the Tunguska became littered with doppelgangers--clones separated by several kilometers, or that the Evenk god Ogda flew across the sky, there is great similarity in the many accounts. Clearly there was a tremendous rumble; many people thought that an earthquake had begun; in several places, houses much sturdier than Akulina and her husband's chum were shaken and jolted; a bright fire flashed in the sky--some described it as shaped like a sphere, others, like a barrel and still others like a huge, fiery broom.
The fall of the Tunguska meteorite--if this was, in fact, a meteorite--remains one of the most alluring mysteries of the 20th century, and the ranks of those wishing to solve it are growing rather than shrinking. There are countless explanations for what happened--some harebrained, some with a measure of science behind them. Perhaps a giant meteorite smashed into the earth in 1908, or perhaps it was an asteroid or a comet. Perhaps a tremendous gas bubble escaped from local swamps, or perhaps this was the crash of a spaceship from Mars ... And of course the idea that the fire god Ogda may have been chastening people for their defiance has also yet to be disproved.
While each of these versions may have their merits, they all have a little problem. No one has yet formulated a theory that explains all the evidence that has been discovered in the taiga. Unanswered questions always seem to remain; there is always a lingering "but ..." Perhaps this is why there is no end to the number of people involved in trying to finally eliminate all these "buts." Enthusiasts from Krasnoyarsk, physicists from Italy and the United States, authors of fantasy literature, geologists, and astronomers continue to grapple with this puzzle.
The human story behind the Tunguska enigma is no less amazing than the enigma itself. Why, after careers as a forest ranger, surveyor, revolutionary, and soldier, did Leonid Kulik suddenly decide to devote himself to the study of meteorites and organize several expeditions to the taiga between 1927 and 1939, expeditions that collected extensive evidence relating to the events of 1908? What motivated him? Perhaps he believed that the New World that was emerging after the revolution had to open uncharted expanses for knowledge and science? Or maybe in the 1930s the taiga was just a good place to hide--away from the bloody Terror and human wickedness? What did the members of Kulik's expedition talk about around the campfire in 1937--and what were they afraid to talk about? What was foremost on their minds--finding a meteorite or news from home, where their families might disappear without a trace? Or was Kulik simply spellbound by the majestic and mysterious world of the taiga? In addition to his scientific articles, he described his investigation in verse (https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/what-types-sleeping-bags-dave-stenie).
Did Leonid Kulik think of this crater as he lay dying in a German prisoner of war camp in 1942? Amidst the horrors of war, how distant the enigmatic tranquility of the taiga must have seemed.
And why, in the 1930s, was the young engineer and inventor Alexander Kazantsev suddenly gripped with the urge to write his first novel, Flaming Island? In it, a horrifying environmental disaster that threatens the entire planet turns out to be directly related to a cosmic accident involving, in Kazantsev's vision, the wreck of a Martian spaceship over the taiga in 1908.
Kazantsev's book had all the correct ideological trappings, with villainous American capitalists and Japanese spies pitted against Soviet scientists and soldiers. He was true to the party line to the end of his long life, and the novels he published in the 1970s were unbearably dull. But Flaming Island ([TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], which does not seem to have been translated into English) has a certain fascination--however diluted--largely thanks to the Tunguska mystery and to the novel's occasional flashes of inspiration, like the sending of space ships to Mars or the threat of planetary suffocation due to a burning atmosphere.
A new spike in interest in the Tunguska meteorite mystery came with its fiftieth anniversary in 1958. This is understandable. The Soviet system had softened a bit--not enough to allow political freedom, yet it was possible to accept and even romanticize "unusual behavior," escape from workaday life and city air, and, consequently, from official structures and ideologized behavior. This is one reason that one of the most romanticized professions at the time was geology, a pursuit that is not, it would seem, an easy one. The image of the geologist was not of someone elbow-deep in dirt who does not see home for months at a time, but someone who dons a sweater and a long beard, and spends time on expeditions, where he plays his guitar and sings around evening campfires. The very word "expedition"--whether geological, archeological, or paleontological--was captivating. An expedition meant freedom; an expedition meant an unusual, extraordinary life. And an expedition seeking to solve one of the great mysteries of our times was doubly alluring.
It is no coincidence that 1959 was the year that the Integrated Amateur Expedition came into being, an endeavor whose participants to this day are striving to solve the mysteries surrounding the events of 1908. The KSE (as its acronym reads in Russian) is made up of a combination of serious scholars and romantic dreamers, along with, of course, oddballs and ordinary people who simply enjoy backpacking through the taiga. You can laugh at them or shrug your shoulders, or you can admire their patience and persistence. But if you were to see the enthusiasm with which they describe how they lug their backpacks along "Kulik's Trail," as the path to the site of the disaster is now known, you would understand the absence of true mystery in most of our lives.
Maybe it really was Ogda flying over the taiga after all?
The center of the impact I walked all around!
Like a fiery spray of incandescent gasses
And cold bodies
The meteorite smashed into a hollow
With its hills, its tundra, its swamp
And, like a spray of water,
After hitting the smooth surface,
It sent a shower
To all four corners,
And just like that a spray
Of incandescent gasses with a cluster of bodies
Penetrated the earth
And its immediate effect,
As well as
Its explosive reverberation produced
This entire picture of destruction.
Last edited by firosiro on Mon Sep 18, 2017 8:54 am; edited 1 time in total
Joined: 07 Aug 2007
Location: Vinnitsa, Ukraine
|Posted: Sun Aug 13, 2017 11:59 am Post subject:
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