As I sit down to write this posting, some days after our hike, it feels more like winter than fall. A cold wind came in this afternoon, whipping classroom curtains and keeping kids inside at recess. Now it's a steady and cold rain, no doubt flooding Almaty's severely lacking sewer system. I have to admit, the Oregonian in me loves it when it rains here, which really isn't all that much anyway, so I make sure to really soak it in when it does. When I uploaded these photos I got a sudden sense of nostalgia for fall, as if it were already gone. But with snow in the forecast for Friday, maybe it was the last nice weekend until next spring.
I had been out to the Russian Orthodox Monastery last spring and the scenery was stunning with plum blossoms. I had wanted to get back there this fall and see how the colors had changed, but just after arriving back to Almaty I heard about a 16 murder massacre that had just happened in the park. It was closed for a long time but had recently reopened and a bunch of folks from the school were going out there, so I joined too.
Dachas (summer houses) dot the hills. We never did see a road or driveway leading to any of them, only trails.
Can I live here please?
Apples trees were everywhere along the trail. These were tiny, only a bit bigger than a gold ball.
Alyona and Viktor. Viktor has become our go-to guy for outdoor activities. I hadn't met his wife before, but she is just as humble and kind-hearted as Viktor. I enjoyed chatting with them on the trail, and of course Viktor shared tea at lunch.
Outside the sanctuary...take off your shoes, put on a pair of slippers.
See the bells in the window?
The ridge just above the monastery offered sweeping views of valleys and mountains.
This road along the ridge goes on and on, connecting ridge to valley, and ridge to valley.
Wild rosehips. Alyona plucked one and bit into it, only to immediately spit it out again. She looked at me a bit embarrassed and apologized. "Bitter", she said.
Viktor and Alyona.
Tiny and sour wild apples.
Back at the trail head we shook the trees for the few remaining apples on bare branches. I emptied my backpack of layers and water bottles and filled it instead with the last fruits for the season.
