Swallow's Nest and Flying Water

Sounds like some unwieldy translation of a Hollywood-funded Chinese martial arts flick? No, the above were the actual names, translated of course, of the day trips we took from Yalta.

Yalta was ringed the main range of the Crimean Mountains, which run roughly parallel to the southern Crimea coast from east to west. Together with the Carpathians in western Ukraine, the Crimean Range is a topographical exception to the largely flat relief in Ukraine. These are part of the larger Alpine fold system, extending from the Pyrenees on the shores of the Atlantic, through the Alps, the Balkan ranges, through the aforementioned Carpathian and Crimean heights and then on to the lofty Caucasus Range on the Caspian shore. The wild beauty of these ranges was created by the collision of the Eurasian Plate and the African and Arabian Plates, a geological rendezvous which still renders the intervening zone susceptible to earthquakes (Turkey) and volcanic activity (Santorini, Vesuvius).

Approaching the Crimean Mountains from the north (as we did from Simferopol which is almost right smack in the centre of Crimea) the slopes rise gradually before falling dramatically towards the Black Sea shoreline. It makes for the arresting natural setting where Yalta finds itself, and provide enough day-trips to last a week. (We opted only for a three-day stay.)

But once out of town nearly all tourist facilities cease to function at this time of the year. Our initial plan was to get a marshrutka to Miskhor, from where a cable-car, on paper daily, ferries visitors to the top of Ay Petri (Saint Peter in Greek). When we got to the station, it looked apocalyptically empty. Our footfalls only disturbed the dead leaves on the ground and caught the attention of four cats which emerged from their hiding places and crept tentatively towards us.

We then re-routed to visit Swallow's Nest, a diminutive cliff-edged castle built in 1911 by a Baltic German oil baron pining for the knightly castles in his homeland. The Italian restaurant which occupies its premises today was closed, as was half the souvenir stalls which lined the path to the structure. There was a trickle of tourists, but by and large we had as usual the whole place to ourselves, barring, yet again, another bevy of rather well looked after cats.

Below: Swallow's Nest and its attendant feline guards.

There was another way up to Ay Petri - by marshrutka from the bus station. And that was precisely what we had in mind the following day. Dawn broke with the peaks obscured behind clouds. Ay Petri would be hidden from us for the rest of the day. We went ahead in its direction in any case, but only as far as Uchan-su Waterfall. Marshrutka 30 ran the distance between Yalta and Ay Petri, but unlike the frequent services which ply the coastline, this particular marshrutka only ran six times a day. Not wanting to wait an hour and a half for the next service, we opted for a taxi instead. There, back and 30 minutes' waiting for a hundred hrvynias.

Uchan-su translates from Tatar as flying water. 95 metres high, it tumbles down one of Ay Petri's craggy haunches. On a frigid winter's day, we saw only frozen water. It was a special sight nonetheless, almost like a cathedral of ice, Gothic in stature, Gaudi-esque in detail. At first were concerned a half-hour offered us wouldn't be sufficient (our driver said plainly a half-hour extension would cost us 20 hrvynias - make of that what you will). Turned out it was, though we'd have liked to take our time. The falls were only a five minutes' walk from the car park. Saturday brought with it its customary weekend crowd, which rather congested the already narrow viewing area. There was to be no off-season bonus of solitude this time round.

Below: pretty gushed at frozen flying water.

In our three years together thus far, Mary has been (indefatigably, I must add) chasing all sorts of waterfalls with me. We've seen wide ones, narrow ones, tall ones, short ones, melodious ones, raucous ones, even dry ones. (You can ask her about that dry one, the relish grows with every subsequent retelling.) Uchan-su adds to the collection - liquid ones, solid ones.