Lost but found

Most of all I adore unknown places, that’s why I decided to go to the “Lost World” – a lonely beach on the southern coast of the Crimea – as soon as I heard about it.
But lost things are not easy to find. As I came to the pier of Balaklava, only a couple of ferrymen from a hundred knew where it was. But they wanted a moon for the trip. As I didn’t have it, I decided to join a group of tourists, who went to the Golden beach, and then go on foot.
I left the boat and ascended a rocky path over the yellow sand and suddenly stepped into drastic and wild but beautiful nature.
Dry air filled the shady tunnel of dark green pines on my way. The sparkling azure sea was sighing some hundred meters under my feet, but I couldn’t hear it because of chirring cicadas that were hiding in the grass and scattering from under my legs as I approached. Sometimes I used all my four limbs to climb. I was breathless while mastering almost upright strips of the road. But stones and roots served me as natural stairs.
I didn’t manage to get to the place the first day. It was dark and I had to overnight right on the path at a very precipice. I fixed my tent to a pine in order not to fall at night.
Next day after a short walk I finally reached the “Lost World”, illuminated by soft shines of the rising sun. It evoked some of my ancestors’ memories that I never had –of half-naked bronzed tribes fighting for life, wild spirits and warm salty water that once we called our home.
I met people there. They were shaggy, brown and had faded clothes. Their confident behavior and calm and exploring eyes – evaluating for a moment and then completely friendly – made me feel no more lost, but suddenly found in their company.
On my way back I ran into a storm. I snatched at the bench of the only boat I could find and got totally wet in a single second. But the captain seemed to know the story of each local stone, so I forgot about the storm and bombarded him with questions.