Indiana Andrushenko and the Chianti Sun Cycle

Pursuing the assailant into the enormous and empty cathedral Indiana made immediately for the stairwell. This wound up 463 concrete steps and besides his own heart beating he thought he could hear footsteps ahead of him. Closing the gap by taking the stairs two and three at a time he turned the tight wind of stairs to catch a glimpse of the source of the pounding noise; just a lowly security guard. He hadn't seen anything so Indy squeezed past to reach the ringed observatory just beneath the frescoed ceiling. Nobody was here except the painted angels so he scrambled further still to the final flight of steps. Bursting onto the roof he found himself dazzled by the morning daylight beaming onto the orange clay roofs a hundred metres below. When his pupils dilated he confirmed that he was the only one atop the cupola while Florence slowly woke below him. Due to the low density of pedestrians in the piazza below he was able to detect the culprit forcefully stealing a bicycle and setting off toward the Roman gate. Just as Indy was wondering how the escape from an enclosed dome had been possible with only one way down he discovered another way down - a rappelling rope was hooked on the lip of the gutter. Rather than risk it himself he descended the stairs in a hurry, pushing past the first of the paying tourists who were making their way up without any idea how close they had come to a madman.

Procuring a bike for himself (with a promise to return it) he had a pretty good idea of where the fleeing man was headed and set out to catch him. Snarled traffic in the city centre made the flexibility of the chosen means of transportation a decided benefit, allowing him to exit the city walls in short time. From there the ride became trickier as the climbing began immediately. In fact the first few uphill kilometres were nothing compared with what was to come. Ordinarily an avid cyclist Indiana could feel the rust in his legs from months off of his beloved bike due to extensive travel away from home on assignment in recent months.

After the first forty kilometres he began to feel his thighs burn on the extended climbs through the hills of Tuscany. There was no time to waste though so except short pauses to reconfirm his tracking information he forged onward. Not much later his reconnaissance instructed him to veer off the paved roads and into the forested trails. It became transparent almost immediately that the path was mountain-bike-only and the bike he had was decidedly not a mountain bike. Alas he had to work with the tools at hand and rumbled over the boulders and through the mud as best as he could. Near the river he lost the scent and was instructed to return to the original route. To his consternation this required him to redo a long climb he had completed prior to the sidebar. If that one hurt it was the seven continuous kilometres up into the Chianti mountains that followed which really took its toll; 10° and 12° inclines are no easy task.

Down the other side he was sure he would narrow the gap as he flew like gangbusters. Every muscle in his body tensed, down to his hands wrapped lightly on the handbrakes in case they were warranted, as gravity fed his velocity into and out of the winding turns. Vineyards were a leafy blur, insects met a sudden end on his face. The route led him through cute Tuscan villages but there were more important objectives at hand than sightseeing.

In the end all signs pointed back to Firenze; over 110km, not including the 90 minute offroad jaunt, seemingly all up hill but obviously breaking even as he began where he started. Not exactly where he had started though, for the pursuit ended dramatically in the Piazza del Michelangelo. As the sun burned out on the bridges and the dome where it had all begun nearly 11 hours earlier Indiana finally got his man.

Indiana Andrushenko and the Snowblind Pass - A Dramatic Continuation

Be sure to first read the opening segment of the story of the snowblind pass before continuing here.

..he didn't think he could possibly go on and began to plot his route back out of this frigid notch.

Yet as this played through his head he eventually got back to the start where he would have to explain his failure. No, this was his only opportunity, he resolved and he could not stand to have wasted so much time only to give up and turn back. Thus he pushed on, breaking the remaining distance into small, more manageable chunks as the entire climb looked too daunting as a whole. Ever so slowly he plodded, settling upon a methodical but slow strategy to avoid his body sinking by step as it seemed to do without warning - sometimes one in 5 paces but then other times five paces in a row, only his crotch preventing him from plunging further. This method was to stomp to create a platform, pause then push off of the platform. It wasn't foolproof, as the platform could still give way and he'd end up freeing his leg only by pushing out with his frozen hands, but it seemed to reduce the frequency of this. Surely he made progress to the next junction and the clouds even parted to briefly warm his head and light the path of previous snowslides that had petered out in the valley around him.

Judging to be approximately halfway up the snowy pass, although this could not be verified for the very top was still obscured from view (and he retained blind faith that it would be passable) Indy stopped for lunch. As if destined the sun also showed itself for the first sustained time since base level. As he munched his outlook grew cheerier and though there was still plenty of snow to cover he began to think he might just be able to do it. Then he heard it - a rumble that seemed to be all around him. Searching the cliff tops nearby he vainly attempted to identify the source but all looked still. Just to his side a few snowballs rolled down serenely, no doubt loosened by the warmth of the persistent sun but definitely not creating that gut-tightening noise. With a sick feeling he turned to look at the cliffs directly above where he was sat, wary that a rush of snow could be hurtling toward him from an unidentified source, ready to wash him from his perch and down the rocky edge he'd carefully climbed to get there. It was beyond the top and from behind a cloud that the source finally presented itself as a jet plane cruised overhead. With a sigh of relief he packed his lunch and began moving on again.

The film version of this adventure would show a montage of young Indiana toiling in the white, slipping repeatedly and stopping often to catch his breath and survey his ever-slowing progress. Not until practically to the end of the visible route up did the top present itself and though it looked reasonable what lay beyond was anybody's guess. The final metres took ages with dead tired, frozen legs lifting sopping wet boots methodically one after the other. Finally he reached what looked to be a massive snow drift and when he stood upon it and peered into the unknown he went snow blind. All he could see was grey and all he could think as the minutes passed was how it had taken him nearly seven hours to reach this point and now there was no going forward and no going back.

Still stood at the summit in an instant the foggy cloud that has encompassed him passed to reveal a glorious scene. As far as the eye could see the the snow spread away down a narrowing chute, and to Indiana's supreme pleasure it was at a degree he could manage on foot. Taking it all in only long enough to compose a plan of attack, attack he did! The sun had come out to play and so had he so his quick steps soon became step and leap, and step and leap. This would last until a leg got trapped in the snow behind him leaving him awkwardly splayed in snowy splits with a dumb grin on his face. This was well and good until both legs were momentarily trapped before letting go sending him hurtling forward where he managed to turn his back just before impact to skid on his shoulders and pack. A minute later though he let his guard down and the same happened without the turn resulting in an ice pellet face plant.

As the pitch and the composition of snow changed so did his approach. A cross country ski style resulted in something like stunted skiing, while a tuck such that he was nearly seated on his heels almost worked as a slide. What did work on the properly packed spots was succumbing to the inevitability that he would be fully soaked and sitting with his legs rigid straight out in front of him. If he caught it right these served remarkably well as a toboggan where he would gather speed until he slammed into an accumulated snow boulder from a previous snowslide, or his sore leg muscles cramped and he could no longer retain rigidity. Actually there was one other instance where he bailed from a slide, this was after a very long distance indeed when he noticed the snow around him accumulating and could not see what was to come over the next hump. It was reminiscent of the boulder landslide in the Zoodochos Pigi adventure as he dug his heels in to pull up just in time to watch as the snow around him plummeted over the edge.

Progress, he noted with delight, was significantly better than climbing up the other side, naturally. As the sun continued to shine he continued plodding downwards, sliding wherever possible. Eventually the snow thinned and rocks began to show through again until finally it was no more. On a rock in the mostly dry mountain stream bed he seated himself to soak in the rays to his soaking garments and eat what remained of his snacks. It was during this break that he made two significant discoveries. The first was that he was way off course, nowhere near actually. The second was that everything in his pack was drenched. With his only clean undergarments dangling off him to dry, he carried on a mostly unmentionable route carefully lowering himself down the crumbly and slick when wet (most everywhere) limestone riverbed. When he deemed it appropriate Indy cut into the mossy forest which eventually let out into a glorious meadow on the other side. The only activity of interest between the sun disappearing beyond the next mountain ridge (but before actual sunset) and when he arrived at his prize was nearly stepping upon a coiled venomous snake. Indiana hates snakes.

Indiana Andrushenko and the Snowblind Pass

As arranged, his driver met him before there was even time to break fast. The transfer went without a hitch, even with the driver consumed in conversation while manoeuvring around gravelly hairpin corners with doomed drops a mere sneeze away. A puttering motor boat was waiting at the prescribed location and Indy jumped aboard without hesitation. For three hours they navigated the narrows with mammoth mountains, vibrant green in colour due to their spring budding trees, shooting straight up on either side of the highlighter blue waters. At the end of the lake both Indy and driver loaded into a clumsy orange vehicle to the nearest town centre. Further still was the departure point for his latest treasure hunt and following a confrontation with a spy wishing to cut himself a large slice of the spoils in exchange for a lift to the map's beginning, he struck a much fairer deal with a friendly native.

When he finally arrived and began asking about his destination all of the locals became grim which Indy found perplexing. When pressed they would say "the path is closed due to snow" but to his Canadian brain those two phrases cancelled each other out as if they had said nothing and he continued to stare at them expectantly. Finally he found a quiet but well-informed man from the area who, with furtive glances around, retrieved a tattered old map and pointed out the way all the while emphasising the potential follies and warning that even he was not comfortable traversing it in these snowy conditions. Indiana thanked the man who continued to express doubt as they parted. With all of this information to digest he supped and studied the vague map with great intrigue, willing more details to appear, before retiring early.

Cracking at dawn he ate heartily to store energy for the trek to come. Over breakfast an elder related that only a local with a dying grandmother on the other side would attempt what he was about to attempt which somehow buoyed his spirits, interpreting that it was possible! With this in mind he set off with a mixture of excitement and dread. Early into his journey he discovered he was without his ever-important hat and sprinted across field and yard to retrieve it and be back on his way. Fortunately a rival treasure hunter passed and happened to be headed in the same direction on a different journey so they struck a truce and Indy received a short lift to the wooden bridge. This evened out the lost time for the hat - time that, although it was early now he worried may prove to be of utmost importance on the other end of his journey.

An hour more passed hiking down the marked path until it ended abruptly. This had been anticipated but none of the reconnaissance had instructed him which of the endless options to follow next. He traipsed the hillsides next to the barren river bed but could not ascertain a marker and peering up at the gigantic peaks looming over him did not offer any further indication as to how he was supposed to traverse them to the other side. Doubt crept into his mind; if he couldn't even find the start of the trail how was he supposed to complete such an arduous and demanding trek? Each time he tripped, slipped or met another dead end his confidence diminished.

Verging on despair he sat atop a rock to study his map and then recalled a shoddy map he had received prior. There was one key difference, for this one showed a minor trail running alongside the river. Cutting down toward it he did indeed find a track which he followed for some time with a touch of hope. When he did finally spot a marking he had been expecting he nearly leapt with joy and relief. This track carried on for some time until it reached the beginning of the climb, presumably all the way over the kilometre vertical rise and down the other side. 

While donning his invisible shielding he peered up in the direction of a noise like a jet engine and watched as snow gathered itself and launched unabashedly over cliff's edge and down the mountainside. Into the forest he began, at first along upward paths like he'd taken nearly every day in preparation for this journey. This was sweat inducing work, so much so that his wristwatch fogged with the effort. In short time patches of snow presented themselves on the route and he cutely sidestepped them in an effort to keep his feet dry. This quickly proved fruitless as the snow overwhelmed and there was no way but through it, yet he was careful to brush the snow out of the tongue of his boot each time his foot slipped deeper than his ankle. Gathering a hiking stick for balance he eventually found himself in a deep snow covered field with coniferous trees on the edges but any of the paths or markings that might guide him were all blanketed. Trudging up to his lower shins now after a short time he spied a landmark from his gathered information however it was well off and up toward a seemingly impenetrable mountain peak. Seeing no other option he moved towards it until along the way another landmark pushed him in an opposing direction which seemed more feasible and he followed that with the snow getting noticeably deeper. Utilising his stick he would dig it in and then step carefully but even still his foot would sink knee deep from time to time.

As he emerged from the woods the real mountain pass presented itself in all its terror before him. Truthfully it wasn't all of its terror for although the steep, snowy way up was foreboding the true summit could not yet be seen around a cliff.

He set forth to cross the first field and found it outrageously demanding work. Often his foot would sink too deep into the snow to step off from, even sliding right down to his hip without ever touching bottom on increasingly frequent occasion. By the time he reached the other side of field one his walking stick had sunk right to his red hand a number of times and he was out of breath which was especially troubling when considering how little progress he had made. Being at the edge of the pass and the foot of a rocky cliff he decided on an attempt to climb rather than hike in the deep snow. Hucking his stick aside he preferred to use the familiar branches of the noble pine trees which he knew due to their flexibility would only bend but not break, even under the full weight of his body. Despite pine assistance the going was slow as the rocks beneath the mounded snow were both slick and steep. After far too long he reached the end of this particular ridge and stopped both to slow his clamouring heart and survey the onward journey. A cold wind swept down behind him, for the sweat of the forest had long since frozen, and made the already bleak outlook only that much worse. He had traversed a seemingly negligible portion to the top, a less steep portion, he noted dourly. With so much of him already spent he couldn't possibly go on and began to plot his route back out of this frigid notch.

Indiana Andrushenko and the Escape from Zoodochos Pigi

Indy had surmised that it had been to penetrate Zoodochos Pigi, the ancient Grecian mountaintop life-giving spring temple, so he was not surprised when the alarm was raised. Surveying his surroundings there was no chance he could retrace his steps down the beaten path so he looked over the other side of the peak. Thinking fast he broke hastily for the foreboding cliff's edge in order to circumvrent the known military stronghold. With rose-coloured glasses he imagined a way along down to the coast, and carried forth into the field of stones, shrubs and greenery. These proved difficult obstacles and the progress was further impeded by the thorns of the bushes and the obscene amount of spiders in them. "At least it's not snakes," he grimaced after wiping the umpteenth web from his face. Prospects did not improve around the corner as the underbrush thickened and the angle of the cliff grew more acute. He found himself wobbling at the edge of the precipice time and again just managing to reel in his momentum and plot the next few metres. The going was so tough that the route needed altering nearly constantly. Impossibly far below him was the sea and his awaiting onward voyage under strict instruction to leave in less than an hour, with or without him. Bushes morphed into trees with brittle yet strong pointed branches stubbornly growing tangled, close to the ground. Worse yet the drops were becoming ever more steep and required both hands and feet to stay upright until finally Indiana was faced with a vertical climb. He originally dismissed it as impassible but having peered all around deemed it the only choice. So difficult was it that he dared not attempt the traverse with his precious cargo pack to disrupt his balance. After careful consideration he hucked it straight down the ledge where it thwacked into a tree with a sickening series of cracks. Moments later he set about doing his best not to follow suit. With his literal back against the wall he carefully considered each hold, each step. Painstakingly slowly with surviving outweighing catching the boat he lowered himself from rock to rock. Arriving to his bag he couldn't help but utter "nice catch" as he disentangled the straps. One cliff face down but he was still dangerously close to the edge and the undergrowth unrelenting, now with vicious, gnarly, thorned vines ripping at his clothes. A glance at his watch coincided the first drops of rain and he allowed the water to lubricate his passage as he increased the pace. That is until a new near-vertical drop presented itself as the only means out. He glanced back but knew going up was out of the question and struggled to push the thought of being stuck on this exposure out of his head. He had to focus on the task at hand and negotiate the crumbling cliff face. Only having lowered himself partway down this new climb, in a precarious position, did he appreciate just how damning the rain was on these slick rocks. Having just utilised a foothold he noticed a crack in the large boulder and with terrifying ease broke it free from the cliff into free fall. The length of time that it could be heard crashing through everything in its path as it fell further and further was alarming. Somehow he avoided that fate and allowed himself just a moment's glance back at what he'd traversed. But forward he must go! Thrashing through the bushes now he no longer noticed the tearing at his clothes, the water in his eyes or the blood trickling from his hands - for those sharp bushes that had disgruntled him at the start of the descent now provided handfuls of thorny leaves to brace himself from falling. Yet fall he did, countless times, as boulders rolled, branches broke or feet slipped but never was it a fall he couldn't recover from with his mind firmly locked on its goal now.
Breaking free from the bushes a new challenge presented itself - a valley of loose rocks and boulders running quickly down and away. With trepidation he took the first few steps slowly but as the rocks slid and rolled out from beneath his feet he had no choice but to carry himself along as best he could in the mini landslides he was creating. If not for the fear of having a foot crushed or ankle snapped he may have found this to be a fun experience. It was, he noted grimly, the best progress he had made all trek. After a few hundred metres of this he pulled up as the rocks in front of him rolled over yet another cliff. "Not out of the woods yet," he thought - and not for the first time that day. This drop was no easier than the previous ones and with no less dire consequences for a mistake so he summoned his strength, not wanting to lose focus now having come so far with a glimmer of hope just below. At the foot of this he exalted and ripped through the last long wall of bush that no longer phased him and in minutes he was free. Reviewing his path down the mountain looming over him he couldn't believe it but somehow he was on a relatively flat dirt path running shortly to the sea. With no time to lose he covered this distance and in the rain he stripped his outer gear and dove into the cold Aegean sea just in time to catch his connection out of there.

Indiana Andrushenko and the Conclusion of the Marble Cave

The beginning of the tale may be found here.

Your fitless protagonist promised to reinstate the Quest for the Marble Cave replete with the newly ascertained information regarding its whereabouts, thus, not two days removed from the previous search, he set out again. The morning was even sunnier than on the previous adventure and the temperature warmer still, forcing the man to regulate well as he achingly pushed upward along the long ascent of the steep mound which was promised to hold the jewel of his desire. Pressed for time he took merely one miraculous hour to crest the mountain and was delighted with the progress that the sweat of his brow had accomplished. As indicated by the marauding couple the entrance appeared - they proved not to be deceitful after all!

Alas the prize still alluded him as guarding the entrance were keepers of the cave. When he approached they outrightly refused him, citing a host of unacceptable excuses to deny him this victory. Surely he could reason with them! But the negotiations did not prove fruitful. Eventually he offered them a bounty to allow his entrance but they still refused without justification, muttering only apologies. He had not come this far to be quelled by a resistant troll and pressed further, reiterating the significance of the discovery and the hardships he had endured just to be standing on that spot. Through unending charm and wit he eventually swayed them and they relented, swinging the gate wide for his entrance. Inside were amazing sights that one must literally see to believe. The depths of the caverns breathtaking, and the height of the stalagmites astounding, while the length of the stalactites incredible. However the discovery to make it all worthwhile was the nearly wholly preserved skeleton of a mammoth that lay awe-strikingly in one of the many rooms of this truly magical cave. In true celebratory style they toasted not only this beast but also this heroic quest with the nectar of the land.

Indiana Andrushenko and the Marble Cave

Raved about by legend and locals alike, the strapping young lad sets off for the Marble Cave apparently located high in the mountains outside Alushta. Having pieced together partial information about its whereabouts he is cautiously optimistic he will discover what has been described as magical but he will not rest until this is personally verified. Local transportation only goes so far before he is dumped unceremoniously roadside with little more than scraps of a map in his head based on written accounts, and determination. Stocking up on supplies (read:biscuits) he bucks the proffered taxi and sets off into the small village under the noon sun with crisp conditions. All canine attacks rebuffed the start of the journey is without incident along the dusty road until a royal purple vehicle approaches from behind and slows. A lift seems to be offered and cunning as he is he accepts in order to save energy for the tasks to come. Only minutes down the road the free ride ends and once again he is in the open air. Locals approached are either excellent liars not willing to disclose the majestic whereabouts to a foreigner or imbeciles.

A stroke of luck would come in the form of a beguiling English-speaking woman whom he befriends and through careful discussion is given not only initial directions but a head start as she walks him to a trailhead. As instructed he enters the forest where the ascent begins and steadily rises first to the ground where snow still lies then past the treeline before finally plateauing. The journey, he knows, is far from over.

Strides across the open field are interrupted by photographic documentation of the route for explorers to come but as the adventurer continues without finding his prize this effort becomes dangerously wasteful. The only sign of humanoid life comes from the abandoned vehicle on the sole mud-caked road that he traverses as he presses on. Now above the clouds, following nearly three hours of trekking, one might think that the stupendous views would be prize enough but he has bigger things on his mind.

Finally the path breaks away, down into a shadowy valley, and he hypothesises that if there were to be a near-mythical cave the entrance would be here. Alas all that he finds are snow and mud drenched pant cuffs and cutting his losses he climbs straight up and out.

Daylight is waning, threatening his determination, but his will is strong and he forges on with only a vague, haunting, dark thought of a night alone in the mountains stuffed deep in the back of his mind. Then he hears it! Voices. Weighing his options he concludes the potential glory outweighs the potential downfall and calls out. And again. Silence..

Undeterred he makes for the highest point and obvious peak, serendipitously the same presumed direction as the unanswering voices. Then he spots movement, first one and then another, and waves a greeting. Valuable leads are at stake. Cutting a beeline for the couple they firstly are able to communicate and secondly seem to know of the location. Tormenting your hero they only agree to assist him if he first leads them to the nearby precipice. Although it appears a simple endeavour their careful steps and hence sluggish progress serve to render the man further frustrated with the lack of progress. Once his end of the bargain is finally taken care of, being an honest fellow, he expects corresponding payment but is disappointed to hear them refuse, citing a lack of remaining daylight (without mention of their prolonged summit). They do however agree to provide details, and even show him the route via the apparently-not completely deserted vehicle seen earlier. Without option he accepts this agreement and with their knowledge imparted, including a return trip to the village, he resigns to return another day. It has been a full day, much of it spent relentlessly hiking with little, or potentially nothing to show for it, but the dream of the Marble Cave is too alluring to relinquish that easily and he vows that the search will continue..