In our area lies an interesting spot that’s practically unknown to tourists: an old mining quarry long transformed into a small but deep lake with steep banks. It’s called Golden Fish — a name it earned about fifteen years ago when a trout farm opened here. Most locals come to fish; my wife and I just come for a walk around the quarry.
The manager’s cabin.
New arrivals are always greeted by cats — and quite a few of them are nicely plump.
An old Toyota, converted into a race car. I’ll explain what it’s doing here a bit later. For now, notice how carefully plastic bags have been tucked under the windshield wipers to keep them from freezing to the glass.
Heading down to the quarry.
A few anglers and their companions.
We peeked into one of the fishing holes too — but saw no golden fish (or trout, for that matter).
A walk in the fresh air is pleasant and healthy any time of year.
The lake sits deep within a birch forest and is almost entirely ringed by birches. But on one side, conifers have somehow started growing along the shore.
It’s always lovely: green trees in the middle of winter.
The quarry’s steep banks don’t go unnoticed by local artists.
Piles of stone — left over from old blasting operations — now give the shoreline a distinctive texture.
Part of the shore is lined with small summer cottages.
And in winter, once the ice freezes more than half a meter thick, they clear tracks here for enthusiasts of drifting on ice.
The ice looks solid and reliable, yet it still cracks into beautiful fractures.
Studded tires leave countless scars across its surface.
I’ve already shared most photos like these in a recent post.
We didn’t wait for that old Toyota to show up on the ice, but I still managed to photograph one of those enthusiasts — though he wasn’t driving on the track, just speeding across the snow.
Where the photos show tall tower cranes, there’s now a large new residential neighborhood. It’s sad but true: the quarry is losing the solitude, rough charm, and quiet beauty that nature only began to give it after people left — and before they came back to build.
That’s the end of our walk. Thank you for reading!
Southern Urals, Russia.
January, 2023.
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