Lake Kaindy: A Tale of the Sunken Forest

Long ago—whether long or not so long, no one can say now—a mighty forest stood in these mountains. A clear blue river ran through the rocky gorge, its banks guarded by ancient firs. Year after year passed, and nothing seemed able to disturb the order of life.
Then came a winter morning remembered by the green giants for its dreadful, alien silence. The sun rose, the sky was high and clear, the mountain peaks shone white, yet the hush was unlike anything they had ever known. The forest stirred uneasily, branches whispering.
Suddenly the earth shuddered once, then again. A low roar swept through the valley. Stones tumbled from the cliffs, soil and snow collapsing with them. The forest itself began to move—the birches bent so far their crowns brushed the ground. With a long groan, an ancient fir toppled, tearing its roots from the earth.
And then, as swiftly as it had begun, the madness ended. When the white dust settled, the valley was changed beyond recognition. Rock walls had collapsed and blocked the river’s course; the blue waters now whispered faintly beneath the rubble. Many of the old firs lay fallen. Yet the slender birches, so fragile in appearance, had endured—and soon they would give birth to a new forest.
By late spring, when the last snow had melted, it became clear the ancient firs were trapped. The earthquake had sealed the gorge, and the river began filling a new basin. Cold water swallowed the fallen giants; only those that had grown higher on the slopes remained.
Years passed, and this place became known as Lake Kaindy. In Kazakh, its name means “rich with birches,” and indeed birch groves still surround its turquoise shores. Yet the lake’s most striking feature are the firs rising ghostlike from the depths. They do not grow there, of course. The icy water has preserved their trunks, slowing decay. Their upper halves, stripped of bark and branches, gleam pale—like the masts of a sunken fleet resting beneath the surface.
On windless days, the water turns into a flawless mirror, doubling the forest and mountains in a fairytale reflection. Kaindy has become a favorite among travelers, though in high season true solitude is rare. Only at dawn, or by stepping away from the viewing platform and descending to the shallow shore, can one glimpse the drowned trunks below, their tangled roots cradled forever in turquoise silence.