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Welcome to a vault

Attendants of Sacred Trinity Church showed the subsoil of the legendary temple

To experience the atmosphere of Sacred Trinity Church, it is necessary to know about it as little as possible. It is desirable, in general anything to know: the fact that in the thirties the last century executed the father, that in the temple cinemas twisted and showed concerts of national amateur performance, having made the temple Red October recreation center, the fact that once mighty temple lost the head — the magnificent dome. Even for a while to forget about the pig-iron plate at foundation of the temple where old Slavic letters engrave date of laying of the base. Here so, with devstvenno net reason and heightened senses it is necessary to approach the temple and just to watch some time for it …

— Eh, you are not afraid to be soiled? — skeptically glancing at the appearance, the father Mikhail as if waits for the negative answer not to conduct in the legendary vault of the temple.

— No, I am not afraid, you will show? — still I do not trust the happiness.

The father Mikhail grunted and ordered to follow him — the step to the step. We come into the temple, hasty I outline the scarf — traditions should be honored even if last time was in the temple in the far childhood. We pass by utility rooms, the pile of things for persons in need, we approach to the small ordinary-looking door.

Behind it — the ladder. In the temple is much colder, than on the street — walls thickness in meter heat up badly, narrow windows almost do not pass sunshine. Before us — the metal hatch with the impressive lock …

Legends of bilimbayevsky vaults went intriguing. On one of versions, of the cellar of the Sacred and Troitsk temple to the house of the priest conducted quite long underpass (to our measures — several hundred meters) height in the human growth which is laid out by the brick with the pig-iron candlesticks which are screwed in in walls. Allegedly underground the course forked, and branch went to the house of the managing director of Stroganovsky plant. Now on the former building of the managing director two plates. The first says that in the house the scientist Dmitry Mendeleyev, the second — that in this building the first factory cell of VKPB was organized worked. Unlike the Demidovsky estate tragic stories do not soar in Nevyansk where from Demidov' house to the Inclined tower, on the legend, also conducted the underpass: nobody started up on the underpass water flow to flood the vault in which workers minted false silver coins (on Anatoly Gusev's materials in the Uraloved magazine).

— Waterlogs on spring sometimes, happens — as if the father Mikhail reads my mind — but this year it was lucky — snow a little, we do not wait for floods.

The hatch conducting in the vault with the scratch swings open. Under the law of the genre It is necessary to tell what napakhnut dampness and blew softly the ancient vault, but it not so: blew softly nothing, napakhnut nothing. Before us perfect darkness — without uniform gleam opened.

— And there lighting is? Can take candles with itself? Or small lamp?

— There will blow — drafts in the vault, it will not turn out with candles, the small lamp is necessary. So, zaboyalas, you will not go? — the father Mikhail answers.

Confess that on became terrible so much on how many it is interesting, it was a shame therefore just shook the head and began to go down — on the abrupt metal ladder.

Gradually eyes began to get used to darkness, having groped phone, included the small lamp — vaulted arches of the church cellar were almost touched by neither dampness, nor time. The earth floor, pieces of the split bricks, in walls — narrow outlets.

— And where course? — I begin to look around.

The father Mikhail takes by hand and brings to the immured wooden door:

— Here it.

— And further — the course?

— Legends different go: who says that the course is, who — that inventions all this. You ask local historians — then will tell. And I as am I will tell — we will look who knows the truth.


Under impression of codes of the church vault, the photographer Anna Nevolina, walking upstairs up, dropped the camera. Equipment cost several tens of thousands of rubles, having diligently jumped up on each step, came to be on the stone plate.

— Oh — slightly turned gray Ania exhaled.

Any scratch, any chip — the camera as though did not fall at all though the lens had to die even after the first contact with steps.

— The glory to you, My God — said Ania in low tones and timidly looked around.