How Tiny Waterfalls Helped Me to Save My Face
A story from the previous life
It was a pretty easy part of my “fuck-you-covid” 2020 vacation. I left the city where I was staying on a suburban bus, crossed a river on it, and that’s all. A middle-aged watchtower, ruins of a manor estate, and picturesque waterfalls — if we speak about Ukraine, it is strange to find out this could be in its South. These were places of giant tourist potential that will never be implemented.
How scary to realize that all that was so easy has become unreal now. The city I left that morning was Nova Kakhovka. It’s on the left bank of the Dnipro and has been occupied for over two years. The bridge was a dam of Kakhovka HPP that no longer exists. On its own, the river has been a frontline here since November 2022.
I was interested in two villages on both sides of the main road. First, I went to Kozatske, located on the left-hand side, searching for the ruins of Trubetsky palace over the Dnipro bank. I noticed a couple of old buildings that could be a part of the robust princely economy. Especially the second one with neo-gothic windows:
The palace met me with a high fence and closed gate. I checked the perimeter and found a way to penetrate the territory of a neighboring unfinished hotel. From it, I could see more.
But I continued to search and finally saw one more hole in the fence between the palace and hotel yards. Thus, I made the second illegal penetration and got to the goal. The manor complex’s leftovers are the ruins of the palace and one more building (possibly a wing).
One day, I’ll learn to make straight panoramas. Or not.
Kozatske was founded in 1782 by Andrey Osterman, a diplomat and statesman of the Russian Empire. The village got its name in honor of the Cossack (an arm of the Dnipro). The estate passed from the Ostermans to the Orlov-Denisovs and later to the Trubetskoys family.
Prince Peter Trubetskoy planted vineyards and started a winery in 1896. Its success caused the palace’s appearance (in the 1890s or 1909–10). The complex had a big park and ”defensive” walls stylized as castle ones. It is clear that all that wealth lasted only until the Bolshevik coup in 1917.
There used to be a fountain.
An original gate was behind a modern one. I read that the estate was bought in 2008 by the winery owners. They planned to restore the palace, but nothing happened except for the fence around the yard.
These defensive walls, ditches, and towers looked cool in detail. An authentic castle in the steppes had to be just the thing. Now I understand how naive my dreams about it were.
The walls went down to the Dnipro.
The Lordship knew how to please their honorable eyes with beautiful landscapes. So they built a balcony over the river.
A panorama of Nova Kakhovka:
And a lonely cormorant. I saw many of them under the HPP dam but didn’t dare to take photos there.
Standing on the balcony, I could hear the noise of waterfalls. As in Nova Kakhovka, many springs ran to the Dnipro here. Trubetskoy decided to change their course and create these waterfalls. I found a road from the estate to them, but it was also closed by a gate.
One more footpath down started directly from the balcony. It was slippery and almost vertical, and I wore flip-flops, but it wasn’t a question of going down or not. Of course, yes. I have to admit that the flip-flops didn’t withstand, and last few meters, I spectacularly flew through the mud on my ass.
I reached the goal with the caveat that I was dirty like a pig. Morning desolation and bushes helped me: I could take my shorts off and wash them directly in waterfalls. Later, they dried on me — I love summer for such simple resolutions to some problems.
Thus, the waterfalls helped me look clean on my way back. So, the viewpoint is looked at from the bottom:
The waterfalls almost disappeared under the heaps of garbage until local activists didn’t recover this beauty and returned for all to see.
It hadn’t to expect powerful water streams in the steppe. Such tender, weightless streams suit this place much more.
The same gate that didn’t allow me to go down by the good road.
And a few more photos of the threads. Since I reached them so epically.
Luckily, there was a footpath along the river bank, and I went to the main road by it. Crossing the road, I reached another village, Vesele, and its main monument.
It is a Vytautas tower, built at the end of the 14th century. The Dnipro was a border of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. On the other bank, a wild steppe with the threat of Tatar attacks. The appearance of the watchtower was logical here. But Trubetskoy wrote himself into its history too: in his time, it was recovered, got one more floor, and turned into the water tower.
It successfully survived until the beginning of the 21st century.
I could look inside through the bars. There were traces of alien civilizations.
The only functioning thing in Trubetskoy’s manor was the winery, which was located deeper in Vesele. To my shame, I didn’t donate to its welfare. I’m neutral to wines and didn’t believe they’d make an excursion for one person. At least I could go into their souvenir store… but I only took some photos from afar.
And a couple of photos of the Kakhovka HPP. From afar as well.
It was a protected object, so it was forbidden to take photos. There was a footpath over the dam, so I decided to go back to Nova Kakhovka by it. I didn’t want to make acquaintances with the guards or police officers, so I forgot about my camera near the dam and while passing it.
Three and half years have passed since that day. In July 2023, the Vytautas tower was still alive but with cracks after many explosions near it. The winery was strongly damaged by shellings and robbed during the Russian occupation.
Kozatske and Vesele were liberated in November 2022, but they have been under permanent bombing over since. The local government admitted these villages no longer exist: there are almost no surviving buildings, and infrastructure is destroyed.
And you may have heard about the Kakhovka HPP that exploded on June 6, 2023. Warring parties blamed each other for it. I can only say in this regard that the HPP was built in 1950–56 during the Cold War and had to withstand a nuclear attack. I can’t imagine how it could be ruined by somebody who didn’t have direct access to it… and Russians had.
Day by day, for the world, we’re becoming a reality show and decorations for future museums and memorials. Nobody wonders about a few more dead kids pulled out under the rubbles of one more house ruined by a Russian-Iranian drone. But here, not only people but also nature suffered. We can’t count how many animals drowned after the flooding.
I expected at least outrage about ecology consequences after the explosion, but they were surprisingly sluggish. One thing is pouring soup on the Mona Lisa (for what?), and another is to protest against Russia, where it’s possible to get punched in the face. Eco activists are even more worthless than the Pope is.
Here are two more photos of the HPP as it looked from Nova Kakhovka. Then, it seemed to be immortal.
Oddly enough, the waterfalls have the best chances to survive in this hell. They can even be forgotten and covered with garbage. Once in a better future, somebody will come, clean, and return them for all to see again… Until war doesn’t come here again.
In general, waterfalls are strictly associated with the north for me.
Like in Iceland (by The Travelling Programmer):
Or on Lofotens (by CosmicDancer):
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