Essay
The «SHUM» Center is located in the village of Donskoye, on the slope of the Filinskaya Bay. We were housed in modular cabins—the camp is designed for 360 people and is considered temporary because permanent buildings for 500 people are planned for the site. The first large-scale event took place here on August 12, 2025, and we arrived shortly after. On the second day, Dasha pulled out her camera and announced that we were filming the vlog, «Descent to the Sea in Five Stops.» There were four of us, and each of us took on a role: Dasha was the camera operator, Timur was the host, I was the sound engineer with a pole microphone, and Mark handled the props and jokes.
The first stop was by the last cabin, where the camp paths end and the slope begins. Timur stood in front of the camera with a serious expression and introduced us as the «expedition to the uncharted sea.» Mark immediately handed him a banana, which he had taken from breakfast, instead of a microphone. The guys mentioned that the «SHUM» forum was expected to host fifteen hundred people in 2026, and Timur spontaneously came up with an intro: «Fifteen hundred media personalities on one slope, and we’re first.» We had to shoot the take four times because Mark kept laughing in the frame.
At the second stop, halfway down the slope, the incline turns, and the camp disappears from view. The Filinskaya Bay is called one of the most picturesque spots in the Kaliningrad region, but for a while, all around us were just grass, pine trees, and wind. We decided to film a trailer in the style of a disaster movie: Dasha lay on the ground filming from below, I hissed into the microphone about the «last signal connection, ” Mark waved branches in the background, and Timur walked toward the camera with a dramatic air. The connection genuinely went out, which made the shot even more authentic.
There are several dozen steps on the descent. At the third stop, we held a competition: Dasha filmed in fast motion while Timur and I counted them aloud and debated who could descend faster. We lost count around the second ten and started counting again; then we lost count again. Mark suggested counting in different languages, and we then ran down to the rhythm of „uno, dos, tres“ and „ein, zwei, ” depending on what everyone knew. After half the slope, the water came into view ahead. We stopped, and for the first time during the journey, the camera paused: Dasha simply let the image hold in the frame without commentary.
The fourth stop was at the threshold where the stairs ended. Instead of wood and trampled earth, there was sand with fine gravel; the wind picked up, and we had to zip up our jackets. We placed the camera on a backpack and shot a wide view: four figures crossing the boundary between the steps and the sand in turn. Timur called it the «ceremony of opening the beach» and solemnly cut an imaginary ribbon made of seaweed.
The fifth stop was right at the shore. A guy from Kazan, who was following us with his camera, confirmed that the center is called the «staircase of growth» from participant to professional, and the best graduates are offered internships. We immediately recorded a humorous interview: Timur asked Mark if he was ready for an internship, and Mark replied that he still needed to live through it, in the meantime, he would be collecting pebbles and searching for amber. Afterward, we held a competition for the flattest stone for «pancakes.» I won: four jumps. Dasha found a shard of sea glass and shot a close-up of it against the waves.
The walk back was longer and tiring, but we started editing on the go: Dasha was cycling through takes on the camera screen, and we laughed the whole way down the slope at Mark with a banana. The center operates year-round, and the slope can be traversed in both calm and stormy weather. The 6.45-hectare territory is designed to accommodate up to 12,000 young people annually, which means this descent will be filmed many more times, but we are the pioneers. Our vlog clocked in at seven minutes, and we already agreed to repeat the descent at the next gathering.
Seven Minutes to the Baltic
The Don echoed with the raw Baltic wind, which challenged our media credibility right at the threshold. The camp, situated on the slope of Filinskaya Bay, was lined with modular, matchbox-like cabins, arranged with the careful hand of a giant. It was designed for 360 people and was intended to be temporary; in the distance loomed the frames of a 500-person facility that would be completed in a couple of years. The first large-scale event here took place on August 12, 2025, and we arrived afterward—sleepy and important—like guests on the second day of a wedding.«Listen, ” Dasha squinted, hoisting her camera onto her shoulder as if it were a heavy rifle, „we have one bright day before evening check-in, eleven percent battery, and not a single shot. We’re shooting ‘Descent to the Sea in Five Stops.’“
„Who’s paying?“ Mark asked lazily, pulling a banana from his pocket, a snack smuggled from breakfast.
„The Motherland, ” Timur replied solemnly. „And my hundred followers.“
„Ninety-eight, ” I corrected, awkwardly holding the microphone on a stick resembling an unsuccessful fisherman’s rod. „Two unfollowed yesterday.“At the last cabin, where the camp paths gave way to the hillside, Timur declared us an „expedition to the uncharted sea“ with a stone face. Mark immediately bowed and handed him the banana instead of the microphone. Timur didn’t even flinch—he brought the „microphone“ to his lips, nodded with dignity, and launched into an interview with the banana, which maintained a respectable silence. The take had to be repeated four times because Mark laughed so hard that even the pine tree in the background seemed to shake. Between takes, breathless, Timur announced that the „SHUM“ forum in 2026 would host fifteen hundred people, „and we will be the first to descend here.“
Midway down the slope, the incline turned, and the camp dissolved into the grass like sugar in tea. The cove is known as one of the most picturesque in the Kaliningrad region, but at that moment, there were only rustling pines and the wind whistling in our ears. We decided to film a trailer for a disaster movie: Dasha flattened herself on the ground, while Mark, borrowing a few branches from the bushes, furiously swung them in the background like an orchestra of lumberjacks. I sinisterly whispered into the microphone about the «last transmission signal.» And then the connection genuinely cut out. Dasha paled, looking at the screen where the battery life had shrunk to six percent, and Timur couldn’t help himself; he told her that «a real operator shoots even without batteries.» We stared at each other for a long time, like two cats on the same cushion. To avoid interfering, I quickly scampered down a few steps and returned with flushed cheeks, and for some reason, everyone decided I had found the way out.
There were dozens of steps, and at the third stop, we turned the staircase into a race. Dasha captured us in slow motion while Timur and I interrupted each other, counting out loud, and by the second ten, we were stumbling. Then Mark suggested counting in every language we knew, and the slope filled with a mix of «uno, dos, tres» and «ein, zwei, ” causing the birds to fall silent in what seemed like offense. The tension melted like butter on a hot pan, and after halfway up, the forest suddenly opened like a theatrical curtain, revealing water ahead. We froze. The camera dropped for the first time during the entire hike; Dasha simply let the sea sit before her without speaking.
At the threshold, where the steps gave way and the sand mixed with fine pebbles crunched under our boots, the wind whistled louder, and we had to quickly zip our jackets up to our chins. The camera was mounted on a backpack, and the four figures crossed the boundary between the steps and the sand in sequence. Timur declared it the „beach unveiling ceremony“ and, with the gravity of a statesman, cut an imaginary ribbon hastily woven from seaweed.
The fifth stop was right on the shore. From somewhere off to the side, as unnoticed as a shadow, Ruslan from Kazan appeared with his camera and calmly confirmed that the center is called the «stairway to success”—a path from participant to professional—and that prize finalists are offered internships. We immediately recorded a lighthearted interview: Timur seriously asked Mark if he was ready for an internship, and Mark, without batting an eye, replied that he still had to live until then, and in the meantime, he would focus on skipping stones and searching for amber, before running off to the waves. Next, we started a „pancake“ contest, and to my own surprise, I won with four jumps, while Dasha found a piece of sea glass and carefully photographed it against the backdrop of the waves. Then the camera screen flickered and went dark.„It’s fine, ” Dasha breathed, as pale as chalk, and opened the compartment with trembling fingers. „The memory cards… no. I forgot to insert it. Yesterday.“Silence settled, as long as the shoreline. Then Mark snickered, followed by Timur, and soon all four of us were doubled over, laughing so hard the seagulls took off from the rocks. Ruslan, who had remained silently beside us, took out his camera and said calmly, almost casually:
„I filmed you starting from your second stop. Do you want to watch?“We walked back up longer and more tired, but ecstatic: Ruslan showed us takes right on the spot, we kept stopping to laugh heartily at Mark with the banana, and my recorded audio layered onto his footage as if they were born together. The vlog ended up being seven minutes long, and laughter turned out to be the most honest part of it. The center’s territory, spanning 6.45 hectares, is designed to accommodate up to 12,000 young people annually, which means this descent will be filmed many more times, but we were the first. We agreed to repeat it at the next conference.
