The Legend of the First Step
At the peak of Mount Mauri lies a stone with a peculiar indentation. It resembles the print of a bare human foot. Legend holds that more than six centuries ago, Saint Kirill of Belozersky stood here. From this height, he saw the land where the famous monastery would later arise.Today, pilgrims and travelers ascend to the stone. Some place their bare foot in the indentation and make a wish. Others simply examine the print, trying to visualize the person who left it there many centuries ago.But there is one detail that is easily forgotten—the monastery associated with the legend is far below, by Lake Siversk. To reach the chosen land, Kirill had to descend the mountain and travel through the forest. And before that—he had to traverse a long journey northward, unaware of exactly where he was destined to stop.Why didn’t he choose one of the places he passed along the way? And what did he see from the top of Mauri that he hadn’t noticed before? It all began long before the stone, which became part of the local legend, appeared on the mountain.
At the end of the 14th century, two monks—Kirill and Ferapont—set out from Moscow toward the north.
Kirill was about sixty years old. He had spent many years at the Simonov Monastery, where he prayed, copied books, and served in various capacities. However, over time, the familiar monastic life no longer satisfied his yearning for solitude.
According to Kirill’s hagiography, one day during prayer, the Theotokos appeared to him and instructed him to travel to Belozerye. There, he was meant to find a place for a new life—away from the secular hustle, among the northern forests. Kirill did not know the route, so he asked Ferapont, who had traveled in those regions before, and Ferapont agreed to accompany him.
The first few days of the journey probably didn’t seem extraordinary to them. The roads led through villages and forests; they could stay with local residents for the night, and the land ahead was one Ferapont already knew. But the further they moved from Moscow, the rarer the settlements became. Wide roads gave way to trails, and beyond the last village began forests where it was easy to lose one’s way.Ferapont understood how life was organized in these areas. He knew that a secluded settlement required water, timber, and a wind-protected plot of land. Finding a suitable place was not easy, but entirely possible. Such places did exist. Shores opened up near lakes, clearings appeared among the trees, and small hills promised a convenient spot for a dwelling. Ferapont paid attention to every one of them. Kirill also scouted the surroundings, but each time, they pressed on. Initially, his companion asked no questions. Perhaps the elder wanted to see what lay beyond the next rise. But the days passed, energy waned, and the decision remained elusive. At night, they had to find shelter from the cold, and in the morning, their bodies ached from the long walk; clothes snagged on branches, and narrow paths would either vanish into the trees or reappear ahead.At some point, Ferapont suggested stopping. There was water here, a forest grew nearby, and a small clearing could be cleared for a home. Nothing prevented them from beginning a new life. Kirill examined the site and continued his journey. He offered no explanation for his choice. Perhaps even he couldn’t find the words. All he knew was that he had to find the land indicated to him during his prayer. He knew neither the name nor precise characteristics of this place.
Ferapon could see obstinacy in what was happening. For him, the choice was practical: if the land was habitable, they could stay. But Kirill kept searching, and the longer they walked, the harder it became to distinguish hope from exhaustion. All the same trees, water, and earth surrounded them. One path led to another. Beyond one bank began a new forest. And the place Kirill had left the monastery for remained unknown.One day, Mount Moura came into view on their route. From below, it rose above the forest, promising nothing more than the chance to see the surroundings from a height. The travelers decided to climb. The narrow path gradually led them higher, winding among the trees and rocky outcrops. The ascent was not easy, especially for the elderly Kirill. He slowed his pace more and more, forcing Ferapon to stop and wait for his companion.The climb took a toll. But now, at least, he had a clear objective: to reach the summit and survey the land around it.
Finally, the forest parted. Before them opened Belozerye. Among the dark woods, lakes shimmered, shores twisted, and in the distance, low hills faded into the haze. From this height, they could see what had only been revealed to the travelers in fragmented glimpses over the past few days. Ferapont began pointing out familiar places. He talked about the lakes and forest paths, explaining where they could settle. Kirill listened, but he was looking in a different direction.
By Siversky Lake, a small hill jutted out into the water. It was surrounded by forest and looked no different from the many other hills the monks had encountered on their journey. It would be here that they had to clear the land, cut down trees, and build a dwelling from scratch.
Kirill walked up to a large rock on the peak of Maura and climbed onto it. He remained silent for a while. Before him lay a lake, and behind it stretched the forests. Among them was a small patch of land that seemed very close from this height. Down below, it was hidden by trees, and getting to it would require descending back into the thicket.
Kirill continued to stare at the hillock. Ferapont noticed that his companion was no longer surveying the surroundings. He was focused only on one spot—as if he had finally recognized what he had been searching for all this time. Then Kirill told him about the vision he had received at the Simonov Monastery.
According to legend, it was on the peak of Maura that he recognized the land intended for his solitude. Now, Ferapont began to understand why they hadn’t stopped at the first suitable shores. Kirill wasn’t looking for the most convenient spot. He was looking for the place to which he believed he was meant. However, finding it was only half the battle.
The descent proved no easier than the climb. The forest once again closed the horizon, and the lake vanished behind the trunks. The small rise chosen from the summit seemed very close, but down below, they had to find a path through the trees. When the monks finally reached the shore of Lake Siverskoye, the day was drawing to a close. Before them lay land upon which nothing had yet been built. There was no temple, no monastic walls, and no road for other people to approach it.
They erected a cross and prayed. Then the work began. They needed to clear the site, find materials for housing, gather food, and prepare for the cold. First, a temporary shelter appeared, followed by a small earthen cell.
The forest buzzed all around. They had to cut down trees one by one and clear the ground of roots and stones. Each day demanded strength, and no one knew how long it would take before a true abode appeared in that spot.
But Kirill remained. Gradually, people began to come to him, wishing to share his way of life. A monastic community arose from him, which grew into the Kirillo-Belozersky Monastery.
Ferapont traveled further later and chose another secluded spot. Over time, the Ferapontov Monastery arose there. Two monks began their journey together, but eventually, each founded his own hermitage. They sought silence and solitude, leaving behind places that defined the life and history of Belozerye for centuries. Kirill could not have known what the monastery on the shores of Lake Siversky would become. He did not see the future churches, the fortress walls, or the towers. On the day he first reached the chosen land, all he saw was forest, water, and a small plot to settle. Everything else developed later.
Centuries passed, generations changed, yet the history of the peculiar stone continued to live on. As early as the 19th century, travelers mentioned it in their accounts, and local residents passed down the legend of Kirill of Belozerye from generation to generation. No one could say for sure how the enigmatic trace appeared, but for those who climbed Mount Mauru, the stone had long become more than just a part of the mountain landscape.
Today, some visitors take off their shoes and place their foot in a depression, making a wish. Others touch the stone with their hand or linger nearby, observing the forest that has gradually obscured the former view. Perhaps they hope their wish will come true. Perhaps they wish to feel a connection to the person who lived here more than six centuries ago.
But if you pause by the stone for a little longer, another question arises. What exactly remains on this summit—a human trace or a memory of a decision?
Kirill ascended Mount Maura, unaware of what lay ahead. He could not have imagined the monastery that would grow by the lake, nor did he know how many people would one day travel his path. He simply continued onward until he found the place he was searching for.
Today, the route from the summit to the monastery is not the same path walked by two monks. The forest has changed, new trails have appeared, and structures stand by the lake that Kirill had never seen. Yet, the distance between the mountain and the chosen land remains. To see the stone, one must climb the forest path, locate it among the trees, and carefully examine the depression on its surface.
And then look down toward Lake Siverskoye. There, beyond the forest, lies the place for which the journey was once worth continuing. And perhaps this is why the legend of the first step begins not at the monastery walls, but here, on the mountaintop—where the human being did not yet know how their decision would end.
