Тест 2. Чтение. ЕГЭ по английскому языку

1) Установите соответствие между заголовками 1 — 8 и текстами A — G. Используйте каждую цифру только один раз. В задании один заголовок лишний.

1. Recognize Your Limitations
2. Take a Rest
3. Clear Out Distractions
4. Have Help Handy
5. Plan Your Work
6. Stay Calm Under Pressure
7. Work With Interest
8. Stay Focused

A. The overriding idea is to go for simplicity. A quiet basement, a library table or the ground next to a big tree outside allow you to focus on what you’re doing. Examples of poor locations would include the kitchen table, common areas where you’re likely to encounter friends, or even your own room, as it’s usually stocked with a computer, television, and video games that seem a lot more appealing than what you’re doing. You have to remove yourself far enough from any potential disturbance. This is the key to any successful session of work.

B. Making your work relate to your leisure activities or hobbies eliminates much of the tedium associated with it. Whenever possible, make your schoolwork centre around something you love, and run with it. Essay assignment? Write about your favourite hobby. History report? Write about your favourite historical battle. Just pick anything to make your reports and assignments less mundane. As long as you meet all the requirements of the assignment, the rest is yours to choose.

C. It’s okay to reward a long session of hard work with a quick break here or there. Eat something, watch a TV show, play a bit of your favourite video game, pick up a musical instrument and practise a little bit. Trying to work too long at too hard a pace without a break is only going to spoil your work in the end, as you’ll start to tire, grow apathetic, and make mistakes. Taking semi-frequent breaks proportional to the amount of time you spent working keeps your mind fresh and your spirits up.

D. Ultimately, you are going to have to make executive decisions about the importance of various assignments relative to how much time and effort you’re expending on them. Don’t get bogged down worrying about finishing a small assignment that is worth a negligible fraction of your grade if it means that finishing it will cost you important points on a far more important project or paper for another class. Always rank assignments based on their due date and importance. In the grand scheme of things, it’s always best to do what will get you the best overall average of grade points.

E. If you have multiple assignments to do, don’t try and work on more than one at a time. Pick the most immediately due assignment and stick with it like glue until it’s done. Then move on to the next most pressing assignment. This way, you resist the temptation to bypass hard, looming assignments to jump to easier but less pressing assignments for your sense of accomplishment. Concentrating your efforts on one task is the key to any successful session of work.

F. Often, you’ll be tempted to pull all-nighters simply to get things done and out of your head. This is extremely counterproductive. If you feel very tired, you can just drop off at any moment. If you sense you’re giving less and less effort to your work, then stop. It’s always better to pick it up the next day when you’re focused than to run a marathon all night and wind up with substandard work that you aren’t proud of.

G. It’s not always easy to stay on the ball in college, but if you know how to stay calm, and make your assignments work for you, you can simplify things tremendously. If you have no idea how to even start an assignment, always feel free to contact your professor, campus tutoring office, or even your parents for advice. Don’t let your fears get in the way of your doing well. If asking a professor for assistance is the difference between a C and an A on an assignment, you should not care about your pride, you should care about your college marks.

A	B	C	D	E	F	G

🔗

2) Прочитайте текст и заполните пропуски A — F частями предложений, обозначенными цифрами 1 — 7. Одна из частей в списке 1—7 лишняя.

Solar panels on the roof aren’t just providing clean power; they are cooling the house. Using thermal imaging, researchers determined that during the day, a building’s ceiling was 5 degrees Fahrenheit cooler under solar panels than under an exposed roof. At night, the panels help hold heat in, ___ (A).

As solar panels sprout on an increasing number of residential and commercial roofs, it becomes more important to consider their impact on buildings’ total energy costs. Data for the study was gathered over three days on the roof of the San Diego School of Engineering with a thermal infrared camera. The building is equipped with tilted solar panels and solar panels ___ (B). Some portions of the roof are not covered by panels.

The panels essentially act as roof shades. Rather than the sun beating down onto the roof, ___ (C), photovoltaic panels take the solar beating. Then much of the heat is removed by wind blowing between the panels and the roof. The benefits are greater if there is an open gap ___ (D), so tilted panels provide more cooling. Also, the more efficient the solar panels, the bigger the cooling effect. For the building researchers analyzed, the panels reduced the amount of heat reaching the roof by about 38 percent.

Although the measurements took place over a limited period of time, the team developed a model that allows them to extrapolate their findings to predict cooling effects throughout the year.

For example, in winter, the panels would keep the sun from heating up the building. But at night, they would also keep in ___ (E).

There are more efficient ways to passively cool buildings ___ (F). But, if you are considering installing solar photovoltaic, depending on your roof thermal properties, you can expect a large reduction in the amount of energy you use to cool your residence or business.

1. which causes heat to be pushed through the roof
2. where air can circulate between the building and the solar panel
3. that are flush with the roof
4. such as reflective roof membranes
5. reducing heating costs in the winter
6. that was not covered with panels
7. whatever heat accumulated inside

A	B	C	D	E	F

🔗

3) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

The main aim of Sean’s visit to Spain was
1) to climb the highest peak on the Spanish mainland.
2) touring and walking.
3) to try the regional cuisine.
4) to enjoy the country’s robust red wines.

🔗

4) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

At that time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were
1) icy.
2) slippery.
3) difficult.
4) uncomplicated.

🔗

5) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

Megan and Aidan had to wait till morning because
1) Megan didn’t speak Spanish.
2) the chairlifts didn’t work at night.
3) they couldn’t find any help.
4) a hotel clerk’s directions were wrong.

🔗

6) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

Sean
1) reached Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon.
2) lost his way.
3) descended until dawn.
4) decided to spend the night in the wooden hut.

🔗

7) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

Sean could not make the ridge because
1) it was too far.
2) he was very tired.
3) of a blizzard.
4) of a strong wind and poor visibility.

🔗

8) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

Sean fell down the slope because
1) a strong wind was blowing.
2) the slope was too steep.
3) he didn’t have special equipment.
4) he didn’t use his trekking poles.

🔗

9) Прочитайте текст и запишите в поле ответа цифру 1, 2, 3 или 4, соответствующую выбранному Вами варианту ответа.

Показать текст. ⇓

Since he was a boy, Sean Ireton has been an ardent hiker, climbing mountain trails all over the world. Even on family trips, it was typical for him to take a day by himself to knock off a tempting peak. In January 2009, he and his wife, Megan, planned a two-week backpacking adventure in Spain with their son, Aidan. They took off in December and spent their days touring and hiking in the southern mountains, making time to sample the regional cuisine and enjoy the country’s robust red wines along the way. Sean was looking forward especially to a solo hike on El Mulhacen, a rocky knob in Spain’s Sierra Nevada and, at 3478m, the highest peak on the Spanish mainland. From Mulhacen on a clear day you could see all the way across the Mediterranean to Morocco.

When they got near Pradollano, a ski village near Mulhacen, the family pitched their tent in the woods. At this time of year, the mountain’s snowy trails were well packed and straightforward, requiring a hiker to travel at only a moderate clip to reach Mulhacen’s broad summit in about four hours. Early the next morning, Sean put on several layers of warm clothes and set out under a purple and golden sunrise.

Now it was dark, and Sean’s wife and son lay in their tent and worried. ‘When is Dad coming back?’ Aidan asked Megan over and over. ‘Why isn’t he back yet?’

‘He’ll be back soon, sweetie,’ his mother reassured him. In the past her husband had returned late from excursions. But this was pushing it, so sometime after midnight, Megan got up and took Aidan into town to look for help. The ordinarily lively village was deserted, the motionless chairlifts hanging eerily in the dark. Megan didn’t speak Spanish, and a hotel clerk’s directions just sent them in circles. They had to wait till morning. ‘Aidan was so upset,’ Megan recalls. ‘He sensed something was wrong. He had that child’s intuition.’

Sean had neared Mulhacen’s summit by mid-afternoon but turned around a few hundred metres from the top when the trail became dangerously steep and icy. Clouds blew in as he descended, and he veered off track. By the time he realised his mistake, daylight was fading, and it had begun to drizzle. ‘I was getting wet, and it was growing dark fast,’ he recalls. Luckily, he spied a crude stone shelter nearby. ‘I didn’t want to get lost and end up on the other side of the mountain, so I decided to spend the night in the hut.’

Inside, it was dark and clammy, but there was a table, wooden bunks, and even some foam padding for a bed. Sean ate a chocolate bar from his backpack, and settled in. It would be an easy hike back to camp in the morning, and he imagined his family’s relief when he returned unharmed.

Sean was on foot again by 6 a.m., tracking his way across a broad bowl and up a steep, snowy slope. On the other side of the ridge there was the ski area, and from there he could practically jog down the slopes. He made good progress until a storm suddenly swept over the ridge and nearly blew him off his feet. In minutes, he was caught in a white-out. ‘If I can just make the ridge, I’m home free,’ Sean thought, as he powered forward, bending against the gale.

But the ridge never appeared, and Sean knew it was crazy to stay on the exposed slope. He’d have to find an alternative route. He had no idea where he was but thought he could make out a trail still farther below.

Sean studied the snow in front of him. It looked hard and slick. He regretted that he hadn’t brought his crampons — sharp spikes that attach to hiking boots — or an ice axe, which would have helped ensure safe passage. All he had was a pair of trekking poles. He reached out a foot to test the frozen surface and gradually brought his weight down. For a moment, he balanced but then his feet shot out from under him, and he began tumbling down the steep slope. He accelerated as he fell, rolling wildly over rocks and snow. When he came to rest, far below from where he had stood, he was in a seated position as if he’d just plopped down to have a snack. It would have been comical if he hadn’t been so stunned.

He sat for a while and gathered his wits. He was wearing only a ski hat but his head seemed OK. Then Sean looked down at his legs. The long underwear covering his left leg was shredded, and bright red blood soaked the abraded flesh around his kneecap.

He gingerly inspected the wound. With effort, he got back on his feet, but his injured leg buckled beneath him, and he fell face-first into the snow. He felt a hot surge of alarm. He was kilometres away from help, and certainly no one would come through this area for days, maybe weeks. He sat in the snow, on the verge of despair.

(Adapted from ‘Missing’ by Nick Heil)

While falling, Sean
1) was not injured.
2) injured his head.
3) shattered his kneecap.
4) broke his leg.

🔗