The very next day, our first acclimatisation hike awaited us, and it included an overnight stay. We really did have to set off very early. We all followed the trail down to the village of Elbrus, walked through it and called at a small shop. There we bought all the food we needed. Once we had gained several hundred metres, we reached a narzan mineral spring. I can say that the water there really is exceptionally delicious. The beauty of the surrounding mountains was both inspiring and a joy to behold. Looking down, you could see the village of Elbrus itself as if it were laid out in the palm of your hand. But it was still too early to relax: it was time to continue. We walked along the Irik River through the Irik Gorge. On the way, we met climbers who had approached Elbrus from the east. As always, the conversation was about whether they had managed to reach the summit of Elbrus and whether everything had gone safely. We did not go as far as the Irik Glacier, turning instead into the Irikchat Gorge. My most vivid impressions came from that particular gorge. Without exaggeration, I can say that no photograph can convey its grandeur and beauty. You have to see it with your own eyes. We made our first overnight camp at an altitude of two thousand six hundred metres. A mountain stream ran close to the tent. One of my companions went to freshen up in a small pool, and the water was invigorating in the most literal sense: it was searingly cold. At the same time, the sun disappeared behind the mountain and the temperature dropped sharply. We quickly rummaged through our rucksacks for warm jackets and fleeces. A small cloud of mist began creeping along the gorge: cold air had met the ground warmed by the sun, creating this unusual cloud. Within ten to fifteen minutes, we were surrounded by genuine fog; visibility fell to one hundred metres and soon became even worse. It was time to put our things under the tent fly and go to sleep. But sleep would not come, so we decided to talk about life, the places we had visited and our plans for the future. Suddenly, the cry of some bird tore through the night silence, and everyone froze. One of us asked, “Where is Andrei?” He had apparently planned to read a book and then go outside. Yet there was no sign of his head torch near the tent. We leaned out of the tent and began shouting into the darkness, wondering what might have happened to him. A few seconds later, we saw the light of his head torch and relaxed: everything was all right. We later learned that he had simply wandered off to take a few photographs of the mountains without thinking it necessary to tell us. It was a thoughtless thing to do, because in the mountains you must always stay alert. Carelessly walking alone with a torch at night can have serious consequences. Before bed, we all decided to measure our pulse; mine was one hundred seventeen beats per minute. This most likely indicated the beginning of acclimatisation. If you are in the mountains for the first time, it is essential to pay very close attention to your body in order to avoid the adverse effects of altitude.
The next day, we went even farther. There was less and less grass beneath our feet until only stones remained, large and small. Patches of snow appeared ever more frequently. Before long, we reached a level site at an altitude of three thousand six hundred metres, with a few small boulders and a snowfield nearby. We decided to leave our rucksacks and climb to the pass with light loads. The guide explained how to move in the mountains: on both the ascent and descent, it is important to maintain a minimal interval between group members so that, if someone falls, the person walking nearby can help. Talking as we walked at an unhurried pace, we reached the pass, the first one I had ever crossed. Its altitude was three thousand eight hundred nineteen metres. It was not technically difficult, but emotionally it was a great step forwards. The first step, which, as everyone knows, is the hardest. At the top of the pass, we opened a plastic bottle left by the previous group and found a note stating who had passed through and when. We took that note and left our own.
During the descent from the pass, we spotted mountain goats, or Caucasian turs. They watched us from the crags and moved across sheer walls with astonishing ease. I wondered how quickly I would cover their route and realised that I certainly would not be as fast. They observed us only briefly before descending lower, perhaps hoping to find something tasty. But we did not have much food, and feeding three large turs was certainly out of the question. An unpleasant incident occurred on the way back to camp: I stepped on a loose stone and fell awkwardly onto my trekking pole, which bent in the middle. After checking that it had no cracks, I tried to straighten it because, in my view at the time, climbing Elbrus without a pole was impossible. That evening, I measured my pulse and saw a reading of 97, which suggested that my body was gradually adapting to the altitude. My head felt slightly heavy but did not hurt, which was reassuring. The night passed well, and our new acquaintances, the turs, did not come close. They had most likely realised that there was no food in the camp, perhaps having sensed as much. When we got up and ate breakfast in the morning, the tent was damp with dew. Until the sun appeared, however, it was impossible to dry it, so all we could do was wait. In the meantime, we took a few photographs, sunbathed and slowly packed our rucksacks. The sun dried the tent quickly, and we began our descent. We met many climbers on the way, most of them foreigners. We filled our bottles with cool water at the narzan spring and bought thick ayran in the village of Elbrus, dense enough to eat with a spoon.
When we returned to our guest house, we put up the tent and decided to rest until evening. We could relax a little that day. We spent time in the excellent company of some Czech people we had met. They too planned to climb Elbrus the next day and intended to set off during the coming night. In the evening, I discovered another problem: it turned out that my trekking footwear had not withstood the test of the Caucasus Mountains.