I was so tired that all I could manage for the rest of the day was eating and sleeping. I had neither the strength nor the time for anything else. Six men occupied the neighbouring room. They were preparing to travel to Aconcagua in winter and had chosen Elbrus as a training climb. Two were seasoned hikers, while the others pursued the activity less regularly. They cooked, drank cognac and discussed the details of their forthcoming ascents. Listening to them, I realised that they really were strong, determined people. They were confident that they could climb Elbrus in a couple of hours.
The group planned to split up: the less prepared climbers would start around midnight, and the more experienced members would depart an hour later and catch them. Before bed, I heard one climber suggest that Kostya hire a snowmobile as far as the Kosaya Polka traverse. They agreed on an acceptable price with the driver, who was to collect Kostya at around three in the morning. I planned to leave at about two. The altitude and my anxiety, however, kept me from sleeping properly. I remembered my previous climb across the Kosaya Polka, and the thought made me uneasy. Eventually, I decided not to delay and began preparing.
Our cabin was basic but functional, with a shared entrance hall, kitchen, dining room and bedrooms containing tiered bunks. Three people could stay comfortably, while five were already a squeeze. The men in the neighbouring room left a little before us, leaving Kostya and me alone. A diesel generator operated even at night, so the cabin had plenty of light. I tightened my crampon straps with particular care because they had come undone twice during the previous training session, which had been extremely inconvenient.
I was ready by half past midnight. It was dark and cool outside, but not as cold as I had expected. The moon illuminated the slope brightly, so I decided not to take a head torch. The ascent was steep. Climbers normally went up in crampons, using trekking poles and carrying rucksacks with warm clothing and provisions. I travelled light and even overtook people who had left earlier. The altitude was making itself felt. At first, I took a thousand steps before each brief rest, but closer to the Pastukhov Rocks at an altitude of 4900 metres, I could manage only 50 steps at a time.
I was fortunate to find the previous day’s trail, which had hardened into steps. This made progress easier because I did not have to think about where to place my feet. At around two in the morning, however, snowcats and snowmobiles began moving uphill and levelling the slope, making the ascent both easier and more difficult. During brief rests, I looked down and enjoyed the sight of many head torches, like fireflies slowly crawling up the slope.
On the Kosaya Polka at an altitude of 5100 metres, a group breaking a narrow trail overtook me. I regretted taking the poles because fatigue was making me sway from side to side. Dawn was breaking, but the traverse seemed endless. My head was spinning, and I was almost ready to turn back when I suddenly saw Misha already descending from the summit. His smile and a few encouraging words gave me strength.
When I reached the saddle, I saw the western summit. Its sheer slopes looked frightening. My companions carried ropes, alpenstocks and helmets, but I continued following them while counting my steps and rests. On steep sections, I used my hand in place of protection, although this was far from easy. When I was told that only the final rope remained before I would emerge onto the summit plateau, I felt a surge of strength.
During the final metres, I remembered other mountaineers’ stories about what it felt like to stand on the summit. Then I reached the summit cairn on Elbrus and realised that I had overcome my own limits and climbed to this altitude.