Towards My Dream: Elbrus from the North, Part Two

The fifth of August 2013 can be counted as the first day of our Elbrus climb. The entire journey took us three or perhaps four hours, no more. The weather, it must be said, was far from encouraging. A drizzle and fairly dense fog greeted our group at the camp. That was the moment I was lucky enough to see a rare phenomenon for the first time: a rainbow on the edge of a cloud. We decided to leave one tent there, cached all our food and equipment, and then headed back towards base camp. The return journey was genuinely exhausting and took no less time than the climb. Our group had to spend the night at base camp on the popular Emmanuel Glade. As for the weather, it could be described as very favourable both during the night and the following day. The sky was clear, without even a single small cloud in sight. Naturally, this gave us hope. The very next day, every member of our group gathered the necessary belongings and set out for the high camp to spend the night. The ascent took us about four hours, and the most difficult part was the moraine immediately before the upper camp. We had to move over scree and even cross large boulders. People kept descending towards us. I admit that I did not like looking closely at their faces. They appeared extremely tired yet, at the same time, deeply satisfied and happy. A great deal could be read in their expressions. Their challenge was over, while many difficulties still awaited us. The next day, we planned an acclimatisation hike to the Lenz Rocks. We badly needed a special rope for that outing because the route to the rocks crosses dangerous crevasses. By late summer, they were already beginning to open, so it was necessary to travel there only when roped together. We managed to obtain a rope at the camp, although it was far from cheap. Towards evening, I began to feel the effects of altitude. The headache was not severe enough to cause great concern, however. The following morning, we all set out together for our acclimatisation hike to the Lenz Rocks. At the same time, we wanted to choose a good place to spend the night. Our idea was to camp there and begin the summit attempt from the rocks. The weather was truly excellent when we set off, but it deteriorated considerably as soon as we reached the Lenz Rocks. The ascent had taken us roughly a couple of hours. Interestingly, the instructors told us that the average time was three and a half hours. By the time we reached the second rock, at an altitude of more than four and a half thousand metres, or perhaps slightly higher, the weather had worsened completely. An extremely strong wind sprang up without warning, and we could not prepare hot tea even in shelter. We therefore decided that we had to descend, whatever it took. After the hike to the Lenz Rocks, every member of the group agreed to abandon the idea of spending the night there. We would attempt the summit from the upper camp instead. This is also what others wishing to climb from the north do. Our next day was completely free, giving us an opportunity to take unusual photographs of the camp and the surrounding beauty. There were plenty of tents in the camp at the time. Both summits could be seen perfectly from the high camp, provided, of course, that the weather gave its permission. In truth, that did not happen very often. The weather over majestic Elbrus changed with every passing hour.
At six in the evening, we began preparing for bed because we were due to rise at one in the morning. The forecast said that the weather should be good that day, and we went to sleep with that hope. I woke a little earlier than necessary during the night. The weather was unpleasant. Rain had fallen intermittently throughout the night, which did nothing to raise our spirits. We could see nobody on the route, while many head torches glowed inside the tent. We decided to continue sleeping, still hoping that the weather would improve. Suddenly, however, the guide entered our tent and shook everyone awake. We immediately began preparing for the ascent. Once we had packed and eaten breakfast, we finally set out. We stepped onto the glacier, put on our crampons, quickly tied into the rope and joined the climbing route at around two in the morning, or a little later. As we crossed the crevasses, I saw a shooting star. It was an extraordinary sight: so close and yet so bright. Such things happen only in the mountains. I was so astonished that I lost my composure and forgot to make a wish. Had I managed to do so, I would certainly have wished for good weather and a successful, favourable ascent. We had been the last to leave but still managed to overtake several groups. Some time later, we approached the first rock of the Lenz Rocks. By then, the weather was deteriorating significantly, and a blizzard had begun. Continuing was simply unrealistic. It was extremely risky because not all of us had ice axes. The first fall could clearly have been the last. Climbers were standing beside the rock, more than ten people in all, waiting impatiently for the weather to improve. Within ten minutes, however, they began heading back. It was clear that they did not want to continue climbing the mountain. Some groups had turned around before even reaching the rock. After roughly half an hour, I began to feel my toes freezing. A decision had to be made. Almost everyone had headed down by then, and only one group of Americans was continuing upwards. Our team was the only one remaining beside the rock. We decided to wait for about half an hour. When the sun appeared, conditions became considerably easier. By half past six, the wind had eased, although it was still strong, and we finally decided to return. We had three reserve days, so we all agreed to try the ascent again the following night. Fate, however, had something else in store. When I tried to step out from the shelter towards the route, it seemed that climbing upwards was possible. It would be hard, but still possible. One group member had completely misunderstood our decision to descend and was ready to storm absolutely anything. As a result, we all set off uphill together. We moved slowly, with brief stops. Before long, the sky cleared and walking became much easier, although the wind continued to rage. The route itself was completely invisible, so we had to cross the immensely broad plateau almost by guesswork. Fortunately, the firn was quite firm, and our feet no longer sank into the snow. After about an hour, we spotted a small group of foreign climbers. Some time after nine in the morning, we reached an altitude of five thousand metres. Once sheltered behind a rock, we drank tea and took out our cameras. A little later, we caught up with the American climbers at approximately the far end of the Lenz Rocks. At five thousand two hundred metres, the route divides towards either the saddle of Elbrus or the eastern summit. The weather deteriorated yet again, visibility fell to just five metres, and a very strong wind was blowing.