Their rope team got the first chance at the summit. Then Lyosha and I got tired of waiting too and decided to have a go ourselves. Trudging up and down like that rather depressed me and spoilt the mood of the climb: the feeling was no longer the same. But the weather that day was superb, and the views were a joy and seemed to beg you to stay rather than leave. The summit of Gumachi, and people looking tiny on it. And now the second rope appears on the shoulder of the peak. You cannot sit on the summit for long, because the breeze, weak as it is, cuts straight through you. Nikolai and his party decide to go down first. Then we come down. As we descend I start thinking about how the second rope will manage. Not letting everyone go to the summit seems harsh, but letting everyone go is frightening. Even the stronger rope was not moving confidently. So Nikolai’s rope sets off towards the pass. For a long while I watch four experienced climbers crawling along the crest. All of it took two hours. Over that time there were happy embraces and belays taken over an ice axe. And now it is all behind us. Everyone is together and we are getting ready for the pass. Coming down from the col of the Gumachi pass, we decided to rig thirty metres of abseil. Then we started making our way unhurriedly down to the so-called Green Hotel. What happened that evening is genuinely hard to remember now. We had supper and went straight to bed.
Climbing Elbrus with our guides
So it is our fourth day in the mountains. The plan for the day was the approach to the Koyavganaush pass. After yesterday’s climb none of us felt particularly good. Some needed medical help and some slowly came round on their own. We set off towards the Koyavganaush pass. I should say straight away that we had no description of the pass, so we chose the wrong line. In the end we took a completely different pass. Below us there is a very beautiful large cloud, impossible to miss. We walk on the Dzhankuat glacier, moving along the right-bank moraine. The fastest walkers sometimes have to be slowed down and reminded that there are people beside them who are not as fast and cannot keep up, simply because they are not as fit. We climb unhurriedly up a scree slope towards the moraine. Then we traverse a fairly steep snow slope towards a large scree couloir. The traverse ended with some dangerous jumps from one rock outcrop to the next. Up the couloir we reach the glacier in a small cirque. We had a night on the snow planned here. The views are simply mesmerising.
And now it is our fifth day in the mountains. Our start was planned for six in the morning. Up a fairly long snow-covered rise we begin climbing towards the pass. It became clear at once that we had come to the wrong place. We never did find the cairn on the pass. We have to think about what to do in a situation like that. Nobody wants to go back. After a short hesitation I decide to descend the rocks. But it turned out that we did not have many ropes in reserve for a pass like this — very few, to be exact. I stand at the top and simply watch everyone deciding who should climb where and what to do next. In the end two climbers decide to hang on the rocks, without a self-belay, twenty metres below that large ledge. While all this was going on, about another fifteen people came up to the pass. As it turned out later they were foreign trekkers, most likely Czechs. They were also heading for the same pass as us and had also taken the wrong one. They thought that anyone descending in a place like this must be quite mad, and they watched our descent with curiosity. We negotiated with them for about half an hour and in the end managed to talk them into lending us some rope — about fifty metres, to be exact. We send those metres of rope to one of our party so that she can drop the abseil. The rope is fixed with a piton straight onto the karabiner. Fortunately that rope was the last one needed. Below it came a snow-covered ice slope. The bergschrund was mostly filled with snow. During that time a couple of large rocks flew over the girls‘ heads. So one of my companions and I decide to go down to the large ledge and start organising a rescue for the two who by then were tired of hanging on the rocks. In the end all of us get down to the glacier safely enough. At that moment Nikolai was not in the mood and took it out on his rucksack. He threw it down and dragged it along that way. Unhurriedly we walk along the path towards the campsites. What met us was not a very cheerful picture: there were Czechs everywhere and it looked as though there was no room at all for tents. We have to carry on down the path, and we pitch camp in a superb spot on a grassy green terrace.
So it is our sixth day in the mountains. The finish is close now. The thought is a happy one and an anxious one at the same time.
We had to set out at ten in the morning. Down a fairly steep path we all descend towards the valley of the river Adyrsu. Then we decide to come out along the left bank to Dzhaylyk. Since the changeover at the camp had not started yet, getting food was not easy. We probably should have gone to Ulutau. There was a very warm and interesting meeting with some walkers from Saratov. They told us that camping in those parts is out of the question, because the glaciers can turn savage. To avoid trouble we decide to go up. First we walk down the path to the turning towards the ruined hut. From that hut a path runs up alongside the lifts. Higher up the path leaves the lifts to the left. Then we decide to cross the river. We had been climbing along it. We go up onto the old moraine. A path runs along the steep crest of the moraine.
Then we all cross the river we had been climbing along. Gradually we start up towards the old moraine. A path runs along the fairly steep crest of the moraine. There is a bivouac site here. The climb itself took us about five hours. Our female companions decided to hold what they called a bath evening in an icy stream.
The seventh day brought an unplanned rest day. The reason was that the weather was no pleasure at all: snow, rain, a thunderstorm and thick fog all day. Somewhere far off avalanches keep coming down. We think mainly about food. The evening brought its pleasant moments: I unpacked a parcel from my wife. It had everything you could want in it — sweets, my favourite fragrant coffee and, of course, a warm letter.
So it is our eighth day in the mountains. By this time the morale of the whole team really had, as they say, fallen. So despite the cloud we decide to lift our spirits a little by going up ourselves. We left the campsites at about seven in the morning. Across the glacier we came to the final rise to the pass, which is a snow-covered slope of rock and scree. The way up to the Adylsu pass stays on our left. We carry on upwards through the snow-filled couloirs, kicking steps as we go. One of the climbers charged off up the rocks and had to be called back into line. Since he had left steps behind, the group had no further trouble getting up to the pass. In one place we did have to move onto the rock. The col of the pass itself is a crest of rock and scree. The descent down the snow and ice slope was made roped up. Later, across a small snow plateau, we try to reach the next rise to the pass. The weather has turned completely: snow is coming down heavily and the fog is thick. Up a slope of snow and scree we finally come out on the col itself. There are drifts everywhere. Visibility at that point really was very poor. We go down. The descent runs down a snow-covered scree couloir. First we decide to throw an abseil. One by one we start down. All of it happens far too slowly. You could of course stand in one place, but with a blizzard blowing that is rather cold. One of our companions decided to go down without the rope, and as it turned out that is perfectly feasible. Nikolai tried to rig another abseil below that, but the guide stopped him. Without ropes we came down much faster. As soon as the couloir ended we were all below the cloud. Then we descended scree slopes to below a stream. Then the question arose of where exactly to go down now. One of the women in the party did not lose her head and started descending alongside the stream. In the end we decided to follow her. It felt as though she really did have some special instinct. But for the rest of us it was sheer misery. In those minutes I cursed everything on earth, and first of all the grass that had contrived to grow on a slope that steep. In the end, thoroughly worn out, we reach the place where the little stream disappears into rock squeezes. And those squeezes in turn break off in a hundred-metre waterfall. We try with all our strength to climb back up. But it becomes clear that we will not get down into the valley now. So we try to traverse back towards the stream. We want to spend the night by water. Shortly before nightfall we decide to make a sitting bivouac on a slope of rock and grass near a side branch of the stream. We settle like birds on narrow rocky ledges. Some of them are sheltered from possible rain. As for me, I decided to try lying half-propped, with no such shelter.
And now it is our ninth day in the mountains. After a night sitting up, sunrises like these really are something special. It is a particular feeling of space, and of yourself. It has only just started to get light and everyone is ready to move on. I see grim faces. A malicious rock tormented my back all night. We have to set out at six in the morning. From our bivouac spot we start scrambling upwards. Higher up we see what you might call meadow country. We cross the field quickly and decide to head towards a dry couloir of grass and scree. Yesterday’s entertainment continues. We are descending a steep grass slope. I am third down. Some instinct made me jump aside. As it turned out later, the instinct was right. I saw an enormous rock bouncing down towards me, the size of a human head. That made it more frightening still. Towards midday everyone was able to get down towards the river Adyl-Su. Then we decided to rest a little and have something to eat. During that short rest we noticed that we were being photographed. The inquisitive photographers were Germans. After that came the climb up the left bank of the Shkhelda. There are superb places for tents there. And in the evening we had a rather unusual meeting: we had the luck to meet a distinguished mountaineer. He is sixty years old and he genuinely has things to tell about his exploits. We listened to him with pleasure — with our mouths slightly open, you might say.