Climbing Elbrus: tours, dates, prices
It consisted above all of talking, talking and more talking. And an early night with it. The next morning we would have to set off. That night was easier, but I still slept restlessly. There is nowhere to put the excitement. Like it or not, it is there. We had only just got properly to sleep when it was time to get up. What conclusions came out of that day? First and foremost, it is important to learn to use an ice axe, at least a little. And it is also very important, when you go to the mountains, to have at least some English – and better still, to have it well. Is that really so important? In our group more than half the people were foreigners. And it genuinely does matter to understand what your foreign friend is saying, and to be able to explain something in return.
And now it is our seventh day in the mountains. This day is a special one, because it is summit day. As soon as everyone was up, breakfast was served straight away. Of course you may not have any appetite at that hour, but it is still important to eat, because you are going to need the strength for the climb. So, having had breakfast, we start packing briskly, put our crampons on and then load into the snowcat. It will take us up towards the Pastukhov Rocks. It is only when you are sitting in the snowcat that you begin to understand how steep this slope is. Sitting on the side benches really is hard work; you keep sliding down. Everyone sitting nearer the back takes the weight. The whole thing looks rather comical. How long the ride lasted is genuinely hard to say. I kept dozing off. There was a light breeze, so it was not hot. At times you had the feeling that our transport might choke and stop. In the end, though, all was well. While we were adjusting our equipment our snowcat drove off. Somewhere far below its cheerful lights flickered now and then. We were standing at the foot of the Pastukhov Rocks themselves. The darkness was slowly beginning to retreat. We started climbing. About a day later we were already there. So, for the second time we are climbing this steep route. We start to find our rhythm. So far things are more or less all right and there are no problems. After about an hour comes the first pass. The altitude here is four thousand eight hundred metres. There is indescribable beauty all around. The sun has come out from behind the clouds. We take photographs, drink and rest. Just sitting on the snow is chilly, though. The halt ends and we carry on up. Now we have to walk along the Kosaya traverse towards the saddle. Walking really is very hard now, because you can feel the shortage of oxygen. The early start makes itself felt, and so does the fact that the movements are so monotonous. After a while it feels as though your eyes are closing. And that is the last thing you need right now, because the trail really is very narrow, and to the left the slope is genuinely steep. A couple of times it even happened that I fell asleep on my feet. What saved me from falling then was a trekking pole. At the end of the trail there was a short break. The spot really is steep, and you can only sit down if you find a place behind a rock or can hold yourself in place with a pole or an ice axe. I feel rough. I am badly nauseous, but it is bearable. We do not stay here long, mostly just to come round a little. That was particularly necessary for everyone who had started to feel really bad. Then we did set off towards the saddle. Since there is more room there, the stop will obviously be a longer one. The walking is easier now, but I still feel rough. In the end we manage to reach the resting place. We simply collapse. That is a bit better. We decide to have a small snack. Right now dried apricots and water go down a treat. A decent dose of vitamin C helps you wake up and settles the nausea as well. It does not suit everyone, though, since some people’s bodies simply will not take anything. Well, we have got our breath back, so it is time to go up. So we get our ice axes ready and start climbing unhurriedly. On the way we see a demonstration of exactly how not to climb. One climber slips and starts sliding. He only just manages to stop himself on his crampons. And there he stays, digging into the snow with his hands and his crampon points. Since he has no harness, there is obviously nothing to clip a rope to. Someone starts coming down from above to help him out. On the way he shares everything he thinks about foreign mountaineers. So we go around the group and carry on. One last turn and now we can see the summit. There is hardly anything left. Straight away the walking is much easier. You start to realise that the goal is close. So, another half an hour or so and we are there. I walk the last few metres as if on autopilot. And there we are. I start looking around. It simply takes your breath away. There is cloud everywhere. Between the clouds there is a small gap and you can see a narrow strip of sky. And not far off you can see a boulder wrapped in a flag. We start hugging and congratulating one another, and gladly having our photographs taken. How could we not. And then I go off to one side and start shouting with all my might. I was probably shouting at the sun. I shout as hard as I can, and what comes out is just some sort of cry. Since the air runs out about halfway through the exhalation, there is almost no sound. I take one last look around and realise that it is time to head down. The feelings then were rather remarkable. On the one hand there is the joy of having got there, even though there is almost no strength left. And at the same time you understand that it is time to go down – and to go down without any snowcat. And where are you supposed to find the strength for that? We walk, and almost without stopping. The group splits into sections according to walking speed. So we cover the slope, then the saddle, the Kosaya traverse and the Pastukhov Rocks. Below them the snow really does turn wet. I decide straight away to get out my sliding pad and slide down, braking with my feet and my poles. That is much faster and easier. Closer to Priyut 11, though, we run into a real fog, so we have to get up and walk. Water squelches underfoot. I slide as though I were on skis. You have to walk from marker wand to marker wand along the trail. After a while the sun appears. Sliding is genuinely hard, though, because there really is a lot of water, so there is nothing for it but to walk. On my last reserves I reach the Barrels. I try to throw everything off and change as fast as I can. I cannot wait to get to the Russian sauna – or, more precisely, to a stream of meltwater. The pleasant cold really is refreshing. And now we can go and drink tea, and drink plenty of it. Gradually the whole group gathers. Very soon there will be the best supper of all: the victors‘ supper. Everyone is very tired, but they feel thoroughly happy with it. That was when we decided to give an award to one of the women climbers. She had twisted her ankle and still got there. There really are women with that kind of strength of spirit. Then there was a superb evening get-together. Everyone, still full of it, shares their feelings. It was our last evening on the mountain.
On the eighth day everyone descended to Terskol. And on the ninth day we set off home. I have to say that emotionally those two days really were intense. Parting is never easy, and all the more so with the people you have been in the mountains with. Strange as it is, people who were strangers only yesterday feel like family today. We had all become one big family. These are people I know for certain you can rely on one hundred per cent. They will never let you down, whatever the circumstances.