At the end of July I finally made the ascent I had been waiting so long for: the western summit of Elbrus. And that is no trifling altitude – five thousand six hundred and forty-two metres. Until then my personal record was one thousand five hundred and forty-five metres, which is hard to count as experience of any kind. On top of that, I knew very little about Elbrus. That is exactly why I decided on the simplest way to the top, namely the classic route. I will admit that at the very beginning I thought about going up from the north. Back then I wanted to feel the full charm of being alone with the mountain – real mountaineering, in other words. In time, though, I realised that this line would be far too hard for me. That is why I chose the south. We used what is known as stepped acclimatisation. To be precise, we first went up to three thousand metres, then to three thousand two hundred metres, and then to three thousand eight hundred metres. Finally came the Pastukhov Rocks and the summit push. I have to say we were very lucky with the weather. We had been promised a fierce wind of thirty-five kilometres an hour, which is considered the maximum acceptable for an ascent. In practice it turned out to be far gentler. The sun shone the whole time as well, so the days were remarkably clear. That was also when I got to know the treacherous ailment called altitude sickness – or simply „the altitude“, as climbers often put it. The first time was during the night at three thousand eight hundred metres, when I felt a mild headache. The second time came after we stepped onto what you might call the home straight, the plateau below the western summit. By then we were at roughly five thousand six hundred and twenty metres. My head began to ache badly – a sudden, sharp pain. It was bearable, but the descent from the saddle was a real struggle. The headache made it hard even to walk down. Once I reached five thousand one hundred metres I felt a great deal better. I am very glad it all worked out, because I had set myself this goal back in the spring and trained in earnest for it. On the whole, I loved it. But I doubt I will go back to the mountains again. I really dislike fiddling with equipment – all those harnesses, carabiners and screwgates. The only piece I enjoyed was the ice axe. I could never have imagined it would feel so light and handy in use. All in all, trekking is a fine thing; mountaineering, most likely, is not for me. Especially since any further climb would need even more equipment.
I have to add that I fell in love with the Caucasus, and I now have an enormous urge to head for Arkhyz and Dombay next summer. This time, though, I want to travel there by car. One of the most unpleasant moments of the ascent was dropping my camera into a gorge. It was upsetting and infuriating, of course. Not so much for the camera itself – though that was a shame too – as for the photographs that simply vanished with it. The summit shots were on there.
Without any exaggeration, the emotions still overwhelm me. In my thoughts I am still up there. As someone who genuinely loves the mountains, I was struck by the incredible beauty of the Caucasus and of the Elbrus region as a whole. Right now my great dream is to go back. I had dreamed about Elbrus itself for a year and a half, no less. The impressions of what I saw and lived through will stay with me for a long time yet. The sense of having achieved something. It strengthened my character and proved to me that I really am a determined person.
I am already starting to think about Kazbek. And Kazbek from the Georgian side in particular. In mountaineering terms it is graded exactly the same as Elbrus. On top of that, it would be a unique chance to see Georgia. The scenery there really is astonishingly beautiful. When it will happen is genuinely hard to say. Dombay and Arkhyz will probably come first.