I knew at once what the sound was. It was snowcats, grinding their way up the slope. Something had probably happened, because it was too late in the day for an outing and far too early for a climb. After a while the snowcats started back down, and there were some unlucky mountaineers on board. We learned later that these climbers had not acclimatised properly and had set off towards the Pastukhov Rocks, where altitude sickness – „the mountain bug“, as it is also known – caught up with them without warning. They could no longer keep moving under their own steam, so the special machines had to be called out: the snowcats that every mountain enthusiast knows.
Losing height often improves the situation quickly and is the key measure when someone deteriorates. Oxygen and medication can be used as part of the response, but they must not become a way of pushing on through the symptoms. That is where the great risk lies, because drugs can mask the symptoms and let a person carry on climbing, only for them to become so ill afterwards that they cannot get down on their own. That is how you end up trapped. It is important to understand that although there are rescuers, they are human beings too, and you should not let a situation reach the critical point at which they may be powerless. If someone has decided to test themselves and their body, let it be only their own life at stake, not anyone else’s.
That night we woke at about one. Our rucksacks had been packed the evening before. The guide was the first out of the tent and studied the sky carefully. It was cloudy and no stars were visible, which was a bad sign – the weather was clearly turning. We decided that we had to make our attempt on the mountain that night, since in all likelihood there would be no chance at all in the days to come. At the same time we were ready to turn back if the weather worsened. Having decided to take the risk, we put on our crampons, picked up our rucksacks and set off.
Straight off the rocky ridge we came out onto snow. In the darkness you could see a great many head torches with which climbers were lighting their way. Interestingly, there were lights both above us and below. We started moving, zigzagging and keeping our feet a foot’s width apart so as not to catch a leg with the sharp points of our crampons, exactly as we had been taught. Suddenly a snowcat coming up from below overtook us, heading, most likely, for Priyut 11. There were about 20 climbers on board, setting off for the summit push. We thought that this kind of mountaineering was definitely not for us.
At a halt we noticed a one-and-a-half-litre flask of water left lying on the ground. We asked some climbers who had just moved off whose flask it was, but they said they did not need it and that we could take it. The water inside had frozen, crystallised and moved about like thick sour cream. A drink like that was almost useless. Somebody was left without water but, given the size of the group, that should not have been a problem, since people could share. For the summit push we took a flask. There is no universal „best“ drink: what and how much you drink depends on the effort, the weather, your food and the advice of a medical professional. At altitude your sense of taste can change: you find yourself craving spicy seasoning, while familiar food tastes bland.
We were nearing the Pastukhov Rocks when I realised I had forgotten my sunglasses. I told my companions, and several of them also remembered that they had left theirs behind, which upset us all, because you get nowhere in the mountains without eye protection. There was no way of going back for them, so I started looking for a way out of the situation. I remembered that I had a windproof face mask with a small opening for the mouth, and I decided to try pulling it up higher to protect my eyes. One of my companions turned out to have a spare pair of goggles in his rucksack, and we got over the difficulty.
A little above the Pastukhov Rocks we caught up with the large group of climbers who had passed us on the snowcat, in spite of the advantage they had had. The trail curved gently to the left and we began climbing the Kosaya Polka traverse, where it grew much lighter and we could walk without head torches. The sun was starting to light up the mountains of the Caucasus range. We could see the familiar glacier shaped like the figure seven, the one we had already seen on the way out of the Irik gorge. Opposite us rose Cheget and other peaks with unusual names.
We met the dawn on the roof of Europe, and I put on my improvised mask-cum-goggles. The front of the mask is made of windproof material, and you can breathe through a special mesh panel. Pulling the mask over my head, I took a breath and immediately felt short of oxygen, which made everything go dim in front of me. I had to take several deep breaths with the mask pulled off the lower part of my face, leaving only my eyes covered. That brought relief, and we carried on up.
The slope eased off and before long we came out onto the saddle, the large flat expanse between the two summits of Elbrus. The saddle looked enormous; it is about eight hundred metres long. By now the sun was shining brightly and even beginning to burn. On the saddle we decided to have a small snack, eating a little dried fruit and taking a couple of mouthfuls of tea. At altitude your appetite disappears and food gives you no pleasure, but we drank our tea with real enjoyment. High up, dry air and exertion can increase the amount of fluid you lose, but there is no universal figure in litres that applies to every member of a team.
A few minutes later we carried on climbing. Beyond the saddle a steep section awaited us on the way to the western summit. We worked our way up it and came out onto a plateau, from which we could see the top – a small rise of about fifteen metres.
Editorial medical note. A personal account preserves one participant’s impressions, but no medical conclusions should be drawn from it. If symptoms of altitude illness appear, you must not continue gaining height; if the person deteriorates, descent is required. Individual fluid needs cannot be reduced to a single figure that applies to everyone. Source: CDC Yellow Book – High-Altitude Travel and Altitude Illness.