And now it is our tenth day in the mountains. It is hard to believe we have been at altitude this long, and at the same time it feels as though the time has flown by. Only yesterday it seemed we had just arrived, and here is the tenth day. Early in the morning the weather was beautiful, and a rest day lay ahead. That was a pleasure, of course, because rest is always good, especially in the mountains, where you have to put in a mass of effort to reach your goals. A tasty breakfast completed the morning and made it feel like something special. The only difference was that we had kompot instead of tea, but that did not spoil our mood. Sadly one of our companions was out of luck: he turned his ankle and, because of the dislocation, had to give up any further climbing.
On the eleventh day we planned to walk up to the hundred and fifth picket. We took the bus to Terskol and started up along the river Terskol on the winding road that gradually crosses onto the right-hand flank of the beautiful Elbrus. On the way we met eagles flying past and passed a magnificent waterfall. We carried on with songs. At the ninety-fifth picket the road turned off towards the observatory, and we went left along the river on a broken-up road. An hour later we reached a ruined hut known as the hundred and fifth picket. We made camp here: we put up the tents and turned the inside of the hut into a mess room.
On the twelfth day the group set out early in the morning. We climbed the badly broken road that leads to the ice base. At last a view of the two summits opened up, and the base itself turned out to be abandoned. We went down onto the glacier and set off towards the ice fields. It was a relief that there were not many crevasses, and we were able to get past them without difficulty. That is how we reached Priyut 11, where we met a great many visitors, mostly foreigners. The sun was beating down mercilessly, so we decided to wait it out in the tent. Although we could have ridden to the Pastukhov Rocks on an all-terrain vehicle, we preferred to walk.
The thirteenth day came — summit day. At midnight the people on duty cooked for us, and we set out at about two in the morning. I decided to walk slowly, following the tracks of the all-terrain vehicle so as to sink into the snow less. A thunderstorm rumbled somewhere in the distance, and with dawn it turned cold and my feet started to freeze. The sunrise was genuinely breathtaking. Tiredness gradually took its toll, but the stops gave me the strength to keep going. Seeing the dawn from up there, I felt the full beauty of the moment. It took us five hours to reach the saddle. After a bite to eat and some tea, I noticed a thick fog beginning to creep over us. There were thoughts of turning back, but how can you give up when only a couple of hundred metres are left to the summit? Valera set off first, then me and then the rest. Having put my crampons on, I carried on up the steep ice slope, and after a short while we reached the field below the summit. The last twenty minutes turned out to be hard, but at last I was standing on the summit with a view over the Caucasus. Visibility was good, and we took photographs to remember it by.
The fourteenth day was planned as the descent to Terskol, and on the way past the ice base we ran down easily with light rucksacks. Four hours of walking and we were in Terskol. Time was ours to use, and I set off towards the Green Hotel to try to find the people I knew, without success. Later I was told that they were near the sanatorium, and by four in the morning I did find them.
The next day was a rest day. The others were celebrating and saying goodbye to those who were going home. Nikolai and I decided to try Germagenov Peak. One of the women agreed to come with us to help with the cooking. Climbing alongside the Kashkatash glacier, we met a couple from Belarus who had recently come down after an unsuccessful climb. The weather was getting worse, but we still had hope of success.
The next day we started up Germagenov Peak. At dawn, with ropes and warm clothes in our rucksacks, we moved up a steep snow slope, belaying on the harder sections and traversing the crest. When we reached a narrow snow and ice couloir we had to squeeze underneath a rock. Leaving our rucksacks, we climbed to the summit, and my companion did not want to leave it. At one in the afternoon we started down a scree couloir, and the glacier met us with fog and approaching rain. We came back tired but happy, with peals of thunder rolling around us.
The last day in the mountains stayed with me only vaguely: the sadness of parting with this world was strong. The farewell supper did nothing to soften it, but I decided firmly that this was not a goodbye, only a temporary separation, and that I will certainly come back!