So they decided to pitch the tent near the Barrels. I then decided to ride down to them on my snowboard – I had hauled it all that way, after all. It became obvious later that this idea was not merely bad but unbelievably bad. You cannot imagine how much I regretted it afterwards. The descent itself turned out to be incredibly hard work. The powder was deep and I was badly out of breath. Worst of all, there was nothing to see in any direction – one solid white cloud. The only way to guess which way to go was from the angle of the road itself. At times it got to the point where I could not work out whether I was moving or standing still. I rode down for a short while and then it dawned on me that this was simply not going to work. What is more, it was the sort of situation you might not come back from. Behind me I could see the start of a line of rocks. That line was what should lead back to the refuge. I set off towards it through fairly deep snow, and it was unbelievably hard. Two steps and I would collapse into the snow. It felt strange, but going was even harder now than it had been earlier with a heavy pack. I did manage to reach the rocks and then scrambled slowly up them. There were only a hundred to a hundred and fifty metres left to the refuge. A laughably short distance, really, but for me it was an eternity. I took each new step and stopped straight away to catch my breath and gather a little strength. At times it felt as though I would not make it. Fortunately it all ended well and I did reach the refuge. That night the four of us had to sleep in one tent. It was cramped, and on top of that I started to feel the altitude sharply. My head began to ache. But compared with what had just happened to me, all of that seemed like nothing. I was in the refuge among people and, most importantly, safe, and still hoping for success.<\/p>\n\n
The fifth day in the mountains was planned as an acclimatisation day. Say what you like, without acclimatisation the mountains are hard going. The weather was not doing us any favours. Visibility that morning was zero. We set off to acclimatise anyway, and the whole crowd went. It was hard to make anything out. You could barely see the tracks of the person in front. As for me, I walked without any strain at all. Who knows, maybe I had got used to the altitude by then, or maybe it was the clean, fresh air. Cold air like that really does revive you. We walked for a couple of hours. We came up about a hundred metres short of the Pastukhov Rocks, because the ice starts there and we had no crampons with us. We were back in camp at three. An hour or so later, several more members of our group came in. There was nowhere to pitch a tent in the old refuge, so we had to clear a space outside. The weather gradually began to clear, which of course cheered everybody up. And then came the moment when my snowboard could finally be put to its proper use.<\/p>\n\n
That night I again found it hard to get to sleep. Two in the morning, three in the morning, and I did not feel remotely sleepy. So I had to take another headache tablet.<\/p>\n\n
The next day we decided to do one more acclimatisation walk. This time we took crampons with us. As usual we set off late, around eleven, maybe a little later. I decided to take the snowboard even so. I was sure it would clear up by lunchtime. We reached the Pastukhov Rocks fairly quickly, and after that we put the crampons on. It really is steep up there, and the ice is broken and jagged. There is no way of riding a snowboard down it. We managed to reach four thousand nine hundred metres. Some went a little higher, and some had decided to stay in camp altogether.<\/p>\n\n
Before going down we decided to take a photograph. Egor stepped away a little with the camera, and then he slipped and shot off downhill. The ice was smooth just there, and the angle was far from gentle, so he slid for some time. After about a hundred metres he came to a stop, helped by a small patch of snow that appeared from nowhere. Our photographer got away with a fright; the camera was more of a problem. Never mind – all’s well that ends well. So, we carry on down. I was a little annoyed at having to carry the snowboard back down, of course. But I still had some sense of self-preservation and I understood that riding that slope would be extremely dangerous. The weather began to clear about then. Further down, riding to the refuge really was a pleasure. The weather was, as they say, glorious, and the views were a delight. We were down very quickly. We wanted to keep going further, but we also knew we would have to walk back up the whole way afterwards. That thought stopped us.<\/p>\n\n
And then came the seventh day, the day of our climb. Excellent weather had been forecast for it, which naturally spurred us on and gave us hope of success. We got up at three in the morning. Such an early start was no problem for me, since I could not sleep anyway. By the time we were packed we managed to set off at five. A little snow was falling and our head torches lit the way from time to time. I left the snowboard in camp, since there was no point taking it. I can say with complete confidence that this was when I really began to appreciate what a fine thing acclimatisation is. The walking was easy. In time I even pulled away from the group, and made no stops at all as far as four thousand nine hundred metres. I decided not to hang around there either and set off upwards. On the way I overtook several groups as well as individual walkers. The sun was up by then, but the wind was still blowing. The ice section turned out to be pretty long and steep. Even so, it was not especially difficult; the crampons bit reliably into the ice. Then the traverse comes into view – a long path off to the left. It is snow-covered and the angle is easier. It looks as though the walking there will be simpler. In fact the going on that path was nothing like as easy as it looked. The traverse really is a treacherous thing. It seems endless. You can see the end of it somewhere in the distance, yet you cannot get any closer to it. It was hard work. We were already above five thousand metres. The main thing now was not to turn back. I had to stop often. Otherwise your head starts spinning badly and you feel sick. On that path I slowed down a great deal. In time some of the group started to catch me up. I was very thirsty by then, and our bottle of tea was with the person at the back. And at last I did reach the saddle – five thousand three hundred metres. That meant there was not far left to go. At the fork there I nearly set off towards the eastern summit by mistake. Walking at that altitude really was unbelievably hard. I decided not to rush and to wait for the rest of the group. I climbed up to a spot from which I could see the path clearly. About an hour later I could see some of the group. Together we reached the end of the saddle and rested for about twenty minutes. Then we set off up, unhurried. It was hard going again, but we kept walking; there was nothing else for it. I knew we would reach the summit that day. Closer to the top the gusts were strong enough to knock you off your feet, especially when a gust came without warning. We got up the final rise all the same, and at around one o’clock we stood on the summit of the mountain – five thousand six hundred and forty two metres. It was hard to believe we had actually done it. We had won. The feeling was extraordinary. All the difficulties we had got through really were worth it to be standing there. And you understand that not everyone is as lucky as you. It happens that even experienced climbers do not reach the summit, for all sorts of reasons.<\/p>\n\n
We did not linger on the summit, of course. We knew the weather could turn at any moment, and being up there would then be genuinely dangerous. So we start down without hurrying. We do not rush, because what we came here for has already happened. The descent seemed to go on forever, and by the time we neared camp nobody had any strength left. What warmed the soul was the thought that tomorrow we would head down, and after that the long-awaited journey home.<\/p>\n\n
And now it is the eighth day we have been in the mountains. It is hard to believe we have been here so long – and at the same time so briefly. None of that matters, though. What matters is that we managed to make a dream come true and reached the summit of Elbrus. And now it is down and down again. I did not feel great in the morning. For some reason my throat was sore. I also discovered that my face was badly burnt. Whatever the case, my friend and I packed up quickly, left the tent with Egor and started getting ready for the descent itself. The weather was as bad in the morning as before. It cleared a little as the morning went on. Towards midday, though, the cloud began to come down.<\/p>\n\n
And so we started down. Riding was hard at first. Above all it was hard to control a heavy rucksack on your back. Getting up after every fall was no easier. And if you are in deep snow with an enormous pack on your shoulders, that is quite a task in itself. Falling on your back is rather like a beetle that has landed upside down and cannot right itself. There were flat sections on the route too, and I had to walk those with the board in my hands. I really did, as they say, suffer for it.<\/p>\n\n
See the programme:<\/strong> All Mountain Guide programmes<\/a> \u00b7 Climbing Elbrus from the south, 9 days<\/a><\/p>\n So they decided to pitch the tent near the Barrels. I then decided to ride down to them on my snowboard – I had hauled it all that way, after all. It became obvious later that this idea was not merely bad but unbelievably bad. You cannot imagine how much I regretted it afterwards. The […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14084,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-37371","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n