What I will always remember. Part two

And so we had to turn back. Then we had a small problem with the traffic police. I will not go into all the detail. In the end it all turned out fine, and that is the main thing. So, we move on towards the village of Terskol. Along the way we take photographs and film the astonishingly beautiful, mighty mountains. From a distance they strike you with their grandeur, their power, their strength. And what will we see when we come closer, when we are climbing to the summit? It simply overwhelms you, and there are no words for any of it. On the way we call in at Verkhny Baksan. We needed a permit for the border zone. The permit itself was issued in about half an hour, or a little longer. It certainly took no more than an hour. I have to mention as well how much the look of the border posts surprised us. There is one in practically every village. The Azau meadow met us with rain. We go back to Terskol and ask where one might find a halfway decent flat to stay in. We were lucky with the people we met: we were told where to look for somewhere good. Curiously, the glacier itself was clearly visible from the bedroom window. The flat was cool, and damp as well. At night we even put the heating on. Presumably the summits round about have something to do with it. As for the cars, we decided to leave them in a paid car park.
And now it is our eighth day in the mountains. That is no small stretch of time, and we have managed to see a great deal in it. Acclimatisation is set for nine in the morning. In the mountains you cannot do without it. Its purpose, above all, is to let the body get used to the altitude — to adapt, in other words. Ahead of us was an acclimatisation walk towards Terskol peak, which is three thousand one hundred metres. We would be able to pass the “Maiden’s Braids” waterfall. As it turned out, this is a genuinely popular route. We met a lot of people coming the other way, walking both in groups and on their own. The waterfall itself simply astonishes you with its scale and with a kind of untamed beauty. Since there are so many people there, we decide to keep going, and to come up to the waterfall itself on the way back. Unhurriedly we reach the Observatory. The weather was a real delight that day. Our cameras never got switched off. We stop for a break, have lunch and go back to our flat. Once back, we decide to go out to a café for supper.
Walking about the village, we had seen that there are a good many cafés, but we did not know which of them fed you better. So we decided on a place we already knew. The food there really is very good, but what we did not like was the long wait before it was brought to us. You could quite easily fall asleep in that time.
So the next day, the ninth by our count, was the day we were due to set out on Elbrus. We head for the hire shop to pick up the kit we were missing. At the hire shop near the Cheget meadow we were able to find everything we most needed. On top of that we were given some genuinely priceless advice by an experienced hand. It is eleven o’clock. Only half the group, as it turned out, were resolved enough and fit enough to go. The rest see us off in the hope that we will decide to come back after all. But we are still very determined and have no intention of turning round. We take a taxi to the Azau meadow. It was good, at least, that the cable car was working. We could hardly fail to be pleased about that. Otherwise we would have had to drive up, or else walk the whole way, and with our enormous rucksacks we would hardly have reached the Garabashi station. We rode up in the new cabins of the first stage of the cable car. The second stage is a pendulum line with a car for twenty people. The look of the stations themselves, and of the landscape around them, genuinely leaves you at a loss. It is no pleasure to look at either, since there is something lying about everywhere. The third stage is a single chairlift. Some of the chairs simply have no footrests at all. As we went up it began to rain. The lift itself ends at three thousand eight hundred metres. The station is called “Garabashi”, or the “Barrels” as it is also known. When we got there, one of the cable-car staff helped us into one of the huts. What mattered most to us was that there was electricity and warmth. For that place it really is something close to a miracle. As soon as we had rested a little we set off for the Priyut-11 area, which is at four thousand two hundred metres. We had to carry our things up to the high camp. We also had to find a spot, pitch the tent and get back before it grew too dark. In its way that was acclimatisation too.
We spent the night at the Barrels. That same night I realise that the altitude is beginning to make itself felt. Some of the climbers suddenly had bad headaches, myself among them. By morning it had all passed. Two foreigners shared the hut with us. One of them told us they had been coming here to ski two years running, and that each time the first three days or so really are very hard for getting used to the altitude. At one in the morning people from the neighbouring huts start setting off on their climb.
On the tenth day we get up at about nine in the morning. We set off towards Priyut-11. This hotel was reckoned to be the highest in the whole world. As it happened, though, it was burned down at some point through carelessness. On the site of the hotel a foundation had been poured for a new one. The plan for that day was an acclimatisation walk towards the Pastukhov Rocks. We would have to gain five to six hundred metres. Just as we had almost reached the Rocks the weather broke, and everyone had to go back. There was a thunderstorm, hail and a strong, gusting wind. We have to melt snow for tea. We get soaked and, on top of that, very cold indeed. Meanwhile the women of our team were happily enjoying the superb views of Cheget, the Baksan valley and, of course, Elbrus itself in all its grandeur. We could see all of that sitting in one of the local cafés.
On the eleventh day we get up at one in the morning, have breakfast and set out for the summit. It is impossible to describe everything we felt as we climbed towards the top of the mountain. All I can say is that we never did reach it. We stopped at five thousand metres. Six hundred and forty-two metres were left to go. We had simply not acclimatised enough, and complete exhaustion followed from it. To climb one of the summits of Elbrus you need at least a week of acclimatisation. We did not have it. We had not worked out the time the route needed as we should have. Our time was limited to three weeks. We thought we would cover the journey in three days and nights without any trouble. Many trip reports do say, I should add, that it is perfectly possible to cover that distance in three days and nights. In practice, though, we saw for ourselves that reality does not match what the reports say. What is needed here is a genuinely serious and at the same time realistic travel plan, thought through properly well before the journey itself. After the necessary analysis and agreement it is, broadly speaking, possible to keep to three days and nights. And that is on condition that each vehicle has a relief driver. That is needed above all to rule out the slippery choice between the safety the driving requires and saving time. This is my own personal opinion, of course, and I do not rule out that it is arguable. I will say that I really do not quite see the point of travelling out to snowboard or ski in the summer. There is snow to ride, but it is simply awful at that time of year. It keeps sticking to the base of your skis. Going up by snowcat is possible, but it is a very expensive pleasure. And walking up can hardly be called a pleasure at all. Speaking for myself, I love skiing very much, but in winter. One argument, of a sort, is simply knowing that it is summer and you are on a snowboard or on skis. Somehow it does not quite work. Though it is quite possible that we will give it a try next year. Who knows, my opinion may change after all.