I have to admit that I had never been in genuinely serious mountains before. My maximum at that point was three thousand one hundred metres, so I could not begin to imagine how hard the climb would turn out to be. Since I am a keen snowboarder, we decided that I would take the board with me \u2014 to stop life tasting too much like honey, as the saying goes. What I really wanted was to haul the snowboard up to the summit and then ride it back down. That would make things a little easier, at least. As for doubts, they arrived once the packing was done. I only had to picture myself dragging all of it uphill and I felt distinctly uneasy. Never mind, it would work out somehow. And there was a comforting thought: coming down would be far simpler for me than for everyone else.<\/p>\n\n
I flew towards my dream from Vienna, changing in Moscow. Several other climbers were coming by train from Kiev to Pyatigorsk. As it happened I arrived a day early, so I had to meet the rest of the party the following morning at the railway station. After the connections \u2014 I will not go into the details \u2014 I made it to Mineralnye Vody. That is where my troubles began: my luggage vanished, nobody knew where. The situation upset me, of course, because it wrecked all my plans. While they searched for my luggage they put me up in a hotel at Aeroflot’s expense. The hotel stands next to the airport and is done out in a rather ascetic style, but the rooms are very reasonably priced. That evening came the good news that the rucksack had been found and should arrive the next day. On the whole the plans shifted a little, which was a relief. The rest of the group reached Mineralnye Vody the next day and came out to the airport to meet me. We met up and went off to buy bus tickets to Tyrnyauz, while I headed into the airport to collect my luggage. After a while I did get my things back. I had never been so glad to see ordinary belongings.<\/p>\n\n
As for the bus to Tyrnyauz, it never turned up. A bus to Nalchik did, so we took that instead. In the end we did reach Tyrnyauz. It turned out that, as foreign nationals, we had to register with the authorities. But it was Sunday, and evening by then, so everything was closed. Even so we were lucky. A local man appeared from nowhere and offered us a hand. In the end we managed to speak to the person in charge and get our registration done. Then we set off for Terskol. On the way we saw the traces of a recent avalanche, from roughly a few years earlier. It is an impressive sight: the trees are all flattened, lying in one direction. Our trek itself began in Terskol. We decided to walk towards Cheget for the time being, at least until it got dark. Later we ran into the border guards, which was not a pleasant situation. It turned out that you are not allowed on Cheget in the evening. So we walked along the road towards Terskol. On the way we turned off into the trees and started pitching our tents there. That turned out not to be allowed either: the whole area belongs to the National Park. Lighting a fire was forbidden as well. Our day ended with us sitting by the fire, waiting for the water to boil so that we could drink hot, fragrant tea.<\/p>\n\n
So it was our third day on the road. We got up rather late that day, at half past nine in the morning, and did not set off until twelve. We headed for Azau. Azau is generally taken to be the starting point of the ascent proper, at two thousand three hundred and fifty metres. You can already use the cable car from there. But we wanted the whole thing to be as honest as possible, so we decided to go up entirely on foot. Just before setting off we had a bite to eat. That was our last spell of passive rest. After it nothing was as pretty, as warm or as tasty; the working part of the trip had begun. So we crawl upwards through the snow, slowly but steadily. You feel the weight of the rucksack on your back. In those minutes I began to regret packing so much, and even thought privately that some of it could have been left behind. But now I would have to walk like this, getting the better of myself and of every difficulty. Hard as it was, it came with an incredible certainty that I would get through all of it and arrive. In time you find your rhythm and something like a second wind opens up. Now and then you lift your head to look around, and thoughts start swarming in it again. Bit by bit you begin to get used to all of it. After a while my friend and I managed to pull ahead of the others. Our interim goal at that point was the Stary Krugozor cable-car station. At first it looked genuinely close, then closer still, then very close indeed. But we walk and walk. The last part was very hard, with strength all but gone, and the slope looks steeper than before. In the end we do get to the top and drop our rucksacks with relief. About half an hour later the rest of the group came up. We set off again, though we did not walk for long. First, several of the group were very tired by then. Besides, we managed to find a lovely spot for a tent, so we decided not to push on at the end of our strength but to stop there for the night. As it turned out later, that was the only right decision at the time. Snow soon started falling and visibility dropped sharply. In weather like that we clearly would not have got far. And now it is our fourth day on the way. There was a very strong wind in the night, snow fell and the tent was noisy all through it. The weather in the morning was no better, which disappointed us, because the views from that spot would have been superb. Again we set off late, at eleven o’clock. We walked a short way and then the sun came out and you seemed to be in a different world. It was very hot. My things, of course, were right at the bottom of the rucksack. But there was no bearing the heat, so everything had to be repacked there on the snow.<\/p>\n\n
Our new goal at that point was the Mir station. I have to say it is a little galling to walk up alongside the cable car while everyone else is riding down it. On the other hand you feel like a genuine mountaineer, and nobody can call you anything else. There seemed to be far too much civilisation here. For a moment we even began to feel like minor celebrities: plenty of people wanted their photograph taken with us. What was interesting is that some of them, on hearing that we were going up, said they envied us. It was odd to hear, because at that moment I did not envy myself in the slightest. Then we arrived at our goal, and immediately decided to visit the local caf\u00e9. So we drink our tea and carry on walking. Slowly, then, but with almost no pauses, we reach the Barrels. That is the next scheduled rest. As soon as I dropped my rucksack I saw that my belt was undone \u2014 and my camera had been hanging from it. I decided to go back. I really was lucky that time: only a hundred metres down I found my camera in the snow. No lifts run any higher than that, but snowcats are constantly driving about. One of them starts overtaking us, with a crowd on board shouting something cheerful at us. We keep walking. Our goal now is Priyut 11, and there is not much of it left. The track here is not so steep and the walking is easier. The hut itself is already in sight, with only one rise left to it. I have to admit that I personally found that rise unspeakably hard. At one point it felt as though a little more would finish us off. The weather was an excellent incentive to keep going: the sun had disappeared somewhere and the wind had picked up. At four thousand two hundred metres it was genuinely cold by then. And I had no strength at all left for changing clothes. So I had to keep walking, step by step. At last we are in camp. I cannot get my breath back at all, and this with the rucksack lying in the snow long since. While several of my companions put up the tent, we get in touch with Andrei and Kostya. It becomes clear that they will not make it today.<\/p>\n\n
See the programme:<\/strong> All Mountain Guide programmes<\/a><\/p>\n