My very first walking trip in Adygea left me with a dream, and the dream was Elbrus. It became my goal for several years. I decided then to approach the climb with complete seriousness. The first thing I did was to read a great many reports and stories by people who had actually been on the slopes of that magnificent mountain. It was then, having weighed up the arguments on both sides, that I decided to go with a commercial company. Any independent climb was out of the question, all the more so given that at the time I had no climbing experience at all. I do not count the little I had done before. But a friend talked me out of the idea of using a tour operator. Some friends and I then started training at a walkers’ club. And the idea of getting onto the flanks of Elbrus and standing on the summit itself never left me. My companions, however, persuaded me to visit other mountains first.<\/p>\n\n
So the following year I set about looking for a group that was going to climb Elbrus. Once again I read through plenty of reports, and I had settled on that mountain and no other. Over time I bought the rest of the equipment I did not yet have. And at last winter came and it seemed to be time to follow the dream. But the news from those parts was not good: because of various events the Elbrus region was closed. Even that was no reason for me to despair and give up. I kept heading towards my dream, sure that it could not stay closed for ever \u2014 sooner or later the Elbrus region would open again. I was planning to go and get to know Elbrus in the summer. And in June I had the luck to find some very recent reports about climbing the mountain. It became clear that there was a way onto Elbrus from the north, and that really was our chance. So I set about quickly reworking my plan for the trip. The point is that from the south the descent was planned by cable car, whereas from the north you have to walk down for much longer, which means the time needed goes up several times over. By then I was thoroughly fired up. I decided to suggest to all my friends and acquaintances that they try the summit of Elbrus with us. But in the end only the two of us, my friend and I, went to the mountains.<\/p>\n\n
On the first day after we arrived the weather was simply glorious. By nine in the morning we were in the village, at one thousand five hundred metres. Ahead of us lay the walk towards the Balkbashi pass. The weather here really can change very often. Towards evening we managed to reach the glaciers. Here we met a Ukrainian group, who as it turned out were climbing Elbrus with a guide. The altitude is about two thousand six hundred metres. We decided to try the narzan springs. Some of them tasted good and some were sulphurous. Either way, they are all considered very good for you.<\/p>\n\n
We set out at half past eight in the morning and the road went straight uphill. The first climb turned out to be extremely hard. My heart was pounding and at times it felt about to jump out of my chest. The first stage took about forty minutes, the second half an hour, after which we walked in twenty-minute stages with breaks of fifteen to twenty minutes. It was impossibly hard, for me personally at least. I knew, of course, that it would not be easy, but I could not have imagined it would be that hard. And there is only one conclusion to draw: I had not trained enough. When we came up onto the Balkbashi pass we were overjoyed. It was our first small victory. We were standing at three thousand seven hundred metres. Soon afterwards altitude sickness caught up with me. My head ached badly and I even had a slight fever. I took some activated charcoal and went to sleep. We spent that night at three thousand three hundred metres.<\/p>\n\n
And now we have been in the mountains three days. When I woke up I realised that I felt perfectly well, which meant I had acclimatised. I saw that the river was covered with a thin crust of ice, which meant it had been below freezing. I had slept really well. It was a good thing my sleeping bag was warm and comfortable. Elbrus is lit up by an incredible light. At times it seems that a short run would put you up there on the summit! The weather that day was glorious. We set out at about ten in the morning. We managed to find a spot where you could jump across. We were walking across the plateau then. We saw a lot of ground squirrels \u2014 although “a lot” is not quite right. There were simply swarms of them in those parts. Later we see what looks like an airfield. It turns out that the Germans made active use of it during the war. Today our plan is to reach the North Shelter whatever happens. The altitude is already respectable, two thousand eight hundred metres. We set out just after two. A long, drawn-out climb. At about seven in the evening we were at the Oleynikov Hut at three thousand seven hundred metres. The approach to the hut ran over moraine and a little way across a snow patch. You could see avalanche traces. We had been warned that the wind would be strong, so we took that into account when pitching the tent. I remember being asked fairly often what our purpose was in climbing Elbrus. Were we walking on behalf of some organisation? We answered that we were climbing on our own. On the whole we had the luck to meet a lot of interesting people. Here, for example, we met a guide. She told us a great deal about the routes to the eastern and western summits, and about the crevasses and the various dangers that can be waiting along the way. I admit that I began to regret that there were only two of us rather than a group with an experienced guide. It is such a risk, after all. The guide also cheered us up by saying that roughly a week of excellent weather was forecast for the area. We were feeling superb at that point. Elbrus stood before us in all its incredible beauty. That day it stayed clear right up to the evening. There were only foreign visitors at the hut. In the evening a little snow began to fall. But it did not frighten us. We were, as the phrase goes, in a fighting mood. On top of that we believed the optimistic forecast. So we have supper and go to bed.<\/p>\n\n
On the fourth day we had an acclimatisation walk planned. We decided not to push ourselves too hard today. So we walked for about an hour across a snow-covered glacier and then came down. The descent took us all of twenty minutes. We had to walk roped together. On the way we met another group who had also come out to acclimatise. They were heading towards the Lenz Rocks. The snow bridges had built up considerably by then and there was a chance of going through one. The chance was slight, though, so we carried on and tried not to pay attention to small nuisances like that. Then we decided to go back to the hut. Our new friend the guide said afterwards that it was a pity we had not gone as far as the Lenz Rocks. We had climbed to four thousand two hundred metres, and the rocks lie between four thousand six hundred and five thousand two hundred. We told the guide that today had been planned as a rest day. But if we had known what was waiting for us tomorrow, we would certainly have done everything possible to reach those rocks.<\/p>\n\n
See the programme:<\/strong> Climbing Elbrus from the north<\/a><\/p>\n My very first walking trip in Adygea left me with a dream, and the dream was Elbrus. It became my goal for several years. I decided then to approach the climb with complete seriousness. The first thing I did was to read a great many reports and stories by people who had actually been on […]<\/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-37382","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n