The soles of both boots turned out to be cracked, and it was obvious that climbing in footwear like that was simply out of the question. So we had to hire boots instead. Buying good mountaineering boots for a single outing was not realistic. The following morning a Gazelle minibus was due to collect us and take us to the foot of Elbrus. We settled happily into the Gazelle and decided to leave the things we did not need in storage. At the hire shop I took a pair of boots – they were good quality and inexpensive with it. I later found that I had made the right choice, because they made the climb a great deal easier. I should say that good footwear matters not only as a physical part of your kit but also as psychological support. It adds to your confidence in your equipment and in reaching the goal you have set.<\/p>\n\n
We took the lift up to the Mir station, which stands at three thousand five hundred metres. It was damp and cold there, with a strong wind and a temperature of plus five degrees. We put on warm clothing, which was very welcome. You really did feel sorry for the people who had come up on the cable car just for the ride: a sudden gain in altitude, drizzle and no proper warm clothing had turned those tourists into martyrs. Many of them barely stepped out of the cable-car cabin, took a few photographs and went straight back into the warmth. Our route led higher. Using the chairlift we climbed higher still and found ourselves at three thousand eight hundred and seventy metres, and from there we would have to go on foot. We could of course have used a snowcat, the tracked machine normally used for grooming ski pistes. Personally, though, I thought that was unsporting. We decided to walk up to four thousand two hundred metres, where our base camp was and where we would begin our push for the summit of Elbrus.<\/p>\n\n
On the way we passed the Barrels camp, a popular spot among mountaineers, consisting of large metal barrels each with four beds and a small table inside. You can stay in them to acclimatise or even set off for a summit push from there. If you are walking up, though, it is a fairly long way; on a snowcat it is perfectly acceptable. We had already been at that altitude and decided to keep going. At four thousand one hundred metres we came across the remains of the burnt-out high-altitude hotel Priyut 11. For our campsite we chose a rocky ridge left here by a lava flow, a spot well sheltered from the wind. The only thing that worried us was a large boulder overhanging our tent. I looked it over carefully from every side to satisfy myself that it was not dangerous, and it seemed safe enough, although it was covered in cracks. A little below the campsite I noticed a piece that had recently broken off it.<\/p>\n\n
That night I could not get to sleep at all. You sleep badly at altitude, and only lightly – that is what height does to you. The higher you go, the lower the pressure, and the level of oxygen in the air falls with it. At first the body tries to cope with the shortage of oxygen by breathing faster; the heart rate rises and you become short of breath. Higher up, though, that is no longer enough, and the body needs more time to acclimatise. Deep acclimatisation can be achieved over three weeks. If you gain height too quickly, altitude sickness can develop, with symptoms such as headache, nausea, disturbed sleep, mood swings, loss of appetite, a raised temperature and other unpleasant conditions. For the following day we planned to walk out to the Pastukhov Rocks, a rocky ridge named after a Russian topographer, mountaineer and surveyor. The lower edge of the rocks is at four thousand six hundred metres and the upper edge at four thousand eight hundred metres. Technically the climb up to the rocks is not difficult, but it matters for acclimatisation before the summit push. We checked ourselves and our equipment thoroughly, decided to put crampons on and practised walking in them – skills that would come in useful the next day. We reached the rocks quickly and the weather was excellent. Clouds appeared, a sign of bad weather to come, but we were lucky and we hoped we would be able to make our ascent. We took a few photographs against the rocks and started back down to the tents. The snow was wet, with streams running underneath it that we tried to step around carefully. Our footwear was waterproof, but we still had to be careful, because drying it out afterwards would be difficult.<\/p>\n\n
One of our companions went back to camp, while we headed for the neighbouring rocky ridge to get used to the altitude, moving smoothly and without sudden effort. We walked for about an hour and then returned to the tent to have supper and get ready for the next day’s climb. We had to turn in early, because the summit push starts at around three in the morning. The climb usually takes eight to ten hours and, whether or not you reach the top, you have to start down at one in the afternoon in order to be back in camp before dark. A cold bivouac – that is, a night out without a sleeping bag or tent – must not be allowed to happen. The ascent is planned to be done light, without heavy equipment: you carry only an ice axe, a flask of tea, a handful of nuts and dried fruit to snack on, spare gloves and a jacket. We lie down to sleep, and once again sleep will not come. I knew I had to try to drop off, because it would make the climb easier. But sleep simply would not arrive, and my head swarmed with all sorts of thoughts about the climb ahead, the weather and other small things. I tried to run through them and let them go, but I realised the mountain was playing a nasty trick on me. Poor sleep is one of the symptoms of acclimatising at altitude. I tried to calm down and concentrate on sleeping, and even considered taking a tablet from the first aid kit, but decided to do without medication. If I could not fall asleep within half an hour I would take a tablet; for the time being I lay there counting mountain sheep. Without noticing it, I slipped into sleep. At around ten in the evening I distinctly heard a rumble.<\/p>\n\n
See the programme:<\/strong> 7-day ski tour to Elbrus<\/a><\/p>\n The soles of both boots turned out to be cracked, and it was obvious that climbing in footwear like that was simply out of the question. So we had to hire boots instead. Buying good mountaineering boots for a single outing was not realistic. The following morning a Gazelle minibus was due to collect us […]<\/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-37387","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-articles"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n