{"id":37399,"date":"2016-03-30T11:25:22","date_gmt":"2016-03-30T08:25:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mountainguides.pro\/?p=37399"},"modified":"2026-09-10T16:11:05","modified_gmt":"2026-09-10T13:11:05","slug":"climbing-elbrus-unguided-part-three","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mountainguides.pro\/pt\/2016\/03\/30\/climbing-elbrus-unguided-part-three\/","title":{"rendered":"Trying to Climb Elbrus Unguided. Part Three"},"content":{"rendered":"

Climbing Elbrus with professional guides<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n\n

Unfortunately, though, pitching tents in those spots is strictly forbidden. My friend did manage to find a pitch a little higher up. And it was just as well that we arrived early: by evening every previously free spot was taken by a tent. One group had come straight up from Terskol to four thousand one hundred metres and settled in not far from us. There is no arguing that they were genuinely strong lads \u2013 they went for the summit that very night. One of them was the most athletic of the three and was lucky enough to reach the top in four hours. The other two covered the same distance in six. And then there were people like me, forever complaining of headaches and nausea. I remember a lot of people giving me advice on which tablets I would be better off taking. I am against tablets of all kinds, though, apart from multivitamins. If the mountain does not want to let me up, then it was not meant to be. To my mind, hauling yourself upwards while exhausted with pain is not quite right. My friend found an excellent puddle to draw water from. We put the tent up quickly and had lunch. At two in the afternoon my companion managed to get up to the Pastukhov Rocks at four thousand eight hundred metres. I stayed lying in the tent. I felt sick, and my pulse kept jumping up and down. And all around me was extraordinary beauty. Everything in sight is a joy, as they say, and it gives you fresh strength for the climb. The weather was simply magnificent. During the day the sun was warm and streams were running, and at half past seven in the evening the air temperature was still six degrees above zero. And although I had no forecast, everything happening around me kept lifting my spirits. That day we covered two kilometres and gained height from three thousand seven hundred and twenty metres to four thousand one hundred and twenty metres.<\/p>\n\n

Overnight the temperature in our tent was zero. By nine in the morning, though, the sun was baking down and the tent had warmed up to twenty-five degrees. My eyes no longer hurt as much, but my pulse stayed just as high. At eight in the morning I went for water, then went again at ten. But it was no good: the puddles had frozen hard overnight and were in no hurry to thaw. So it became clear that water is best collected in the evening and kept in bottles for making breakfast. In the end we only managed to fill up properly when the streams started running at two in the afternoon. By then the temperature inside the tent had reached fifty degrees. And at half past five in the evening the first clouds appeared, and the tent turned noticeably cold.<\/p>\n\n

At ten in the morning my friend set off on another acclimatisation trip. That time he made it almost to the saddle. He decided not to break with tradition, though, since the advice is to make the summit push in the first half of the day. The weather was genuinely remarkable. Even in the evening the sun was shining brightly over Elbrus. My friend came back at four in the afternoon that day. He had reached the Kosaya Polka traverse, gaining height to five thousand two hundred metres. He was full of energy and, like us, wanted to go for the summit that night. So we had a good supper and went to bed. In the evening, after supper at around seven, a light rain set in. It did not really bother us, but it was a reminder of what the weather on the flanks of Elbrus can do \u2013 a hint that there is no relaxing, whatever the conditions look like at the time. And so it was our fifth day in the mountains. Nothing but snow everywhere. I woke at midnight. Half an hour later I tried to set off upwards. In about half an hour I managed to gain one hundred metres. In the end I reached four thousand two hundred metres, and that without any load and over fairly easy ground. I was not getting any better. The headache and the nausea had no intention of leaving me. And that was when I realised that even if I could crawl up to altitude at that pace, I would get no pleasure from it. So I turned back. My friend set off on his summit push at one in the morning. On the way he passed a party of four. They walked past me and went up with real ease. At three in the morning my friend was already drinking tea at the Pastukhov Rocks. By half past six he was on the saddle. At eight in the morning he made it to the summit, where one of the local climbers congratulated him. By midday my friend was back at the tent. On the way he had used his ice axe to break some water out of a puddle of meltwater. That water, together with the previous day’s supply, was enough for our farewell lunch. We packed up the tent quickly and at three in the afternoon set off down towards Terskol. We decided to carry our rubbish out with us in a bag, and dumped it at the Barrels: there is a collection point there, not far from where we had camped.<\/p>\n\n

Without any exaggeration, going down is far easier. After three in the afternoon the snow really does turn to slush, and naturally my trainers filled with water. I tried sliding down the steep slope leading to the Barrels alongside the snowboarders. Beyond the Barrels the familiar dusty track was waiting for us. And at three thousand four hundred metres something seemed to click and my headache vanished completely. The clouds kept thickening, and on the way down from Azau a light shower caught me. We bought some spirits in one of the local shops and duly celebrated the end of the main part of our trip. My friend had been lucky enough to stand on the summit itself. As for me, I learned what it means to have poor circulation at altitude. So my friend managed everything he had set out to do, one hundred per cent.<\/p>\n\n

The weather on Elbrus really was fabulous. So: day one was the climb from Terskol to the Barrels and a night there. It took eight to nine hours, with one thousand six hundred metres of ascent. Day two involved carrying our packs up from the Barrels to Priyut 11, pitching the tent and making an acclimatisation trip. Day three was scheduled for an acclimatisation trip and an early supper, plus brewing tea for the main summit push. Day four was planned around a start towards the summit at one in the morning, then a quick lunch on our return, striking camp and four hours to descend to Terskol. And what should you do if your head suddenly starts to hurt? I will not offer advice. The most sensible thing is probably to go down light to three thousand metres, spend some time there and return slowly to camp at four thousand one hundred metres. As for me, I did not think of it at the time. I kept hoping the headache would pass by itself.<\/p>\n\n

And so it was our sixth day in the mountains. My friend decided to take a couple of extra days to rest; the summit push really had drained him. I decided to test how I felt going uphill. I deliberately left my poles behind and set off for the ice base. I genuinely liked the very start of the track: a picturesque set of hairpins climbing the mountainside through the forest. At two thousand five hundred metres the forest ends and the track begins to curve around the mountain. And beyond a bend at two thousand seven hundred and seventy metres you get a superb view of a waterfall with the wonderful name Maiden’s Braids. The track carries on climbing, while a narrow path leads to the waterfall itself, where you can drink the water and even take a dip.<\/p>\n\n\n