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On the summit of Mount Elbrus by Robert Geier The growl of the snowcat and the orange glow of it's exhaust faded to leave the crunch of crampons in the frozen snow and the shadows of the climbers cast by the full moon as they gathered their energy for another step. At 4am on 28th July 1999 we were finally on our way to the West summit of Mount Elbrus in the Caucus Mountains in Southern Russia, to go to the top at 5642 meters.
I reached the summit at 9am feeling fine, and finding it empty, had 30 minutes to think, drink, and take some video and photos before the next Russian climber came into view. Two of the three Norwegian climbers in our team along with our guide had beaten me by about an hour and a half, but about another 20 Russians, Austrians, and the final Norwegian climber were still spread out along the route to the summit, all of whom I had passed in the darkness as their pace dropped with the decreased oxygen.
Our decision to summit a day early had paid off, and we had absolutely perfect weather for the whole climb. We were well acclimatized, and were down in the valley resting the next day when the weather again closed in, making for snow storms and strong winds on the long icy route to the top of Europe.
The trip started with a flight from Amsterdam to Moscow, a few days exploring Moscow, another flight south to Mineral Vody, a 4 hour minivan ride into the Baksan Valley, and seven days of climbing to increasing altitudes on the peaks and ridges of the Caucus mountains to adapt to physical effort in high altitude.
I stayed in the Rossia Hotel in the middle of Moscow. It used to be the world's biggest hotel, with 3200 rooms, and is on the banks of the Moscow River, across the road from the Kremlin - perfect location, dodgy hotel.
The Caucus Mountains and Southern Russia in general is the most beautiful area I have ever been. Glaciers at the end of every valley perfect for ice climbing, snowcapped mountains all around perfect for hiking and climbing, rivers swelled by thawing of the winter snows (wish I had a kayak), thick pine forests, wild strawberries all over the ground, and wildflowers, butterflies and bumble bees in the mountain meadows. Most of the large wildlife has been hunted out in the Baksan valley, but more remote areas still have lots of deer, bear, and wild long horn sheep roaming. You could hike and climb forever, or just sit by a river eating strawberries and watching the birds in the trees and the avalanches thunder down the glaciers high above.
Three large Russian climbers checked in to the mountain lodge on our last night there, and after we had been talking to them in broken English for about an hour I asked what they did, and they answered honestly - Mafia. Two of them warned us to keep away from the third as he was a "bad man" when he had had a lot to drink, had a "big gun" and had "killed far too many people" when drunk.
Our lead guide was a very experienced Russian by the name of Oleg who worked nine months of the year as a top nuclear physicist, and three months of the year as a mountain guide to actually earn money. He was 63, but fitter than I will ever be. At 10 he picked up a landmine and lost two fingers and a thumb on his left hand, and went on to be the best rock climber nine years in a row in the USSR, as well as doing research, and teaching physics, mathematics and biology at a Russian university. He spent a miserable winter living on the summit of Mount Elbrus training for an Everest climb, only to have the Soviet Union collapse and lose his source of funding. I spoke to another Russian who had summited Everest twice, and an Israeli who had summited once.
On the bright side I did summit Elbrus, got a tan, had a fantastic time, learnt lots, got a little fitter, and managed to buy three hand knitted wool jumpers and two pairs of socks for US$20. |
