Elbrus - Part 1

July 2017, Russia - Six time Mt Everest Summiter and our expedition leader Mike Hamill turned around from the front seat of the van and understatedly said “You guys might want to buckle up, the driving around here can get a little interesting.” Having seen the occasional video on YouTube of Russian drivers I didn’t hesitate to click in my seatbelt and knuckle down for the three hour drive we had ahead of us from Mineralyne Vody to Mt Elbrus deep within the Caucasus Mountains on the tense border of Russia and Georgia.

Russian pop music radiated from the van speakers as did the heat of a summer evening steadily turning to night. Leaving Mineralyne Vody, we stopped at a gas station to pick up some snacks for the drive, our fixer Igor brokering some kind of international peace deal between the visibly annoyed gas station attendants and out small collection of housewives, retired US military, young professionals, a stuntman, and retirees with each bag of potato chips and anonymous wafer-like cookies passed across the counter. We’d come to this remote outpost for a mountain, yet the cultural intrigue of stopping for gas, among other things, was already proving to be quite a fantastic adventure.

One of the most brilliant things about international climbing trips are the places these peaks take you. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever think I’d find myself in rural Russia on on the road to Mt Elbrus. And the novelty was not lost on me as we started up into the foothills, the terrain reminiscent of western Colorado only punctuated by military checkpoints and the abandoned concrete skeletons of old structures from the soviet era. Indeed the driving made it quite difficult to catch some sleep or relax. Despite a long day traveling from St Petersburg, each time I started to nod off the van would swerve between two semi trucks or some soldier would a flash of light into the cabin for an inspection. Better to just stay awake and keep your wits about you Pete.

"Out of the remote darkness illuminated a huge billboard of a fur clad Vladimir Putin photoshopped in front of a rope team"

Climbing deeper into the mountains the traffic subsided but the road grew steadily more windy and bumpy. We were headed for the town of Terskol situated at the bottom of a stunning alpine valley to rival Chamonix and just a few miles from the base of Mt Elbrus. I had a feeling we were getting close when out of the remote darkness illuminated a huge billboard of a fur clad Vladimir Putin photoshopped in front of a rope team climbing some glacier. Definitely not Colorado, noted.

Pulling into Terskol, my nerves and joints a bit rattled, the van stopped at the end of a narrow forested lane. Not taking much notice of our surroundings I humped gear to the top floor of our hotel and plopped down on the hard bed. A fluorescent light painted the room blue-green, a hue better suited for your fish tank then bedside lamp, and the faint but distinct odor of backed up sewage wafted from the bathroom. So this was wild Russia.

In the morning light the next day I surveyed our hotel of sorts. Our sleeping area was pretty decent, and even included a rustic wood fired sauna and cold plunge, though smoke had a tendency to seep into our room whenever it was in use (which was all the time). Nothing like a little carbon monoxide poisoning to hasten the acclimatization process. Across the alley was a taller building where the food was served. This building also happened to be a training center for the Russian National Judo Team, and so there were plenty of 14 year olds who could kick my ass hanging around. The dining hall was up 2 flights of dark and railingless stairs, across the lobby where water dripped from the ceiling in 3 places and where the athletes would watch russian soap operas, then up two more flights of stars, down a long hall and through the fifth door on the left. Totally.

After breakfast we geared up for a training hike to dust off the cobwebs and for Mike to evaluate everyone’s fitness. Before leaving for the hike we were introduced to Sasha, a local mountain guide who would be Mike’s right hand woman on the climb. It was a beautiful and hot day climbing the switchbacks out of Terskol, leaving the haphazard assortment of partially abandoned buildings for spectacular views and open alpine slopes filled with wildflowers.

"The distinct double summit of Mt Elbrus came into clear view with microscopic climbers and snow machines moving up and down on the lower slopes, giving Europe’s highest mountain the sense of immense scale it deserves"

The trail was busy as we made our way up the slopes, the valley came more into view and across from Terskol we got an unobstructed view of the mountain “Dykh-Tau”. A huge and imposing mass of rock and ice. We asked Sasha what the name meant in Russian and she replied “Killer Mountain” with a sly grin. Then, Igor told us about the time his friend skied down it in the 1980s right before regaling us about when he played dead to lure a bear close enough for him to wrestle it and stab it to death with a hunting knife… Remember: Wild. Russia.

After an hour or so of climbing we made it to a beautiful waterfall and got our first obscured glance of Mt Elbrus itself. At this point our team started to spread out more along the trail with Mike at the front and Sasha walking with those closer to the rear. The steepness picked up a little and the grassy slopes and flowers gave way to more resilient shrubs and lichens as we gained substantial altitude from Terskol and the valley floor below. At this point the distinct double summit of Mt Elbrus came into clear view with microscopic climbers and snow machines moving up and down on the lower slopes, giving Europe’s highest mountain the sense of immense scale it deserves.

Mt Elbrus itself is a dormant volcano within the Caucasus Mountain range which divides Russia in the north from the Republic of Georgia in the south. The Black and Caspian seas lie to the east and west. Because Mt Elbrus sits on the north side of the range, by maybe less than 1-2 miles, it is considered part of the European continent as opposed to Asia. Thus, at 18,510 feet tall it is the highest mountain in Europe (making it 2700 feet taller than Mont Blanc in the Alps) and one of the Seven Summits. The mountain has a distinctive volcanic shape, the relatively new geologic material pushed up into a smooth cone blanketed in snow and glaciers that have not yet had the time to scar the peak too deeply.

Aspiring Seven Summiteers are quite fortunate for Mt Elbrus is probably the easiest significant mountain in the Caucuses. One look at “Killer Mountain” makes that easy to recognize. This is not to say that Mt Elbrus doesn't come with its own dangers. In 2011 there was a terrorist attack on the mountain itself. The ski resort on the lower portion of the peak had one of its chairlifts bombed as part of a longstanding regional conflict that still simmers today. Also, in 2004 almost 50 people died in a single climbing season. Those deaths were often the result of poor decision making and low quality guiding as opposed to objective mountaineering hazards. Nonetheless, the mountain has a dangerous reputation despite its benign appearance.

Our destination for the training hike was an observatory on one of the lower ridges Mt Elbrus just below the snowline. The place had the feeling of some kind of James Bond hideout where you would expect a black market weapons deal to go down.

My dad and I were the first to arrive and had plenty of time to take pictures and have a few snacks as the rest of the team arrived. I was surprised how strong I felt given my training for this climb had been pretty light...the result of a recent promotion at work and never ending house projects. The hike was exactly the kind of confidence boost I needed and helped me stretch my legs and lungs after traveling half a world away from my home in Seattle.

The following morning we geared up for a skills training on the middle flanks of the mountain. Among the Seven Summits Elbrus is one of the least remote so accessing the route and camps is actually done via a series of gondolas and charlifts. The skills day would be the final test before we planned to move onto the mountain into a spartan hut that Irgor owned and managed. Riding up two separate gondolas we arrived at a small two person chairlift, a bit of an Elbrus icon, that’s been ferrying climbers for decades. It was just like being on any charlift if you’ve been skiing before, except the lifties were military guards packing AK47s. Wild. Russia.

The views were tremendous and the chill of the high alpine air was quite noticeable as I kept a deathgrip on my phone while taking pictures. At the top of the lifts our team walked a short way up the slope, passing by the “famous” barrel huts and dodging countless snow machines and snow cats that would become familiar company by the time our trip was over. Our short skills seminar was another opportunity for Mike and Sasha to evaluate us, and it was pretty standard stuff: self arrest practice, rope management, running belays, etc. The team passed with flying colors, though there were varying levels of experience.

Clouds and light snow came in the afternoon and we headed down the mountain for our last night in Terskol before making our attempt to climb Mt Elbrus. With our metaphorical climbing permits stamped by Mike and Sasha, whereabouts logged with the local government, and a stern look from the military guard at the gondola, we were good to go.