Climbing Mount Elbrus, Russia

Quest for snow boots

My Elbrus adventure started with a search for snow boots. Never have I thought that having small feet could cause so much trouble. I’m size 3 UK, which is the smallest shoe size available for women without having to venture into a kids’ section. So imagine how hard it is to find specialised shoes like high altitude snow boots. Especially that the industry is very much tailored for the most common client, and that is a man whose feet are far bigger than my tiny size 3.

My first option was to hire the boots from the company I signed up for to climb Elbrus, the Adventure Peaks. However, the smallest size they offered was 5.5, so that was quickly out of the picture even though it’s generally recommended to go 1 size up for a single snow boot, and 1.5 for double (i.e. a shoe within a shoe). Anything higher than that and your foot becomes too loose and you can get nasty blisters as it rubs against the boot. So what were the alternatives? I could buy the boots but that would cost over £500, which seemed way too excessive. And who knew how long my mountaineering passion would last where I could reuse the boots and make the purchase worthwhile. I could also search for cheaper second-hand boots online, but that turned out to be even more difficult. There was nothing I could find out there for such a small size.

After the online failure I was back to square one. The Adventure Peaks guys advised to try two pairs of 5.5 that they had in stock and hope that one would fit OK-ish. The problem was though, they were based in Lake District which was about 5 hours drive from my place in London. I could, however, go to one of the London shops and try on the same shoe and size. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out either. Even the most sophisticated mountaineering shops didn’t have the right brands let alone the sizes. The only option I had was to try the smallest size of any brand I found in London, size 6. That would give me some indication of how 5.5 would fit like. It felt enormous!

At that point, I thought that my only choice was either to go to Lake District and try on the boots for hire, or buy new shoes at the ridiculous price. I wasn’t too keen on any of these though. I was desperate to find another solution. I even tried sending my footprint over to Adventure Peaks. But after further consideration, I made a painful decision and ordered new boots. And then finally I got an unexpected email from Stu, from Adventure Peaks – they found size 4 single boots for me. “Perfect!!!” I thought.

Few days later the boots arrived. I was still at work at the time, so I got Rafal, my housemate, to measure them against my trainers I had at home. And… disaster! The boots were smaller from outside than my running shoes, and given how thick they normally are, I couldn’t imagine they would fit.

In panic I run across the floor to my friend Andreas who agreed earlier to take me to Lake District if I didn’t find the right boots. Since there was too little time to send the boots back and wait for 5.5 to be delivered we decided to drive all the way there this coming weekend. Luckily though the events turned in my favour as I reached home later in the evening. I tried the boots on and to my surprise, they fit just right. However, after losing two big toe nails during my last descend from Mont Blanc, I knew that “just-right” means “too small” in mountaineering world. I needed bigger size to allow for my feet to swell and to prevent my toes to hit the front of the boot while going down. I decided to test them though. I put thicker socks on and went for a walk. For two hours straight I walked up and down a little hill near my house. If someone was watching me, they must have thought I was mental. But who cares?

After two hours, the boots turned out to be good enough. Of course, the true test would be up in the mountains but for now I decided to stick with them. Result!

Flight to Russia

One of my English guides, Johnny, was taking the same flight to Moscow. Although we didn’t agree to meet up for the flight, he said he would be “easy to spot with the ridiculous boots” so I became obsessed staring at people’s shoes, trying to recognise him. Finally, I saw a guy at the gate with big snow boots. There he was! I didn’t approach him as I felt a bit shy, until I got on the plane and the only available spot in the overhead compartment was right above him. What were the odds? He kindly helped me with my backpack, still not knowing who I was, until I finally said “you must be Johnny”.

We had a few hours overnight stopover in Moscow before we flew to Mineralnye Vody. I was therefore glad I met him as it would have been hard to keep awake without a company.

We reached Mineralnye Vody at around 11am next day and were picked up by a minivan crammed with backpacks belonging to the rest of the expedition who already landed earlier and were taken for a traditional Russian lunch. I managed to rearrange the bags such that I could lay down fully stretched at the back seats. Perfect! I was exhausted and I could catch some sleep during the 3 hour drive to the hotel.

Half way through the journey, we stopped at the roadside cafe to regroup with the rest of the team and try some traditional Russian food too. We also got to meet a Russian organiser Lana, main English guide Stuart (who found the shoes for me), and of course the rest of the group. Lana was such a sweetheart, very helpful and dedicated, keeping busy to make sure everything was in order while we were relaxing by the table. She was also one of those people whose age you just can’t tell. My guess ranged between 23 and 40, that’s how unsure I was. I later found out she was about 33. So well done to Lana!

We were served Ossetian Pie, traditional Russian sun-shaped pastry filled with very salty meat and Khachapuri, a pancake with cheese stuffing. The pancake was quite tasty, but I later discovered it was way better with sugar sprinkled at the top. It reminded me of my childhood when we ate pasta with butter and sugar. I promise it was delicious however bad it sounds… I would still occasionally make it as a desert when my fridge is empty… which is most of the time.

After the lunch I couldn’t stop thinking about anything other than a clean and comfortable bed. We finally reached the hotel and I was lucky (again!) to have a room for myself. The hotel managers didn’t want me to share it with a man and the only other women in the group was already sharing it with her husband. Can’t complain! For once it was great to be a woman.

The day went rather quick, everyone was pretty much resting and packing for our early departure next day. Stu and Johnny went around to each room to check everyone’s gear. It turned out I didn’t have warm enough gloves. I had 2 pairs of thick ski style gloves, one of them being extra warm with additional insulation inside, yet that wouldn’t be sufficient for a nasty weather while up in the mountain. What I needed was down mittens, huge, kind of sacks that go almost up to your elbows and deprive you from any kind of dexterity. I decided to buy them after we get back from the acclimatisation trip to Mukal.

Day 1 – start of acclimatisation, Syltrankel Lake, 3200m

Next morning, we got to meet our two Russian guides. Vladimir, the main Russian guide who climbed Elbrus 156 times, and Victor, who was in fact Belorussian but worked and temporarily lived in Caucasus. Victor was a good looking young lad. One of the first things we noticed about him was his calves. They were massive and perfectly carved. Little did I know what else he was hiding at that point but it was enough to get my attention. “What a distraction!” I thought with a smile on my face and immediately messaged my sister-in-law about it. Suddenly Lana introduced me to Victor. He kind of ignored me at first but when she mentioned that Johnny and I will be joining him in the first minivan, he changed his attitude. “She’s going with us?” he shouted and they both started talking in Russian while smiling and looking at me. I tried hard to understand what they were saying but my Russian was too dreadful.

It turned out that Victor could speak Polish quite well, so we spent chatting the whole journey to the starting point of Mukal acclimatisation trail. “Poor Johnny” I thought to myself. He was surrounded by loud Russian porters, and us blathering in Polish. I tried my best to switch to English but Victor was persistently replying in broken Polish.

***

The van took us as far up as it possibly could. We got off and everyone started getting ready for the hike. Victor in the meantime disappeared in the forest. When he came back he was wearing tight little red shorts and a T-shirt. Neither Johnny and I thought much of that. But suddenly he took his T-shirt off. I looked at Johnny, ha smiled and I’m sure he had his eyes just as wide open as I did. I’d even say his jaw dropped but maybe I shouldn’t go that far. “Marta behave yourself” Johnny said. I guess these words perfectly describe the situation. Victor looked like just coming from a body building competition.

We started the hike. “In half an hour or so we’ll get hot and should take layers off to keep cooler” Victor said. It confused me a bit as I was only wearing a T-shirt and trousers and I had no intentions of taking any of these off. Johnny had similar layers on. So who was he talking to? Victor himself was just with tiny boxer shorts, so nothing could have gone off him anymore… or so I thought.

Finally we reached some kind of meadow with a little spring and a few cows around. We decided to have a quick rest. According to Victor this was a perfect time and place to rearranged the clothing situation as the heat started to kick in. I was hot but wasn’t going to undress to my underwear. Suddenly I hear Johnny saying “oh god, he really meant it!”. I looked at Victor and to my surprise he even took these tiny red shorts off and was only wearing briefs. No joke! Johnny and I found it quite amusing. Although he did have loads to show off. Good for you Victor!

And off we went. Of course Johnny gave me the pleasure of walking behind Victor. It was a bit awkward at first as his almost naked bum was right at my eye level. I quickly got used to it though and soon “almost naked Victor” became a norm for us and for the rest of the group when they joined us later.

I was quite pleased with our pace. It was a bit of my concern at first after my last climb when I struggled at lower altitude to keep up with others. But this time there was no one around, other than the two guides, who seemed to let me be a pace maker. Nevertheless, I do think it was a good and steady pace. We even managed to catch up with the porters who set off before us while we were still faffing around with our gear. To their credit though, they carried enormous weights. Although if they were not massively slower than Kilimanjaro or Inca Trail porters then I was happy with my pace anyway!

We finally reached half way to our camp spot at the Syltrankel Lake. We decided to take a longer break to have a snack and drink. This was also the place where I had my first ever true test of so called sheewee. It’s a little plastic device, often frown upon when described to people who have never climbed a mountain (or been to a festival!). It’s in a shape of a funnel that allows women to pee while standing. It’s a brilliant idea and should not be considered awkward or shameful. It’s actually ladies’ best friend during a hike. If you’re still not convinced, picture a scenario where a woman is standing on a snow covered mountain with no rocks, trees or bushes around, while being attached to two blokes by a 2 meter rope on each side and suddenly nature calls. It’s far easier to pull up the sheewee than pull down the trousers in front of the blokes. Moreover, with harness on it’s impossible to do so. Not to mention the temperature you’d get exposed to. So I salute you sheewee!

After my “fairly” successful use of sheewee we were ready to go. The terrain was now far steeper and patches of snow appeared. That obviously didn’t stop Victor to continue in his “almost nudity”. It was impressive… and cold just to look at!

There was a lot of streams that we needed to cross. Most of them covered with leftover snow from the winter. We walked over precariously and suddenly the ground collapsed underneath my foot forcing me deep into the snow. The two guides helped me out and we carried on. I tried not to think what would happen if I felt completely in. Johnny then taught me a lesson: the snow always starts melting around larger rocks, so if you see any of them sticking out don’t step on the snow nearby. Point taken! Although I did noticed that the snow caved in underneath my feet more often than Johnny or Victor’s which seemed odd at first as I’m much lighter than them. But on the other hand, my feed are ridiculously small making it more likely to pierce the snow. This was my theory and I’d stick to it, but you choose, either that, or I’m just clumsy on snow (Sigh!)

***

The wind started to pick up and the temperature dropped. We overtook all of the six or so porters that came with us in the same minivan. We decided there was not much point for us rushing any further as that would mean we would have to waiting at the campsite expose to the weather until the porters arrive with the tents and set them up. Instead, we decided to take a shelter from the wind and wait in a little valley with stunning scenery around. Johnny turned out to be some sort of a botanist and mountain animal specialist and started teaching me about different types of moss, flowers and birds flying around us. Biology was never my thing so the information didn’t stay with me for too long. Except one part. I learnt what one of my favourite drinks (gin & tonic) is made from… juniper berries. I guess a party lover part of my brain is always on full alert. Can’t help it (smile!).

***

Finally we reached the lake at 3200m. It was completely covered in snow but still beautiful. There was absolutely no sign of civilisation. There was no one around except for our group. In other words, perfect location!

The porters set up the tents and then headed all the way back to the village. The rest of the team joined us shortly after and the cook prepared some dinner. It was a dish made of some grains; uncomplicated, but tasty and more importantly filling. That followed with biscuits and various mini chocolate bars which nobody was too keen on as plenty of it was included in our day pack. We also got some fried curly cheese which seemed to be a local delicacy. We saw a lot of it over the course of next few days.

In the evening I discovered why it sucked to be a woman when camping. Unfortunately it was the time of the month and I had no luxury of taking a pill to postpone it as this little pill can actually be quite harmful at high altitude. It increases the chances of developing a blood clot. You don’t want to risk it girls, so go off the pill before mountain climbing! That then raises a tough question though – what do you go with, old school pads or new school tampons? New school is more comfortable but old school can last way longer. And with no toilets around that unfortunately can be a game changer. Practically comes first though! Old school it is then (sigh!).

We stayed out another few minutes chatting randomly and finally we called it a day. I was looking forward to catching some Zs and try out my new mat.

It turned out we had an extra person staying overnight with us. Our cook brought a friend along. That meant I had to share a tent to free up a space elsewhere. The guides suggested to share it with the only other woman in the group, Wendy. I didn’t mind it at all, but felt bad splitting her from her husband Brian. She was a proper hiker though, completely the opposite of a princess, so she was totally cool with it.

Day 2 – ascent to Mukal, 3889m
It was an early start. The weather was perfect, only a few puffy clouds above and quite pleasant temperature. We had some porridge with honey and last night’s biscuits, and we set off for the acclimatisation summit. Crampons, harnesses and helmets straight away on. Victor was topless as usual, but this time, to my disappointment, he put trousers on (damn!). Although, it would be hard to imagine treading without them in almost meter deep snow.

He set off first with Vladimir to break the trail. In such deep snow we had to follow their exact footsteps which was quite tricky for me as they where enormous competing to mine. But the speed wasn’t too bad so it was bearable.

The hike was so picturesque. Apart from us, there was not a soul around. The snow was flawless ahead of us. We zigzagged up leaving this amazing view of the lake and our campsite behind. We stopped for a snack and another sheewee experience. I must say I started feeling like a sheewee pro by then.

Finally, we reached a pretty steep part. The snow receded and rocks and stones were exposed which occasionally tumbled down as we passed through them. The guides repeatedly gave us clear instructions to increase space between us to allow for more flexibility in case one of us needed to dodge the falling rocks. Unfortunately, everyone was quite tired at that point and not always followed the orders which created some tension amongst the group. Nothing major though, we were all adults and friendly by nature so were cool once we passed the most tricky stretch.

When we reached the Mukal peak the view was quite spectacular. We could see a range of beautiful valleys all the way up to Elbrus. Although the east summit itself was covered in clouds.

Everyone felt good and in great spirit. A few inevitable photos at the top and we were ready to go down as we saw ticker clouds moving fast towards us.

As we walked down we triggered a few small avalanches of rocks. It was quite scary. At one point, a boulder, about a meter in diameter, was heading right at me. Everyone stood in silence, staring in anticipation what was going to happen. It was gaining speed as it was tumbling down, going left, right, up and down wildly. I was trying to move to avoid being hit but it wasn’t easy. I had to balance on top of the moving rocks with crampons on. Plus, no joke, it seemed to be following me each time I took a different direction. Finally, the drama was over, I was safe but shaken! I looked forward to reaching the snowy part again which seemed way safer.

Day 3 – return to the valley

We all woke up cheerful as we knew it was going to be an easy day. We just needed to pack and get back to the valley. The terrain was straightforward and not very steep most of the time. There was just a few patches of snow to pass and we’d reach the meadow kind of landscape with mountain streams and cows scattered around.
Going down was a true test of my boots. They were just the right size with little room for my toes. That means the toes were likely to hit the front of the boot when going downhill, and that in turn would mean potentially losing toe nails. Luckily it wasn’t the case (phew!).

Once we reached our hotel, there was a much appreciated shower and a comfortable bed waiting for us. I finally got to see myself in a mirror. I looked awful, like from a horror scene. The lower part of my face was burnt and lips were swollen while the forehead was Irish pale. I looked like I was having a stubble. I’ve learnt my lesson for good I hoped – don’t try to get nice gentle suntan when in the mountains, it just won’t ever happen! Where was my common sense though?!?

Day 4 – the barrels, 3703m, and Prujut 11, 4160m

The next day we were finally planning to get to the Elbrus base camp, the barrels at 3703m, also known as Bochky or Karabashi. I was really looking forward to it as this place was quite unique and interesting in its own right. 1o or so barrels lying on their side in a row. I had heard of this place from few books I read earlier, and it was exciting to finally see it in reality. Plus the view from there of the two summits of Elbrus was spectacular. Especially during good weather, which we were lucky to have throughout our stay on the mountain.

Despite all the gear and supplies that we needed to ship to the barrels, the journey was going to be easy – two cable cars and a single seat chair lift to reach the base camp. However, once we reached the last leg, the lifts turned out to be broken. The guides started organising a snowcat to take our supplies right to the barrels while we were going to take a stroll up the mountain. In the meantime, there was a skidoo cruising around. I jokingly asked the driver with a “ninja” ski mask to give me a fun ride. To my surprise he agreed. He drove me up and down a mountain speeding almost uncontrollably. It was so much fun but scary at the same time.

Once the snowcat arrived and the rest of the group joined us we loaded the supplies, hooked our backpacks at the front of it and set off towards the barrels. Suddenly the same skidoo driver stopped ahead of us and indicated at the empty seat behind him. I immediately knew what he meant, and quickly jumped on. He speeded up a steep slope ahead of us, then suddenly stopped, sat behind me and let me drive. It was a snail speed in comparison but it was a fun experience. After a while the driver reached for the steering bar. I was still seated at the front. He started driving like crazy, going totally off piste on slopes that were so steep I wouldn’t even consider walkable, not to mention being suitable for a skidoo ride. Then he took me to a flatter area and started driving in circles. I honestly thought we’d crash, but I loved it! He took me right to the barrels. Thank you driver!

The barrels were fairly spacious. They could accommodate 6 people, sleeping not even on bank beds, but normal size single beds placed along each side. There was even a separate room for all the gears and a front room which we seemed to be using for peeing at night into our pee bottles. Yes, we all did that, including myself with the help of the sheewee.

***

After sorting out the kit and supplies, we headed to Prijut 11, our acclimatization goal for today at 4160mm. It was quite a pleasant walk. The weather was perfect, and the pace was great. We all walked in one line, equally spaced, which was quite scenic looking from the side. I didn’t experience any noticeable altitude symptoms. The rest of the team also seemed to be well, except maybe for Neil who felt a bit lightheaded once we got to Prijut 11. He was eager to go down. It didn’t seem anything major though.

The return to the base camp was even easier. We walked chatting a lot very casually to one other. And at the barrels, perfect reward – fantastic lunch made by our Ukrainian cook.

In the afternoon Johnny took us for some self arrest practice. I was really keen on it as I never had a chance to learn it before. Not even on Mont Blanc where I think it was absolutely crucial. The company I did it with was simply not as professional. Glad to be with Adventure Peaks now!

We started off with basics of how to tie a sling or how to hold an ice axe. One interesting thing we learnt was that it’s not actually recommended to fix an axe leash around your wrist. It may be counterintuitive at first as it seems like a good practice in case it slips from your hand. However, if you think what the prime purpose of an axe is, you may change your mind. It is to save your live in case you slide. And if that happened you’d be tumbling down the mountain, and the loose axe tied by the leach would be nothing more than a weapon stabbing you as it smashes uncontrollably against your body and the slope. Given that you only have about 3 seconds to do self arrest, flapping axe won’t do any good. On the other hand, if it’s not a life threatening slide it could actually kill you through stabbing or result in severe cuts. So save yourself the harm and get rid of the leach!

Enough of the negativity though. I promise mountaineering is never that gloomy. So cheer up!

We learned the position of an axe during self arrest first and then tried it in practice by sliding down a steep slope in all possible starting positions: feet first, head first, belly up or down etc. Each position had its own technique to stop your body from falling. We tried them all in turns. Although hopefully none of us will ever have to use it in reality.

Day 5 – Pastukhov Rocks, 4700m

It was another acclimatization day. We were going to take the same route as before, but this time pass Prujut 11 and up towards Pastukhov Rocks at 4700m. We had another clear weather so the walk was very pleasant at first. We marched again in one line like soldiers as it’s generally easier to follow someone else’s footsteps. Lucky for me, I was right behind Wendy this time. Her steps were tiny comparing to the other guys, so treading was quite easy.

Once we passed Prujut 11, the altitude kicked in and the hike became a bit more tiring. Victor was the only person not treading along one line which normally is much harder but I guess he was used to it. I doubt he felt any altitude at that point. I didn’t hear him sigh even once. He was very chatty all the way. We talked on all sorts of different topics: religion, ex girlfriend, music, art, etc. Although it was more of a monolog at that point as I found myself out of breath even when asking a question. I tried to limit the conversation to the occasional yes or no, fading down to nodding and then just listening.

We finally reached the Pastukhov Rocks, 4700m. The clouds gather around us and the view was no longer as spectacular.

I met three Polish hikers. We had a little exchange of experiences and took some photos together. One of the girls didn’t feel too well and was keen to go down. She had a blocked nose, a headache and said she couldn’t sleep at night. She mentioned she was still recovering from a flu she had a few days before the trip. Although I did wonder if it indeed was the flu or altitude sickness. Unfortunately, these are often the symptoms people mistake for a flu and try to treat it with medications instead of focusing on acclimatising sufficiently. Poor girl though, I felt sincere empathy for her as I knew it would affect her chances to reach the summit. In fact, when we later met up down in the valley I found out that sadly she didn’t make it to the top. The other couple she was travelling with was successful.

I was quite impressed seeing them climbing such mountain without a professionally organised expedition. Although, from what they told me, they had done quite a lot of hiking and felt comfortable climbing Elbrus. “What can happen, we’ve got GPS so we know where to go” the guy told me. I wasn’t sure if I would agree with that. My belief was always that no matter how experience guide you have, and how sophisticated technology you carry, you are always in danger of getting into trouble due to your bad judgement or false assumptions or just pure accident. They had GPS and strongly relied on it which I’m sure would be good enough in 99% of cases. However, knowing that we had 3 GPS amongst our group and each was showing slightly different altitude measurement (up to 40m difference at one point) I wouldn’t take it for granted. A prime example of that happened a year earlier. Three Polish hikers were trying to summit Elbrus. Long story short, they had GPS but once the weather turned nasty they couldn’t find the way back. They got completely lost and didn’t make it alive. They story was known thanks to another lost hiker, a Russian guy, who bumped into them on the way down from the summit. They teamed up and walked for hours together until there was a disagreement on which direction to take. The Russian guy survived.

This tragic story had an effect on me as unfortunately one of the guys happened to be a friend of my close friend from Poland.

***

We reached our acclimatisation goal for the day, but since most of the group felt OK, Stu suggested we could try to reach 5000m mark. I felt great but was running low on water so I wasn’t sure I should continue. Luckily, some people decided to head down and were happy to share the spare water they didn’t need.

We set off in a tight zigzag pattern as the slope was now considerably steeper. I felt good overall but found it more difficult to catch a breath. Moreover, it was getting really hot despite all the snow around which wasn’t helping. The sky was clear and the sun was really strong. We were all dressed down to just a base layer, apart from Victor, of course, who was topless as usual. We reached a broken snowcat half buried in snow. We decided to have a quick break and then continued up to the traverse. We caught up with the Polish couple we met earlier. The girl started having a headache so they reached the exact 5000m on their GPS and turned around. We continued higher and finally reached the traverse. Our GPSs were now showing around 5050m. The boys celebrated this achievement by taking they tops off for a photo. I was strongly encouraged to join but decided to be boring and passed. I thoroughly enjoyed the view though (haha!).

Going down turned out to be a nightmare for my thighs. It was a constant and intense pressure on one muscle. It seemed to be more difficult to go down than up. I would definitely need to work more on that for the next trip. Chris, from London, also seemed to struggle so we both tried to slide down on a plastic bag. He did well, gained a good speed and slid down a good distance, while I gave up after a minute or so. My bum was so sore from the lumpy slide that I couldn’t continue anymore and reverted to walking. Everyone was far ahead of me. I struggled at the back with Victor waiting for me. Once we reached Pastukhov Rocks I felt a slight relief. It wasn’t that steep any longer so less impact on the thighs. I manage to catch up with other guys from the group. I couldn’t wait to get back to the barrels.

Day 6 – rest day

According to the schedule we had a two day window for the summit attempt in case of a bad weather. And since the forecast was still promising (even improving) we decided to have a well deserved rest day and head for the summit early next morning. There was absolutely no strenuous activities that day. It was lovely. We had a little lie in, breakfast was served at 10am and for the first time we could enjoy it without the rush to get ready for the hike. Some people decided to get some sleep during the day, some were doing a bit of laundry, while others considered going to the hut just below the barrels where apparently beer was being poured. Although I’m not sure if it would be a good idea just before the big day. My party soul had suffered but I decided to be sensible and stay sober.

Someone put an idea forward to go all the way down to the valley to get good night sleep. No one did it in the end though. It seemed too much hassle for what it was worth. We were already acclimatised to a higher altitude so the barrels should already give us a good enough sleep.

Stu, Johnny, Sham and I decided to watch The Revenant I had downloaded on my iPhone. We built a makeshift cinema. The view must have been ridiculous. Four people crouched on a bed and floor, tucked comfortably in sleeping bags staring at a four inch screen trying in vain to read the subtitles. It was great though and very intense. Unfortunately, we had to pause half way through for a dinner.

We finished the film around 8pm and went straight to bed. The exhaustion that had built up over the past few days knock us down immediately. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling something crawling in my sleeping bag. I turn the torch on and found a little cockroach. I was terrified. It’s one of my biggest nightmares. I started wriggling rapidly and unintentionally woke Stu up. Luckily for me he helped me out and killed the monster, laughing at the same time as it indeed was a small thing, but enormous in my eyes.

Day 7 – ascent to the summit, 5642m

The summit day started in Alpine style, waking up at 1am, breakfast at 1.30am and leaving the barrels at 2.30am. We decided to take a snowcat ride to 5,000 m, as it was strongly recommended by our guides. And indeed, everyone we met on the way took a lift to about that level. Unfortunately it can’t go any further, but it’s still impressive how far it can go given the steepness of the last bit.

The last minute preparation was overwhelming. Two gigantic snowcats were parked in the middle of the yard outside the barrels, with powerful engines and lights left on. Everyone was getting ready putting their gathers and crampons on, adjusting the poles (one slightly shorter for the traverse start of the hike). There was not much talking going on, everyone was just very focused.

We hooked our backpacks at the front of the snowcat and I jumped on the first one ready to go. To share the cost of the ride, there was a Russian couple already there waiting for us. So 11 people in total sitting on little benches in silence, just waiting for the big moment. The seats were uncomfortable. They made you slide towards the back of the vehicle as we drove upwards, squashing people sitting at the end. I thought I was lucky sitting on top of the slide, avoiding being crushed, but shortly after we took off I realised that I’m right by this huge vertical exhaustion pipe, like the one in those big American trucks. It was gushing toxic gases right in my face. Unnerving thoughts were going through my mind. It was a half an hour ride to the 5,000 meters point where we intended to start the ascend. “Was I going to suffocate in that time, or at least get a headache that would impede my chances to reach the top?”. The pick of horror was few minutes before the end of the ride when Chris tapped my shoulder indicating to move up. It stressed me out even more after seeing the horror in his eyes. Was he in pain or just annoyed being crushed? I never found out.

And finally, to my relief, we reached the starting point of the traverse, 5,050 m. I jumped out as soon as I could to get some fresh air and immediately realised I was desperate for pee. I quickly took out my sheewee, and did what I had to do. This time without hiding or walking further away in embarrassment. I just didn’t care at that point. All I could think of was to save my energy to reach the top.

Suddenly, I noticed that everyone’s head torch was significantly stronger than mine. I recalled my last experience at Mont Blanc, when my brand new torch battery died after just a few minutes due to the cold. This time my battery wasn’t brand new, but tested still to be working fine, so I decided not to take any chances and started changing it. Stu noticed it straight away and urged me not to bother and just gave me his spare. It seemed like he had a spare of everything, he’s backpack must have weighted a ton.

We had a few minutes to make some final preps and take off some layers for the hike as it would be much warmer once we get moving. I decided to take off my huge puffy down jacket and leave only a base layer plus two long sleeve fleeces. I was warm enough at first, but then when we saw another snow cat coming and decided to wait for the others I started to get chilly. I didn’t worry too much about it as I knew once we set off I’ll be warm again. However, I soon discovered it wasn’t the case. It was a mistake that I’m hoping to learn from for my next mountain climb. The pace we were going at was simply not enough to warm up the whole of my body. You can start the hike being slightly cold when you are at lower altitude, especially when hiking during the day, but not during the summit bid and at night. I also recalled how warm I was dressed at Kilimanjaro when we set off from the base camp to the summit and remember it felt just right despite all the layers: long sleeve base layer, two fleeces and a normal jacket, plus super warm snowboarding pans high fitting above my waist with leggings underneath and a silly scarf. I stubbornly didn’t want to admit I was dressed too light this time as I was not actually that cold. But my toes were freezing. I remembered from Kili to keep wriggling them when they get cold as that would warm them up after a while. Although, this time I did the wriggling to no avail. After half an hour there was still no success, so I decided to raise it to Stu, our main English guide who climbed to the top of Mont Everest three times. This was the moment I realised how professional he was. He came up to me and firmly said “right, you need to put a layer on, your body’s too cold, and keep wriggling your toes”. These words somehow stuck with me. What seems obvious now wasn’t obvious up there at all. It took me half an hour worrying and thinking what to do before talking to Stu. Since I was actually warm overall it didn’t struck me to put warmer clothes to warm up my toes. These words sounded so carrying to me at the time that the feeling of being safe and well looked after filled me in. I quickly followed his order, very happy to do so, and felt mental relief as I knew I was going to be fine.

Once I relaxed about my freezing toes, new worry occupied my mind. I was now wriggling them for over half an hour and my shins started to hurt. “Will I make it to the top if my shins are already killing me” I thought. But that thought quickly vanished once my toes got warmer… No more wriggling!! And finally my mind was at piece.

Not for too long though… My tong started to hurt again. I had burnt it during the acclimatisation together with my lips and it was really sore and swollen. I kept checking if it still hurt by rubbing it against my retainer fixed from inside of my teeth. That certainly didn’t help. In fact it made the matter worse. But then suddenly my mind got occupied with another worry, the urge to pee. How was this possible? I peed an hour earlier and then tried to do it again half an hour later when we stopped for a minute for a sip, but nothing came out at the time. Another false alarm? Or was there something wrong with my bladder. I convinced myself it was the latter, so I tried to focus on my steps and forget about it. I knew we only had maybe an hour to the saddle which was a resting spot where I could sort myself out.

And finally we reached the saddle. Pee urgency was now full on! I walked away a few steps, took my sheewee out and just did it surrounded by 30 people or so. It took a long time which made me believe that my bladder was actually fine, I just genuinely needed to pee. I also discovered that peeing for 31 years in a sitting or squatting position made it challenging to do it while standing unless you gave it an extra push. As if you were blocking the passage while standing. Therefore, before I discovered “the push” I never emptied my bladder properly and constantly felt like I needed to pee. My bladder was fine then. Phew!

Now it was time to get some food and drink. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty at all but I remember from Kilimanjaro that not drinking and eating actually destroyed me. You burn so many calories even though it doesn’t seem like as you pretty much walk just a short distance in slow motion, but the altitude makes a huge difference, plus the backpack and the hilly terrain add to it.

The sun was already out, but didn’t get to the saddle yet. Nevertheless, it was just a matter of minutes before it would reach us and so the temperature started to pick up. Many of us made a quick decision to take some layers off and were ready to go… but not me!! I was faffing about endlessly.

…jacket on, jacket off, leaving my backpack in a saddle and stashing my water somewhere… but where, only my big puffy jacket has a sizeable inside pocket… ok, jacket on then, but it’s gonna be too hot, so maybe only a waterproof jacket plus one extra layer… For goodness’ sake Marta, make a decision!! Backpack and the puffy jacket on then!!

That’s definitely something I need to work on next time as it adds unnecessary stress. So two new lessons for me:

1. Don’t start of cold for the summit; put just enough layers to feel comfortable at the start, ignoring the fact you may get warmer once you start moving… you won’t!
2. Plan ahead what to take to the last stretch of the assent to avoid the faffing!

We had a quick briefing about the last part of the climb and off we went. An ice axe in one hand and a hiking pole in the other. Another, 2.5 hours and we’d be there. At that time I knew I would make it. The weather was perfect, I felt good, had no headache, so now it was just a matter of treading in the footsteps of my fellow climbers ahead of me. I also wanted to improve myself after the faffing at the saddle, so my focus now was on smooth change of the ice axe and the pole from one hand to the other as we zigzagged up (the strict rule is an ice axe always in the uphill hand so that you’re ready for self arrest in case you slip hence the constant change of hands during the zigzag).

Finally we reached the steep, kind of icy, stretch where fixed ropes were mounted to the snowy ground. We had to attach ourselves to the rope with two slings that would stop us from falling. It was now harder to use both the hiking pole and the ice axe as one of your hand was occupied holding the rope you were attached to in order to avoid stepping on it and puncturing it with your crampon. So, as we trained, I slid my pole between my back and the backpack, and kept my ice axe in my hand. Although I’d rather keep my pole as it was helping with the climb while the ice axe felt more of a burden… too short to rest on, as it was digging deep into the snow, and too heavy to carry comfortably, but it was essential. It’s pretty much the only thing that can save you if you slip. Plus, I did remember the stories that Victor and Vladimir told us about two climbers, a Brit and a Rissian, who slid down to their death, right on that length, just a week earlier.

At the last anchor of the rope, my carabiner screw got stuck. I couldn’t move any further. Someone behind tried to help but didn’t manage either. The queue picked up and I felt awful for blocking the path but there was nothing I could have done. Finally, Vladimir came over, secured himself to the rope, and tried to fix my carabiner. It was just frozen. At first he couldn’t unscrew it either, but then he kneeled down, covered the carabiner with his hands and started to blow a hot air to unfreeze it. After a minute or so it came loose and I was free to go.

And finally we reached the flat area just before the summit. The top of Elbrus was now on the palm of our hands. Another 15 minutes or so and we would reach our goal. We stopped to catch a breath, had a sip and a bite and everyone set off at their own pace. Wendy didn’t feel right, but the guides kept a close eye on her. I followed two guys from our group who left first as I was keen to get there as soon as possible. One Russian guide (an extra guide who join us for the summit) was also with us. Every one minute or so I needed to stop to catch another breath, slowing them down as they waited, but given it was only few minutes left they didn’t seem to be bothered. The last 10 meters was steeper and narrower and, to my relief, mini traffic have built up which gave me a chance to recover.

As I was approaching that last part the emotions just hit me, I felt the tears building up but I managed to keep it together. Then, another 3 steps and one more gush of emotions overwhelmed me. This time I shed few tears but again, I managed to hold it, but only until the last two steps where I just broke down and tears of joy started to rain down my cheeks as I stepped on the summit at 7.10am on 24th June 2016.

We started hugging and congratulating one another. Few minutes later, the rest of our group reached the top, and there we were, all fourteen of us plus 5 guides at the summit of Elbrus at 5,642 m.

There was a little memorial that formed a focus point for summit pics. We all took turns to have that perfect shot… or ten of them. I took my Polish flag out, and a sheet of paper with “mummy, happy birthday from the top of Elbrus” written in Polish. I was late 2 days with the wishes but it was still worth a shot.

We then took a group photos and finally we were honoured for the very last time with a topless view of Victor. I couldn’t resist a selfie. Poor thing, he must have been freezing!!!

After 30 minutes on the top it was time to go back. Going down was a bit tricky. The guides decided to take a slightly different route this time. I wasn’t entirely sure why. The slope was covered with deep snow with ice underneath forcing your foot to slide if you treaded carelessly. It didn’t feel dangerous though, just uncomfortable taking those huge steps and landing on your bum now and then when losing your foothold.

Once we reached the saddle it was all straight forward. However, we were all exhausted and on the way down we debated whether to take a snow cat down from the Pastukhov Rocks. It cost only a few Euros per person so we decided to do so. Everyone was knackered but felt really happy. There was no real casualties. Wendy also seemed to feel better at that point.

I was really pleased how I coped with the altitude. Didn’t even have a headache all the way up. Only when we reached Pastukhov Rocks on the way down I felt a mild one, but it was nothing comparing to what I felt climbing Kilimanjaro.

At the barrels during lunch the atmosphere suddenly became gloomy when our joy of the summit success was overshadowed by the Brexit news. We all pretty much eat in silence keeping the thoughts to ourselves with only a few people shaking their heads in disappointment. “What have we done?” someone said. That was pretty much the only comment I can recall.

We packed and took a chair lift and two cable cars down to the valley where celebration started. In the evening, I met a group of Slovakians again in our hotel, who I learnt were planning to do Aconcagua at the same time as I was, in January next year. They invited me for some shots. Gosh! They drunk a lot! But they were fun people.

I couldn’t stay too long with them as Victor was waiting in the lobby to take me to a bar at his lodge for the authentic Georgian red wine which I thoroughly enjoyed. I also got to meet his land lady who spent some time with us. She was such a sweetheart. Next day Victor told me she was looking forward to seeing me again next evening which made me feel nice and seemed very welcomed.

Next day it was a rest day. Victor took us to a nice bar high up on one of the smaller mountains surrounding the valley. We had a beer and chilled on the sun. I then went fishing with Victor while others were watching football (Poland beat Switzerland on penalties). I caught my first ever fish. It took me maybe 10 seconds which I was pleased about. In the evening, Lana organised a goodbye dinner party for all of us. It was sad knowing that it was all over, but at the same time I was looking forward to my next adventure.

After the dinner we got some traditional Russian presents from Lana: Russian green tea, and handmade socks made of sheep wool by her grandma. I then had the last round of Georgian wine with Victor where I found out some interesting stories about his live, but I’ll keep them a secret. The lovely land lady was there again. She even gave Victor the key to the bar so we could stay as long as we wanted after the bar was shut. Although we didn’t want to abuse her hospitality and around midnight we called it a day.

Interested in Joining us on a future hike?

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