We landed in St. Petersburg on July 10^th.  Our group of 16 was a full cast of characters,  starting with our fiddle-playin’ lead guide, Vern Tejas.  Vern is famous for the first solo winter ascent of Denali (i.e. his nickname:  the “Denali Lama”).  Vern is also the first person to summit each of the 7 summits twice in one year (2005).  There was also Bob Nystrom (Thore-Bob) who scored the Cup-clinching goal in OT of game 6 of the ’80 Stanley Cup Finals to provide the Islanders with the first of their four straight Championships.  Although Bob was too humble to bring this up himself, word trickled out eventually.  We also had Laurie Normandeau, the World Champion female body builder in ’94 (essentially Ms. Universe!), Lynn, the 64 year-old cancer survivor, and a slew of other interesting folks (current and former CEOs, entrepreneurs, a retired Naval sub officer, etc.).

We spent a couple of days getting to know one another in St Petersburg (a.k.a. Leningrad, Petrograd historically), which was the Russian capital until the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917.  We saw many of the city’s highlights, including:  the Hermitage, the Cruiser Aurora—which fired the first shot of the Bolshevik Revolution, St Isaac’s Cathedral, Peter the Great’s various palaces (Peter & Paul Palace, Winter Palace, etc.).  The city was impressive and beautiful.  However, with no air conditioning anywhere and bright sunshine, it was very hot in July!  We couldn’t wait to get into the cooler climate of the Baksan Valley in the heart of the Caucasus Range.

Despite our region abutting Georgia and Chechnya, we managed safe passage to the mountains and thankfully did not witness any of the unrest in the region.  Once in the town of Terskol, we conducted a few acclimatization hikes before moving up to the barrels camp on the flanks of Mt Elbrus.  The views surrounding the Caucasus Range were impressive and inspiring, so we were ready to gain some altitude and start our journey to the top of Europe.

Therefore, a week into our expedition, we were finally set up at base came (i.e. the Barrels Camp), at nearly 12,000’ on Elbrus.  This was an interesting place to stay, as the accommodations here are converted fuel/oil barrels that sleep six with bunks.  They were pretty posh for a mountaineering trip, and is where the Russian ski and snowboard teams train regularly.

We spent a few nights at the barrels as we acclimatized, reviewed skills, and completed additional climbs to Pastukov Rocks at 15,400.  We also strummed some guitar, played fiddle & harmonica, and I snowboarded!  It was here that our buddy Joel started having trouble sleeping due to the altitude and his torn rotator cuff.  Overall, everyone else was feeling strong and eager to move higher.  One day, our trek was interrupted by a lightening storm.  We felt the ropes heating up where they crossed our thigh on the rope team.  In our haste to retreat from lightening danger, one team member fell in a crevasse.  The other team members self-arrested, so Laurie was able to climb out without much effort.

On the way to high camp (near the old Pruitt Hut at 13,780’), we enjoyed some nice temperatures and bright sun.  As we ascended, we passed numerous memorials to climbers who had lost their lives on Elbrus, which was a sobering moment.  Even though Elbrus is known for its generally gentle slopes (30-50 degrees), it is 18,510’ with all of the standard objective hazards:  crevasses, avalanche danger, weather, and altitude.  Elbrus is known for it’s cold temperatures.  Earlier in the climbing season a team of 11 Russian climbers died on the mountain in a strong spring storm, so this served as a grave reminder of the inherent risks of mountaineering and stood in start contrast to our generally favorable conditions to this point in the expedition.

We practiced glissading with the aid of plastic trash bags to keep us dry and allowed us to slide down the mountain pushing mach II.  The upper hut was very tight quarters; I would have preferred a tent.

Upon reaching high camp, we had hoped to make a quick push to the summit, but the weather took a turn for the worse.  Regardless, the next day we decided to make a push for the summit despite being completely socked in.  We were up at 2 AM and started out soon thereafter.  WE ascended in the dark in a full-blown blizzard with stiff winds.  The snow in the Caucasus (which runs between the Black and Caspian Seas) holds so much moisture that the high winds (40+ mph), we ended up with a thick layer of snow/ice on anything exposed (coats, packs, poles, ice axes, etc.).  We pushed through heavy snow, hail and high winds for several hours.  Finally, just before sunrise, we had lightening flash around us, which was absolutely disconcerting especially when carrying a lightening rod in the form of a mountaineering axe.  Lightening in the mountains in the midst of a full-fledged, sub-freezing blizzard. 

Right after the lightening flashed several times, a Russian team came screaming (both literally and figuratively) down the mountain, which was at once alarming and hilarious.  They were yelling about the need to get down and back to shelter, while they literally ran down the mountain.  The best part was that 30 seconds later a lone Russian climber came tearing down the mountain behind them all with all of the groups metal gear (snow pickets, poles, shovels, ice axes, crampons, etc.) tied together in a pile and dragging behind him attached by a rope that ran around his waist.  How do you think that conversation transpired?!?  Yri, ummm, as the new guy, how about you make yourself useful by turning yourself into a human lightening rod and we’ll hopefully see you back in camp… oh and try not to lose any of the gear while you’re at it.  See ya.  We continued up into the storm with the hope we would ascend through the top of the clouds, but by sunrise conditions worsened (very cold, snowy and windy), so we decided to abort this summit attempt at roughly 16,500’ and return to the safety of the hut.

The descent was eventful as well due to the full-blown whiteout conditions, high winds and cold temperatures.  If you fell behind, it was easy to lose the group and become lost.  You simply could NOT see!  In fact, we drifted a little off-course and ended up off the main snowfield (no crevasses) and on one of the lower glaciers (many crevasses).  WE weren’t roped up for glacier travel due to the nature of the terrain we were expecting to be on that day, so that made for a fairly tense traverse back to our intended route of descent.  We navigated through the crevasses safely, with only Vern (our internationally revered guide and principle route finder) punching through a snow bridge into a crevasse up to his waist.  Vern was able to belly-flop out of the crevasse safely.  It was a scary moment, but we made it back to the hut without further incident, although Vern suffered a severely bruised ego.

The next few days were fairly uneventful as we were completely stormed-in.  We practiced the “art of the hang” while waiting for better weather in which to make our second summit attempt.  However, the storm was relentless and time was running low before we had to head down for the trip home.  We were still completely weathered-in with heavy snow and 40+ mph winds when we went to bed the night before our last chance to push for the summit.  Our chances didn’t look promising, but we were going to make a push the next day regardless of the conditions and until we were forced to turn back.  Amazingly, we awoke at midnight with winds still whipping, but once we stepped out of the hut the skies had completely cleared and the summit attempt was a go.  It was obvious, however, that it was going to be a very cold and windy day.

We made quick progress in the dark and were above Pastukov Rocks near our previous high point of 16,500’ by sunrise.  It was a cold, windy and beautiful morning.  We continued up the saddle and then up the summit headwall—the steepest part of the climb.  Soon thereafter, we were within reach of the summit.  Our team followed Lynn, our 64 year-old two-time breast cancer survivor and source of inspiration, to the roof of Europe at 18,510’.  We were on the summit before 10 AM and spent the requisite 30 minutes re-hydrating, celebrating, and taking photos. 

The most dangerous part of our climb was descending on the antique Russian chair lifts and trams at the ski resort.  Fortunately, we descended safely to the Baksan Valley and celebrated well into the evening by sharing a traditional Russian meal of Shashlik (barbequed sheep) with our Russian guides who assisted our successful ascent.  One of these guides was Nikolay Chernay, a 67 year-old who was part of the former Soviet climbing program.  Nikolay has climbed all over the world including Denali, Everest, and throughout the Himalayas.  Chatting with him about his previous exploits (he led an expedition to the summit of Everest as recently as ’05 at the age of 66) over Russian vodka was a distinct highlight.  He’s a mountaineering legend and a globally renowned climber.

The next morning we made the bus ride back to Mineral Vody and flew to Moscow aboard the hottest flight I’ve ever taken in my life.  I was very concerned I was going to lapse into unconsciousness due to hyperthermia.  The plane sat out on the tarmac without air conditioning, and very little was provided in-flight.  No wonder the BBC has labeled Mineral Vody as Russia’s worst airport.

In Moscow, we stayed at the Hotel Ukrania.  This hotel is one of the “Seven Sisters”, which are a group of seven Stalinist-era skyscrapers built during the final 10-years of his rule.  We walked up a “pedestrian mall” to Red Square, where we saw St Basil’s Cathedral, Lenin’s tomb, the Kremlin, etc.  It was amazing to stand right where nukes were paraded in front of the Politburo at the height of the Cold War.  Now with capitalism taking hold, the old Soviet store (of the infamous bread lines) has been converted to an enormous mall where all of the top brands in the world have fancy shops.  Also, we saw lots of expensive cars including Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Range Rovers, etc., so apparently capitalism is working well for some people there.  In other words, this is not the Russia the American propaganda would have you believe.