To Russia with Love (1999)

It seems like I had a lot of big dreams a decade ago. I was so amped up to go to Russia in 1988 that I even received a traveler’s phrase book for Christmas. I guess dreams are good and if you work at them hard enough, they will come true. So did my dream to climb the highest peak on the European continent. We departed for our three week trip on June 23, 1999.

Jennifer is a competent athlete and enjoys testing herself. She also has always wanted to test herself in thin air and this seemed to be a good starting point. We began our travel planning in February by scheduling time off from work, then making contacts to local accommodations, followed by airline ticketing. By April most of the groundwork was laid. Our equipment was mostly at hand but we did extend our needs to include a new tent and some cloths. I acquired support from The North Face and Jagged Edge Mountain Gear. I was renewing some of my equipment and also adding to my wardrobe. TNF covered me with a pro-deal and we ordered a new VE-25 tent and four large gear duffel bags. I also purchased a new backpack and Jen got a large down jacket. Jagged Edge was also nice enough to support us and Jennifer purchased a lightweight down jacket and we both got new pants. These climbing pants were the sole garment I wore for nearly a month.

There were many loopholes in our travel log that we were unable to fill due to the cultural and language barriers. While this makes for an interesting ‘live & learn’ approach to international travel, I would caution anyone from using TASS for any services. Things are politically open enough now that many of the fine points of transportation and lodging can be solidified after arrival in Russia.

We arrived in St. Petersburg pooped, following the usual jet lag of a 20 hour trip. We stayed with a local family we arranged through the outfit call HOFA (host family association). A university professor who is fluent in English operates it. We stayed with an English speaking, non-smoking family that were located in the heart of old downtown. Tonya & Michael were invaluable to our visit and helped us with tourist destinations, domestic flight and opera & theater tickets. Their apartment location also made access to all the great and historic sights within walking distance. St. Petersburg, formerly known as Leningrad, was once the capitol of Russia and still its primary industrial port city and historic backbone. The city is spread out over 47 islands that are links by many beautiful bridges that create a resemblance to Venice. Many of the building are ancient stone and manmade block and the street curbs and sidewalks made of granite. The two meter tall sea walls are all made of cut stone. In total we spend five days in this great city visiting Cathedral and museums. The Hermitage is titled as the quintessential 19th Century museum and is also the largest museum in the world. There was so
much to see we had sore feet several days.

The weather was better that we could have hoped for. Having lived in coastal maritime climate, at 60° North Latitude, for six years I know what should have been the norm. However, El Nino was in full swing. While in St. Petersburg the days were all above 90° and the humidity matched. So in short it was unseasonable and unbearable. Our nice hosts responded to my request favorably and one evening we all went to the forests to visit a lake. At 9:00pm we were swimming and frolicking along with thousands of others. It wasn’t a far cry different than when I was a little kid and would visit the New Jersey shore with family. It was however a pleasant relief from the heat.

Our domestic departure was none too soon to get out of that heat. Once on board the jet the old bat sitting next to us reeked of garlic and had the audacity to look down her nose, past her jewelry, at us for wearing shorts and tank tops. Now while that may not be the most proper manly attire in northern Europe it was befitting the season. We landed in Pyatagorsk a few hours later and were immediately pleased by the dryer, cooler and breezy climate. We were personally escorted off the tarmac to our private car and wisked away from clatter of the airport. This took us by surprise since we really didn’t know what our money had bought us when we wired it away from Colorado. As it turned out we really enjoyed the royal treatment and champagne reception at the Intourist Hotel. However, in hind sight, the local currency could have purchased this same treatment for half the price; so someone in Moscow made out like the bandits they are. This university town of 175,000 was in strict contrast to St.Petersburg. Most people seem to speak some English, seem to be mostly middle class, well educated and friendly. We enjoyed the view of Mt. Elbrus from our 8th story room. We wined & dined in Russian type luxury and shopped for camp foods and future gifts.

We departed the following morning in our private van with our full compliment of four bags that tallied 280 pounds of gear. We had planned to be fully self supported in the event that our destination in the Caucasus Mountains had no provisions available and unpalatable food. Our young interpreter ‘Roman’ was on his first professional outing with us. He is a university student studying English and math. His mother is the manager of the travel agency that booked our accommodations in the mountain village of Terskol. The drive took three hours as we departed from rich rolling farmland in the foothills and shallow valleys. We passed several police check stations and were never stopped due to our windshield sign that stated something like ‘private tourist car’. As we entered into the Baksan River valley the hills turned into mountains and the valley into a gorge. We quickly spotted glacier capped peaks 20 miles up and noted the soaring cliffs to our north. We were very pleasantly surprised by the location of our Hotel Volfram. It was seated deep in an alpine valley at 7,000’ that was choked with spruce trees. The air was fresh and cool. We realized that we would now catch up on our sleep. Until the previous night Jennifer had not slept in a week due to the intense humidity and heat in the city. Although the hotel was no resort, we were pleased with our tiny room, tiny beds and tiny private bathroom. The towels were as thin as paper and you could read through the sheets, which were barely wider than the infant width beds. We had a big glass window & door onto a private balcony. We quickly engulfed the small room in a sprawl of camping, climbing and skiing equipment.

Our first outing was just a stroll up the valley along the narrow paved and pot-holed road. The mountains soared up 40 degree slopes to their summits which averaged over 12,000’. Mt. Elbrus, at over 18,500’, dominated the head of the Baksan Valley as well as the view from every vantagepoint we were to visit over the next two weeks. Surprisingly our walk ended at the Tram Station. Following a rude introduction to Russian culture we bought a couple of tickets and jumped on the big European type tram. It seems that help, courtesy and communication are not high on the list of things to do, in a slowly waning communist culture. The tram climbed steeply to the Mir Station at 10,000’ while passing over rugged moon-like volcanic rocky slopes. At Mir we changed to the next tram which lifted us to 12,000’ , then onto the funky single-seat chairlift that deposited us at Garabashi. This is the infamous starting point for Mt. Elbrus ascents as well as the top of the year-round skiing. We took photos and notes and would return in four days following some acclimatization hikes throughout the local mountains.

The next day our hike started with another chairlift ride up Cheget ski area and mountain. Timberline in this region is at about 9,000’ and the upper mountain slopes are covered in a rainbow of wild flowers. Hillsides also often had extensive patches of blooming rhododendrons. At the top a fellow unloading from the chairlift with a Chow dog on his lap amused us. Shortly thereafter he invited us to join him for tea at the weather station. He spoke pretty good English (or is that English well?); certainly better than our Russian. Maybe that’s how he mistook the salt for sugar in Jenn’s tea. Valery is a dentist but also staffs the weather station about 3 days a week. This also allows him to ski free in the winter. The little hut sleeps 4 has a sauna and is perched on the summit ridge with awesome views of Elbrus across the valley. All his requests for us to join him in the sauna were nixed because of the unseasonable warmth. The next few days Valery befriended us and took us to several hiking destinations. His transportation was the ambulance or medicine car, as they called it. Sharapee, his driver is a tall, dark and quiet man with a broad smile. His complexion reminded us that we were only mere miles from Turkey and it’s Islamic culture. As requested we chipped in for benzene, which is their auto fuel. Our excursions included a long approach to the Junquat & Gumachi Glaciers which sit deep into the Caucausus and border Georgia. We skied the summer corn snow and made plans to return and climb Mt. Jantugan, a beautiful arete of a peak that resemble the Matterhorn. The next outing took us to the Shkelda Glacier adjacent to the base of the famous Mt. Ushba. This peak is situated just over the Georgian border and therefore requires a visa from that newly independent country. Some Britts had just been arrested and detained for violating that border in an attempt to poach a climb on that peak. My desires were outweighed by such consequences.

On July 3rd we packed enough provisions for a four days attempt on Mt. Elbrus. Checking out of the Volfram was always a huge fricken hassle. The goofy, lazy, uninterested man that owned the hotel did little more than wave to us daily. The crusty hag that ran the show insisted that we store our excess baggage in a maintenance closet across from her flat. They wanted nothing to do with working with us to maintain our room and charging us for it. They wanted us out, only then to check back in, in a few days. This coincidentally happened three separate times. It was a Saturday and the tram was nearly full as we muscled our way onto it. I guess its from decade of food lines but the Russian have no concept in making a line or waiting your turn. Its first come, first serve by any means – pushing works best. Upon departure at Garabashi we donned our skies and headed up the slope. We chatted with an American from Illinois and his son. They warned us not to use the local mountain melt water as it was contaminated with benzene. We ascended about 500’ and found a small level spot on the lee side of a rock rib. The evening provided us with a tremendous light show from the valley below. We were above the local rain storm and lightning. The next day we skied up to 14,600’ and made camp. We passed the remains of the Pruit Hut. It was constructed in 1939, slept 100 and survived wars and weather, only to be burned to the ground by a stupid idiot dousing a small stove fire with alcohol, mistaken for water. Again we located our tent on the lee side of the decomposed basaltic lava ridge to our east. We were at the foot of a huge mighty volcano and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. We were unaffected by the altitude and planned to rise at 1am and depart by 2am for the summit.

We both slept fairly well and rose on time. Instant oatmeal & hot chocolate are pretty usual quick breakfasts. We were out and moving promptly at oh-two hundred. The moon was in it’s last quarter and the snow slopes were lit up like a phosphorescent flair was over us. We used our skis with climbing skins attached for the first two thousand vertical feet. As the slope grew too steep to ascend we dropped the skies at Pastokov Rocks and proceeded on foot. We could see the headlights of the Snow Cats approaching our camp elevation. They were carrying their clients from Garabashi Station who have elected to sleep there, then go for the summit 6000’ up. As we approached the col (saddle) at 17,000’, between the twin peaked summit we were caught by two small climbing teams. One were local guides out for fun the other were some Euros that were breathing real hard. Abu was one of the guides and we had made his acquaintance days earlier. He was happy to take our picture in the frigid wee hours of alpenglow just before sunrise. We had missed the actual sunrise because be were circling onto the north side of the east peak and therefore still in the cold shade. We took our first break at about 6:30am immediately after entering into the warm sunlight. Within 10 minutes we were so warmed by our star that we shed one full clothing layer prior to proceeding. The last short but steep rise of about 800’ took a while in the thin air above 18,000’ and put on the rim of the summit crater. Fifteen minutes later, at 08:30am on July 5th we stood at 18,560’, the highest point on the European continent. It was an incredible morning, cloudless and calm. The entire Caucasus Range spread out to our south and east. Four other giant mountains over 5,000 meters were in clear view. It was dead calm, too calm, I couldn’t even fly the kite that I had brought all the way from home, just for this occasion ! The descent started out with a hoot. We sat on our butts and slid down the first 800’ in about 5 minutes. The droves of novice climbers were unsuccessfully attempting to crawl up and sucking wind bigtime. The average for summiting is 50%.

We quickly strolled down to our skies and then attempted to cut turns in the rapidly melting summer slush. Each turn made a spray of goop but also helped control the rate of descent. Our arrival at our tent at 11:00am was greeted by a tremendous head ache. Not from altitude, ok maybe a little, but mostly from the extreme heat and exposure. All that white, albedo and still air, added to dehydration, created quite the ‘pounder’! We attempted to hydrate and rest but it was over 100° inside the tent, even with the doors open. The snow compress on my head didn’t help at all. We forced ourselves to pack up and head down. Within a few turns my headache was completely gone. Amazing what a little blood flow can do for you.

We made quick work of the descent, skied down past the chairlift and loaded onto the Tram. We hailed a funky derelict of a van as a taxi, checked into our dirty little room and began re-unpacking. It was 3pm and we would have to wait four more hours before we could have hot water for a shower. We patted down and combed our greasy hair put on deodorant and clean cloths then headed out for dinner. The only restaurant in town was a small aluminum dome building - probably old space station parts. They always had great food. Again the language barrier was insurmountable but Jennifer was invited into the kitchen to select our dinner by pointing to items of her liking and holding up fingers for quantity. This method worked well every one of the 10 times we ate there. Dinner always included bread and soup and we always had to request butter. A full dinner for two with soda and beer usually cost about $5-7 dollars. Their beer is plentiful but dangerous. The brand I liked was a good pilsner, but the popular brand was 17% alcohol !! Can you imagine? That stuff tasted like it was cut with vodka and ethanol.

We were greeted with hugs of congratulations the next time we saw Valeri. He is currently an unemployed dentist and speaks some english. On our earlier outings he had mentioned his connection to the medicine car (ambulance) and Sharapee, the driver was happy to take us anywhere we desired, if we paid for the fuel with a little tip. We scheduled the following day to do some “touring” over the foothills and into the eastern Caucasus. This ambulance is an attractive gray with the customary red cross on the side. It’s stature is tall, narrow wheel base and reminiscent of a 1964 Ford van; meaning a perfect box with mid engine. We stopped in Terskol and picked up a couple young ladies who Valeri stated were friends of the family that we staying with him for the summer. Both attractive, they were sisters. one in college, the other in junior high. We set off to the east about an hour by highway they turned south into the hills. The road continually got stepper, more narrow and the scenery most beautiful. We passed along miles of soaring limestone cliffs that beckoned for my rock skills. As we topped onto a saddle in the mountain we stopped to photos the immense wild flowers. They were as thick and tall as they were varied; like nothing I had ever seen in any Colorado mountains. Sharapee then turn right! No road, no trail and only a steep flowered, grassy slope for nearly 1000’ up. Surely we werent headed up there!! Yup!! Jennifer and I were both scared shitless, and later I heard that Valeri and the girls were too. But steep nor traverse did stop the wild dark man with the broad toothy smile as wild flowers swept past the window sills of the doors. We summited. While walking around up top we were told that Sharapee grew up in the sole ranch barely noticeable in the far off valley below and as a young boy had built the stone monument that stood before us.
We slowly glided down the eastern slope and into yet another road-less valley toward what we found to be the bee keepers ranch. Out in the middle of absolutely nowhere an lone little old man had a substantial number of hives along with his goats, chickens and sheep. It was extremely hot that day and we drank directly from the natural creek that was flowing through his property. We were then treated to a delicacy that although common food was beyond earthly pleasure. Ackmad Genatoff is about 65 years old, short, stout and wielded his long narrow knife through the honey comb with the grace of a butcher cleaver. I told Jennifer to stop swatting at the bee’s that buzzer her head, she was going to piss them off. We stuck huge gooie cubes of pure honey and comb into our mouths. We sucked and swirled this fine confection and rolled out eyes at its unique sweetness. I humored the group by trying on his full length sheepskin coat, it weighted at least 20 pounds. And yes, jennifer finally got stung in the head. I was fascinated by the hives and got up near 5’ for close up photography while Ackmad took out some fresh crawling combs. We also mad a quick hike up the hill to observe an eagles nest in one of the rare tress’ nearby. The young were huge and just about to fledge and take flight.
Another half hour downhill we unlocked the four-wheel-drive hubs the van. Sharapee laughed at my amusment when he unscrewed the axle cap and with a large allen wrench, unscrewed and thereby disengaged the hubs. He laughed out loud and in broken english said “russian land rover”.
Our journey continued on past a crystal clear roaring river and through a slot of a limestone canyon. The walls were I estimated at 400’ tall and the gorge a mere 75’ wide. Locals were selling food and spirits and one enterprising chap had native clothing to rent and wear for photos; such as: Cossack, military, Czar and Queen.
As we continued into civilization we ended the day in Nalchik. We visited the bazaar or outdoor market. We stopped by the girls family for tea finally I insisted we all stop to eat dinner. Valeri selected a nice restaurant on the river at what appeared to be a resort. As I perused the menu the prices in rupies were merely pennies on the dollar. I insisted on buying dinner for everyone. They refused and I insisted. Dinner and beverages for all six of us tallied about $20 US. They were humbled by our generosity and obviously quite unaccustomed to dining out.
Our 3 hours drive back to Elbrus village was as long as the day was fun. We all were dozing off to the drone of the hot little six-banger under our seat. We arrived well after dark.
Jennifer & I made one more foray into the mountains to climb a Kogutai. The valley floor is at about 7000’ and this lesser peak is just about 12,500’. These approaches are brutally steep and all the peaks require glacial travel on approach. We made a camp at the toe of the glacier and summited the next morning. Our final return to the hotel was as rude as the first, only now we were used to it.
Our final morning in Terskol was a Sunday and the local sheep herds bring their woven goodies to the Cheget ski area parking lot for a wool market sales bazaar. We loaded up on wonderful Christmas presents of hats, scarfs, sweaters and shawls. Our return to Patygorsk was pleasant, our return flight to Saint Petersburg uneventful but still scarey on that old hunk of junk aircraft. We enjoyed a couple more days of Cathedrals and museums in much more seasonable weather.