MOSS - Elbrus account

Climbing in the Caucasus - Elbrus

In August 1998, Dr Shani Tan climbed Elbrus (5642m), one of the much sought-after Seven Summits (the highest points on each of the 7 continents). Elbrus is in the Caucasian mountain range that forms a natural barrier between Europe to the Northwest and Asia to the South. It was not uncommon for climbers to encounter groups of armed men, due to ethnic tensions in the Soviet republics of Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan and Chechnya in the region. However, far from armed men, Shani encountered a very different form of danger on her climb.

My journey began in Crawley, a small village just 5 minutes from London's Gatwick airport, where I met up with the rest of the group from Himalayan Kingdoms Expeditions.

Arriving in Moscow airport was quite a cultural shock; we couldn’t read the signs nor understand a word of what was being said. The airport was grey and grim and we expected to be arrested and carted off to a Gulag if we stepped out of the Immigration queue!

As we drove into Moscow, the first impression was of faded glory – many of the roads and buildings looked in need of repair. So we couldn’t believe it, when we pulled into the grand-looking Hotel Ukraine, which was built in the 1950s in Russian Gothic style for party members and their friends.

After a day of the touristy things - Kremlin and the Red Square - we took a domestic flight down south in a cargo plane, with people carrying dogs in overnight bags, smelly carpets and air hostesses that one would not want to meet in a dark alley late at night. After a 2-hour flight from a cool rainy Moscow we arrived at Mineralye Vody which was a sweltering 40° C.

Acclimatisation in Baksan valley

Our base for the next week or so was the Baksan valley at 1500m, also called the "Chamonix of Russia". In the volcanic area around Elbrus, there are mineral hot springs where the locals have built wells to collect the water which they have great regard for. On our first training day, we collected bottles of very sulphurous-tasting, naturally fizzy water.

The town of Terskol in the Baksan valley is a very poor comparison to Chamonix as very little of anything can be bought – later in the trip, we couldn’t even buy toothbrushes! All food for our trip had to be bought in the market town of Mineralye Vody, 4 hours away. The first week in the Baksan was to be an acclimatization week and a time for those with no prior skills on snow and ice to acquire them.

Elbrus at the head of the Baksan valley is a double-coned dormant volcano. Volcanic activity at the present day is limited to mineral hot springs. Occasionally sulphurous fumes issue from deep fissures under ice cover. Since Elbrus stands alone and is higher than the surrounding peaks, weather can deteriorate very rapidly with strong winds and arctic conditions.

Our guide, a typical Russian hardman, took us on 8-hour walks to higher altitudes. In our first phase of acclimatisation, we always returned to our Hotel in the valley after our walks. Once that base was achieved, we moved up even higher to spend a night at 3870m at the Garaboshi Bivvy site, which can be reached either by a stunning cable car and rickety chair lift ride or a 4-hour hike in hot sun. From the top of the chair lift, almost the entire Caucasian mountain range can be seen.While we were there, almost everyday we saw at least one person being brought down from Elbrus in a stretcher – not the most encouraging thing. Practically all of them had come to grief on a steep icy section, and most were inexperienced with the use of crampons.

Summit preparations

We returned to the valley for a one-day rest and then it was back up to the Garaboshi Bivvy for a 2-h walk up to the Pruitt Hut (or a 30-minute SnoCat ride). The entire route up to the Pruitt is on a snow-covered glacier. All our food for the next few days was sent up in boxes – on the chair lift by themselves – it was quite disconcerting to watch your food disappear up the mountain on a chair lift, and we hoped that the boxes would not fall off halfway up.

The Priutt Hut was a 3-storey aluminum-clad building that could house 120 climbers. It was well-insulated and comfortable but had only one entrance and exit. A makeshift exit on the 3rd floor allowed climbers to walk across a plank and use the mountainside as a toilet. The official outhouse on the ground floor was not much better.On the first morning at the Pruitt Hut, a planned acclimatisation hike to around 5000m was postponed as the wind was howling outside. Eventually at 10am, we set off in windy conditions for a hike up to the Pashtokov rocks at an altitude of 4900m. This would help us acclimatize better for the summit bid the next day. The angle of the ground is about 30 - 40°. By the time we reached the rocks, the wind had picked up even more and clouds had moved in. Below us was a sea of white. We ventured further up to 5000m before turning back down to the Hut for tea.

Fire in the kitchen

The way back was slow going. We were hampered by poor visibility and the need to avoid the crevassed slopes. Finally we got back to the Hut at about 4pm. Some of the group had returned to their rooms to deposit their packs when they heard shouting from the kitchen. Someone said that there was a fire in the kitchen. The initial reactions were in retrospect quite funny – one was grumbling about rowdy Russian youth whilst another friend thought to himself “A fire in the kitchen? Oh good, I can dry my socks then...”I crossed over the plank onto the third floor only to retreat in the face of thick black smoke billowing from the 2nd floor and people shouting “Fire! Fire! Get out! Get out !”

There was pandemonium. The smoke was so thick that you couldn’t even see an arm’s length away. There was no time to gather the gear in our rooms and we fled the building with whatever we had on our backs. After making sure that our group was safe we turned to see if we could help.

There were still people trapped on the upper floors and we could see them trying to break the windows with chairs, ice axes and crampons. The windows on the ground floor where the fire started were exploding. Bits of glass were flying all over the place. We also worried about the danger of exploding gas canisters. It was a terrible feeling of helplessness as we watched those who were trapped but couldn’t rescue them in any way.

Eventually the trapped people managed to break the windows and climb down on bedsheets tied together. However, as the last person was getting out, the bedsheet "rope" gave way and he fell about 10 feet injuring himself. We helped secure him on a sled and moved him way from the danger zone. All around were people without boots and warm clothing, bleeding from cuts, looking dazed and shocked. I was thinking that there must be fatalities from this, and at the same time found myself upset at the thought that this would mean the end of the summit attempt. The Hut was completely engulfed in flames by the time we turned to get back down the valley.

When we got down, everyone was detained by the police who wanted to get statements from all survivors and get a head count as well. All of us lost our airline tickets. Some from our group lost their wallets and passports as well. Fortunately the tour company based in UK was very efficient; within a few days paperwork was sorted out. Getting replacement climbing gear and warm clothing was another problem. Luckily some of us had spares and we also were able to borrow from other climbers who had given up the climb because they were too traumatised by the fire.

The summit - against all odds

But there was one more problem. With no Hut to stay in, we would have to start the climb 2000m lower down which would have made it quite impossible. All those whose plans had been “ruined” by the fire collectively bribed the cable car operator to run a special ferry service at 5am in the morning to bring us up to the level of the Garaboshi Bivvy.

With this bit of help, we reached the ruins of the Pruitt Hut at 0700h, just as it was getting light and made our way up the crisp frozen slopes. As I had no patience to “zig zag” across the slopes, I charged straight up and soon left my group behind to arrive at the Saddle just before noon.

It was a perfect summit day – bright sunshine, slight breeze. The views were a compensation for the hard going at 5000m. Usually most people will take a short rest here before the summit push. From the saddle, it is another 40 minutes of hard work - stopping every 20 paces to rest and pant and walk on - to reach the summit.

Finally at 1415h, I stood on the summit. With me was a Ukrainian university student. The rest of my group was another hour behind. Getting to the top gave me such a sense of relief, achievement and vindication. I was the first woman from Singapore to summit Elbrus and proved our Russian guide wrong. As I had trailed my group during the acclimatisation hikes and wore a knee brace, he had said that I would never make the summit.

Nevertheless, our group scored at 60% success rate, against all odds. So we celebrated on out last night in the Caucasus in true Russian style – with plenty of food and vodka.

-Shani Tan

alpine skills development programme - Paldor 2004