Chapter 4 - Legs don’t fail me now - Getting ready to summit Mt. Elbrus
Acclimatization hikes by the "man who cannot shut up" and getting ready to go up the slopes of Mt. Elbrus.
Dups, Filmstar
Azau Valley, Russia. Monday, June 19, 2006
We set off in search of our first acclimatization hike, heading toward the Cheget chairlift about three kilometers away from the hotel. The chairlift carried us roughly 600 meters up onto Mt. Cheget’s broad shoulders. Strangely enough—and I suspected there would be many moments like this on the trip—it wasn’t the remote hike that worried me but rather the chairlift itself. Our bags and bodies were secured to this rickety contraption with a ragged chain and a couple of tense hands gripping for dear life.
Ah well, what’s an adventure without a little danger?
At this point, I was a bit concerned about my left iliotibial band. At times on this short trip, I could feel the familiar rubbing pain, a lingering result of an injury I suffered in 2004 while training for a half-marathon in Kelowna. I could only hope it wouldn’t get any worse.
According to my occasionally inaccurate altimeter watch, we climbed to about 3,020 meters. This was the same watch that once informed me I was 50 meters below sea level while sitting in a bar in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
The views, I must say, were nothing short of incredible. The sky was clear, and the surrounding mountains sparkled with glaciers that cascaded down their slopes—a beautiful sight indeed.
After we descended, I headed off to find food at a café when a horde of girls and children suddenly surrounded me. They chattered away in Russian—completely unintelligible to me—and at first I thought they wanted me to take their photo. Then one girl grabbed my hand, pulled me beside her, and everyone started snapping pictures with me. After about ten minutes of this, I ran away, thoroughly embarrassed, much to the amusement of our group.
I have a few theories about the incident:
I am a hot-looking guy.
I am an exotic-looking guy.
I am a freak.
I choose to believe it’s because I’m both hot and exotic, but Keli opted for theory number three. Funny how I can’t find a date to save my life in Canada, yet I’m mobbed by screaming fans in Russia. Ah well.
As usual, the food here was excellent—even for a vegetarian. Gluttonous Dups ate far too much, despite constant teasing from Sergei, who seemed to delight in tormenting me to eat more. The group was shaping up to be a lot of fun. After a couple of quick stops to buy last-minute gear—since no one wanted to have to amputate a hand or two due to cheap gloves—we returned to the hotel for a much-needed power nap, followed by dinner.
I had rented most of my equipment from Pilgrim Tours because I didn’t want to lug ice axes and the like around for two months after the climb. This evening, we had our gear fitting. I’d been told that my relatively lightweight sleeping bag would be sufficient for the Barrels, despite Sergei’s threats to make me sleep outside on the mountainside. He cheerily introduced me to Pilgrim Tours staff member, Tatiana, as “the man who couldn’t shut up.”
Not an uncommon description of me.
Not all the equipment was available yet—apparently, a group still at the Barrels had extended their stay by two days for additional summit attempts—so I’d probably end up looking like an elf with mismatched red and green boots. Meanwhile, Ahsan discovered that meat at the hotel was acceptable (there were angelsrejoicing), as the region is predominantly Muslim. However, he wouldn’t be able to eat meat once we reached the Barrels. I decided to give him some protein bars, since he’s still learning the ropes of vegetarianism.
With Keli’s help, I also managed to figure out how to dial internationally on my cell phone. Apparently, “sister” Sue and my cat, Pixel, were “coping” back home in Edmonton. I envisioned some sort of battle royale between the two. Hopefully, Corey would relay my “still alive” status to everyone else.
Legs don’t fail me now!
Azau Valley, Russia. Tuesday, June 20, 2006.
As I mentioned yesterday, my one worry was the possibility of my IT band injury flaring up again. My worst recent episode occurred during a descent from 3,000 m Observation Peak in Banff National Park with Craig and Yolanda Priddle, where I was barely able to bend my leg. Since then, I’ve done yoga, stretched diligently, and gone to great lengths to prevent re-injury. Yet here I am in southern Russia, and it’s hurting again. Ah well.
I’m not the only one dealing with discomfort, though. Poor Keli slipped and banged her patella. I think she’ll be fine by the time we hit summit day. Meanwhile, Anders was struck by a rock during today’s trek, leaving quite the bruise. We applied some cold glacier water to help reduce the swelling.
Today was a scenic hike deep into the Caucasus. We rode in a Russian-made jeep—a Russian answer to the Land Rover—up steep mountain roads to the Adel-sy Valley. We were dropped off near a remote military post high in the mountains, which turned out to be a border post between Georgia and Russia. The ridge we could see in the distance was the Georgia–Russia border, so our passports had to be checked and held for the duration of our hike—just in case we decided to scale the vertical walls and sneak into Georgia.
After dealing with this bit of bureaucracy, we set off into the lush green hillside. We ascended a ridge offering a spectacular view, trekking alongside a glacier-silted stream that seemed to originate high up in the valley. From here, the distant white twin peaks of Elbrus took on the appearance of a volcanic cone. In fact, it reminded me of Mt. Baker in Washington and even Mt. Kilimanjaro. Not for the first time, I felt a surge of excitement at the thought of climbing the slopes of Elbrus.
Unfortunately, by this point, my IT band was aching, so I ended up being the last and slowest hiker in an effort to keep the pain to a minimum. As Sergei described it, today’s outing was akin to a sightseeing trip—and that it certainly was. The area is gorgeous. We climbed to about 2,600 m before turning back.
On the final leg of our hike, we picked up a very cute companion: a black-haired, well-groomed dog. At first, we thought it belonged to someone camping in this remote, heli-skiing region. However, the dog followed us all the way down and then trailed our jeep for about two kilometers. Keli’s heart—and mine—nearly broke. We would have adopted the dog in a heartbeat, but explaining that to customs officials would have been a problem. Eventually, he met some other passersby and decided to join them instead.
Ah, the fickleness of canine love.
In classic Dupsian idiocy, I managed to step in a pile of dung during a quick pit stop. While attempting to scrape it off my shoe, I backed into a patch of stinging nettle.
Talk about going from the frying pan to the fire.
We had lunch at a local café near the valley. On the whole today was a relaxing, warm, and beautiful day. I couldn’t help wondering about the world outside the Azau Valley—life here seems so peaceful and uncomplicated.
Dinner is coming up soon. Tomorrow, we’re taking the cable car up Elbrus, which means the vacation is about to end. The hard part is about to begin.