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Priut
11,
Monday
5th
July
The
morning
brings
blue
skies
again,
although
our
tent
is
covered
with
a
little
layer
of
snow
from
the
night
before.
It's
ideal
for
our
last
acclimatization-
and
rest
day:
just
hanging
out,
doing
nothing
but
reading,
melting
snow
and
see
how
the
last
of
the
weekend
mountaineers
pack
their
tents
after
their
mostly
unsuccessful
summit
bids.
Late
afternoon
we
are
alone
again
when
we
see
Nikolai
approaching
our
tent,
just
as
arranged.
When
we
show
our
amazement
about
his
'Lhotse
sweater',
Cho
Oyu
head
band
and
'Everest
daypack'
and
many
other
things
he
brings
he
tells
us
that
he
has
been
coach
of
the
national
Russian
climbing
team
for
years.
Natascha
was
one
of
his
pupils
and
he
has
been
climbing
on
5
'8000-ers'
together
with
famous
climbers
like
Boukreev.
Only
when
back
in
the
Netherlands
I
will
find
out
why
he
does
not
like
to
talk
about
the
high
mountains:
in
1997
the
trip
leader
and
a
good
friend
of
his
had
died
on
Lhotse
during
a
storm
on
the
summit
ridge,
during
an
attempt
to
do
the
first
total
traverse
of
it.
Nikolai
is
not
alone;
he
brought
another
Russian
climber
named
Oleg.
They
appear
to
be
old
friends,
but
soon
we
find
out
that
they
only
encountered
each
other
two
days
before;
it
seems
that
in
Russia
friendship
can
be
formed
less
complicated
but
might
be
more
durable
than
in
our
Western
world…
"Nikolai,
you
are
just
in
time
for
our
traditional
pre-summit
pasta
meal!"
"No
pasta,
I
bring
summit
food!"
"?"
Nikolai
opens
up
his
daypack
in
one
of
the
shelters
and
a
few
bags
of
mashed
potatoes,
a
can
of
peas,
milk
powder,
butter
and
a
canned
meatball
appear.
Everything
disappears
in
his
old
and
dented
pot
together
with
a
big
splash
of
water
and
soon
we
are
being
served,
accompanied
with
some
bread
he
brought
up
as
well.
"Summit
food",
Nikolai
explains
and
points
to
the
mixture.
We
eat
the
fat
and
tasty
food
inside
the
second
cabin
and
Nikolai
tells
us
that
the
locals
refer
to
it
as
the
'corncob'
as
it
is
the
old
body
of
an
airplane
that
that
was
used
to
spray
the
cornfields
in
Russia.
It
snows
and
hails
outside
and
we
decide
to
hit
the
sack
early,
although
Nikolai
makes
clear
that
that
is
not
necessarily
at
all,
but
he
joins
Niall
in
his
tent,
leaving
Oleg
in
the
Corncob.
Summit
night:
4200-5642m-4200m,
Tuesday
6th
July
At
01.30am
the
nerves
are
getting
to
Saskia
and
she
goes
out
to
pee.
"It's
all
cloudy
out
there",
she
shivers
while
reentering
the
tent.
Gleb
and
Nikolai
told
us
last
night
that
any
summit
bid
would
be
dependent
on
the
weather:
if
it's
clear
than
we
will
go,
if
it's
too
cloudy
or
windy
than
we
won't.
If
another
30
minutes
my
watch
starts
beeping
I
nervously
stare
outside
the
tent
to
check
the
skies:
pitch
dark
skies
filled
with
stars!
After
getting
dressed
we
eat
our
breakfast
in
the
corncob:
tea
and
porridge,
but
as
always
this
does
not
really
enter
well
in
the
middle
of
the
night
and
I
don't
take
much.
At
03.00
we
leave
without
turning
on
our
headlamps:
the
reflection
of
the
half
moon
and
the
many
stars
on
the
glacier
is
light
enough
and
even
in
the
middle
of
the
night
we
already
enjoy
a
tremendous
view
over
the
West
Caucasus.
Just
before
the
Pastukhov
rocks
we
attach
our
crampons;
although
the
track
will
never
be
steeper
than
30°
the
snow
is
frozen
solid
and
we
have
to
be
careful.
While
we
slowly
and
quietly
continue
the
colors
on
the
horizon
change
slightly
and
when
we
emerge
above
the
rock
at
4900m
the
first
sunrays
warm
the
mountains.
The
view
over
the
endless
chain
of
mountains
is
framed
with
a
color
play
of
the
sun
chasing
the
cold
night
away
and
the
shadow
of
mighty
Elbrus
can
clearly
be
seen
over
the
western
part
of
the
Caucasus.
Although
the
world
is
getting
more
beautiful,
the
pace
is
going
down.
The
track
that
could
already
be
seen
from
Mir
and
looked
quite
simple
is
tougher
when
you
get
close.
The
'turn
left'
appears
to
be
a
many
kilometers
long
stretch,
and
while
traversing
over
the
steep
foot
of
the
east
summit,
the
'flat
part
to
the
saddle'
is
going
up
after
all…
Once
on
the
saddle,
the
pass
between
the
two
summits
of
Elbrus,
we
see
the
remains
of
a
small
hut.
Nikolai
tells
us
that
the
Germans
destroyed
the
hut,
climbed
the
mountain
and
reported
to
their
HQ
that
'the
Caucasus
was
conquered'.
I
guess
the
following
winter
proved
them
quite
wrong.
After
a
short
rest
on
the
saddle
we
continue
our
way
onto
the
steep
side
of
the
west
summit.
It's
a
simple
but
long
traverse
north
but
the
now
warm
sun
is
teaming
up
with
the
altitude
to
make
it
harder
for
us
and
every
10-20
steps
we
have
to
take
a
breather.
After
passing
a
few
rocks
we
turn
west
and
head
up
the
last
part
of
the
slope
directly.
Here
a
strange
mountain
phenomenon
takes
place
that
I
head
seen
on
Kilimanjaro
before
and
what
I
called
the
'casino-horses':
in
the
casino
there
often
is
a
table
where
mechanical
horses
race
one
round,
and
mostly
just
a
few
move
at
one
time
and
only
the
last
seconds
it
is
clear
who
gets
to
the
finish
first.
On
mountains
like
Elbrus
everybody
has
their
own
pace,
number
of
steps
before
they
take
a
breather
and
their
own
line
of
ascent.
This
results
in
the
group
moving
in
jerks,
which
if
it
weren't
so
hard
at
the
time
would
be
a
very
funny
sight
I
am
sure.
When
we
reach
the
top
of
the
slope
we
see
for
the
first
time
today
two
other
climbers,
they
are
on
their
way
down.
We
congratulate
them,
and
look
in
the
direction
they
are
pointing
us
towards.
We
are
on
a
large
summit
plateau
with
3sub-summits.
One
to
the
south,
one
to
the
southwest
and
one
straight
ahead,
to
the
west.
Together
we
take
the
last
few
hundred
steps
toward
this
last
one,
as
it
is
the
highest
and
therefore
the
true
summit
of
Elbrus.
Nikolai
and
Oleg
gracefully
step
aside
and
give
us
the
honor
to
walk
up
the
last
10
vertical
meters:
10.30
and
we
are
on
the
summit
of
Europe!
Saskia
and
I
discharge
with
a
loud
outcry
of
joy;
suddenly
our
legs
are
firm
again.
The
temperature
is
exactly
right
and
the
altitude
has
no
effect
on
us.
Look
mom,
I
am
on
top
of
the
world!
Most
of
the
valleys
surrounding
the
mountain
are
filled
with
clouds
by
now
but
the
beautiful
Caucasus
peaks
are
poking
through
proudly.
This
is
one
of
the
things
that
make
it
all
worthwhile:
independent
of
the
beauty
of
the
trip
itself,
the
feeling
you
get
on
these
high
spots
where
you
can
only
go
down
cannot
be
matched
by
anything
else.
The
weather
is
still
nice
and
we
take
a
bunch
of
pictures
in
changing
compositions,
standing
around
the
summit
marker:
a
metal
triangle
with
a
metal
axe
and
gun.
In
the
old
days
Lenin
used
to
guard
the
summit,
but
it
is
feared
that
he
took
an
involuntarily
nosedive
off
the
north
side
of
the
mountain
when
the
wall
came
down…Daniel,
one
of
the
two
young
Americans
left
his
picture
on
the
summit
and
is
smiling
from
the
marker.
Niall
gets
out
his
satellite
phone
and
family
and
colleagues
are
being
called
from
the
summit
of
Europe
with
incredible
clarity.
Nikolai
is
really
amazed:
"I
have
seen
many
strange
things
on
this
mountain,
including
a
Landrover
that
was
dropped
by
a
helicopter
and
crashed
on
the
way
down,
but
you
are
the
first
people
I
see
calling
from
the
summit!"
After
spending
half
an
hour
on
the
summit
we
decide
to
go
down
again;
the
snow
has
become
quite
soft
due
to
the
strong
sun
and
stick
under
our
crampons.
As
it
is
safer
without
them
we
take
them
off
and
carefully
begin
our
descent.
The
exhaustion
is
taking
over
Saskia
and
on
the
steep
part
towards
the
saddle
she
suddenly
gets
scared.
But
Nikolai
already
noticed
it;
he
takes
out
a
short
rope
and
guides
her
securely
down.
I
am
glad
I
did
bring
my
axe
and
use
it
to
go
down
the
soft
snow
on
long
traverse
safely.
When
we
arrive
at
the
saddle
the
sun
has
reached
it
as
well
and
the
temperature
feels
tropical.
All
the
water
is
finished;
again
I
brought
too
much
chocolate
and
not
enough
water!
Niall
and
Oleg
continue
down
immediately,
I
follow
a
few
moments
later
with
Nikolai
and
Saskia.
Even
when
going
down
the
length
of
the
trail
is
very
tough
and
Saskia
softly
starts
crying
from
exhaustion.
Even
though
the
normal
route
on
Elbrus
is
technically
not
difficult,
the
length
and
the
altitude
combined
with
the
ever-changing
weather
make
it
a
dangerous
mountain.
We
encounter
one
little
cloud
on
our
way,
but
the
view
is
mostly
good
and
around
14.00
we
reach
camp
again.
Nikolai
and
Oleg
continue
down
right
away,
but
we
feel
too
tired
to
pack
up
everything
and
decide
to
stay
on
the
mountain
for
one
more
night.
In
the
afternoon
the
wind
s
suddenly
increase
in
strength
en
we
have
to
crawl
inside
to
finish
the
cooking
of
our
pasta
with
spicy
tomato
sauce
and
Parmesan
cheese.
While
we
enjoy
our
meal
the
wind
turns
into
a
storm
and
we
have
to
get
out
again
to
fortify
our
tents.
Normally
the
winds
are
predominantly
coming
from
the
west,
hence
the
U-shaped
form
of
the
rock
walls
surrounding
our
site.
But
now
it
coming
from
the
opposite
side
and
the
rocks
don't
offer
much
protection
anymore
and
I
have
to
crawl
out
of
my
warm
sleeping
bag
during
the
evening
to
fix
some
extra
rope
between
the
tent
and
some
large
boulders.
The
storm
shakes
the
tent
all
night
long,
but
it
stays
in
place
and
doesn't
damage
during
the
restless
night.
Priut
11-
Azau,
Wednesday
7th
July
After
the
stormy
night
the
skies
are
clear
again,
but
the
wind
has
only
dropped
in
temperature
and
hardly
in
strength.
We
have
to
wear
full
gear
and
take
much
care
while
packing
one
tent
at
a
time
so
nothing
blows
away.
With
our
full
packs
we
quickly
step
down
the
Gabarashi
glacier
toward
the
Barrels.
The
chairlift
is
not
moving
and
no
attendant
is
visible.
We
don't
feel
like
waiting
and
continue
down
the
ski
slopes
to
Mir.
There
we
take
the
cable
car
down;
inside
we
get
much
attention
form
the
local
friendly
day
tourists.
At
first
they
give
these
weird
foreigners
with
their
whitened
noses
and
full
gore-tex
gear
some
suspicious
looks,
but
soon
they
understand
where
we
were
coming
from
and
we
get
lots
of
friendly
thumbs
up.
A
quick
change
in
the
lower
station
and
a
few
minutes
later
we
arrive
in
Azau
where
we
check
in
the
little
hotel.
It's
lunchtime:
more
pancakes,
schaslicks,
Fanta
&
cola,
hurray!
After
a
nice
shower
we
use
the
afternoon
to
make
a
really
nice
hike
trough
the
beautiful
green
forests
along
the
river
and
end
up
in
Terskol.
We
just
enter
the
little
round
café
for
a
drink
when
Oleg
enters:
"Hi
Oleg,
how
are
you
doing?"
"Good,
but
as
I
am
returning
home,
I
wanted
to
say
goodbye
to
you."
"?
But
how
did
you
know
we
would
be
here,
in
this
bar
in
this
village?"
"Oh,
I
already
searched
in
Azau
and
thought
you
might
be
here."
No
use
arguing
there
as
we
were
here
indeed.
When
Oleg
leaves
we
are
approached
by
an
American
who
sits
behind
us
and
overheard
our
conversation;
he
heard
us
mentioning
a
mountain
and
wondered
if
we
climbed
Elbrus,
as
he
had
the
same
plan
for
this
week.
His
Russian
girlfriend
clearly
was
less
interested
and
looked
quite
sad
after
our
stories…
When
we
step
outside
into
the
warm
air
we
notice
the
son
of
Anatoli,
the
owner
of
the
Azau
hotel.
He
just
parked
in
front
of
the
post
office
and
offers
us
a
ride
back
to
Azau
in
his
old
Lada
with
a
ski
pole
instead
of
a
gear
shift…
We
get
another
tasty
meal
in
the
small
hotel
and
just
when
we
want
to
call
it
a
night
Nikolai
and
Natascha
invite
us
for
a
drink.
They
brought
two
friends
of
which
one,
another
Oleg,
isn't
just
a
Nuclear
Physicist,
but
also
a
9-fold
Russian
climbing
champion
and
40fold
all-round
mountaineering
champion.
When
I
ask
on
which
mountain
he
has
lost
his
finger
he
tells
me
he
already
lost
when
he
was
a
kid,
by
playing
with
an
old
grenade.
So
he
has
become
a
climbing
champion
with
9
fingers…wow.
Natascha
refills
the
glasses
and
raises
hers;
then
she
starts
a
long
sentence
in
Russian
that
is
greeted
with
approving
nods
from
the
other
guys.
Then
we
empty
the
glasses
in
one
sip.
When
they
are
being
refilled
(immediately)
I
ask
Natascha
what
the
toast
meant:
"
Hey
Natascha,
what
did
we
toast
to?"
"It's
an
old
local
toast
that
translated
will
be
something
like:
may
you
have
as
much
happiness
as
there
is
snow
on
the
summit
of
Mt
Elbrus
and
may
you
have
as
less
trouble
as
there
are
drops
left
in
your
glass!"
Of
course
the
repeating
of
this
sentence
means
that
we
have
to
empty
the
glasses
again…
Saskia
and
I
get
another
bonus
toast
from
the
other
friend
who
doesn't
speak
any
English,
Natascha
translates:
"He
says
he
wants
to
toast
again
for
you
as
you
are
from
the
Netherlands
and
for
you
it
is
a
lot
harder
to
get
from
sea-level
to
the
Elbrus
summit!"
It
makes
us
blush,
and
quickly
we
empty
our
glasses.
When
the
second
bottle
is
finished
as
well
we
are
invited
to
their
hotel
room
where
we
are
served
some
tea
and
a
lot
of
great
stories
about
mountains
and
the
Russian
climbing
team.
As
in
the
communist
area
it
was
forbidden
to
travel
abroad
unless
you
were
a
top
athlete,
many
women
wanted
to
get
into
the
national
climbing
team.
So
they
though
up
a
few
exams,
one
of
which
was
the
Elbrus
run:
everybody
assembled
at
the
Priut
11
and
when
given
the
signal,
they
had
to
run
to
the
summit.
As
Natascha
finished
second
in
two
and
a
half
hours
(!)
she
made
the
team.
After
many
beautiful
stories
about
Russia,
Nepal
and
Kamchatka
we
head
off
to
our
room
across
the
hall
and
sleep
like
logs.
Baksan
Valley,
Thursday
8th
July
After
a
great
sleep
we
wake
up
fresh
and
after
breakfast
we
hike
through
the
woods
to
the
Cheget
sporthotel
where
we
going
to
meet
Nikolai
at
the
local
wool
market.
Besides
wool
it's
also
a
little
bit
a
fruit
market
as
a
little
really
old
lady
sells
cherries
and
watermelons.
We
buy
a
few
woolen
sweaters
and
socks,
but
trying
them
on
for
size
while
it
is
30
degrees
outside
has
made
us
thirsty
and
we
buy
2
kilos
of
cherries
and
a
large
melon.
We
eat
it
immediately
together
with
Nikolai
and
Oleg
and
enjoy
life:
a
warm
sun,
a
sweet
watermelon
and
high
snowy
peaks
all
around…
hmm!!!
We
continue
our
hike
towards
another
mineral
spring
where
the
healthy
(?)
water
emerges
carbonated
and
leaves
a
red
trail
of
iron
on
the
riverbanks.
But
the
promised
restaurant
is
totally
abandoned,
the
only
activity
around
here
is
a
family
that
is
refilling
old
plastic
bottles
with
the
mineral
water.
They
almost
have
the
trunk
of
their
car
completely
filled
and
will
sell
it
on
one
of
the
markets
down
the
road.
We
walk
back
along
the
hole-filled
road
while
the
sun
mercilessly
burns
our
shoulders.
Along
the
way
we
see
many
half-built
hotels
and
other
large
buildings
that
were
started
during
the
communist
plan-economy,
but
now
there
is
no
money
to
finish
them.
This
entire
area
is
perfect
for
tourism,
but
both
the
investors
and
the
tourists
are
scared
away
by
de
nearby
Chechnya
war
and
stories
about
local
mafia,
so
I
guess
that
the
valley
will
keep
this
sad
ghost-town
look
for
quite
a
while.
We
find
a
little
restaurant
next
to
the
road;
they
are
out
of
schaslicks,
but
we
are
surprised
by
some
fried
meaty
things
and
a
big
salad!
In
front
of
the
restaurant
two
elderly
ladies
sit
selling
drinks;
they
have
about
15
bottles
sorted
on
size.
Further
investigation
reveals
that
there
is
nothing
without
alcohol
and
we
slowly
continue
to
Terskol,
where
we
again
get
a
ride
from
Anatoli's
son
back
to
Azau.
During
dinner
that
same
son
comes
in
and
enters
a
videotape
into
the
large
player
and
turns
up
the
volume.
It
is
an
illegal
copy
of
Schwarzeneggers
Eraser,
clearly
filmed
inside
a
theatre
and
all
the
voices
are
translated
on
the
spot
and
spoken
by
a
low-voiced
Russian,
doing
both
the
male
as
well
as
the
female
voices.
We
think
that
we
better
spend
our
time
on
something
else
like
a
warm
shower
and
a
needed
shave
and
finish
our
dinner
quickly.
Just
when
we
crawl
under
our
sheets
Nikolai
knock
on
the
door
and
invites
us
for
a
special
bottle
of
wine
and
more
stories
and
of
course
this
cannot
be
resisted…
Baksan
Valley
-
Moscow,
Friday
9th
of
July
We
sadly
say
goodbye
to
all
of
our
new
friends
and
get
in
the
old
van
that
will
take
us
to
the
airport.
During
the
trip
to
Mineralnye
Vody
we
are
stopped
and
checked
many
times;
at
the
unofficial
border
post
of
Kabardino-Balkaria
(disguised
as
a
'weighing
station',
only
there
are
no
scales…)
we
are
stopped
again
but
the
magical
word
'tourists'
gets
us
on
the
road
again.
But
I
am
glad
that
I
dropped
my
original
plan:
driving
all
the
way
from
Amsterdam
by
car;
the
lack
of
good
fuel,
roads,
spare
parts
and
mechanics
probably
would
have
resulted
in
either
getting
stuck
somewhere
halfway
or
getting
robbed
without
ever
seeing
these
magnificent
mountains.
The
two-lane
road
to
Mineralnye
is
being
used
as
a
three-lane
one
and
even
sometimes
as
a
4
lane,
but
we
arrive
at
the
airport
in
one
piece
where
large
posters
of
Cindy
Crawford
and
loud
music
from
Tarkan
illustrate
some
of
the
many
cultural
influences
in
this
region.
Nikolai
has
to
save
us
at
the
luggage
check
as
our
axes,
crampons,
stove
and
iron
plates
in
our
boot
soles
freak
out
the
guards,
but
when
they
are
being
told
that
we
are
mountaineers
they
relax
again.
It's
still
over
30
degrees
and
we
are
forced
to
wait
in
a
hot
steel
building
before
we
can
board
our
plane
where
again
all
of
our
tickets
are
being
checked.
When
after
the
lunch
(a
tasty
salami
sandwich)
the
stewardess
with
the
drinks
approaches
I
learned
my
lesson;
when
she
asks
me
want
I
want
to
drink
I
answer
friendly:
"A
cola
please!"
She
looks
at
me
angrily
and
asks
cross:
"Fanta
or
mineral
water?"
I
take
a
Fanta
and
smile.
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