Georgian mountains. Kazbek classic

For the second time, the wheels slipped into a slip, making a mocking sound “shoo…”, and the second time I rolled back down a narrow street, lost somewhere deep in the Georgian village of Gergeti.

- Come on with overclocking, I always do that! - the colorful Georgian shouted excitedly, watching with interest from the balcony my attempts to break through higher.

“Indeed, what am I doing?” - flashed through my head, and my foot pressed the gas pedal all the way.

I would not be surprised to know that a Georgian woman drives something like a Honda Civic with a ground clearance of 14 centimeters. This often happens in the life of harsh jeepers who heroically overcome millions of obstacles, using their entire off-road arsenal, and upon arrival at the place they see the shah in local numbers.

On the eve, after a walk to the Saberce Pass, collecting backpacks for the final throw up, we evaluated various options for further logistics. As a result, they didn’t come up with anything better than how to get to the Trinity Church on their own, leave the car there for a few days and move on to Kazbek on their own.

The only thing that confused was the safety of the car during our absence. But, having talked with the owner of the guesthouse Givi and the first taxi driver that comes across, we get assurances that no one will touch the car, and decide to take a chance ...

The standard way to the church was closed due to road works in the village, so I had to go around the field, along the blurry clay track. There were exactly two potential ambushes along the way - a dirty puddle left after recent rains, and a street, which was lined up by road workers in one place, where I simply lacked clearance.

In general, the road is not particularly difficult for any crossover.

In a clearing near the church, we park the car a little off the road, take our backpacks and go up the well-known path.

- Well, finally I hear the right language! You can not break the tongue with this stupid English! Do you want some tea? - is heard in response to our greeting from a group that stopped for a short rest near the path and boiled tea in a kettle on the burner. The guys from the Tetnuldi club, based in Kutaisi, are leading their friends, Iranian Georgians, to the top of Kazbek. These are Georgians who look like Iranians, only Georgians.

By the way, it was at that moment that I clearly understood that my future life without a kettle would be dull and dull. This Wishlist spilled into an ode to a teapot in the Khibiny.

But this dog, which is in the photo, I saw in the reports already in 2014. They called her with her father Alpaca, which is short for "climbing dog." And only now I was surprised to learn that alpacas exist in nature and they are completely different.

After a short rest on the Saberce pass, we set off further to the river Cheri. From time to time, the opposite shower begins to pour with snow, but this time we are in goretex from head to toe, and even in gaiters. Tolerant, in general.

The lilac clouds swirling around us periodically come upon us, turning for a while into foggy hedgehogs.

Gergeti Glacier crossed without cats and did not contact, like all the groups we met. But we stepped a couple of cracks along the way.

As a result, closer to 3 o'clock in the afternoon we reach the Betlemi Hut shelter, located in the building of the former weather station from the distant 1933. In July-August, when the main season of climbing Kazbek begins, there is nowhere to spit from the tents near the weather station. And from the trash, too, as they say.

In June there was not a single tent, everyone spent the night inside for a certain amount of money, and the price seemed a bit overpriced - if my memory serves, they asked us for 150 lari for two, for two nights. As a result, we bargained for 100 GEL.

Inside is practically a luxury hotel. And this whole presidential suite is just for the two of us, can you imagine? There is also a kitchen.

Toward evening, a little frustrated.

But Kazbek remained hidden behind the cloud.

“Do you see him?”

- No.

- Me neither. But he is!

A few hours after us, through the blizzard and blizzard, six people came to the meteorological station, who were soaking wet through and through. In mesh running sneakers, in one fleece and thin windbreaker. They froze so that it was a pity to look at them.

The weather station is not heated, but it has a stove and firewood. High-altitude arithmetic is simple, one log is 10 GEL. Dialogue:

- Let's buy each one log, eh? Or let's buy one log of bucket at all!

“Well, tell me, why should I buy a log if I have a sleeping bag, a puff and dry clothes?”

In general, we did not flood the stove that evening. Because if a resident of Israel buys logs alone, then everyone will be warm, and this is simply unacceptable. Even if he is very cold.

The next morning we go on acclimatization on the way to the top. The weather is beautiful, but literally after an hour of ascent we are overtaken by the front from the title picture.

Visibility drops to a few meters. You can’t go further, we return to the base.

In the morning of this day, a Frenchman and a Cypriot tried to get to the top, accompanied by a local Georgian guide. They had a small chance of getting into a short weather window, but it did not work, unfortunately.

And at the base of the holiday. The Tetnuldi fighters got off the route and returned to the weather station, and their Iranian friends bought up the entire supply of firewood in the district and flooded the stove. The kitchen immediately became warm and cozy.

As a result, almost the whole day we lost on cards, talking with colleagues in misfortune. A white haze stood outside, and snow fell from the sky in large flakes.

In the evening, traditionally it turned out to be wrong and traditionally the peak of Kazbek was covered with a dense cloud.

Vacation time was coming to an end, and we had the last chance to climb this night. There was no weather. And it was not predicted.

The Tetnuldi team made a real military council, regrouped and still tried to storm the summit, sending the strongest support group with the Iranians. I was beaten for two hours at night near the weather station, looking at the sky, but I did not see stars above my head. We decided not to go.

The Iranians turned around at an altitude of 4700. For two weeks, no one visited the summit on the classic route.

We pack our things and set off on our way back, taking a last look at the summit that never opened.

Down is not up, and after a few hours we go out into a familiar clearing and see our car already bored without movement.

In the evening of the same day they drank wine in Dolzhanka, violently sharing their impressions with their family. Despite the fact that our plans were not fulfilled a little more than completely, the adventure once again succeeded. And the impressions were even brighter than last year's Elbrus region.