My extreme hike in the mountains - a personal story

Often we over-romanticize mountain hiking and other such adventures. But there are times when things get out of control. To prevent this from happening, you should try to plan your trip in advance, think through possible crises and avoid them.

We are starting to tell stories about how things went wrong on trips and what unpleasant surprises travelers got. So you can learn about these experiences without having to live them yourself. The first story will tell how an ordinary trip turned into a nightmare.

Sports photographer and seasoned traveler

It was an ordinary trip to the mountains with Valera Rozov. He wanted to make a new jump in a wingsuit (flying squirrel suit) in Ingushetia. Initially our ascent to the mountains didn’t look very difficult, but nature made its adjustments. In the end we had to stay on the rocks for a “cold” overnight stay.

Valera chose Ingushetia not for nothing, but because there are interesting “exits” (starting points for basejumpers) from which you can jump. Before the trip, I was in the town of Chamonix, in the east of France. Ingushetia reminded me a lot of this French town with its landscapes. I also think it is the most beautiful place in the Caucasus. Actually, the day before our “overnight stay” we jumped from the table mountain (with a flat top), and then Valera chose for himself another “exit” in the neighboring mountains, where he had already been before.

We reached the point where our route upwards started by car at lunchtime. There were four of us: the operator, Valera’s assistant and myself. The temperature was +17°C or +18°C, quite warm. The plan was to go up, take photos and video of Valera’s jump and make it down before dark. The cloud cover was low and we hoped the weather would improve during the day.

“We had minimal water and food: we were going light”.

As we climbed up, we saw exactly the same couloirs – mountain corridors. Upwards we followed the path, but in the middle of the route it started to disappear. As Rozov knew this path approximately, he oriented himself on the terrain. At times we had to hook the rope and climb up it. Without jumars and arbors (special handles and safety belts), just holding on with our hands.

On this day Valera wore a jacket, light trekking pants, light boots, a sweater and took a gortex jacket in case of rain or wind. I had heavy trekking boots, gloves and another jacket just in case. We took food and water at a minimum to go light. Each of us had some water and chocolate plus or minus.

We reached the “exit” without any adventures, in 1.5-2 hours. And there – fog, we started to wait. An hour, two hours passed, there was nothing to do, and the fog was thick. For those who are down there it is just a cloud, but for us it is a fog, because it is under us. Seeing a gap below, Rozov began to suit up, but the “window” was small. In the end, the sky became cloudy again, and Valera did not dare to jump.

Valera Rozov

“The couloirs are all so identical, you can’t tell the difference.”

Rozov began to argue that it was possible to fly through the fog, but it was not clear how high it was and whether he would have enough time to orient himself where to land. In the end we realized that it was time to decide: either we go down as a group, or Valera jumps and waits for us at the bottom, and we take everything off and go home. It was necessary to go down before darkness came. In the end, Rozov decided: “All right, I’m not going with you. You go, and I’ll jump and meet you at the bottom.” He stayed waiting for the “window” in the hope that it would appear, and we went down.

On the way all the group members started to argue: some said that we should go down this couloir, others – that we needed another one, on which we were climbing. And they are all the same, you can’t really tell the difference. I won the first time – we started to descend to the one I suggested. At first it was comfortable to walk, but in the end we went into the fog. Everything around us became wet: wet grass, wet rocks, it became unsafe. We walked on carefully, and as we descended even lower, we realized that we had come to a cliff. If the weather had been dry, we could have walked carefully down the rocks, but now we decided not to risk it.

I was wrong, the couloir was wrong. We went back and heard Valera’s voice shouting to us. We breathed a sigh of relief: now “daddy” is here, he will lead us out.

“We stop and spend the night on the rocks.”

We met with Rozov, he told us that we had gone to the wrong place and we should go further. In the meantime it had already gotten so dark that the objects became indistinguishable. The fog was still there, and there was even some fine rain, water dust, it became cool. We descended lower, reached a boulder with a cave, and Valera says: “Well, that’s it, let’s stop and spend the night”.

I took it as a joke:

– What do you mean, “spend the night”?

– Well, that’s it, a cold overnight stay.

– What kind of sleepover? What do you mean?

– It’s when you have no tents, no hot food, no sleeping bags.

– Valera, have you ever had such a thing?

– Well, not during my base-jumping career. But when I was in an alplager in the Crimea, we had it, because we had to pass certain routes for a certain period of time. And everything had to be done quickly.

And if during the first such overnight stay with Valera, most likely, everything was planned, this time it was definitely not. We had neither tents, nor sleeping bags, nor food, nor water.

Only I had a flashlight, and it was an accident: I wanted to put it out of my backpack before the ascent, but I couldn’t find it. The fog cleared and the full moon rose in the sky, but it was slippery and it was not safe to continue the descent. When asked about calling the rescuers, Valera said that even if there was a connection, they wouldn’t go looking for us until morning. We couldn’t make a fire either, because everything around us was wet.

Valera spread the ropes he had on the ground, threw his backpack and wrapped himself in a wingsuit, pressing himself against the rock. The rocks were still warm after the day, but then the temperature dropped to +7°C, and it was already “pounding” so that it was unpleasant to sit.

We followed Valera’s example and also sat down to the rocks, trying to sleep. We had 12 hours to wait for the dawn. But at six o’clock in the evening it is not smiling to go to bed at all. I sit and realize that I feel cold from below, now you will get something cold in these stupid mountains, then you will suffer all your life. Phones are also dead – you can’t listen to music or audiobooks, there is nothing to do. I started just walking, then jumping, then warming up on the spot. I also imagined that I was playing the drums.

At some point, I realized I was thirsty. I remembered a dude on a show about how he survived all the time in the wilderness and ate things. Decided to try and get some water at least some way. First I took a bottle and tried to scoop water from the grass. Naturally, nothing worked. Then I began to carefully tear the grass in bunches and tried to squeeze it into the bottle – also nothing. I remembered that I had paper napkins and started blotting the grass with them and squeezing it into the bottle. So I got maybe 50 grams.

Then I went around the rock to find something interesting. I saw a cave there. I suggested the operator to lie down in it to keep each other warm and at least to be lying down. We pulled a bunch of grass, took the ropes that Valera and his assistant had not used, put them down and climbed in. It seemed comfortable, but then the stones began to cool down and a draught appeared. It became cold and scary. I couldn’t stand it, told Maxim (the operator) that I didn’t want to “live” here anymore and suggested to go to shoot the stars to occupy myself with something. We had another eight hours to wait.

“We were very close to the road, but we didn’t recognize it.”

It started to get light around six in the morning. Valera woke up and said we could move out. We packed up and started to go down the trail. After walking about 100 meters, probably, we realized that we were in the couloir, on which we climbed up, which quiet trekking led to the road. It was the same “our” couloir, but Valera didn’t recognize it. In principle, we could have descended at night with just my flashlight and it would have been at least warmer.

In the end, we were down by nine in the morning. Called the driver who came and picked us up. Let everyone know we were okay because a lot of people were expecting calls in the evening and we didn’t get in touch.

“It was the worst night of my life.”

As we were on this “cold” sleepover, different thoughts came to mind. I was lying there thinking about something, musing, looking up at that wonderful starry sky and remembering people saying, “Oh, it’s so cool to sleep under a starry sky.” But at that moment I wanted not the sky above my head, but the wonderful ceiling of the hotel.

I characterize that night as the worst night of my life. It was super unpleasant, uncomfortable, and I have never had such endless nights again.