Elbrus
My father and I climbed Russia’s Mt. Elbrus in 2003, when I was 14 years old. Before we started climbing Elbrus, we went hiking around the Caucasus to acclimatize to the altitude. The actual climb up and down Elbrus took four days. The first day, we hiked up to the Diesel Hut, where we stayed the night. The hut had burned down and been rebuilt— ironically, completely in wood, equipped with permanently closed windows and lit only by candles. We planned to get up in the wee hours of the morning the next day for our summit push, but the morning presented us with some unpleasant weather. So we stayed in the hut, and passed the day with card games and and summer reading.
My father and I with Mt. Elbrus behind us.		The next morning, we were able to head out to the summit. The air was crisp and the stars were bright; it was one of those moments when it just felt great to be alive. As the sun started to rise, however, so did the wind. I had my whole body, including my entire face, covered for protection by the time we reached the summit. After we reached the west summit, which at 18,506 feet (5642 meters) is the highest point in Europe, my dad and I and a couple of other guys in our group figured that the east summit, at 18,442 feet (5621 meters), was so close, we might as well climb that one too! We returned back to the hut, exhausted after our double summits, for a night’s rest before continuing back down the hill.
West summit East Summit

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