Mount Elbrus — Into the Wind

By May 2025, I wasn’t at my strongest. After the back-to-back triumphs of Aconcagua and Ojos, life hit me hard. I lost my job. Depression set in. My training shrank to a little running here and there, and endless Pilates sessions to numb the sting.

But the mountains don’t wait for perfect timing. And Elbrus — Europe’s highest peak at 18,510 ft — was next.

Getting There

Months earlier, after Ojos, we had stopped in New York City and handed our passports, paperwork, and cash to the Russian consulate. Then we waited. Three weeks later, visas appeared in our mailbox — and we were in.

On May 22, we boarded a plane for Russia. Everyone we knew thought we were insane. “You’re going to die,” they said. But when we landed, it was bureaucracy, not danger, that greeted us. Rocco was pulled into a back room and questioned, but it was polite, even kind. After a few hours, they waved us through.

The Caucasus

The Caucasus Mountains stunned me from the first acclimatization hike. Towering ridgelines, jagged peaks, wild beauty. Day two, we rode the cable car up to the first station and practiced self-arresting — many in our group had never touched snow like this before. Day three, we climbed to the Rocks. I moved slowly, but still faster than most of the team. It was excruciating, but beautiful.

Eventually, we moved up to the highest cable car station and bunked down. We were lucky — early season meant no overcrowding. Just Rocco, our guide Viktor, and me.

Summit Day — Into the Storm

Summit day came — and of course, I lost my ice axe. My only real tool of protection. Gone. Woohoo.

We hopped on the snowcat, climbed into the dark, and immediately slammed into weather. Winds up to 70 mph. Ten degrees, with windchill dropping to -40. Snow blasting sideways like knives. I was a ping-pong ball, bounced around the slope.

But then something clicked.

We paired up with two strong climbers originally from Canada and another from Mexico. One of them, from Malta, was on his last of the Seven Summits. Their strength carried the team forward, and somehow, I matched it.

Four hours and ten minutes later, through some of the worst weather I’ve ever been in, we reached the top. We were some of the only people that year to tag the brand-new summit ice axe marker.

The wind was so fierce at the summit we had to lay down. My fingers had frostnip, and my body swelled. Some of the team had frostnip across their faces. But me? I felt great. No drugs. No panic. Just strength.

Lesson

Back at camp, we thawed with bowls of pelmeni — Russian dumplings, comfort in their purest form. I couldn’t help but smile.

Climbing Elbrus taught me that sometimes you don’t need to be in peak training form to succeed. Sometimes, all you need is grit, teammates to lean on, and the ability to laugh when you lose your ice axe.

Russia isn’t what the headlines tell you. The people we met wanted peace, kindness, and connection. The Caucasus Mountains wanted only respect. Governments may be assholes, but mountains — mountains are pure.