Terskol, Kabardino-Balkaria, Russian FederationSOME DISTURBING NEWS FROM HOME
Sadly, it was our last morning in the lovely city of Vladikavkaz. We had thoroughly enjoyed the city and even though our visit to Beslan the day before had been more than chilling, to our surprise, we were in a way pleased we had made the visit. And spending time at Konstantin's and Diana's boutique KD's winery afterwards had been very special.
Our next destination was to cross the North Ossetia-Alanian border into neighbouring Kabardino-Balkaria, driving south-west down to the Mount Elbrus (Elbrusskiy) region, close to the Greater Caucasus border with Georgia; a journey of some 240 kilometers which would take us around two and a half hours.
Enjoying breakfast on the al fresco terrace of our Alexandrovskiy Hotel's cafe overlooking the city square, I casually browsed through our emails. Hazel our cat and house sitter back home was always super reliable with her reports and updates on our three cats, often sending quirky videos and always numerous photos with funny captions. So, when I saw her message I wasn't at all concerned. Until that is, I found out that one of our cats had gone missing.
Hazels' message read: "Morning.... There is no sign of the princess (known affectionately as Yekaterina the Russian Princess). I thought she was happy just shy. Obviously not I’ve looked around streets but no sight to be had. What is her old address I’ll check there. Her appetite was not off so she must surely be hungry? Should I be as worried as I am?"
You may recall that just before we left for this trip we had rescued an abandoned young tabby cat who was sheltering with her kittens under a nearby house (referred to by Hazel as "her old address") in our village of Crowdy Head. It had been a traumatic time and tragically we had not been able to save her kittens. Thankfully however, we were able to rescue Yekaterina and bring her home to live with us. But it was only shortly before we were to leave for Russia and there had been little time for her to settle or establish any sort of relationship other than a hostile one, with our two very pompous Siamese cats. A humble little tabby, with a sway back and broken tail, she was no more than a kitten herself. "She's not one of us" the Siamese sneered....
Being the hopeless cat tragic I am, in minutes I had emailed most of the residents in our village to look out for her. It had been a long weekend in Australia. What if she was locked in someone's house who was holidaying for the weekend? Perhaps she was injured? Maybe she had been bitten by a tick?
I envisaged every possible scenario. And I'm sure I drove everyone mad. Alan said I did.... In no time however our tiny home village of Crowdy Head was on full time Lost Cat Alert.
JOURNEY SOUTH-WEST TO THE LAND OF "THE SLEEPING BEAUTY"
To the Kabardino-Balkaria Border
Our journey from Vladikavkaz toward Kabardino-Balkaria took us through flat agricultural land with broad acreage of newly planted maize and cereals; the healthy-looking young crops giving a strong impression of fertile soils and good rainfall.
Dotted along the highway were small modest villages; most dwellings appearing to have asbestos roofs. When we mentioned our concerns about asbestos in Australia to Abdullah, he told us about the Chechen Wars where bombing of the old city's houses had resulted in terrible asbestos-related health problems with a high proportion of the population now suffering from advanced lung cancer. A sad reflection. As if the physical bombings were not enough...
You don't seem to drive too far anywhere in the fragmented regions of the North Caucasus before you reach a check point or for that matter a border into a neighbouring republic.
About twenty minutes into our journey, we reached the Kabardino-Balkaria border crossing. A huge forbidding structure with a high metal roof and stern looking officials, it was no place for mirth, or even a relaxing chat. Once again, we obediently remained silent while Abdullah grabbed all our papers and passports which were duly checked and checked again by the border guards; a solemn reminder that this region had been and occasionally still is, one of violent conflict.
The Sleeping Beauty Who Awoke - Twice....
Kabardino-Balkaria however, was not called "The Sleeping Beauty" of the North Caucasus by error. For many years, it remained one of the North Caucasus' more peaceful and relatively stable regions. Refer following entry "Kabardino-Balkaria: An Economic and Historical Briefing" http://v2.travelark.org/travel-blog-entry/crowdywendy/11/1572155787
"Today, sitting precariously between the North Caucasus peaceful north-west and its tumultuous north-east, Kabardino-Balkaria has long been recognised as integral to the fate of the region as a whole. Interestingly during the first years of post-Soviet history, Kabardino-Balkaria was conspicuous by its absence of violent conflict and also its relative inter-communal accord. Following the Soviet collapse of 1991 when much of the North Caucasus from Abkhazia to Dagestan were experiencing considerable armed conflicts, and despite having the potential for inter-communal unrest, Kabardino-Balkaria stood out as an island of relative peace in the region....
It was always predicted that should conflict break out within the republic or "Should the Sleeping Beauty awaken", then Russia would find it very difficult to maintain control of these troubled lands.
The Sleeping Beauty did in fact "roll over in her sleep", not once but twice. Firstly, in a burst of terrorist violence in Nalchik in October 2005 and then a more prolonged series of armed attacks between 2010 and 2011*. To the confusion and surprise of the outside world, The Sleeping Beauty did indeed wake up from her sleep."
* In 2011, tourists on their way to Mount Elbrus were held up in their car by militants who opened fire, killing three of the passengers.
The first 80 kilometers or so of our journey through Kabardino-Balkaria took us through attractive undulating country with dry land farming of maize interspersed with extensive vineyards and irrigated trellised orchards of olives, apple and pears. Unlike the humble villages we witness toward the border, there was certainly a feeling of prosperity.
Through Tyrnyauz to Terskol Village
After two hours driving we were following the Baksan River valley through beautiful mountainous country; soaring mountains lined with verdant treelined foothills. We were nearing the northern reaches of the Greater Caucasian ranges and the border with Georgia. In fact, we were not far from Mestia and Ushguli, two gorgeous Georgian mountainous villages with which we had fallen in love during our travels with Keti and Vano in 2015.
Abdullah was a very careful and steady driver. And especially so in comparison with the revved-up petrol heads we saw so often on North Caucasus roads. But the police were dynamite, especially I suspect on cars like Abdullah's which sported non-Caucasian number plates. Overtaking a car on a mountain bend, he accidentally crossed an unbroken road line by no more than a few meters. And was caught by a police car who had been following us. A fine was issued immediately. The sum of of 2,500 rubles (about US$40.00) was not a lot of money but it would have been substantial for poor Abdullah.
Small drab mining villages dotted our path. Mostly housing decrepit Soviet high-rise apartments, they reminded us of many of the decaying villages we witnessed in Far Eastern Russia. It was a bit of of a surprise as so far, we had not come across too much Soviet architecture.
Tyrnyauz was a more substantial mining town on the road to Elbrus. The administrative centre of the Elbrusskiy District, it is the largest town in the Baksan Valley and an essential supply point for trips into the Elbrus region. Tyrnyauz was founded as a service centre to a significant tungsten (the largest tungsten deposit in the Russian Federation) and molybdenum mine and processing plant, which still stands today but apparently is no longer in operation.
Abdullah told us that in July 2000, the town was subject to an unexpected flood and mudslide which formed into a massive avalanche, destroying a lot of the town. Apartment blocks we were told, were apparently buried in mud up to the fourth floor.
Many people died but even today, there are no reliable figures on the exact number. And the town certainly did retain a certain feeling of sadness, not helped by numerous Soviet apartments that looked like they had not seen a coat of paint since the days they were built.
Terskol
Our arrival in Terskol was somewhat of a shock. After days of travelling through remote countryside we had not seen many people at all; certainly very few tourists. Even day-time Vladikavkaz had been decidedly sleepy.
Terskol was a typical ski centre. And quite frankly, you could have been anywhere in the alpine skiing world. Chalet-styled hotels and cottages, cafes and touristy markets lined the narrow bustling streets. Oversized coaches dominated congested mountainous roads and any open areas, making it impossible for parking. Abdullah told us that our Azau Star Hotel did have parking but only between 8:00 am and 8:00 pm to allow occupancy for the coaches. It seemed these monstrous brutes ruled the entire village. And it was a very long steep walk up to the hotel.
The village itself was not unattractive but the shock of being thrown so suddenly into the world of mass tourism, the very reason we chose the North Caucasus, was anathema to us. There was of course no point in complaining. Of course, a ski centre would be touristy. But it didn't add to my poor humour, nor I guess the unfortunate Abdullah's after his traffic infringement.
Heading Up by Cable Car to the Seductive, Yet Deadly Mt Elbrus
Our dutiful guide Abdullah was more worried about us catching the cable car up to Mount Elbrus, urging us to hurry before it closed for the day at 3.00 pm. Alan hates cable cars. And I hate hurrying. So, you can imagine it was not a particularly happy threesome that finally queued up with a mass of determined skiers and tourists to catch one of the last cable cars up the mountain. The word "polite" doesn't seem to resonate with the elite sport of skiing. And after a lot of pushing and shoving, we were finally seated in our perspex fronted cable car cocoon, heading to Mt Elbrus.
It was a pity that the shell of our gondola was so crazed it was not possible to take good photos, as the scenery however on the way to Elbrus was stunning. And even though it was mid-summer there was at higher altitudes, surprisingly plenty of snow. Wide ski slopes and soaring snow cloud engulfed jagged peaks made - even I had to agree - for a very beautiful journey.
Mount Elbrus is an inactive volcano. With an elevation of 5,642 meters, it is known as the tallest mountain in Europe, and one of the famous Seven Summits - the highest mountains in each of the continents. Mount Elbrus has two summits, both of which are dormant volcanic domes. Its permanent ice caps feeds 22 glaciers which in turn give rise to the Baksan, Kuban and Malka Rivers.
Mount Elbrus is well known for climbing as well as year-round skiing. While technically a relatively easy climb, its ascent and descent is made much more challenging by its highly changeable weather, strong winds and unexpected snowstorms. Each year up to 30 climbers die on Elbrus; an extraordinarily high ratio of climbers to climber deaths in comparison with other mountains. It is also thought that many of the fatalities are caused by complacency; the mountain tending to lull its climbers into a false sense of security due to its lack of crevasses.
On its ascent our cable car stopped at three stations. From the top station at an elevation of 3,568 meters,it is possible to climb or rent snow mobiles to the summit. But when Abdullah half-heartedly suggested we do so, we firmly declined. The snow mobile company looked like it was run by a bunch of hooning cowboys. And anyway, we had had enough experience with snow mobiles the previous year, with vivid memories of Alan rolling his in Magadan, breaking several of his ribs in the process. Abdullah looking highly relieved, suggested we have lunch. An excellent idea, we thought.
Ominous mountain clouds loomed as we crunched through deep snow to a wooden chalet-styled restaurant; the effects of the altitude surprisingly apparent even at this relatively moderate elevation. And it was really cold with icy winds whipping up stinging snow crystals into our faces as we plodded up the steep slope.
The little restaurant was actually really lovely, with fabulous views of the snow slopes below and surrounding glorious peaks. Most of the visitors had left for their return cable car and to our delight we were virtually the only customers. The food was surprisingly good. Somehow soup and good bread always hits the spot in cold weather. Oh, and the red wine went down well too.
It pays never to go to the toilet anywhere in the world without some money on you. The toilet was a considerable distance from the restaurant and by that time the winds had become decidedly blizzard-like. Knee deep in snow, my heart sank. At the door of the block, a pleasant looking blonde woman was taking money for the use of the toilets. I thought at the time what an awful job it was for someone as smart looking as this woman, or anyone for that matter. Septic systems are pretty average at the best of times but on a high mountain slope with little drainage, the odour was woeful. I was about to walk back to get some money, but the woman beckoned me in, her shoulders shrugged in a kind of "well, come back and pay later" manner.
Such a small act of kindness but it did cheer me up no end.
An Evening at the Azau Star Hotel, Terskol
By the time we returned to the base, the weather had turned really ugly. Bitterly cold, the winds howled as we plodded through flurries of snow.
I had intended to have a look around the markets. Touristy or not, I am always short of gifts for friends when I travel in Russia. And particularly on this occasion for Hazel Cat Sitter who from her numerous emails was obviously blaming herself and going to no end of trouble to look for our lost feline.
"Well, I'm going to have a gin and tonic at the bar" said an emphatic Alan. It took me just seconds to agree.
Our hotel was very pleasant, if overly Germanic in style. The bar looked inviting and well-stocked but any minute you could imagine a yodeling Bavarian burst into song. "Surely they will have gin" said a hopeful Alan. They did have gin. A bottle with barely one centimeter; not even enough for a nip. Apologetically the bar attendant explained they were waiting on a load of supplies. We tried to console ourselves. After all, this was a predominantly Muslim republic and we were fortunate to have alcohol at all.
Alan settled for a beer and I had a glass of wine. Complaining bitterly it was German and not Russian beer, Alan said with disgust it tasted more like smoked ham. We were not going too well with our drinks when a Russian man sitting near us with his wife and party of very merry looking people, came over and introduced himself. From what we gathered, the very friendly Alexei was part of the ownership of our hotel. "I would like to buy you a vodka. In Russia you must drink vodka!" he beamed. Despite Alan's polite protests, the vodkas kept coming. Over the next hour, Alan drank six shots of vodka....
That evening Abdullah joined us for dinner at the hotel. Alexei and his friends were still at the same table and were looking very relaxed. And then the vodkas started again. This time, for me as well. Just after we ordered our meal, a massive platter of roast lamb arrived at our table, courtesy of the overly generous Alexei. Horrified, we wondered how on earth we could pay for the lamb without insulting our newly found host. Even more concerning was how on earth we were going to eat it, as well as our meal.
"Just don't eat it. You didn't order this food" said the usually genial Abdullah. But we agreed, it had been very generous of Alexei and struggled to eat as much as we could.
It was an occasion where we just couldn't read what was going on with our guide. We assumed that Abdullah was upset that we were part of an unwanted binge drinking session of which we had no way of avoiding. Or perhaps he was concerned he would end up with two drunks - which he almost did but luckily we are both "experienced" drinkers!
After our meal, Abdullah opted for an early evening while we went over and chatted to Alexei, his wife Tatiana and their friends. It had been a pleasant meeting with friendly and generous people.
geoff
2019-11-17
another exciting section to the story - I have heard about Mt Elbrus but thats all