Russia's successful Winter Olympic bid will draw even more visitors to Europe's highest peak, but climate change and runaway development are marring the mountain's majesty
Text and photos by Pavel Antonov
Unless you lived in pre-1989 Central or Eastern Europe, the name of Vladimir Vysotskiy is unlikely to ring a bell. Vysotskiy was a singer with a voice as harsh as the system we all had to live in, but also as beautiful as things beyond the system's reach. "Like Mount Elbrus, and the mountains we still haven't been to," he once sang.
Now, 30 years on, Elbrus has many visitors, and an even greater number of visitors seems likely. Europe's highest peak will likely serve as an alpine skiing venue for the 2014 Winter Olympics, but the effects of climate change are being felt here nonetheless. Continuous glacial melting and extreme temperatures are making avalanches more frequent and less predictable — in other words, a catastrophe waiting to happen. In addition, ongoing human activity, much of it poorly planned, is ensuring continued disruption of the mountain region's natural balance.
Mount Elbrus actually consists of two peaks: Western and Eastern. At 5,642 metres, the 'Caucasian prince' stands 832 metres higher than its Alpine runner-up, Switzerland's Mount Blanc. Surrounding Elbrus like loyal vassals dressed in icy armour are a number of peaks that are imposing enough in their own right: Kogutay, Cheget, Uzhba, and Dongozarun Azau Git Chiget Kara Bashi — the latter meaning 'Black Peak on the Ridge between Dongozarun and Azau.' Gurgling steams and waterfalls lay hidden deep within the protective shade of thick forests, while indigenous Caucasian wild goats (turs) frolic undisturbed over moraines and volcanic rock.
A chairlift reaches heights and sights that can make visitors dizzy, and an occasional snowboarder or two cuts back and forth over snows lasting into midsummer. Tourism in the Northern Caucasus has revived quickly since the end of the war in Chechnya. Over 350,000 visit the area each year, and numbers are constantly on the rise, according to Amiran Zamilov of the Prielbrusie National Park Directorate.
A brand new Poma gondola lift began operating on Elbrus last January alongside its Soviet-era predecessor. Shops, market stalls and glossy, private hotels are mushrooming at the foot of the ski pistes, and the perfectly formed mountain flanks are being chewed away because of excavation work for new buildings and parking lots. Construction equipment, debris and waste are accumulating in the verdant valleys, which is typical of the poor planning and lack of state control mechanisms throughout many parts of Eastern Europe.
Man vs. mountain
Elbrus is situated in Kabardino-Balkaria, one of the Russian Federation's more politically explosive regions, and the mountain's ridge marks a national border with Georgia. Thus any local antagonisms take on a political — or, more specifically, ethnic — character, Zamilov explained. Balkar businessmen are adept at playing the 'nationalist' card when confronted with federal laws — laws whose ostensible purpose is to protect the park's natural environment.
Hussein Sottaiev, a tough-looking 45-year-old, owns the tiny Kogutay Hotel at the base of the Mount Cheget chairlift, near Elbrus. He got his start 15 years ago selling food and drink out of a stall to skiers. The business grew "slowly" into a cafe, and eventually into an eight-room hotel and restaurant. "I've been dragged to court more than 10 times, but never sentenced," said Hussein, whose cases were either terminated or transferred to other courts.
Meanwhile, the administration of the republican capital, Nalchik, is expressing concern, at least verbally, about the environmental situation. A programme to study and resolve the republic's environmental problems by 2022, at a cost of RUB 52 billion (USD 2 billion), is now in the planning stage, claimed Sergey Tsoy, a press officer under the newly appointed president of Kabardino-Balkar, Arsen Kanokov. While the exact sum is only an estimate, it remains unclear as to where this huge amount of money will come from. Tsoy, despite his World Wildlife Foundation credentials, carefully avoided any discussion with Green Horizon of illegal construction and lack of waste collection services in the national park.
The Elbrus region is still giddy from the euphoria (hysteria, rather) that swept across Russia after the International Olympic Committee granted the 2014 Winter Olympics to Sochi. With pistes being groomed in preparation and a super-highway project nearing completion, Tsoy revealed that a resort megaproject is underway on the mountain's slope, the completion of which seems much more a reality than the administration's ambitious environmental programme. President Kanokov and InterRos co-owner Vladimir Potaniin signed a memorandum on the project in June. According to Interfax, the project cost is around USD 1 billion.
Russian oligarchs are evidently joining with Balkar businessmen in trying to exploit the region for profit; and quite cynically, projected global warming trends are being pitched as part of the business strategy. According to a December 2006 report by the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD), 87 percent of Europe's Alpine ski areas will lose their natural snow cover if mean temperatures rise by just two degrees Celsius. Such a development would send vast numbers of winter holidaymakers to Elbrus instead of Europe's more traditional winter destinations.
Mountain vs. man
In spite of Russian scientists' unwillingness to back global consensus on anthropogenic global warning, experts from the Azau glaciological research station admit that the Elbrus' glaciers have recently been melting at record speed. "Global climate change shows through intensive local and regional differences," station head Alexander Oleynikov explained, adding that while climate change might not be greatly felt in the region by 2014, the growing number of foggy days could quite literally cast a shadow over the Winter Games.
Also worrisome is that 'avalanches one on top of the other' are becoming less of a political allegory and a more frequent reality. More than 50 visitors have been killed around Elbrus since 2002. In May an avalanche swept through a regular overnight camp, claiming the lives of several Japanese mountaineers.
"In the past, avalanches were unlikely between December and February, but the danger is now present through the entire winter," Oleynikov warned. Besides, the unpredictability and treacherousness of avalanches now pose a threat to those outside the climbing community. Right near the research station, two among a group of students preparing to celebrate New Year's Eve in 2005 were whisked from their dormitory window when an avalanche veered from its usual path.
Glaciers, however, are becoming shorter and thinner, allowing new passages for tumbling snow, scientist Natalia Volodycheva told journalists visiting the Azau station in August. The trip, organised by Green Horizon and the Russian Regional Environmental Centre, aimed to provide journalists with knowledge and skills for covering climate change.
Investors and owners of the new tourist facilities, as well as their clients and visitors, have not the slightest idea of the threats they are facing, said Volodycheva. Hussein, for example, has invested more than USD 100,000 in his Cheget hotel. The investment has so far paid off, even with the tourist season limited to three winter months and two summer months, but the Balkar businessman remains undaunted about the prospects of being buried under snow. Assured that avalanches will continue to pass "to the side," Hussein is also confident that periodic state-financed, anti-avalanche bombardments will continue to guarantee his and the hotel's safety. "Indeed, these avalanches normally pass aside, but only when they're small," said Volodycheva.
The glaciologist warned that the new buildings under Cheget lie in a potentially catastrophic danger zone, and that current protection measures are wholly inadequate. The only hotel at the moment with effective anti-avalanche protection was built in 1968, and is protected by the new buildings around it, Volodycheva added.
Hussein, like most hotel owners in the region, has no property insurance. "If something happens, I'll rely on my neighbours. They're my best insurance," he said, and not without good reason. Neighbours helped out when Hussein's cafe was destroyed by fire in 2005 Hussein's, but it is difficult to imagine what help would be available if everyone were struck at once.
