Mount Belukha - the Princess of Altai

Climbing Mount Belukha

Read in Telegram in English
Leer en Telegram en Español

Belukha climbing program - here!

Diary of the expedition, a story about the ascent to Belukha.

Altai Mountains, like a half-erased chronicle, silently keep traces of ancient mysterious civilizations that left our world forever... But their mysterious messages sent to us from the depths of the past lay in the strange symbols on the stone pages. And only the gray rocky hills silently remember about what happened. And maybe about what will be.

Rocks covered with petroglyphs. Altai, near the border with Mongolia.

In the open window of the car, densely packed with expedition members and equipment, a dank morning freshness was drawn in. The smell of dust mixed with the intoxicating smell of the mountain meadows. It started to get light. From time to time, dense bands of fog crossed the road and our minivan sank in it, highlighting a vague white spot in front of the windshield with its headlights.

Long road to the foot of Belukha Mountain in Altai.

The sky was lightening, and it was already possible to distinguish the boundaries of gentle mountain ridges, covered with small neat birch groves scattered here and there. The day was rapidly approaching, but its approach did not add vigor to anybody. It was an effect of the long road from Barnaul, which lasted for 18 dusty hours.

Altai morning.

In front of the lowered barrier, the bus braked tiredly, and a cloud of dust, having overtaken us, slowly floated away behind the barrier - without checks and passes. Russian border checkpoint. Another absurdity of Russian reality. Checking documents, long sleepy examination of passports. No one counted the passengers and checked them against their passports, but the list of the group with passport data had to be rewritten twice by hand...

Chuisky tract is the main road of Altai.

Who needs this paper swarming - why does great Russia torment travelers with this abundance of papers, without which it is impossible to go or drive anywhere? Always that nonsence... Not only did you have to wait two months for a pass to this godforsaken region... Now there is also this feeling of complete helplessness in front of people in camouflage who just scoff at the tourists from idleness, justifying with their worthless demands their senseless existence.

The road from Barnaul to Tungur village took a long 18 hours.

Who and from whom are these guards guarding the border, the distance to which from this checkpoint is more than 100km?! And you always can bypass their barrier through the neighboring bushes. Only people who come peacefully travel and, of course, do not want to break the stupid rules, become voluntary victims of the Russian border control service. The procedure is unpleasant, humiliating and pointless.

While the passes were being checked, a vigilant pig with the ears of a real Chekist came.

But all the troubles end sooner or later, and, shaking my hand, tired from rewriting documents, I return to the car. I was walking, clutching in my hand useless but important piece of paper - a pass to the border zone for a group of people eager to immerse themselves in the untouched world of the mountains.

Another couple of hours of monotonous driving along a bumpy dirt road, and now a suspension bridge across the Katun appeared ahead. A brilliant work of engineering thought of the Soviet era, with broken boards sewn with huge nails, rusty thick cables and scary supports. But, in general, the design of the bridge inspired respect.

Suspension bridge across the Katun river.

Respect for the era that gave birth to it. We drove into the village of Tungur - the last major settlement on this road, the starting point of almost all expeditions going to the region of the most famous peak of Siberia - the beautiful Mount Belukha.

In the village of Tungur, a bridge over the Kucherla River.

Before we had time to pitch our tents near the cooling car, which was conveniently located in a neat clearing, two stout women purposefully headed towards us from the neighboring bushes. The expression on their faces clearly did not portend hospitality.

- You have no right to put up your tents here, this is our territory, leave.

- How is it "yours"?! there is no fence, no signs - why can't we spend the night here?

- Over there, - the women waved her hand somewhere in the distance, - you see the fence - this is our hotel, so the entire surrounding territory is also ours! - from the tone of this statement, it immediately became clear that these ladies were clearly used to behave this way with unsuspecting tourists.

An excellent cozy glade, the first real rest after a long road from Barnaul.

The conversation dragged on. I introduced myself and asked them to introduce themselves. My opponents turned out to be the manager and chief accountant of a neighboring camp site. However, the interests of their base were clearly far beyond the understanding of the two aggressive fatties.

I never received an offer to use their commercial services. Just stupid aggression, the desire to be the owner of what does not belong to them. A very Russian situation, one might say a national trait.

Upper reaches of the Katun River.

However, traveling through my boundless homeland, I have acquired immunity to such claims. Shrugging my shoulders, I went to the car, got another tent and laid it out at the feet of the angry ladies.

- Your claims will be considered after presentation of the documents confirming your right to restrict access to this territory. For now, there's nothing more to talk about.

- Well, wait a minute! You will not spend the night here anyway, now our guys will come and explain everything to you!!

The guys arrived in the form of two drunk small Altaians on an ancient soviet Ural motorcycle with a sidecar.

The conversation was over. The threat was obvious, and it remained either to leave, or to wait and look at these "guys". Our group was very tired from the road, and I decided not to take the threats so close to heart, definitely, why should we leave? The place is good, the village is nearby, the river too, and I didn’t want to indulge the evil arbitrariness either.

The continuation of the conflict did not have to wait long - the guys arrived. Two tiny native Altaians arrived on an old motorcycle "Ural" with a sidecar. Completely drunk.

The Katun River near the village of Tungur.

- Hey, why did you put your tent on my mowing? Take away your tent, I'll be mowing here right now (it was almost dark, and the grass on the glade had long been mowed).

After these words, the speaker pretended that he was going to get off the motorcycle but the attempt was unsuccessfull - he almost fell. At that moment, it became quite clear what to do next. After all, I have been traveling in this region for a long time. Ignoring the menacing behavior of the guests, I poured some vodka into the mug.

- Come on, drink, we should at least get to know each other before starting to argue! And I handed the mug to the most aggressive guest.

In response, I received an incredulous look from the very cloudy eyes, the Altaian hesitated for a second, but nevertheless took the mug.

- Why did you put your tent on my mowing? - He repeated his question two tones lower and with a note of obvious doubt.

Morning in the village of Tungur - the beginning of the journey through Altai.

Without answering the question, I asked the guy if they had horses - the next day we need to move towards Lake Akkem. Negotiations about horses would have to be conducted with the same Altaians, why not to use the opportunity right now? Thanks to the help of angry ladies, the Altaians came by themselves - so the scandal of the ladies turn to be very useful!

A cloudy look of the guy suddenly became meaningful - he definitely felt the smell of money. Altaian quickly drank his vodka, shook himself, sobered up.

- There are horses, how many do you need?

- Ten, transfer to Akkem, pay for three days.

- There are no questions, chief, at what hour shoud I bring the horses?

Horse-drawn expedition to the foot of Belukha is the best option for the route.

There really were no more questions. We sat by the fire, drank tea, talked about life. I received an oath promise that no one else would bother us in this place, and really it belongs to no one, this meadow. And what kind a mowing here, where even the grass doesn’t grow... So we departed like a best friends.

Meanwhile, the evil hugs from the camp site, were walking along their fence in anticipation of the expulsion of impudent tourists. There was great sadness when those who were supposed to expel the enemies from the land of the camp, instead began to say goodbye to them in a friendly way, obviously not intending to make troubles to anyone.

As a bonus we got security service to accompany our expedition to Mount Belukha.

The next morning, I deliberately rode a horse past the accountant woman standing by the fence, who had shown herself most aggressively the day before. My yesterdays opponent snorted viciously and turned away in response to my greeting. But everything could have been different... No one would have refused to spend the night in the comfortable conditions of their hotel. And horses could also be found for us there and money earned. However, there are things more valuable than money. Like extreme stupidity...

We climb with horses to the Kara Tyurek pass along the valley of the Kucherla river.

The horse walked monotonously along the path broken by many hooves. In the saddle for a few hours it became so comfortable that I began to fall asleep, lulled by a measured swaying from side to side.

Gradually, the higher our small caravan climbed, the forest became less and less thick, dense thickets of currants gave way to rarer honeysuckle bushes. Sometimes on the go it was possible to grab a branch with weighty gray berries which brighten up the monotony of the ride. Then the berries completely disappeared, only the slender trunks of larches no longer hid the gaps of the sky, it was just a minutes left before reaching the upper plateau.

We go up on horseback from Tungur to the Kucherla valley

Tired horses reacted indifferently to the arrival at the first camp, located at a strange rocky ridge in the middle of an upper plateau covered with thickets of dwarf birch, not far from the Kara Tyurek weather station. The horses walk this route not for the first time, they perfectly understood that there was no food to be found here. And tomorrow there would be an even harder day - the Kara Tyurek (Black Heart) pass from the Kucherla valley to the Akkem valley is the steepest and highest section of the route.

MCS AlexClimb team on the approaches to the first camp on the approach route to the base of Mount Belukha.

First overnight stay on the route. Far below are left all the bureaucratic obstacles of the border posts, stupid embittered people who cannot see beyond their own nose, swollen from the constant discontent and drunk condition... For many kilometers around ther is a wild mountainous country that exists according to the ancient laws, not bound by any fetters of the civilized world. It is so strange to feel the transition from our familiar reality to the real world. After all, it is real, we just forgot about it, hiding from its reality in the labyrinths of the city and life routine.

Altai mountains.

And here it is, right from the door of the tent, to the horizon, crowned with the snowy peaks and illuminated by the setting sun. A lot of space, so unfamiliar and... uncomfortable. Like a cockroach on a clean table.... Our first night on the route. Still feels the fatigue of a long-distance flight and the turmoil of the roads. The body is rebuilding to a different rhythm of life. Now we have one task for the next 10 days - to get close to the sacred shrine of the Altai Mountains - Mount Belukha. And, if we are lucky enough and the local spirits will be favorable to us, we climb its Summit.

The purpose of our expedition is to climb the highest mountain of Altai - Mount Belukha.

Several days trek, with heavy backpack, mud and wet rocks on the trail, rain, glacier slopes and crevasses. For a person from the world of comfort, this is a continuous series of tests for the strength of the body and spirit, a continuous struggle for survival. But this is the task of our campaign, because from the victory over all the inconveniences of the trail, a feeling of one's own strength is born, a feeling of a restored connection with a source of natural energy.

On the approaches to Lake Akkem at the foot of Mount Belukha.

...Camping in the snow. The tents are buried deep in the snow, to protect them in case of wind. Primus sizzles, the snow in the pot gradually darkens and turns into water - the most important product for survival in the highlands. Water is tea, it is hot food, it is life.... You need a lot of water to have enough for dinner and breakfast, because early in the morning, or rather late at the night, we will try to realize the most important point of our program - climbing to the top of the high mountains of Siberia. It is so close now, you can say that it’s a stone’s throw away. Just above the ridge you can see a piece of a rocky triangle topped with a snow cornice. Seems so close. Deceptively close.

High camp 3700 m on the Berelskoye Sedlo pass - from here we climb climb Mount Belukha.

There was no confidence in the weather. The sunset was adorned with long, cat-tail-like clouds, a well-known sign of coming weather disaster.

But, waking up in the middle of the night and sticking my nose out of the tent, I was convinced that the sky was relatively clear and the whole mountain was visible - from the camp to the peak silvering in the sky. Although the horizon was a bit cloudy. But it's not now, maybe by dawn it will go bad.

The snow storm is coming to Belukha.

And there are still 5-6 hours before dawn. There was a risk, but the chance was also quite clear, why not to try? We got up quickly - the equipment was prepared in the evening, the sleep was not too deep, the water for tea was also prepared beforehand - we melted it from the snow the day before, so as not to waste precious time in the morning. A sip of tea with chocolate bar and some dried fruit. Then get outside, put on the crampons.

The camp on the Berel saddle wakes up and the climbers are preparing for the ascent of Mount Belukha.

Contrary to my expectations, the snow did not freeze overnight into a hard crust, it was quite warm - another warning sign, there is no certainty in the weather. But the stars were shining overhead, there was no wind either - this means that bad weather will not come suddenly and, in case of danger, it will always be possible to turn back and descend to the camp. Everyone and everything is ready. We tie in the rope, put our backpacks and go forward.

Night start of the ascent to Mount Belukha - in order to have time to descend before the onset of bad weather.

How many times I have climbed this route, but the pleasure of climbing does not become less. Strange, it seems to be nothing special, just a gentle, snow-covered glacier, an easy rocky ridge and then snow dome of the Summit. There, where several ridges converge at one point. But, a strange feeling, some kind of crazy joy from the movement, from breathing, from hearing the creaking of snow under the points of crampons.

Berel ridge - my favourite climbing route to Mount Belukha summit.

If you take a very deep breath - you want to laugh, as if it is ticklish. It feels like a big ball of joy is inflating inside and bursting out. A strange feeling of overflowing energy, closeness to something very pure and bright. Feeling being Real. At such moments, you can understand especially sharp the meaning of Nicolai Roerich's paintings, where the blue mountain ridges go into the blazing horizon, and the fog hides the secrets of ancient sanctuaries. This is very true about Altai.

Dawn in the Altai mountains is a fantastic sight of the beginning of a new day.

Here is exactly that atmosphere of otherworldly grandeur, which the the famous Russian painter and philosopher has invested in most of his works. And as about Mount Belukha, that is a special subject as this is the holiest place in Altai mountains, the point of the concentration of the energy.

Maybe these are my deeply personal experiences, not everyone feels the same way. But every time I approach this Mountain, I feel some kind of inner silence and awe. And I can't explain anything. Very strong place, just very clean and bright.

The summit dome of Mount Belukha, view from the Berel ridge.

The beginning of the ridge was thoroughly covered with snow. Getting deep in the snow above the knee, I broke a trail to the rocks and fastened the rope. From this point we have to move with belay, as the rocks are quite steep. Although all the participants know perfectly well how to move on such terrain, reliable protection is necessary. We slowly climb one pitch after another, a bright thread of rope winding between the rocks covered with snow and lichen spots.

Southeast ridge of Belukha peak.

The ridge is not long, just 400 meters, so it is about 1.5-2 hours of relaxed climbing. But the brightening sky urges us on and does not allow to relax - the horizon in the east is covered with a dense film of clouds, and the hope for a comfortable descent disappears. I wish there would be enough time to get to the top...

By the time we reached the snowy top of the ridge, a dense fog came from behind the Summit and quickly covered the group with its white veil. It was just 100-150 meters left to the top, but the visibility was switched off.

Climbing to the top of Mount Belukha in the fog.

It's a pity, it was just half an hour left before the enchanting spectacle of dawn from the Summit of Mount Belukha. But definitely you can't argue with the weather. It was necessary to complete at our ascent, albeit without visibility. The fact of ascent is necessary for the inner feeling of the completed task. We continue to climb in the dense fog - there was no wind and, it seems, the weather was still good enough to climb.

A few more snow steps before reaching a wider snowy ridge. We were climbing into the foggy unknown which seems endless. Time goes slow in the fog - it was time to be on top, but the snow slope was still endlessly stretching upwards, the fog hides all the landmarks. Suddenly something black appeared to the left. A rocky spot with memorial tables and an ice axe stuck in a crevasse.

On the Summit of Mount Belukha in foggy weather.

Finally, here is the desired goal of our expedition. Albeit without visibility, but still the feeling of victory is felt at this moment especially strongly. For the sake of this particular minute, we climbed up today for six hours, walked to the mountain for several days, covered thousands of kilometers by plane and car.

On the Summit of Mount Belukha in a good weather.

All this was done for the sake of one minute of happiness at the Summit, simple happiness because was achieved one more goal, difficult and desirable. Much has been written about this moment. Everyone feels it differently, in his own way. But for everyone it is equally valuable and forever will remain in the treasury of most valuable moments. The treasure that no matter how much you share, it does not become smaller.

Photo at the Summit of Mount Belukha in perfect weather.

There was no time to enjoy the victory for a long time. The fog was getting thicker, large flakes of snow began to fall out of it. The weather lasted just long enough to get us to climb the Summit. But in the mountain climbing, success is not so much the fact of climbing to the top as the fact of a safe descent to the camp. This is the most important thing.

Climbing Eastern Belukha in Altai.

Long rappels between the rocks of the ridge, the rope twists and gets tangled, visibility is completely gone, it started to snow. The last sparks of the summit joy were dissolved in severe fatigue and irritation, especially at the moment when, on the last section of the descent, the rope got stuck when pulling down.

I pulled and pulled, tried to drag it down with all my force, but vile fortune openly mocked. At the moment when I almost believed that we completed our decent and relaxed, I had to climb up again, to the station, where the tip of the rope fell between the rocks and got stuck.

Descent after climbing Mount Belukha.

To make fun from unexpected climbing complication, I pleased the surrounding slopes with strongest expressions dedicated to the rope and the very rock that caused the delay on the descent. After, already being in the camp in the atmosphere of evening tea drinking, the guys from the neighboring team happily shared their amazing observation - that when they were descending in the fog from the route, the mountain echo brought to them fragments of expressions combining familiar words into very unexpected, not heard before strong combinations...

MCS AlexClimb high camp on the Berel saddle after a night of bad weather.

.... A small stream, ringing next to the tent, froze in the morning. The unfinished tea in the pot also turned into a brown lens. It got cold. The sky of some unreal depth of blue instilled confidence that today will be successful day.

Someone is already preparing for the harsh Altai winter.

It is clear that there will be no rain, and this is the main thing. The descent trail is not difficult - it is still dry, and after all the adventures, I want to calmly and comfortably get to Tungur. Where, on the next day, the car should pick us up.

Panorama of the Mongolian Altai mountains extending to the south.

The adventure continued - the further road led us to Mongolia, to the steppes and yurts of nomadic shepherds, to the wild mountain lakes and ancient sanctuaries of bygone civilizations. And the most difficult part of the journey is already completed - against the backdrop of the sunset sky, the two-headed silhouette of the Belukha was whitening.

View of Mount Belukha from the Akkem valley.

I don't even believe it. There on the very edge of the left peak we drank tea yesterday from a thermos and cautiously enjoyed the feeling of victory over the elements. And from here it looks as inaccessible as a fantastic cloud, a white mirage.

Again a dusty dirt road, checkpoints, a long ribbon of the highway stretching through the endless steppe, cut by rocky ridges and deep canyons.

Altai mountains on the border with Mongolia.

... A long, hungry-looking man in the border uniform jumped out of a military Russian 4x4 UAZ parked on the side of the road and cheerfully waved a striped stick in our direction.

- Border control, show your documents!

The driver and passengers held out their passports.

-Where is your pass to the border zone?

- What?! (I could not stand it again) Excuse me, but at what exact moment did we get in any special control zone? We did not pass any checkpoint or a barrier - this is the public road to Tashanta, there is an official checkpoint across the border with Mongolia, we have visas. And what other passes do we need to drive this road open to everybody?

The end of the Chui tract - the border with Mongolia, Tashanta village

Doubt ran across the face under the visor of his cap, the officer ran back to the UAZ, and quickly talked to someone.

- Okay, you can go, the commander is in a good mood today...

- Thank you, officer

Altai steppe.

We continue our drive. The mood has deteriorated. I wonder what would happen if the commander was no in a good mood? I should have asked... Just for the future. Although I want to believe that this lawlessness will not have a future.

Because otherwise we won't have a future. Every year there are fewer and fewer opportunities for comfortable travel in Russia.

Why is that? After all, there are so many amazingly beautiful and interesting areas that cannot be found anywhere else in the world. There are so many people here for whom the development of tourism would open the opportunity to work and live in good civilized conditions.

The upper reaches of the Katun are amazingly beautiful and untouched places.

And yet... What would happen if the commander was not in a good mood... This question haunts me. After all, in a month I will again go with a group to Altai.

The author of the text and photos, the leader of the expedition to Mount Belukha - Alex Trubachev

MCS EDIT 2023