The Day I Almost Summited the Highest Mountain in Ukraine

Dear friends, family and fearless readers:

When I was given the offer of a trip to Mt. Hoverla, the highest mountain in Ukraine, I responded with an emphatic “eh, sure, why not?”  I’ve always been such an ardent adventurer!  The trip was planned for the Saturday and Sunday following our spring break.  A large group was going; over a hundred American Peace Corps Volunteers, some 400 or so Ukrainians, and a number of Germans (there are a number of young Germans working in Ukraine in a similar manner to Peace Corps Volunteers).

            

To get to Mt. Hoverla our group needed to meet in Lviv.  Around 10:00 PM a train reserved entirely for our group would push off for a town called Vorokhta – about a seven or eight hour journey on the train (the train was rolling along quite slowly).  From the train station we squeezed into some buses and made rolled along to the mountain, about twenty minutes away.  This was where we would begin our glorious ascent.

            

Being that our trip took us through Lviv, it was only natural to spend a little time in the “City of Lions”.  I’ve said before, and it bears repeating, that Lemberg, Lwow, Lvov, or Lviv[1], I don’t care how you say it; it’s my favorite city in Ukraine.  Our contingent consisted of me, my sitemate[2], and three of our friends from town.  We did a lot of the usual tourisy thing on Friday.  We climbed the town in the middle of Market Square.  We went to little back-alley cafes.  We walked around near the opera house, and through the craft bazaar, and along Shevchenko Prospect.  The general idea was to wander around and enjoy the city.  It was a nice way to spend a Friday waiting for a train.  As much as I enjoyed the city, its cafes and its delicious restaurants, it was a difficult place to spend a Friday in the middle of Lent.  I don’t need to eat meat everyday, but it’s tough to not be able to with good restaurants all around.  The effects of this failure to satisfy my carnivorous desires were dire.  The effects were not felt until the next morning though, when I failed to live up to my Boy Scout past.  This is to say that I failed to be prepared for the journey up the mountain.  I had a bag of gummy bears for a snack, but no food or water.

On top of the tower in Market Square, Lviv

A back-alley cafe in Lviv

Rocking out on Market Square in Lviv

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[1] Different names given to Lviv over the years (German, Polish, Russian and Ukrainian); the names are indicative of what country/empire was governing the city.

[2] Sitemate is Peace Corps jargon for another Peace Corps Volunteer living in the same town/village/city.

When we loaded onto the train I made my bed and was out ready for sleep within the hour.  I am embarrassed to say it, but I couldn’t even finish my beer before I was called into my slumber.  By the time I woke up I thought I had entered that inferno Dante wrote about.  It took a minute to realize it was just a Ukrainian train car with the heat turned way up.  I caught my breath, put on my big-boy jeans, a windbreaker and a fleece, put a hat in my pocket and was ready to go.

            

We squeezed onto buses, and after a twenty minute drive were at the gate to the national park in which Mt. Hoverla stands.  After getting to the gate of the park the buses stopped.  We got off the buses, and wandered a bit.  There was a small market by the gate, which naturally attracted us.  Me, and a new friend Phillip went up to the shop only to be disappointed.  It was closed.  Adventurers that we are, we walked around the shop, saw a little valley, and we could hear a river flowing.  We decided the only logical next step was to go down and check out the river.  After poking around, jumping across ice, and letting our inner frontiersmen out we headed back up to the gate of the park.  The buses were all gone when we got back, but that did not seem strange.  There was good news:  the store had opened up during our little side trip.  In the shop we purchased some victuals; we got a loaf of bread, a hunk of sausage and some cheese.  We also got a bottle of water, and some celebratory Ukrainian champagne for the summit.  If you’re going to climb, you should climb in style.

Packed up with our nourishing supplies we walked past the gate ready to start our journey in earnest.  As soon as we passed the gate a park ranger came out of the guard booth.  “Who are you?  What are you doing here?  Why aren’t you on the buses?  Your cell phones won’t work in there!  You cannot go in.  You must wait for the next group!”  Shamefaced we went back to the shop, sat around and waited.  The shop did have some tasty coffee, so that was a plus.

My new friend Phillip and I at the beginning of the hike up Hoverla

Now it should be said, as an aside, that I am no stranger to getting lost.  In fact, those of you that were at my “good riddance, get lost” party before I left may remember.  My father asked people at the party to say something about me; a pleasant memory or anything of the kind.  Other than my roommate Pat’s reply, “I have a lot of memories, but I don’t think any are appropriate to share right now,” the best answer came from my grandmother.  “He was . . . ,” and then there was a short pause, “always getting lost.”  This was by no means an inaccurate statement.  Getting lost has been one of my fortes since the early days.  When I was six and my family went to Disney World my parents had to keep me on a leash.  When I explore new cities I frequently start walking with no idea where I’m going.  Hell, it even happened in Egypt causing quite a commotion among the resort staff.

            

About an hour after we had gotten off the original buses the next group of buses came.  One of the drivers was kind enough to stop and let us in, and we were given a number of confused looks by the driver and passengers alike.  Quickly the road turned around a corner and we saw a sign that said Hoverla – 12 km.  We were immediately thankful the park ranger had caught us.  That would have been a long hike just to get to the beginning of the trail.

            

A benefit of making this trip far after the group was that we got to go completely at our own pace.  We could stop when we wanted, and go when we wanted.  We could also talk about anything with much greater candor than a huge group would allow for.  In fact, other than a few times when we weren’t exactly sure if we were on the right trail, I’d probably say I am happy we took the lonely road after the group.  Another benefit of going after the group was that only one person was witness to the ridiculous contortions I made at different points along to the trail in an effort not to fall.  I only ended up falling once along the trail.  Big trees fall hard, remember that.

            

Going up the mountain was interesting.  We had different weather conditions along the way, as well.  At the beginning there was a light rain.  After about a half hour we reached a milestone and the light rain turned into hail.  A bit further up, in the middle of a forested section of the trail there was no precipitation.  And finally, on the last part of the climb there was some of the hardest snow I’ve been in for quite a while.  The snow and ice made the trail and the climb a lot more difficult than I expected.  For most of the days prior to the trip I had been making jokes about the mountain.  It’s Ukraine’s highest peak, but it’s only about 6,200 feet high.  When I was actually on it, it had its revenge.

            

One of the issues of going behind the group is that we were not able to hit the summit.  People labeled “alpinists” were allowed to summit.  This involved having special boots, and special poles to help along in the climb.  We did not have either.  I didn’t even have a heavy jacket.  There is only one volunteer I know of that was able to get to the summit.  He did this by going way in front of the leader.  Missing the buses we did not have that option.  Even if we hadn’t missed the buses I’m not sure I’m in good enough shape to have had that option.

Channeling my inner mountaineer 

Germans and Americans on top of the mountain

This is the highest point I got to.  I look like I could be doing an album cover for Creed.

By the time we caught up to the group the stragglers were making their ascent up the final stretch we were allowed to climb to, and the non-stragglers were on their way back down.  This final stretch was particularly harried.  We were fish against the stream.  And this stream was practically an avalanche.  People were sliding down the snow on their asses, and there were more than a few injuries, and out of control people.  People tumbling past, and in pain is not the most reassuring sight.  But, after a number of slips, a few falls, getting my leg stuck in snow drifts we finally made it to the false summit.  We celebrated for a bit up there.  We shared champagne among friends.  Classy as we are, it was straight from the bottle.  We had some sandwiches with our sausage and cheese, and made a communal meal of the gummy bears.  The view from the top was gorgeous, snow capped mountains and pine forests.  It was cold and snowy at the top, as well.

A long, rainy walk to the bottom 

There were two portions of the walk down.  The first was the beginning of the descent.  This was above the tree line, and the snow was deep.  While walking and trying valiantly to keep my balance I decided the most expedient way to get through this portion was a controlled slide.  Using my hard parts (elbows and knees) for speed control I did some serious sliding.  It was terrific fun, other than the snow getting down my pants.  The slide was a bit dangerous.  A drunk man made the slide.  He had no interest in speed control and almost took off my head.  I screamed a string of profanities at him in English and Ukrainian before gaining my composure.  I was half hoping he went spread eagle into a tree.  No such luck.  Following this slide was the remainder of the walk.  The walk down was not nearly as long as the walk up.  This isn’t saying much, though, because it seemed to take forever.  There was a hotel about halfway down.  This hotel had some advertisements around it.  These were fresh ads for Pringles and for Red Bull.  Tired and hungry I was excited to see if they had either.  Unfortunately there was a snowboarding competition on some other part of the mountain and these were just sponsor ads.  There were no Pringles or Red Bull to be found.  This wouldn’t be disappointing if the ads were not all over the place.  I have theorized that this is partially to blame for the walk back down being so miserable.  Other aspects are the fall I took straight onto my tailbone, and the fact that I was absolutely soaked by a combination of various forms of precipitations and perspiration.  This combination caused the walk down to seemingly last and eternity.  It was miserable, and cold, and we all wanted hot food (or Pringles and Red Bull).

I'm not sure my face adequately expresses my discomfort.  The guy in the back right corner was really drunk, and almost knocked my head of sliding down completely out of control.  I called him some bad names I'd prefer not to repeat in public.

A group of volunteers refueling and rehydration after an arduous journey

When we got down to the base we had to wait for a bus to come back and pick us up.  The bus that finally got us was not very warm, and absolutely stunk of exhaust.  Then again, what is a little bit of carbon monoxide between friends, right?  The bus did its job and got us back to the train.  After quickly changing into some warm dry clothes we hit a restaurant close by the train station.  After a bowl of borscht, chicken and some potatoes I got to work rehydrating (read draining my wallet).  I think I must have done a pretty good job, because my wallet was much lighter by the end of the night.  Back on the train we spent some more time unwinding and the like before getting to bed.  I woke up in Lviv ready to sleep another million hours.  I caught a train home, and slept the entire time.  Back in Zhmerynka I can’t recall what I did, but I imagine it was a bit of horizontal meditation.

So, the moral of the story:  buy food beforehand.  Don’t leave the group.  And, dress in warm dry clothes if you’re going up a mountain.

That’s all I know for now.

Be good,

Pete