SCARPA Athlete Tom Grant was yearning for a new adventure after a long season in the Alps. This lead Tom and his friends to a remote part of Georgia in search of adventure and new lines. Read on for Tom's Trip report from Georgia
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At the end of a long season of skiing and guiding in the Alps the change of pace of an expedition and the lure of remote, unknown terrain was enticing.
Committing to a plan in an unfamiliar area teeming with big ski terrain was a mentally refreshing goal for the late spring. An idea started where many adventures originate; pouring over Google Earth, trying to decipher slope angles, aspects and what could constitute an interesting ski objective.
Teaming up with Aaron Rolph and Bine Zalohar, two close friends who I’d previously been on an expedition to Pakistan with, I knew we shared a vision for exploratory skiing and I was confident we’d be able to handle whatever situation we would find ourselves in with humour and flexibility.
The Georgian Caucasus was a logical place to combine these desires and experience something completely non routine in a new country. While the western Caucasus has been the scene of foreign ski expeditions over the years, we could find very little information on the eastern part of the range.
Through methodical research by Bine, we found that Georgia’s 7th highest peak, Tebulosmta (and the highest in Chechnya due to the shared border intersecting the mountain), appeared to not have been skied.
Tebulosmta, at 4,493m dominates the surrounding region and has a prominence of over 2,000m. The only media we could find of anyone on it was a propaganda video of Russian Spetsnaz special forces being dropped by heli near the summit and climbing the last part of the ridge. It also appeared to have a 1000m north face with a logical direct line from the summit and a sustained and steep top face. It was armed with the dream of freeriding north facing powder on a pristine 1000m face that we set off on our adventure.
Getting to the end of the valley where we could begin to approach the mountain provided a substantial logistical hurdle. The remote farming hamlet of Khone, the closest outpost of any form of civilization to Tebulosmta, is cut off for most of the winter and spring by road.
After renting a 1990s Toyota Sequoia, our trusty companion for the journey, we headed into the mountains. Even though it was late May, the road to Khone was still not opened for the summer season. Only just cleared of snow, there was recent rockfall and landslides that were being removed from the dirt roads.
Staying in a series of guesthouses and enjoying amazing Georgian hospitality and traditional food, we headed into the Chaukhi range to make some first turns and get eyes on Tebulosmta from afar. It appeared that the north face of Tebulosmta was white and full of snow covering the glacial ice on the steep upper part.
Finally, the roads were clear enough that we could make the day’s drive to hopefully reach the final guesthouse in Khone. Inching closer on the rugged, single lane dirt ‘road’, we blew a tire and temporarily abandoned the Sequoia, taking everything we needed and making the final stretch on foot.
Upon reaching the guest house we were greeted by an idyllic setting of self-sufficient farms, homely yet seeming to exist cut off from the modern world. One of the biggest unknowns to us was the best way to get to where we wanted to set up camp in front of the mountain. This involved a 2,300m climb and many kilometres of both hiking and skinning carrying massive bags with everything we needed for 3-4 days.
The arduous slog upwards finally deposited us on the dividing ridge between Georgia and Russia where we established our camp. The north face of Tebulosmta rose before us and to our shared disappointment, had been ravaged by strong winds and stripped of snow down to bare glacial ice.
After taking this in, we quickly spotted an alluring looking ski line which weaved serpent like between ice and rock for over 1,000m vertical. After pitching our tent directly on the border ridge, we hastily cut snow blocks to protect us from the still strong winds. Looking down into Chechnya, we saw nothing but endless wilderness.
After waiting out some more windy, unsettled weather, we bootpacked up the mountain’s right flank, not knowing exactly if the summit ridge connected to our line. My main concern as we ascended the north face, was that these giant 40 degree plus slopes were stable enough to safely climb, which thankfully they were.
Without too much difficulty we summited Tebulosmta, but our attention quickly turned as to how we were going to get to that start of our line. Cramponing across some delicate terrain, we inched forward feeling out the best way to continue across the knife edged ridgeline.
Deciding that downclimbing was the safer option than trying to ski on sight an unknown section of ridge, it was with some relief when we clicked into our skis and made our first turns. The line unfolded into a logical and aesthetic descent, the snow quality being better than we expected. Dancing between blue ice and shale rock, the tension felt up till now soon dissipated as we relaxed into the skiing.
At the bottom of the face the only sign of life coming from the Russian side were what appeared to be lynx tracks heading back into Georgia. Following these, we enjoyed a near endless descent on spring snow to the bottom of the snowline and then made the final hike on foot back into Khone. Exhausted, we were presented with a characteristically warm greeting and a feast for dinner by the baffled locals who had never seen skiers there before.
Back in Tbilisi, it was Georgian national independence day. With full military hardware on display, heavily armed soldiers mingled with families in a convivial atmosphere on Liberty Square.
Enjoying the crowded streets and party atmosphere, it was a stark contrast from the unpopulated border region with Russia we had just returned from. Within eleven days of arriving in Georgia we were flying out.
A mini expedition shared with two close friends to a remote peak, perhaps previously untouched by skiers yet within easy reach of western Europe, it added fuel to my motivation for future exploratory trips to new ranges.
