Local transport - the ratrac, built in Austria, 1972 Photo: Michael Liebreich

Elbrus is known for its unpredictable weather, which has ruined the hopes and even claimed the lives of many climbers.

Before our alarm clocks had a chance to sound, I was awakened by the sound of the wind. It buffeted our Barrel, making its curved walls resound metallically. With some trepidation we got ready, filling our water-bottles with hot tea, putting the finishing touches to our packs and getting dressed. The ratrac was warming up in the little square between the Barrels, the noise of its engines drowned out by the wind.

Kirill popped in to see that we were awake, and it was at this point that he made his memorable comment about our "Death Crampons". In several years of ski touring, including a gruelling Haute Route, I have never, ever used crampons in anger. I knew that the Doc and I had only flimsy 8-point crampons, and that real climbers insisted on 10 or even 12-points. But to spend another £100 each on a piece of kit we probably wouldn't use hadn't seemed like a good idea back in England.

That morning as we got ready to depart for the summit I certainly regretted not buying new crampons!

Putting our fears aside, we clambered aboard the ratrac, joined by a pair of Spanish climbers and their Russian guide. We huddled together for warmth, pulling our hoods over our faces to avoid the stinging spindrift. The ratrac climbed steadily for an age, bumping us around and sliding us into a heap at the back of the cage. Then, without warning, it swung onto a level patch and stopped. We climbed out, stashing our skis and put on our crampons.

The author suffering from cold at the Pastukhov Rocks Photo: Dr K Henderson

In one way the climb to the Pastukhov Rocks was much easier than the day before. I felt much stronger, and could pace myself to keep the throb of my altitude headache at bay. But the wind was bitterly cold. All the way up I fought to keep the feeling in my hands and feet. I was emotionally unprepared for this. Arriving for the second time at Pastukhov Rocks, I was filled with dread. I had plenty of extra clothing in my pack, but I could not put it on. To put on my balaclava would have meant taking off my hat, even if only for a second. With the wind ripping past at 40mph plus, I just hunkered down as dawn broke and hoped we would abandon the attempt.

Salvation came in the unlikely shape of Peter. Always the strongest on the mountain, he seemed cheerful in the face of the freezing storm. He wandered around taking photos, grinning and giving us the thumbs up as we huddled together. But his nose! It was waxy white, the first sign of impending frost-bite. Alan quickly turned us around and to my delight we headed down. As we left, the Spanish climbers were pushing on up the ice slope above the Rocks, leaning into the wind. We couldn't hear the clink of their crampons as they walked.

The Doc being short-roped down from Pastukhov Rocks after unsuccessful summit bid Photo: Dr K Henderson

Recovering our skis, we skied back to the Barrels. Inevitably, as the day wore on the wind dropped.

We tortured ourselves. Had we been right to abandon?

At around 7pm the Spanish climbers returned, exhausted but exhilarated - they had made it. I, however, had no regrets about our decision. I know I could have pushed on, but with no margin for error. One mistake, one mishap, and I would have been too cold and demoralised to respond. The Spanish may have been stronger climbers than us, or they may just have been lucky that the wind dropped. It could so easily have picked up, and Elbrus's unpredictable weather could have claimed some more victims.

We debated our options for the next day. Jimmy wanted to descend to the valley, and return in a day or so. The Doc and I were concerned that if he descended, we wouldn't be able to persuade him back up to the Barrels. Kirill seemed happy enough to stay in the Barrels and neither climb nor descend - later Valera told us why: he had been joined in his Barrel by his new girlfriend from the Tcheget Hotel!

Eventually it was decided that we would all wake early again the next morning for a second attempt, but that if the weather was bad we would retreat to the valley until it improved. As soon as we made the decision, snow began to fall and we all went to sleep pessimistic about our chances of success.