From Childhood in Exile to the USSR’s Highest Climbing Honor, He Defined a Generation of Mountaineering

Every January, we share a tribute to members of our community who we lost last year. Some were legends, others were pillars of their community, all were climbers. Read the full tribute to Climbers We Lost in 2025 here.

Vatslav Ruzhevsky, 90, June 1

Vatslav Ruzhevsky was one of Russia’s leading alpinists in the late and post-Soviet era. The American climbing pioneer George Lowe climbed extensively with Ruzhevsky during a cross-cultural exchange trip to the USSR in the 1970s. Even a half-century later, Lowe recalled roping up together as “one of the best experiences of my life.”

Ruzhevsky was born in modern-day St. Petersburg (then Leningrad) in 1935, in the nascent years of dictator Joseph Stalin’s Great Purge. In 1937, at the age of two, Ruzhevsky, his mother, and his sister were exiled from the city. “We lived very modestly, in other people’s corners, without benefits, barely making ends meet,” Ruzhevsky wrote in a 2003 essay for Alpinists of the Northern Capital. “Fortunately, my mother sewed at night after work—the sewing machine, our inseparable companion, was our lifesaver.” As a teen, Ruzhevsky devoured the adventure tales of Jack London, becoming inspired by the stories of “harsh northern nature, strong, courageous people, friendship.”

He was later accepted into Leningrad’s prestigious Arctic School—a naval academy dedicated to the training of staffers for polar stations and research vessels—but when administrators realized his father had been labeled an “enemy of the state” he was expelled and sent to a government-run trade school. Until this point, Ruzhevsky had thought his father had simply abandoned the family—he’d actually been sent to a gulag.

“These institutions weren’t meant to offer a future,” said Russian alpine chronicler Anna Piunova, in a tribute posted to Facebook. “They trained workers, but for most, the path led to vodka or prison.” Ruzhevsky graduated from the school with an electrician’s training in 1952 and began working at a nearby chemical plant. But a chance meeting with Yuri Chernoslivin, a fellow electrician and leading Soviet climber who would become Ruzhevsky’s mentor, “changed everything,” Piunova said.

Ruzhevsky was immediately impressed by Chernoslivin’s tall mountain tales and begged to become his disciple. Chernoslivin, a famed hardcase, said he needed discipline. “He snatched my cigarette, stomped on it, and said, ‘Let this be your last!’ My inner voice protested, but I swear, from that day on, I quit smoking. How grateful I am to Yura for that,” Ruzhevsky recalled. His first documented climb was Gumachi (3,797m/12,457ft), a mountain in the Caucasus, in 1952, and over the following eight years, he became a mountaineer of the finest caliber. “The mountains stunned me with their grandeur and solemnity,” he said. “They became the center of my life, and nothing could distract me from them, from my fanatical pursuit.”

By 1960, aged 25, he had earned his “Master of Sports” in mountaineering, the Soviet Union’s highest climbing honor. Five years later, Ruzhevsky won the country’s national championship in the technical climbing class, putting up a new route on the famed “Rhombus” north face of Chatyn-Tau (4,411m/14,472ft), and the same year, took part in the first winter ascent of Ullu-Tau (4,207m/13,802ft) via a bold, direct route that went at challenging 5B+ in the Russian grading system. Ice screws were not yet available in the Soviet Union, and Ruzhevsky and his team used homemade corkscrews to protect their line.

Ruzhevsky completed a total of 29 ascents of routes graded Russian 5 or 6 (the two highest categories in the scale) during his career, a third of them first ascents. He worked a staggering 130 shifts (2,600 days in total) as a staffer in the USSR’s remote alpine camps (for more on these camps, see here), and earned several awards for his work on mountain rescue squads. Later in life, he took on a teaching role, mentoring nine other climbers to earn their own “Master of Sports” rank. He also assisted in film projects, and often organized and judged national mountaineering and rock climbing championships.

Lowe, who spoke a little Russian, was part of a 1976 trip led by Henry Barber to establish routes in the Caucasus and the Tien Shan with a dozen leading Soviet alpinists, including Ruzhevsky.  Lowe spoke of how, even at the height of the Cold War, he was struck by how warm, welcoming, and friendly Ruzhevsky and his fellow Soviet climbers were. “They were a lot like us,” he recalled. “They loved their country, they loved Mother Russia, they just didn’t like their government,” he said, chuckling. Lowe noted that Ruzhevsky in particular, “was a real entertainment. He was the life of the party.”

“It was amazing what they were climbing with some of the equipment they had,” Lowe continued. Much of their gear was homemade, from ice axes to pitons and crampons. “Their boots were terrible, thick canvas overshell, a lot of extra weight, they had these heavy canvas packs. I mean, the climbs they were doing with that equipment, it was really impressive.”

Lowe recalled that, while he was impressed by nearly all of the USSR climbers, Ruzhevsky stood out for his raw athleticism and confidence on the rock. “Vatslav was one of those partners you could really trust,” Lowe said. “He was really good, and aware of his skill level, but also only took risks where appropriate. I felt like I could trust him unconditionally.” Lowe said that although they only climbed together on that one trip, Ruzhevsky was easily “one of the best partners of my climbing career.”

A Mountain.Ru tribute authored by Victor Koval offered a similar appraisal, calling Vatslav Ruzhevsky “a kind, compassionate man” who was “demanding of himself, but sensitive to others.” Koval remarked that the late alpinist’s “home was always filled with guests” and he “was a stunning storyteller, able to captivate anyone. He was always the center of attention, and his incredible sense of humor imbued his stories with incredible magic and charm.”

Although Ruzhevsky was from a different era, and many things had changed, both in the climbing world and society at large, Koval said that Ruzhevsky never tuned out from the world. “Until his last days, he was interested in mountains and mountaineering, read a lot, and always listened with interest to the stories of young people.”

Ruzhevsky died at the age of 90, on June 1. For more on his life, readers can read this profile, “Conversations with the Rifle,” written by Evgeny Buyanov in 2022.

Read the full tribute to Climbers We Lost in 2025 here.

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