A window washer dangling from the roof of a glass tower, or hard-hat workers taking a lunch break on the frame of a future skyscraper have long been familiar scenes in America and other countries that boast urban jungles. In other words, we all know that there are such exotic occupations. However, the people who do this kind of work in Ukraine have their own stories to tell.
Igor Maltsev is the director of a small company in Kyiv called Verkholazy or High Climbers. Although in his mid fifties, married and the father of two children, he still has to scale up and down ropes to make a living.
Maltsev started rock climbing while still in college, where he studied to be an engineer - like so many others in the Soviet Union. First he enjoyed just hiking around in the hills, but "something was missing, I sort of started wanting more and more extreme," he explains. Gradually he became a professional mountaineer.
Then during perestroika, as was the case with so many of his compatriots, Maltsev found himself in need of an extra source of income. So a friend suggested that he try what in Russian is referred to as "industrial mountain climbing" - although the work didn't involve any trips to the highlands.
At first, he and his chums repaired the chimneys at sugar plants, traveling all over the country. Then closer to independence, in the early nineties, they began concentrating on the Kyiv market. "We were the first to start doing all this. We serviced the whole of Khreschatyk at one time." Much of the city's architecture was in need of repairs or a paint job, and things like air conditioners, satellite dishes and adverts were becoming common.
As orders were plentiful, Maltsev and his friends freely invited other enthusiasts to earn a living from their hobby. At that time, he recalls, it was almost exclusively rock climbers who signed on. But since the mid eighties, a training center had been offering courses that involved performing various skills above the ground. One could be licensed to work on scaffolding, a hanging stage or just from a rope.
Before this time, high-rise jobs were carried out by anyone from a team who was brave and nimble enough to do what needed to get done. More often than not, scaffolding or hanging stages were used. Ropes were and largely still are the exclusive domain of rock climbers. Realizing that his career as an engineer was effectively over, Maltsev eventually got himself a climbing license too.
Today there are dozens of individuals, small teams and relatively large firms that offer high-altitude services, but the industry is still far from being well organized. It's worth it for a big company specializing in cleaning services of all kinds, including for example window washing, to keep a team of climbers employed full time. Anyone offering facade restoration would also require workers who know how to travel along a rope. But many climbers, including the most daring, work for themselves or in small teams.
Like a lot of professional mountaineers, Maltsev still doesn't advertise. In this sense, not much has changed from the early days, when athletes sold their services directly to the official or businessman in control of a given structure. "There was this kind situation, where we basically found our own work. We arrived on our own and offered our services. They didn't come to us," says Maltsev. For some kinds of jobs, in hard-to-get-to places, a rock climber was and still is the best choice. "Not everyone could, so to speak, calmly step up the edge [of a tall building] and get into the harness, you have to be able to get into it. You also have to know how to do it."
But that doesn't mean the industry pays great. According to Maltsev, the average wage is only $20.00 a day, "sometimes more". Not much considering the risk involved. And accidents do happen. Workers have slipped and fallen several stories to their death. "I for example know of about three instances, basically, no more. Because they try not to advertise it." But this doesn't scare off experienced climbers, who are used to taking the precaution of fastening themselves to a safety line. "The only one responsible for what happens to someone up high is the climber himself," says Maltsev.
Not all climbing jobs, however, are performed in the clouds. Maltsev now primarily specializes in hanging adverts, for example, at exhibition centers. Moreover, only he and his partner are professional mountain climbers. The rest of the crew went through courses or learned on the job.
On the other hand, some industrial mountain climbers are only in it for the thrill of the height, the movement along a rope. "Among high-altitude workers there are those who treat it like a job, nine to five, and that's it, like a regular job," says Yulia, a twenty-seven-year-old who advertises her athletic abilities on the Internet, "for me. I can't live without it. I would do it even if they didn't pay me."
Yulia has been scaling vertical surfaces for five years, but has only earned a living at it for the past three. Some of her colleagues, she says, have good-paying white-collar jobs but work for much smaller salaries because it allows them to climb around the city. A native of Cherkasy, Yulia spends almost all the spare money she earns on trips to Crimea to do more climbing.
Originally trained as a lawyer, Yulia was taught to climb by her brother Sergey, whom she describes as a poor student and adventurer. "After my brother first lowered me down on a rope, I went to work the next day and quit." Work in an office is not an option for either of them. And Yulia should know, as she is often hanging on a rope outside of one, washing the windows. "What really surprises me is what people do in their offices all day, sitting in front of their computers. The guys look at porno and the girls do their nails or plays cards on Online."
Her job not only offers her a unique view of the rest of the city, but sometimes a humorous adventure. One time an old woman called the police on Yulia because she thought that her apartment building was being robbed. On at least a couple of occasions, the concrete climber was asked to get a cat down from a tree. "I didn't accept any money for it," she says, "I have a cat of my own at home."
All the same, window washing, facade work and the like is a business, where customers pay for a service. The trick for enthusiasts is to bargain for a good price.
A dangerous or difficult job could pay up to $100 a day, says Anatoly, who runs a firm advertised on the Internet called High-Altitude Jobs. He says that 50% of his people are masters in rock climbing, who want to earn money doing what they like best.
"It's pretty dangerous work and therefore pays pretty well," at least for Ukraine, he explains. Anatoly's team handles mostly installation work. "There's no need to maintain a large staff of employees," because the climbers just sign up as the need or opportunity arises. Anatoly describes himself as an amateur athlete. His job is to coordinate between the customers and the workers.
Sometimes, however, the logistics is a major task in itself. One time they had to lift the frame of a 700 kilo ceramic swimming pool onto the roof of a nine-story building. In Ukraine, high-rise cranes that can carry large loads are rare and thus expensive.
There is also the aspect of customer relations. Another time, a guy on the fifth floor of an apartment building hired Anatoly's crew to prevent an air conditioner installed several floors higher from dripping on his balcony. Installation of air conditioners is one of the better compensated jobs, he says, while things like painting and water proofing take a lot of time but pay poorly.
So how do Ukraine's high climbers compare to their counterparts in a place like America? Maltsev said a few of his acquaintances once went to New York to ply their trade but were told the business was controlled by "the Puerto-Rican Mafia". Apparently the life of a climber is wrought with dangers everywhere.
|
