<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/human-face-of-a-himalayan-climate-crisis" target="_blank">Janmu Sherpa</a> was a grandmother with a dozen goats and a tea house in Donggang in the Rolwaling Valley. Her stopover served trekkers en route to Tso Rolpa Glacial Lake and the trail over Tashi Laptsa Pass to Khumbu. In 2018, I spent months in the Rolwaling Valley studying how <a href="https://www.ted.com/talks/rastraraj_bhandari_what_climate_activists_are_doing_wrong" target="_blank">mountain communities perceive</a> climate change. Unlike my climate-anxious self, Janmu was calm, even hopeful, despite having lived through floods, landslides, and the 2015 earthquakes. “No one knows when Tso Rolpa will burst, so we cannot stop our daily chores. Let fate decide,” Janmu Sherpa had said. Last year, fate did decide. On 22 June 2024, the Dorji Phungmo Glacial Lake burst. The resulting flood swept through the Rolwaling River, washing away homes and hotels in Donggang. Janmu <a href="https://thehimalayantimes.com/nepal/climbers-valley-devastated-by-floods-immediate-relief-sought" target="_blank">was among</a> the missing, and later declared dead.&nbsp; I learned of her disappearance during a recent cycling trip through Panauti along the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/a-flood-of-tears-on-the-rosi" target="_blank">Rosi Khola</a>, which was devastated by deadly flash floods on 28 September 2024.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051918054_14898953b7a5808b51440f7a6fa35a7d66146bbb1d62bf88729a83a558ca8ebf.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025051918054_14898953b7a5808b51440f7a6fa35a7d66146bbb1d62bf88729a83a558ca8ebf" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A pre-monsoon déjà vu"> <figcaption>Tso Rolpa glacial lake at 4,580m has grown seven times in size in the past 60 years due to global warming. </figcaption> </figure>  Tipper trucks rumbled through the dusty road, carrying stones and gravel from unregulated quarries and sand mining along the Rosi. This was destruction disguised as development, and the crusher industries had <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-revenge-of-the-rivers" target="_blank">magnified the impact of record rainfall</a>. On the other side of the mountain, along the Lele and Karmanasa Khola, families are still reeling from last year’s floods. Here, too, a quarrying frenzy exacerbated the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/nepal-valley-suffers-quadruple-disaster">destructive power of the floods</a>. There are thousands of untold stories like Janmu, and the estimated 200 who perished in the September floods. Most have been forgotten, their deaths blamed on fate. I write this from afar, as Kathmandu hosts the Sagarmatha Sambaad this week to draw global attention to the impact of the climate crisis on the Himalaya. The summit took place as pre-monsoon rains lashed the Rosi and Lele Valleys. Even before the start of the rainy season, more debris flows from the mining operations destroyed repaired roads and neighbourhoods rebuilt after floods last year. The rivers that flooded Kathmandu in September 2024 are still vulnerable. Aside from a few sandbanks built by local hands, nothing has changed. No national reckoning. No systemic response. Instead, everything is blamed on climate change.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051918054_57fa57586b1e370e715daf837aa4cae3e73b0f029bb0ccef8be768e85656cc5f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2025051918054_57fa57586b1e370e715daf837aa4cae3e73b0f029bb0ccef8be768e85656cc5f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1499" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A pre-monsoon déjà vu NT"> <figcaption>Janmu Sherpa's village of Donggang is directly downstream from Tso Rolpa Glacial Lake.</figcaption> </figure>  <a href="http://as%20kathmandu%20hosts%20the%20sagarmatha%20sambaad/" target="_blank">Janmu Sherpa’s story</a> haunts me not just because of her loss, but because she shaped my journey as a climate activist. She taught me that climate action is not just about carbon or conferences, it is about livelihoods, listening, and the impossible trade-offs faced by communities where survival is more urgent than sustainability. As monsoon clouds gather again, there is a sense of dread not just about floods, but for the apathy that follows. We are trapped in a cycle of climate inaction fueled by corruption, state neglect, and a development model that treats rivers as resources to be drained, not lifelines to be protected. It is no longer a question of if the floods will come, but when, and how devastating they will be. And yet, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/politicians-and-cronies-blamed-for-kavre-floods" target="_blank">those in power remain unmoved</a> even when disaster strikes their own backyard. We are still chasing climate finance and hosting international summits, while local insurance markets stagnate and communities fend for themselves. To be sure, global advocacy matters. The Himalayan climate crisis must be on the international agenda. Melting glaciers here affect billions downstream. But adaptation cannot begin and end in air-conditioned conference halls. It must bring real preparedness to villages, valleys, and riverbanks of Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025051918058_3ec77114d434385351ad1637fd5ab42dc6a76b94b0e90f1c6e683c71535f6e6a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2025051918058_3ec77114d434385351ad1637fd5ab42dc6a76b94b0e90f1c6e683c71535f6e6a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1701" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="A pre-monsoon déjà vu"> <figcaption>The Sagarmatha Sambaad climate conference in Kathmandu this week. Photo: PRADEEP RAJ ONTA / RSSseasonmedia2007</figcaption> </figure>  I visited the communities ravaged by floods in September and as I wrote in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/flood-of-despair" target="_blank">Nepali Times</a> then, top-down responses are always too little, too late and too ineffective. The only real solution is bottom-up, community-led adaptation. Those who lived through the floods know what needs to be done, and those privileged and in power need to enable them. Community-led adaptation is not just a buzzword. It is our only viable path forward. It means empowering local people with the tools, knowledge, and resources to protect themselves. It means investing in early warning systems that reach the last mile and actually work, restoring ecosystems that buffer floods, and supporting indigenous knowledge that has long helped communities live in harmony with nature. It means letting go of our belief that somehow our degrees in climate change and attendance in global climate conferences enable us to tell communities how they should be responding to climate change. It means shifting power and funding to the grassroots, where resilience is not theoretical — it is lived, practiced, and urgently needed. As the rains return, I am reminded of Janmu Sherpa’s voice of quiet wisdom. Her innate resilience did not save her life. Let us not wait for the next flood to act. Let us protect what we still have. Rastra Raj Bhandari is co-founder and fellow at the Himalayan Water Project, where he leads the research on climate finance opportunities for the Himalaya.

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A pre-monsoon déjà vu

In the first two episodes of this series, we looked at how <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/people-and-mountains-are-thirsty-in-eastern-nepal">climate breakdown has worsened the water shortage in eastern Nepal</a>, with rains failing and springs going dry.&nbsp; But there is a flipside. In the monsoon, there is also the curse of too much rain leading to destructive landslides, floods driving people out.&nbsp; <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/climate-crisis-drought-food-deficit-migration">Analysing meteorological and hydrological data from the past half-a-century in eastern Nepal’s Tamor River basin</a>, the big floods of 1963 and 1968 stand out with other less destructive monsoons in between.&nbsp; Nepal’s monsoons usually last 112 days from mid-June to mid-September, and its clockwork arrival and departure has inspired Nepali poetry and song. But climate breakdown has disrupted the timetable, and there have been years with highly unusual monsoons and floods. In 1968, the monsoon delivered more rain than usual in some places and less than normal in others, and the big floods actually came after the monsoon is supposed to have retreated.&nbsp; The national news agency RSS reported a damaging flood in Sunsari, the district in the plains where the Kosi River disgorges into the plains after confluence of the Arun, Sun Kosi and Tamor. Three days later, RSS reported that 500 cattle and 1,500 goats had drowned in Sunsari, and a child’s body had been found. And upstream in Leuti Khola, three people and seven houses were swept away. A week later, RSS reported again that seven people and 14 livestock had been killed by floods, and bridges as well as paddy ready for harvest were swept away. Even upstream in Olangchung Gola, three people were killed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427010452_9fe3ea424cd644cb1f5a06a731f44d466d70216f39d943e0bd4a5f6f13fdf90d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240427010452_9fe3ea424cd644cb1f5a06a731f44d466d70216f39d943e0bd4a5f6f13fdf90d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1688" height="1088" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in Eastern Nepal"> </figure>  Laxmi Prasad Siwakoti was a boy in 1968, and remembers enormous boulders thundering down rivers. One boulder the size of a house luckily was pushed to the banks before it could destroy a key bridge below Taplejung. All this water created even more death and destruction in the inland delta of Sunsari, also washing down the bodies of people and livestock from upstream. The 1968 post-monsoon flow of the Kosi reached 23,106 cumecs – four times the volume in the 1963 flood. Some researchers attributed the 1963 flood to the bursting of Tiptala Glacial Lake in the Kangchenjunga area, and that the 1968 flood was also caused by another moraine collapse on the same lake.&nbsp; But analysis of precipitation data of the Department of Hydrology and Meteorology shows that the reason for the catastrophic floods of 1968 was unusually heavy post-monsoon rainfall in the Tamor basin. Archival records of rainfall at Mulghat below Dhankuta shows that there was 162mm of rain on 3 October and another 158mm on 4 October. This meant that one-third of the total rainfall during four monsoon months fell in just two days. Never had Mulghat recorded so much rain in such a short time, and in the 55 years since there has been that much rain only twice. On 4-5 October 1968, Dhankuta received 300mm of rain. It had never received so much rain in the autumn before or since. Similarly, Taplejung recorded 231mm of rain in the same two days – it has never received so much rain in the post-monsoon since. Hydro-meteorological stations across eastern Nepal in Panchthar, Taplejung, Dhankuta and Sankhusabha all show data of record-breaking post-monsoon precipitation on 3-4 October 1968. In fact data shows that except for northwestern Nepal, there was heavy unseasonal rain all over. Dhulikhel near Kathmandu recorded 221mm rain that day, and even Jomsom in the trans-Himalayan rainshadow got 58% of its annual rainfall in just one week. In a paper titled Heavy Monsoon Rainfall in Nepal, J L Nayava dug up an archival weather map from 1968 that showed a cyclone develop in the Bay of Bengal a week after the official retreat of the monsoon from Nepal in conjunction with a low pressure area over southern India. Both systems moved northwards, and it could have been the combination of the two that dumped the record rainfall in Nepal.&nbsp; Nayava notes: ‘On 29 September, a small low appeared over the Bay of Bengal at about 10°N, 90°E. During the next two days, the circulation of this low expanded as it moved north-eastwards into central India and intensified into a depression. By 3 October, Nepal and much of India had come within the circulation of this depression… During the next two days, a sharp 500mb trough passed through Nepal and central India and as the polar westerlies at 200mb intensified and moved equatorwards, bringing the subtropical westerly jetstreams ever closer to Nepal. As the depression moved north, the anticyclonic circulation at 200mb over the depression intensified and became orientated in a south-west-north-east direction. Associated with these developments, widespread rain fell in most parts of Nepal…’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427010452_6fc01e56307dfd3c43e58d7170346d11a1fd8ee2a748074b22aa84bcfdab8369.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20240427010452_6fc01e56307dfd3c43e58d7170346d11a1fd8ee2a748074b22aa84bcfdab8369" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in Eastern Nepal"> </figure>  It was not just eastern Nepal that suffered destruction, many people were killed in Bhojpur, Khotang and Solu to the west. If this was indeed a glacial lake outburst flood, the destruction would not have been so widespread. The hydrological data of the Tamor of 3-5 October 1968 are also not commensurate with a flash flood triggered by a glacial lake burst. The Mulghat hydrological stations showed that on 4 October, there was 3,060 cumec of flow (volume of water never recorded before) which decreased only slightly over the next few days and returned to a more normal 636 cumecs only on 9 October.&nbsp; By the time the rains stopped that October, 60 people were dead in Kosi zone alone, thousands of livestock were killed and houses swept away. The new bridge over the Tamor and other suspension bridges were destroyed. But that was not the end of the story. On 29 October 1968 came news that 91 people had been killed in Taplejung, 60 in Terathum, 30 in Panchthar and three in Dhankuta. Just in the Tamor watershed, 184 people were killed and thousands made homeless. Nepalis have learnt over the years to be prepared for disasters during the monsoon, and to breathe a sigh of relief when the rains end. But the 1968 floods hit after the monsoon, when people felt safer. Floods were nothing new in the Tamor. There was an unimaginable one five years earlier on 15 August 1963 that swept away 16 houses in Olangchung Gola, and this flood was different from the one in 1968. Locals remember an air blast preceding the flash flood, and an approaching roar that shook the mountains like an earthquake. Houses shook, cattle cowered and goats ran for cover. Upstream, villagers saw clouds of dust and spray, and there was a smell of gunpowder in the air as enormous boulders collided with each other. Although this was the monsoon period, the precipitation in the day preceding the debris flow was normal. This could not have been caused by a cloudburst. Alton C Byers, the American glaciologist who has researched historical glacial floods in the Kangchenjunga region, used satellite imagery and interviews with local villagers to pinpoint the flood to the bursting of Tiptala glacial lake at 4,900m. “The gunpowder smell and the wind preceded the arrival of the debris flow,” remembers Nil Limbu of Chhiruwa of Taplejung, an eye witness of the 1963 event. “It destroyed everything, took away all the trees, left just rocks and boulders.” The flood washed away the mule trail along the Tamor, and swept away the flat meadow along the river where there used to be a weekly market. Today, the trail is higher above the river, but for years later, there used to be rockfalls from above. The debris flow raced downstream destroying houses, trails, bridges, farms, livestock. The flood made national news, and RSS reported that below Dhankuta, the Tamor destroyed the trail to Taplejung and washed away seven bridges. The glacial lake outburst flood on the Tamor met the Arun and then the Kosi where the river flow spiked to 6,371 cumecs. Further downstream in the plains, the flood destroyed the western embankment of the Kosi Barrage, inundating villages in more than 1m of water. A month later, the government released the death toll: 32 killed, unknown number of livestock, standing crops, and causing damage equivalent to 1.6% of Nepal’s annual budget that year. Nepal’s famous eye doctor Sanduk Ruit’s family also had to leave their home in Olangchung Gola after that flood and settled down in Dhankuta. The combined result of the record rainfall-induced floods of 1968 as well as the glacial lake outburst flood of 1963 could have been early examples of climate-induced floods, which have become more frequent in recent years.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427010456_c6e6182935c1704629e175dc351f79b74367824a14be020d0b05bdda201a2747.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20240427010456_c6e6182935c1704629e175dc351f79b74367824a14be020d0b05bdda201a2747" data-rendition-name="original" width="1036" height="1184" loading="lazy" alt="Water crisis in Eastern Nepal"> </figure>  On 17 June 2023 Memeng station in Panchthar recorded 230mm rainfall in a 24 hour period, the highest rainfall ever recorded in that station (second highest was 148mm in July 2002). Nearby Dovan of Taplejung experienced 106mm on 18 June and 102mm on 19 June. The basin-wide floods on the Tamor and its tributaries caused damage worth at least Rs8.5 billion on 30 hydropower plants in Sankhuwasabha, Taplejung and Panchthar. Eighteen workers were killed. Half of these schemes were under construction, but plants generating 130MW were knocked out of action. Some, like the Upper Piluwa Khola 2 and Super Hewa Khola have still not been repaired. While these were all caused by extreme rainfall events, on the Sikkim side of Kangchenjunga a post-monsoon disaster on 4 October 2023 washed away several hydropower plants on Teesta and its tributaries, and killed nearly 100 people downstream. The 1,200MW Chungthang Dam built at a cost of $1billion was destroyed. It was later revealed that extreme rainfall on the South Lhonak Glacial Lake, north of Kangchenjunga, caused the collapse of a lateral moraine which allowed a wave to breach the terminal moraine. The lateral moraine could have been weakened by thawing permafrost, and collapsed during heavy rainfall on the night of 4 October.&nbsp; The Sikkim disaster was an important lesson for Nepal, which has invested heavily in infrastructure on this side of the border. More than a dozen medium and large hydropower plants have been built or are under construction along the Tamor alone. The 1960 Tiptala and the 1980 Nangama glacial lake bursts are further proof that such disasters can happen again without warning because of climate breakdown. Besides droughts and floods, landslides are also the reason many people from eastern Nepal have migrated to the relative safety of the plains. A huge landslide in 1946 in Hangdeva in Taplejung is still displacing many people. East of Hangdeva, another landslide in 1977 killed 25 people and the rest of the village just moved out. It is clear that with the climate crisis, extreme weather events and glacial lake bursts will be more serious and frequent, affecting lives and livelihoods, contributing to outmigration.&nbsp; This is the final of a three-part series supported by the Barbara Foundation.

Either too little, or too much water

Fenerbahçe Beko won the Turkish Airlines EuroLeague finals in Abu Dhabi, held 23-25 May, defeating Monaco 81-70 in the final. Olympiacos, who defeated Panathinaikos 97-93, finished the series in third place. The Most Valuable Player (MVP) of the final match, Nigel Hayes-Davis from Fenerbahçe Beko, received a prize of 1,000,000 Miles&amp;Smiles from Turkish Airlines’ Chief Commercial Officer Ahmet Olmuştur. The carrier has been the title sponsor of the Turkish Airlines EuroLeague, a top tier tournament, since 2010.

Turkish Basketball

While Nepal was hosting the Sagarmatha Sambaad international climate conference in Kathmandu this month, on Mt Everest it was pretty much business as usual.&nbsp; The signs of climate breakdown are all there: a river now runs through Base Camp in summer, the Khumbu Icefall is more unstable, and there are more &nbsp;frequent avalanches. When expeditions arrived in March, the mountains were bare: it had not snowed since September, but then blizzards dumped unseasonal snow in May. And despite climate worries, such is the pull of Himalayan mountaineering that the Everest Industry showed no signs of slowdown. More than 600 international climbers and their Nepali guides had made it to the summit of the world’s highest mountain. At one point there were an estimated 2,000 people in the tent city on the Khumbu Glacier. All the ropes and ladders on the Icefall came down on Thursday, marking the official end of the spring climbing season, and just in time to avoid a monsoon cyclone approaching from the Bay of Bengal. It has been an action-packed season. One factor could be that Everest fees will go up from September: each foreign climber needs to pay a $15,000 royalty, up from the present $11,000. The cost for a Nepali climber on the South Col route will also go up: from Rs75,000 to Rs150,000.&nbsp; The fee to climb Everest in autumn is $7,500 (up from $5,500), but most climbers still prefer spring. Winter permit fee (December-February) is only $3,750 per person and the mountain is now also open for monsoon (June-August) climbs, when the fee is ever lower at $2,750. The revised rule also makes it mandatory for every two climbers on an 8,000m peak to hire one Nepali mountain guide.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025053004050_67f856fe52714e4bdcf21ae7d45c6f18c82117b9d0a5f73ed1efa04c96de1046" data-rendition-name="original" width="931" height="732" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry graph 1"> </figure>  In addition, climbers also have to pay for porters and guides, equipment, Base Camp costs, Ice Fall and fixed rope team fees, so climbing Everest does not come cheap. But such is the draw of climbing the world’s highest peak that some say the increased fees will not diminish the crowds next year. The government has tried to spread expeditions out to other seasons and other 8,000ers, but with not much success. Earlier this year, Nepal unilaterally increased the number of 8,000m peaks to 14 by adding six more sub-summits to broaden the choice for climbers. Added were: Yalung Kang (8,505m), Yalung Kang West (8,077m) &nbsp;Kangchenjunga Central (8,473m), Kangchenjunga South (8,476m), Lhotse Middle (8,410m) and Lhotse Shar (8,400m).&nbsp; The announcement could go against the accepted topographic criteria that a stand alone peak has to be at least 300m higher than an adjoining prominence, and at more than 3km isolation from it. The UIAA (Union Internationale des Associations d'Alpinisme) still recognises only 14 mountains as eight-thousanders, and only eight of those are in Nepal, or on the border with China. Nepal’s revised mountaineering regulations also increased the insurance coverage of high-altitude workers to protect porters and high altitude guides who usually take more risks on the mountains. Rescue teams and clean-up campaigners to collect trash and remove bodies of dead climbers up to Camp IV of Mt Everest do not need permits.&nbsp; The Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee is now using drones to fly down trash in 20kg sacks. Each climber is also required to bring down at least 6kg of waste and not just their own, but this rule is erratically enforced. With five fatalities on Everest and Lhotse, Spring 2025 had a historically low death toll. Another five climbers died on Annapurna, Kangchenjunga and Makalu.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025053004050_38681de22f0fefb6faa12b01755566d09c5064d0ff84e12ccc7b5d68ea9ba38a" data-rendition-name="original" width="665" height="740" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest industry graph 2"> </figure>  Journalist Ben Ayers who ran the Everest Live social media channel from Everest Base Camp with daily updates credited the low death rate to dramatic rescues of climbers from the ‘Death Zone’ by their Nepali guides and longline helievacs — the visuals all uploaded on YouTube.&nbsp; “Ironically, this perception of safety is bringing more and more inexperienced climbers to the mountain, and they need more rescues,” Ayers said in one of his dispatches.&nbsp; American expedition chronicler and summiteer Alan Arnette suspects there is a lot of under-reporting given that the jet stream and storms were lashing Everest even till late in the season. He told us: “I heard a lot about frostbite and rescues that were not made public. It’s become practically impossible to cover the details on Everest. All the teams report nice news, and they don’t talk about bad stuff to avoid hurting businesses.” Although trash on Nepal’s mountains makes headlines, what does not receive as much attention is the climate impact of so many expeditions. The Sagarmatha Sambaad conference sidestepped this issue, which is ironic given that the impact of climate breakdown is most evident on Himalayan peaks and their glaciers.&nbsp; <h2>Need for Speed</h2> The big stories this year have been about speed-running from their home cities to the top of Everest. Ukrainian entrepreneur Andrew Ushakov flew out of JFK on 15 May at 10:15AM Nepal time, and was on the summit 3 days, 23 hours, and 7 minutes later on 19 May at 9:22AM.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250601080640_1c5cc6fc991307861768f07037ed9d30930fb20f35dbb57dc31c9a92a9e1a885" data-rendition-name="original" width="1440" height="1800" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry"> <figcaption>Andrew Ushakov at the summt. Photo: ELITE EXPED</figcaption> </figure>  “I could never find the time for the traditional 40-50 days of acclimatisation,” Ushakov explained matter-of-factly. His ‘Everest Sea-to-Summit’ climb was possible because he spent 400 hours in hypoxic sleep tents over the past four years in New York. However, Ushakov did use ropes already fixed, hired four Nepali guides, helicoptered to Base Camp, and used much more oxygen than an average climber. And after the climb, Ushakov was arrested at Kathmandu airport for being in possession of $20,000 of undeclared cash and spent a night in jail and fined $60,000.&nbsp; The other speedsters were Garth Miller, Alastair Cairns, Anthony Stazicker, and Kev Godlington, all former British Army commandos. They left London and summited five days later on 21 May, and flew right back. They also used hypoxic tents to simulate the thin air high on Everest.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20250601080644_90c8dd5cc07b4b43f2989b1dc0c0650ab80f10ebb06680c25a6909c519957bd8" data-rendition-name="original" width="810" height="668" loading="lazy" alt="The Everest Industry "> <figcaption>All four members of the Furtenbach team at the summit. Photo: Sandro Gromen-Hayes</figcaption> </figure>  But more controversial was their use of xenon gas therapy in a German hospital to ramp up the production of oxygen-carrying haemoglobins in their blood. Xenon is banned by the World Anti-Doping Agency for being performance enhancing in sports. Expedition leader Lukas Furtenbach said this rule does not apply to mountaineering, as it is not a regulated sport like swimming. Nepal has no rules about xenon, but the Department of Tourism said it was launching an ‘investigation’ to decide on future policy since it is difficult to ban xenon, but allow oxygen. The controversy has also divided the mountaineering community, with some climbers saying they just want to maximise their chances of survival. Spending less time on the mountain could make climbing safer by reducing avalanche risk. It would also mean less trash on the mountains, but it would reduce the income of Nepal’s expedition industry. It is also unclear how much of the success was due to xenon therapy and whether the ex-special forces were already in good physical shape.&nbsp; The need for speed hides the fact that climbing in the Himalaya is dangerous business, and climbers cannot sprint to the top just by huffing xenon. But ultra-fast climbs could be charged more, and the revenue generated can be used to establish state-of-the-art rescue operations, and increase pay and insurance for guides. Two other speed chasers this season were Swiss-Ecuadorian Karl Egloff and American Tyler Andrews, both on Everest without oxygen. Andrews choppered to Base Camp to catch a weather window, but turned back from 8,500m due to high winds. Heavy snow and wind also forced Egloff to descend from 7,000m. Slow and steady climbers like Anja Blacha from Germany did make it to the summit without oxygen, while Kami Rita Sherpa broke his own record with his 31st Everest summit as he led a 26-strong Indian Army group. There were 468 permits issued for foreign climbers from 48 expeditions to Everest this spring. Nepal’s other eight-thousanders together had only 17 expeditions. Nepal has more than 1,000 peaks above 6,000m, and has opened only 476 of them for climbing.&nbsp;

The Everest Industry

While Nepal marked <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/mt-everest-pvt-ltd">Mt Everest</a> Day on 29 May, on the other side of the planet in the US state of Colorado dozens of Nepalis who have climbed the world’s highest peak multiple times were busy working as chefs and Uber drivers. Among them is Nima Doma Sherpa, who climbed Mt Everest in 2019 after her husband Tshering Wangchu was among 16 crushed by an avalanche on <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/on-thin-ice-in-the-khumbu">the Khumbu Icefall</a> five years earlier. A large serac broke off the West Shoulder of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-everest-industry">Mt Everest </a>and fell directly on a group of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/more-porters-sick-on-everest-trail">porters and guides</a> making their way up the Icefall at 5,800m. Their bodies were flown by helicopter to Khumjung where Tshering Wangchu was born. He was excited about climbing Mt Everest for the first time.&nbsp; In Khumjung, Nima Doma felt like her own life had also ended. This was the kind of news Sherpa wives, mothers and sisters dreaded every <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/peak-climbing-season-2025-s4abrxny">mountaineering season</a>. She stayed home for more than two years grieving, but ultimately gathered up all her emotional strength to take care of her 6-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter. Nima had grown up in Khumjung hearing <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/stories-of-nepal-s-summiteers">tales of adventure on the mountains </a>from their father, Ang Chubi Sherpa who had climbed Everest in 1993. He used to bring her and her sisters and brother European chocolates after every expedition, and used to tell them that the chocolate bars grew on the mountains. “It was only after we got older did we realise that he told us that chocolates grew in the mountains so we would not worry about him putting himself in harm's way,” Nima Doma recalled with a faraway look at her home in Boulder this week. Nima went to the school that <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/commemorating-edmund-hillary-in-nepal,4145">Edmund Hillary</a> opened in Khumjung till Grade 8, and then dropped out to help in the kitchen and <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">tend yaks</a>. She was married off to Tshering Wangchu, who was also a high altitude guide. When Tshering went on expeditions, Nima also started working as a porter from Namche to Base Camp. It was perhaps her father’s tales of mountains of chocolates that had always attracted her to <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/knowing-our-mountains-43v4iyvo">the peaks</a>. After her husband was killed ten years ago this month, being a widow with children was not easy for Nima Doma. But she was not alone: there were at least 200 single mothers in <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/khumbu-since-1950-jaww4qn0">the Khumbu</a>, and 20 of them just in Khumjung whose husbands had been killed in <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/tragic-start-to-himalayan-spring-nepal,3695">mountaineering accidents</a>. Some were not even 20 years old, and had children growing up without fathers. But there were also women in the 50s whose husbands had been killed in the 1980s. Nima found sponsors for her children’s education, and moved to Kathmandu. In the capital, Sherpa widows used to meet to help each other. Some of them had joined the Nepal Mountaineering Association (NMA) training for rock and ice climbing. “I decided that it was no use sitting home and crying anymore, after meeting other single mothers I felt less alone,” remembers Nima, who joined the Juniper Foundation and enrolled in an NMA training camp in Manang. There she climbed Chulu East (6,584m) and met Furadiki Sherpa, whose rope-fixing husband had also been <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/on-mt-everest-s-70th-records-and-fatalities">killed on Everest</a> in 2013. They set themselves the goal of climbing Everest one day, and started a fund-raising drive.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a.png" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20250530090544_621be0724b9182c8e3594b2c562a71ec32ac01d985a71d0cf31646de9d51e15a" data-rendition-name="original" width="2678" height="1274" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  “We decided we had to overcome society’s stigma of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/widows-personal-happiness-comes-last-in-face-of-social-financial-hardships,1855">widowhood</a> and prove that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/remembering-junko-tabei">women could also climb mountains</a>,” Nima said, adding that she was inspired by Nepal’s first woman Everest summiteer Pasang Lhamu Sherpa, who died during her descent in 1993. Nima Doma and Furdiki climbed the technically-difficult Ama Dablam (6,812m) and then arrived at Everest Base Camp in April 2019 as part of their Two Widows Expedition with the motto, ‘So Can We’. While climbing up the Icefall Nima passed the spot where her husband had been killed. It was a jumble of constantly-shifting ice blocks bigger than houses. She closed her eyes and said a prayer. “I remember thinking, this is so difficult and dangerous. This is what my husband had to do to support our family,” Nima Doma said. “I was determined to fulfil my husband’s dream of climbing Chomolungma, and to prove to ourselves that we two women could do it.” It was 23 May 2019 when <a href="https://www.reuters.com/article/world/two-sherpa-widows-scale-everest-and-smash-stigma-idUSKCN1SU0MV/" target="_blank">Nima and Furdiki stepped on the summit</a> and looked over into Tibet, and down at Tengboche Monastery to the south.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b.png" data-media-id="editor_16" data-image-id="20250530090544_6b822582b5d88ba5e972db084f184690b40653c6efd9901b2dd082ffba2a263b" data-rendition-name="original" width="2700" height="1522" loading="lazy" alt="Everest summiteers find new life in the US"> </figure>  Nima Doma hugged Furdiki, took off her mask and wept. But for the first time in five years, it was not from grief but relief — relief for being free of all the sadness and sacrifices and for fulfilling her husband’s dream. They had found <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/life-after-death">life after death</a>. “I felt this immense joy to be on top of the world, it was indescribable,” Nima Doma said, “I have wept only twice in my life. Once when my husband died, and once there on top of Everest.” The tears had frozen on Nima Doma’s cheeks, as she and Furdiki headed back down the mountain.

Everest summiteers find new life in the US

At the edge of the dense forest overlooking Bhaktapur, the sound of chirping birds and the wind rustling through the trees have been replaced by the growl of dozens of bulldozers. This Kakrabari Community Forest behind Suryabinayak shrine was c<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/reviving-nepals-community-forestry-success-story">arefully protected and managed </a>by the local Tamang community for centuries. Today, heavy earthmovers claw noisily at the slope, opening it up like a big red wound. With little land left in the densely populated city, developers are venturing further afield to the valley’s rim and forcibly taking over forests that <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/the-unsung-heroes-of-conservation">local communities </a>have depended on for fodder, firewood and to protect their watershed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250530180528_acd2eb20a4839a83f3a15b4c8587dbf82c5b96534f2184043edeaf0f5165145f" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  This project of Nic Vujicic Housing Company in Suryabinayak’s Kakrabari Bhanjyang is just the latest and most blatant example of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/who-now-owns-nepals-forests">encroachment of forests </a>by real estate developers in collusion with local government officials. “One day, they just came and bulldozed my house,” says Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda, whose family has been living in a tent since March. “Company workers gathered my belongings, deposited them in this tent and demolished my house.” Unlike some of her neighbours, Lama refused to give up her home, but stood no chance against the heavy machines and strongmen mobilised by the company.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250530180528_ff88453001e3dc521406bda7b6cb06b9e5b70d6821e67251b92257e60e72232a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Shanta Lama of Ghising Danda whose house was bulldozed last month. She and her family are now living in makeshift huts nearby.</figcaption> </figure>  Adds Shanta: “I have not signed any document of agreement, the company keeps telling me that they will settle the paperwork later.” Her neighbour Bal Bahadur Tamang, says a<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/ordinary-nepalis-extraordinary-sacrifice"> bulldozer razed his house</a> while he was out grazing goats in the forest. He recalls: “My wife shouted to the neighbours for help, but no one heard her.” &nbsp; The company used strongarm tactics to try to force Bal Bahadur to sign away his small plot at the edge of the forest that the housing company needed. The family refused, so the property was simply taken over. “Many families have been forcibly evicted from their homes and moved elsewhere to make way for the new housing colony,” says Bal Bahadur. But such is the fear of the young vigilantes employed by the company, that they are afraid to speak out.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20250530180528_b7d1a94af95a0b17703f61397d65fe879c4c9b3b02681706b9104114a5c4e5cd" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Many families this one have been forcibly evicted, and do not want to speak openly because of the fear of vigilantes. </figcaption> </figure>  But there appears to be a generational divide among the local community in Ghising Danda. Many <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/no-country-for-young-men">young men have migrated</a> to the city or abroad, but those that remain have been promised jobs and a piece of land by the company, and support the project.&nbsp; For centuries, Suryabinayak communities have tended to the land, and the land has tended to them. The protected trees provide them with livelihood,<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/multipronged-response-to-nepal-s-multi-hazards"> prevent landslides</a> on the slopes above and recharge ground water so the springs do not go dry. But this historic connection was severed in January when the excavators arrived to chop down trees and dig up the hill, razing 1.1 hectares of the community forest and surrounding settlements.&nbsp; Much of the forest is now gone, and recent rains have washed the red mud down the mountain like a bleeding gash. On a recent visit excavators were levelling the slope.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing is owned by Purna Bahadur Limbu, Prabin Kusma and Dillidhwaj Baraili. It had parcelled 14.6 hectares in the neighbouring Palanse village three years ago, and was even awarded by the municipality for the project.&nbsp; Now, the company is clearing 27 hectares of private property and community forest in Ghising Danda without a planning permit either from the municipality or the Kathmandu Valley Development Authority (KVDA).&nbsp; In fact, its application has been pending at the Authority since last October. The company has dangled a lollipop by promising 21 out of the 451 private plots to the government.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20250530180528_08bcc863a21fd35364086877e1f8152d6c470b5fcd4fd650c555577a824c77c6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  Nepal’s 2015 Basic Standards for the Development of Settlements, and Urban Planning and Building Construction by-laws stipulate that land transactions, <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepali-building-bridges-in-tasmania">construction projects</a>, and housing development via land consolidation require approval from either the KVDA or local government.&nbsp; Projects involving land up to 0.1 hectares require permission from the local level, and those of up to 2.5 hectares require approval from the district authorities, and plans exceeding that area need a permit from the KVDA.&nbsp; Nic Vujicic Housing’s director Dillidhwaj Baraili, is a member of the Federation of Nepalese Industries and Entrepreneurs (FENIE), and close to the ruling UML party.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20250530180528_2016ffcd828fda3535798e7534067519e9c346e64371866c9a61c571ce70b1b4" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> </figure>  While the company did consult with locals, conduct an EIA, tested soil quality, and conducted a hydrological study of the area, these were perfunctory and incomplete for a proper permit application. The approval of<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/editorial/mind-the-gap-6liiyw5w"> private landowners </a>and the municipality as well as project details were missing.&nbsp; The company had excavated half of Ghising Danda without permission when the local community started raising questions. Only then did it seek permission from the ward, which directed it to apply for a planning permit from the Suryabinayak Municipality.&nbsp; “We are yet to verify whether all the documents submitted by the company are in order, which is why the application is still pending,” Rajendra Prasad Nepal, the municipality’s information officer, told Nepali Times.&nbsp; But the lack of a permit does not seem to deter company director Dillidhwaj Baraili, who uses convoluted semantics to justify using excavators on private and community land. &nbsp; “It is the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/kathmandu-s-unreal-real-estate-prices">plotting of the land</a> that requires approval from the KVDA, we do not need permission from local authorities to operate heavy machinery on the project site,” Baraili told us. However, Ward 9 Chair Bhagwan Khatri says no such permission to use excavators and bulldozers have been given without first obtaining a planning permit. “The housing project is illegal because it has moved forward without a planning permit,” says KVDA’s District Commissioner for Bhaktapur, Safal Shrestha. When the bulldozers started felling trees in the community forest in March, a joint task force of four local guthi put up a resistance, and demanded that the housing company ensure that there would be no mudslide danger downslope <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon">during the monsoon</a>.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20250531030528_44bd6a61a1c81d07ee19e790a51929a9fd13c1db2da7ede2b7ef4d99b8c6c32a" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="562" loading="lazy" alt="Plotting to plunder NT"> <figcaption>Dozens of heavy earthmovers were at work at this site one morning earlier this month. With an early monsoon, residents fear mud slides.</figcaption> </figure>  It also wanted the company to make sure the flow of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-heat-beneath-our-feet">water in springs</a> were not affected, and to set up a boundary along the community forest to prevent further encroachment. It also demanded compensation to displaced homeowners.&nbsp; But Nic Vujicic Housing paid no heed, and sent in excavators. Last month, the Kakrabari Community Forest Users Struggle Committee wrote to the Bhaktapur District Administration Office, Suryabinayak Municipality, and the Division forest Office to halt the project. In response, the housing company put out a press release accusing residents of spreading rumours, but the statement presented contradicting information about the status of its planning permit at various levels of the government. &nbsp; It has taken a month for the local government to even send an inspection team to the site. But the team concluded that the forest had been encroached upon and asked the housing company to halt its activities immediately.&nbsp; The company refused to comply, and on 9 May the Police was sent to shut down the project. Baraili maintains the forest was levelled with the consent of all four Guthi as well as Ram Krishna Tamang of the Kakrabari Community Forest User group. Tamang told us he has given no such go-ahead.&nbsp; “How could we have permitted the operation of construction machinery in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/safeguarding-the-soul-of-sal">community forest </a>when the Nepal government itself does not allow the destruction of public property?” adds Tamang. Because of the controversy, the company is now trying to use a carrot and stick approach by placating the local community, while also intimidating those who speak out. “Even though we had obtained permission, perhaps we should have not started using our heavy machinery yet,” Baraili admitted. However, the company is trying to silence dissenters in the community with threats. The company has deployed local youth who have been promised jobs to convince and cajole outspoken community members in Ghising Danda. &nbsp; One of them is Chewang Tamang, who says jobs are more important, and lashes out at locals for being “anti-development”. He says: “There is no point sitting around complaining that a few trees have been cut. The only people who are opposed to this project are those who do not want this place to develop.” &nbsp; <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="https://cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2F6TRxyQjbo50%3Fsi%3DjMRyrgfB9tTX8pP8&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div>

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The Everest Industry

Everest summiteers find new life in the US

Plotting to plunder