This has been one of the most crowded and deadliest seasons ever on Everest. Following criticism from around the world over the number of climbers and their level of preparation, Nepal is considering changing the rules on permits.
Chomolungma. Sagarmatha. These are the original names, in Tibetan and Nepali respectively, given to the highest mountain on Earth, Everest. A mountain — the mother of all others, as its traditional name suggests — that has always been considered sacred, its summit, at 8,848 metres above sea level, regarded as the dwelling place of the gods. Such was the local reverence for this mountainous giant that for centuries its peak remained far from civilisation, at the mercy of the extreme nature of that altitude. And it is perhaps how we all picture it in its fierce purity — or at least how we did until now, until images of hundreds of people queuing at over eight thousand metres, waiting their turn to reach the summit, appeared before our eyes.
23 May was indeed one of the most crowded days of the Everest climbing season, as evidenced by a photograph taken by climber Nirmal Purja, which shows hundreds of people stuck, motionless, for hours at a point known as the "death zone", before reaching the summit. In those days, alongside the images, news also arrived of the deaths of several climbers: those confirmed so far number 11, making this climbing season one of the deadliest ever, and sparking a major debate on the subject of accessibility.
A figure like this, indeed, had not been seen since 2014, when dozens of mountaineers died in an avalanche. This time, however, the deaths were caused mainly by complications related to high altitude and lack of oxygen (such as altitude sickness and pulmonary or cerebral oedemas). At those altitudes, with every breath a person inhales only a third of the oxygen the body needs and is accustomed to at sea level, and above eight thousand metres the body's cells begin to deteriorate. In practice, this means the body starts to die. Every extra minute spent in those conditions makes a difference — imagine hours. The endless queues were therefore immediately identified by many as the cause of this grim toll, yet they may be just a symptom of a bigger problem.
Indeed, it is no longer so unusual to see lines of people ascending or descending from the summit, owing to the ever-growing popularity but above all the accessibility of this route in recent years. Moreover, the unpredictability of the weather also contributes to the high-altitude bottlenecks. May is the "high season" for climbing because it is during these weeks, until around mid-June, that the best conditions are concentrated. During this period, dozens of international expedition groups crowd the base camp waiting for weather windows, which this year were not favourable. Ideal climbing conditions failed to materialise for weeks, delaying the departures of numerous groups and causing them all to coincide with the first good weather window, which arrived after 22 May.
This season, 381 permits — at a price of $11,000 each — were issued by Nepal alone, a country whose economy depends heavily on high-altitude tourism but which has no system for assessing and verifying the preparation and health of those wishing to climb Everest, as confirmed by Nepal's Director General of the Department of Tourism, Danduraj Ghimire, in an interview with the BBC. As a result, we find ourselves looking at the broader, more fundamental picture: that of the experience of the climbers to whom permits are granted. And, therefore, the checks that are or are not carried out before their issue.
Indeed, anyone wishing to climb the highest peak in the world must rely on the companies that organise expeditions, which independently set their own standards for accepting or rejecting clients. And, as demand has grown, so too has the supply of less qualified companies that look more at the client's wallet than at their experience. To this day, anyone can obtain a permit. Numerous experienced climbers and mountain guides have stated that a great many permits are issued to people who are not trained for a climb of that magnitude and do not have sufficient technical knowledge to make decisions that mean the difference between life and death.
There were people who should not have been there. They seemed never to have climbed other mountains before Everest. Pasang Tenzing, Sherpa
An inexperience that affects one's own safety, but also that of others sharing the ascent with them. According to the most experienced climbers, many of these people contribute to slowing everyone's progress, cannot listen to their own bodies, cannot read the mountain's conditions, give everything on the way up to reach the summit without thinking about the descent — the moment when most accidents happen — endangering others' lives too rather than giving up the summit. But as long as this is permitted, they are "entitled" to this race.
So while the debate had already been opened years ago on the unsustainable number of permits issued by the country and on the effects that hordes of people have on the mountain — most notably the waste of all kinds left at altitude — the question of safety and the preparedness of those who access it has now been added to the picture. This is a picture that Nepal can no longer refuse to face. Indeed, following news of the queues and above all the deaths, the government declared that the rules for accessing Everest will in all likelihood be changed. "It is time to review the old laws," said Yagya Raj Sunuwar, a member of Nepal's parliament. "There will certainly be changes in the expedition sector. We are considering reforming several aspects, such as the criteria for those wishing to climb Everest," added Mira Acharya, an official at Nepal's tourism department.
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These would be changes that would finally bring access to Everest into line with other mountains around the world which, from Kilimanjaro to Denali, require certified experience above seven thousand metres before access is granted, and which would encourage slightly more sustainable tourism on other peaks around the world, including those closer to home. Finally, they could dampen the "high-altitude fever", restoring space and respect to that inhospitability of which humankind is rightly not a part.
Everest makes you feel like a superman. But when you get there, nature has other plans.Nirmal Purja, climber