Claiming the summit without reaching the top

Only 44 people have reached the summit of all 14 of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks, according to the people who chronicle such things. Or, they now say, maybe no one has. The difference rides on a timeless question getting a fresh look: What Is a Summit?

Ed Viesturs believes he knows. He is one of the 44, the only American on the list. In 1993, climbing alone and without supplemental oxygen or ropes, Viesturs reached the “central summit” of Shishapangma, the world’s 14th-highest mountain. Most climbers turn around there, calling it good enough.

Before him was a narrow spine of about 100 meters, a knife-edge of corniced snow with drops to oblivion on both sides. At its end was the mountain’s true summit, a few meters higher in elevation than where he stood.

Too dangerous, Viesturs told himself. He retreated.

“You can let it go, or you can’t let it go,” Viesturs said. “And I was one of those guys where if the last nail in the deck hasn’t been hammered in, it’s not done.”

Eight years later, Viesturs climbed within reach of Shishapangma’s summit again. The ridge looked doable. With a leg on each side — “à cheval” in mountaineering, French for “on horseback” — he shimmied across it. He touched the highest point of Shishapangma and scooted back to relative safety.

Ed Viesturs returning from the summit of Shishapangma in 2001. Veikka Gustafsson

There is a summit. And then there is everything below it.

Can close ever be good enough?

Revelations from a team of respected researchers have thrust that question into the open like never before, putting special attention on the world’s highest mountains and most acclaimed climbers.

By asking a simple-sounding question — What is the summit? — the researchers are raising doubts about past accomplishments and raising standards for future ones.

Maybe they are making us all reconsider just what it means to reach the top.

‘Tell the Complete Truth’

The Himalayan and the Karakoram ranges of Asia are home to all 14 of Earth’s 8,000-meter (26,247-foot) peaks — not only the highest mountains in the world, but with familiar names that evoke wonder: Everest, K2, Annapurna and Lhotse among them.

Thousands of miles away, in a small town in southwestern Germany, lives a 68-year-old man named Eberhard Jurgalski. He has a robust, white beard and pulls his hair into a ponytail.

He has spent 40 years chronicling the ascents of the 8,000-meter peaks. He has not climbed these mountains, but he is widely respected for compiling the records of those who have. He is among the cadre of behind-the-scenes researchers who give credence to the claims that make others famous.

He can tell you the names of various expeditions, the dates, the details of the routes and whether oxygen was used. He has studied photographs and videos and satellite coordinates and accounts from climbers and witnesses.

And now he has some jarring news: It is possible that no one has ever been on the true summit of all 14 of the 8,000-meter peaks.

Some stopped on Shishapangma’s central summit, not daring to straddle the ridge the way Viesturs did. Some unwittingly went to the wrong spot on Annapurna’s broad top. Some stopped at a pole planted on Dhaulagiri that confused them into thinking it was the summit. Some turned around at a popular selfie-taking spot on Manaslu without scaling the precarious ridge hidden just beyond it.

Few if any of them tried to lie about their accomplishments. They just did not get to the top in every case, Jurgalski and others say. They stopped a few meters short, whether by accident or tradition.

The implications for mountaineering are massive. Or maybe they do not matter at all.

Eberhard Jurgalski has an encyclopedic knowledge of the world’s tallest mountains. Clara Tuma for The New York Times

To keep itself honest, mountaineering relies on integrity and the power of a guilty conscience. For high-profile expeditions, it is the adventurer’s responsibility to prove what he or she claims to have done in some of the world’s remotest places. Evidence of important ascents generally comes from an inexact combination of photos and selfies, satellite coordinates and witnesses.

That leaves room for whispers of doubt.

For decades, Jurgalski worried that standards of a world-class summit were slipping. If he is a gatekeeper to historical records, doesn’t he have an obligation to double-check their accuracy?

Several years ago, he enlisted help from a few other volunteer researchers, including Rodolphe Popier and Tobias Pantel of the Himalayan Database and Damien Gildea, the Australian explorer.

Dissecting one claim at a time, they are studying all the key ascents, through photographs and written accounts, trying to place climbers in precise locations.

The unfolding revelations have Jurgalski nervous. He knows that reputations and livelihoods depend on summit claims. They depend on his list.

“I’m a fan of all of them, you know,” Jurgalski said. “But when there is something wrong, me as a chronicler, as an accepted chronicler, must make a point to tell the complete truth.”

Jurgalski’s reputation is at stake, too. And he knows too much to let close be good enough.

He wants the historical record to reflect precision. He also wants to establish a firm standard for future generations of climbers, an expectation for what constitutes a summit.

“There are no two possibilities,” Jurgalski said. “There is only one. A summit is not halfway or 99 percent of the way.” 

Mountain as Metaphor

Literally and figuratively, the summit — like on Manaslu — represents the vertical finish line that says you have gone as far as possible. Tomas Hanicinec

It sounds simple, the idea of a summit. Every mountain has one. By definition, a summit is the highest point, of a hill or an aspiration.

Just what does it mean to reach the summit?

It is a question both simple and cosmic, sure to divide absolutists from pragmatists.

“The summit does matter,” said David Roberts, a climber who has written dozens of books on Himalayan expeditions and co-written books with the likes of Viesturs, Jon Krakauer, Conrad Anker and Alex Honnold. “Why does it matter? Because it’s the whole point of mountaineering. It’s the goal that defines an ascent.”

There is no true governing body for mountaineering, no single arbiter of what constitutes a feat worthy of adulation. For top mountaineers, it is a fuzzy world subject to personal satisfaction and occasional peer review. Accomplishment is judged by some indescribable mix of difficulty, imagination and style.

It does not always matter if the top is reached. As Viesturs pointed out, it is called climbing, not summiting. The point is often the process.

But the summit is a rare tangible accomplishment in climbing, the one yes-or-no proposition. It can turn humans into heroes. It can bestow fame and forge reputations.

More philosophically, it has meaning. It exists as the ultimate metaphor for achievement, a vertical finish line that says you have gone as far as possible. There is nowhere higher to go.

“The summit is an ideal we can aspire to,” said the climber Michael Kennedy, a former editor of Climbing and Alpinist magazines with a list of high-level mountaineering accomplishments to his name.

In 1997, he wrote an editorial for Climbing titled, “Close Only Counts in Horseshoes and Hand Grenades.”

“Issues of style aside, success is measured along a single axis,” he wrote. “You either reach the summit or you don’t. Not much room for debate. Or is there?”

Kennedy still believes those words. “If you want to say that you’ve climbed it,” he said recently, “you should climb to the summit.”

But he and others also wonder: Does it really matter?

Ed Viesturs is the only American among the 44 people said to have summited all 14 of the world’s highest peaks. Pete Johnson

“I don’t know,” Viesturs said. “I mean, who’s counting? Who’s watching? Who’s paying attention?”

Maybe the questions do not belong just to the mountaineers, but also to the rest of us. If we find that the world’s greatest climbers have been coming up short of their goals, purposely or not, maybe our response says more than the deception itself.

Maybe we are the ones who must reckon with the notion of a summit, in all its literary and metaphorical forms. Maybe we are the ones who must decide where the limits are.

“If you let these things go,” Gildea said from Australia, “and then you let more of these things go, when do you stop letting these things go?” 

Summit Slippage

A climber at a high point — but not the highest point — on Manaslu in 2014.Tomas

Of the 14 8,000-meter peaks, “six or seven,” Gildea said, are ripe for false summits. The difference is a vertical meter or two in some places, no more than about 20 in others. Those few vertical meters might be an hour’s hike — or a dangerous straddle and scooch — away.

The work of the researchers has focused, so far, on Annapurna, Dhaulagiri and Manaslu.

Manaslu may be the most blatant example of summit slippage. The background of most “summit” photos today show, clearly, more mountain to climb. 

Manaslu, located in Nepal and rising 8,163 meters above sea level, is the world’s eighth-highest mountain. Its summit sits at the end of a precarious ridge. 

In 2016, the Himalayan Database reported that 175 people claimed to climb Manaslu. With some quick fact-checking, it credited 15 of them with reaching the summit.  

In reality, researchers say, no one reached the true summit. Some got to a common photo spot, shown here, that is often festooned with prayer flags.  

The short vertical distance to the actual summit can be a treacherous journey — but one necessary to truly claim the summit, researchers argue.   

Sources: Remote Sensing Technology Center of Japan/AW3D (elevation), Planet Labs (satellite photo)

“People are stopping short because it’s too hard,” Gildea said. “And I say, that’s not really a good excuse for a climber.”

By contrast, the issues with Annapurna and Dhaulagiri have been mostly ones of confusion, not deception. The horizontal ridge of Annapurna has approaches from different directions. Once there, it can be nearly impossible to discern the highest point, even without debilitating factors like exhaustion, whipping winds and whiteout conditions, and a dearth of oxygen starving the brain.

“We’ve spent time wandering around on the summit ridges,” Viesturs said. “Like, let’s go further, let’s make sure. Is that bump down the ridge a little bit higher? You might spend a little extra time making sure that you go to that highest lump or bump, instead of just going, ‘Eh, we’re close enough.’”

That “close enough” range is the gap that Jurgalski and his researchers want to close.

The German Aerospace Center provided Jurgalski with precise elevations across Annapurna’s ridge. The center discerned two high points, about 30 meters apart. Researchers found that about half of those credited with reaching the summit never got to either of them.

They found similar issues on Dhaulagiri, partly because a metal pole planted decades ago lulled climbers into thinking it was the high point.  

It can be difficult to discern the topmost point on Dhaulagiri’s summit ridge.Ralf Dujmovits

Guy Cotter has reached the highest points on all seven continents, and has summited seven of the 8,000-meter peaks, including Everest five times. He is chief executive of Adventure Consultants, an expedition company founded by his former climbing partner Rob Hall, who died on Everest in 1996 during the “Into Thin Air” disaster.

“There’s a difference between thinking that you’re on the summit and there is no further to go, and knowing there is further to go and not going further,” Cotter said. “The standards are slipping.”

Each mountain carries unique summit challenges. On Kangchenjunga, the world’s third-highest mountain behind Everest and K2, there is a tradition — fading with time, some said — of not touching the top. Viesturs is among those who said he stopped short.  

“The locals asked us, as we trekked into the mountain, to please not disturb the home of their gods, which was the actual summit,” Viesturs wrote in an email. “In respect to their wishes we stayed just a few feet away.”

The research on the 8,000-meter summits got little attention for years. Then Gildea, one of the key researchers, wrote an essay about it, published late last year in the prestigious American Alpine Journal.

“The summit is the summit,” Damien Gildea wrote, “but climbing is more than summits.”Jo Chaffer

Gildea has emerged as a public conscience among adventurers. With extensive experience in Antarctica, he was a vocal critic of Colin O’Brady’s “solo” and “unsupported” expedition across the continent that received international attention. (Among his criticisms: O’Brady followed a maintained road and stopped “hundreds of kilometers” from sea ice.)

The journal essay gave voice and validity to a tender topic. Credibly suggesting the possibility that no human has been on the true summit of all 14 8,000-meter peaks undermines the claims of dozens of esteemed mountaineers.

Proving precisely how high someone climbed years ago may be impossible. Some climbers are dead. Others may have no incentive to cooperate. The effort might provoke unsolvable debates, maybe lawsuits.

Fear of a backlash is why Gildea and the researchers stripped all the names from the essay. It is why the essay is filled with disclaimers and compliments.

“These climbers’ places in history are set, and questions about the precise topographical details of certain climbs should not change the cultural importance of their exploits,” Gildea wrote.

It is also a reason Jurgalski created the idea of retroactive “tolerance zones.” The researchers determined, peak by peak, what would be allowed as a summit — what would be close enough.

“But not for the future,” Jurgalski said. “Only for the past.”

Base camp on Mount Everest in Nepal last week. Despite an outbreak of Covid-19, hundreds of mountaineers hope to reach the summit of the world’s highest mountain this month.Prakash Mathema/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

Of the 44 climbers said to have summited all 14 peaks, there are seven with blatant shortcomings in at least one of their ascents, Jurgalski said. That would reduce the list to 37, including Viesturs. (“Ed Viesturs is one of the people who we at least know has gone to some of the questionable ones like Dhaulagiri and Manaslu and Shishapangma,” Gildea said.)

But doubt has been cast, no matter how carefully it is couched, on many of mountaineering’s legendary figures. The shadow falls most on Reinhold Messner, the Italian mountaineer who was first to claim all 14 peaks. Messner, climbing’s biggest star and greatest showman, now 76, would seem to have the most to lose if any of his accomplishments were diminished by even a few meters.

On a video call, Messner said he made 31 attempts on the 8,000-meter peaks, reaching a summit 18 times, all without supplemental oxygen. He acknowledged the possibility that he had not stood on the precise high point of each mountain. On Annapurna, he said, after scaling a wall long thought impossible, he reached the “flat summit ridge” in a wicked wind with poor visibility.

“If they say maybe on Annapurna I got five meters below the summit, somewhere on this long ridge, I feel totally OK,” Messner said. “I will not even defend myself. If somebody would come and say, this is all bullshit what you did? Think what you want.”

Reinhold Messner climbed Mount Everest alone, and without supplemental oxygen, in 1980.Keystone/Hulton Archive, via Getty Images

Giving a tutorial on modern mountaineering history, Messner said that leading climbers before him focused mostly on summits. Each of the 8,000-meter peaks was conquered from 1950 to 1964. (Everest, by Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, in 1953.)

Those who followed focused on new routes, degrees of difficulty and matters of style. The summit, Messner said, was a secondary goal. Tomaz Humar’s solo climb up the south wall of Dhaulagiri in 1999, a route that Messner attempted with no success two decades before, ended short of the summit but high in climbing lore. Messner called it “the most important ascent of the decade.”

“There’s no right or wrong,” Messner said. “There is only the knowledge of what was yesterday, and the enthusiasm for what you are doing. I cannot say the line that Hillary did on Everest is wrong. It’s his line, it’s his piece of art. He expressed himself.” 

A New Record Book 

Oh Eun-sun, the first woman said to have summited all 14 8,000-meter peaks, on Annapurna in 2010.Yonhap, via Associated Press

Jurgalski ultimately sees two lists. There would be a new one, starting now, for a new era of climbers who indisputably get to the true summit of the world’s highest mountains. With today’s technology, there should be little debate.

And Jurgalski would have a historical list, with those 37 names. His plan is to create a scoring system. The true summit for each of the 14 peaks would be worth 1,000 points; a perfect score would be 14,000. Maybe a climber gets 980 points for coming up 20 meters short on that mountain, or 970 on that one.

“Then we can say, this is the historical table, where all the claims are in it,” Jurgalski said. “All these things I want to clear before I leave this planet.”

Plenty of people will say none of this truly matters. If climbing by itself has no collective purpose, then how can a level of achievement within it be considered critical knowledge? If climbing is a personal journey of discovery, then why keep score?

But there are stakes. There are rewards of fame and adulation. There are sponsorship deals and lecture circuits. In some countries, cash rewards and government jobs await those who ascend the highest peaks.

A Chinese surveying team headed for the summit of Mount Everest last year.Tashi Tsering/Xinhua, via Associated Press

And there are always races to be the first — the first climber, the first woman, the first from your country, the first with a disability. Motivations to climb these mountains may be personal, but not always.

Jurgalski’s idea to reset the record book might inadvertently start a new competition. Who will be the first to definitely prove to have stood atop all the true summits?

“Why are we doing this? What do we want to happen?” Gildea said, posing the key questions to himself. “I just want people to know, and I want people to have the discussion. And if it all comes out that nobody cares, nobody does anything, well, OK. I still go on with my life, and I still climb what I want. But at least people know. They can’t say they didn’t know.”

John Branch is a sports reporter. He won the 2013 Pulitzer Prize for feature writing for “Snow Fall,” a story about a deadly avalanche in Washington State, and is the author of three books, including “Sidecountry,” a collection of New York Times stories, in 2021. @JohnBranchNYT

Sources: Planet Labs (Mount Everest satellite video), Kenneth Townsend (inset map).

Graphics by Tim Wallace. Designed and produced by Michael Beswetherick, Kenan Davis, Jonathan E

(Source: NYT)

On the trail of Guru Nanak Dev’s travels from Tibet to Iran

Tracing Guru Nanak’s footsteps across nine countries and over 150 inter-faith sites, writer Amardeep Singh finds anew the relevance of universality preached by the first Sikh guru.

In Afghanistan, holding an AK47, the “iron lady” Khalida shows the remains of the gurdwara shelled by the Taliban during the civil war (1996-2001). Later, she opens her home for a vegetarian lunch and shares memories of growing up with the Nanakpanthis of Khost, all of whom have now left the country. In Kandahar, against all odds, Dr Raghunath, a Nanakpanthi Hindu, hasn’t left the war-torn country, as it had provided him the education to become a doctor.

In Colombo, Sri Lanka, it isn’t only Sikhs, Hindus and Sindhis, but also the local Sinhalese Christians who delve into the teachings of Baba Nanak through a syncretic form of worship. On the banks of the river Indus in Pakistan, a young man plays a Pashto song on the rabab, the string instrument carried by Bhai Mardana on his lifelong journey with Guru Nanak. Till date in Pakistan, the descendants of Mardana — Muslim by faith — sing hymns of Nanak from the Guru Granth Sahib.

These are just a few of the incredible stories collected by Singapore-based researcher, author and documentary filmmaker, Amardeep Singh, 52, and his team over the last several months, as they followed the trail of Guru Nanak’s travels in the 15th and 16th century.

One world, One sky: Mount Kailash in Tibet, where Nanak had travelled to.

Until 1849, the Sikh Empire was a mighty force. In fact, Lahore Durbar was the last to be conquered by the East India Company. However, over time, and particularly following the ethnic violence and geographic divisions that ensued during Partition, 80 per cent of that land now falls in Pakistan, rendering it inaccessible to many and turning the followers of the faith into a religious minority. In 2014, after having worked in the corporate world for 25 years, Singh travelled to Pakistan for the first time. Having lost both his parents to age, he craved to see the homeland they had left in 1947 — his mother from Abbottabad, and father from Muzaffarabad. Coupled with familial longing was the desire to delve deeper into the history of the Sikh community.

“Much of this legacy remains unremembered. After the exodus of ’47, centuries of historic and material remnants, archaeological and architectural feats, interfaith aspects and traditions were forgotten virtually overnight. There were no texts, no documentation on what had been left behind. Why had my community been silent? How had there been no efforts to preserve this legacy for posterity?” he asks.

So, armed with a 30-day visa, he visited 36 cities and villages, from Muzzafarabad to Multan, from Jamrud to Lahore, which led to his debut book, Lost Heritage: The Sikh Legacy in Pakistan (2016). In 2017, he returned to trace the remnants of the 27 forts built along the river Indus during the Sikh Empire, many of which are controlled by the Pakistani army today. This second trip, spanning 55 days and 90 additional cities, culminated in a second book, The Quest Continues: Lost Heritage: The Sikh Legacy in Pakistan (2018).

As Singh explored the nuances and diversity of Pakistan, he happened to notice the syncretic nature of people living along the Indus, who, regardless of religion, considered themselves Nanakpanthis — followers of Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism. From Pashto Sikhs who wore turbans, to the turban-less Sehajdhari Sikhs, Udasis, Jogis, Sindhis and even Hindus, these Nanakpanthis have multifarious identities, yet their beliefs and practices cannot be cordoned off by the modern signifiers of Sikhism or Hinduism.

Thus, he conceived of the idea to trace the footsteps of Baba Nanak, not merely in India or Pakistan, but across the many countries, Guru Nanak travelled with Bhai Mardana, preaching the message of Monism — where everything is one, where we are all one. Illuminating this idea further, Singh recites Kabir’s words, which resonates time and again in the Granth Sahib, “Khaalik khalak khalak mein khaalik (the Creation is in the Creator, and the Creator is in the Creation.)” Which is why the upcoming inauguration of the Kartarpur Corridor later this month, that will connect Dera Baba Nanak Sahib in India’s Punjab and Gurdwara Darbar Sahib in Pakistan, fills him with hope.

Allegory — as his ambitious project is titled — signifying the revelation of a hidden meaning — will be the first multi-episode documentary to chronicle the vast expanse of sites that were visited by the saint. “In the borderless world of the 15th century, where people travelled distances to trade and rulers invaded to expand territory, Guru Nanak glided across the geographies advocating the message of peace,” says Singh.

During his travels, he covered a landscape comprising nine modern nations — Sri Lanka, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Tibet (China), Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh, India — visiting numerous Islamic, Sufi, Buddhist and Hindu sites. Between the 15th and16th century, the universal narratives of Guru Nanak’s travels were rendered solely through oral narratives. In the 17th century, these were documented in the form of books called Janamsakhis, written by men of faith. It gave rise to a diverse canvas of storytelling, travelogue and hagiography. But today, even these are forgotten, and, alongside the deeply entrenched division of land and nationality, many of the sites have been rendered inaccessible.

On January 11 this year, Singh and his team’s journey officially began in Sri Lanka. They then traversed across Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Tibet, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Bangladesh, from where they will conclude the filming in India. As the world celebrates the 550th birth anniversary of Guru Nanak on November 12, the team persists with their effort of travelling to over 150 interfaith sites visited by Nanak across the world; Allegory will release only in 2021.

As Singh describes the Herculean task that his team has set out to complete, there is a sense of purpose in his voice. The need to undertake this journey extends far beyond any personal ambition and is led by the idea of preserving an ideology that perceives no borderlands or divisions. With the aid of the oldest set of Janamsakhis, written half a century after Nanak’s death in 1539, along with drawing from history, archaeology, the team has followed the trails of sites of various faiths visited by the saint.

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They have travelled from Mecca to Mount Kailash, filming under the shelling of gunfire in Afghanistan and the scalding summer heat in Iraq; across the waters of river Sindh on boat, and the desert expanse of Medina to Baghdad on foot. They have gone from the mausoleum of Bahauddin Zakariya in Multan to the Hinglaj Nani Mandir Caves in Balochistan; from Baba Farid’s grave at Pakpattan, Pakistan, where during his visit, Guru Nanak collected the verses of Baba Farid, later enshrined in the Guru Granth Sahib, to the congruent region of Para Chinar, which stands between Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Approximately 70 per cent of this landscape today falls in conflict zones and unreachable geographies. In a world where visa constraints, nationalist mandates and geographic divisions are often successful in restricting scholarship, Singh has remained not just fortuitous in his access to the remotest sites, but pleasantly borderless in his efforts as well as company. In many ways, his journey, embarked upon five centuries after Nanak, emulates the essence of diversity preached by the saint — “Tohi mohi, mohi tohi, antar kaisa? (You are me, I am you, what is the difference?)” Apart from himself and his wife Nicky, both Sikh, Singh’s team has Muslim colleagues from Lahore, Hindus and Sikhs from India, as well as local translators and well-wishers.

Singh doesn’t need to think when asked what the largest takeaway has been from the project. “Every step we took has resulted in the dissipation of our own conditioning. We shed, we unlearn, and we relearn. Guru Nanak saw no nationality, caste, religion or language; he knew only humanity. There is a need for the younger generation — those growing up in the shadow of all forms of tangible and intangible conflict and othering — to understand why Nanak spent nearly three decades of his life spreading the message of universal brotherhood,” he says.

He tells me that he, a turbaned Sikh, has never had to compromise his identity for the work, and yet each day, he is somehow renewed by encounters with the people he meets and the spaces he travels to. “In the making of Allegory across eight countries till date, I have been renamed twice. From ‘Amardeep Singh’, I became ‘Amiruddin’ in Afganistan and ‘Haji Omardip Sing’ in Iraq! Each and every day, the relevance of Nanak’s five-century-old journey becomes more and more pronounced as we find ourselves within a complex, collective history that has not been expunged by lifetimes or borders,” he says.

(Source: The Indian Express)

Mount Everest: Climbers set to face new rules after deadly season

Climbers who want to attempt Mount Everest should first have to demonstrate that they are experienced mountaineers, a panel advising Nepal's government has recommended.

Its report proposes that applicants must already have climbed a Nepali peak of at least 6,500m (21,325ft).

They should also have to provide a certificate of physical fitness, and employ experienced guides, it adds.

Earlier this year at least 11 people died or went missing on Mount Everest.

Nine of the deaths occurred on the Nepali side of Everest and two on the Tibetan side, with four of them blamed on overcrowding.

The panel's report also proposes a fee of at least $35,000 (£29,000) for those wanting to climb Everest, and $20,000 for other mountains higher than 8,000m.

"We will take this forward by amending the laws and regulations. We will make our mountains safe, managed and dignified," Tourism Minister Yogesh Bhattari told reporters.

Nepal is home to eight of the world's 14 highest mountains, and foreign climbers are a major source of revenue.

The Nepali panel was staffed by government officials, climbing experts and climbing community agencies.

It was set up after criticism from experienced climbers and guides of the system that allows anyone who pays $11,000 to climb Everest.

Nepal's government issued a record 381 permits this season.

(Source: BBC)

Why I won’t be joining the queue at the top of Everest

A startling picture of overcrowding near the summit shows the peril of turning the mountain into a form of adventure tourism

Mountaineering is a physical pursuit demanding an affinity for suffering. Where it is cerebral is in its requirement of good judgment, most importantly in extreme situations when the mind is most clouded and consequences of bad decision-making tend to multiply.

Considering risks requires being honest with yourself. At what climbers call the objective level, that involves assessing dangers you may encounter – weather, avalanches, poor rock, even whether there will be overcrowding on your route.

Subjectively, it means asking yourself searching questions. Are you capable of safely attempting your objective? Even if you are, will you be tempted to push on for the wrong reasons – because of ego, because you fear failure, or because you have spent large sums on the trip of a lifetime? For a climber, looking at Nirmal Purja’s picture last week of the queues close to Everest’s summit – delays that may have contributed to several deaths – is something that inspires dread.

Nirmal Purja’s picture of the overcrowded approach to the summit of Everest last week. Photograph: Nirmal Purja/Project Possible/AFP

It depicts an anxiety-inducing conga line in the death zone above 8,000 metres, where the body can’t properly function. Where movement forwards and backwards is seriously impeded. In a sport where efficient autonomous movement is regarded as crucial to safety, you want to ask, why would you put yourself in this position? The answer is to be found, in large part, in the commodification of the world’s highest mountain.

Everest has become largely detached from the rest of climbing and mountaineering. It has become a trophy experience, drawing too many otherwise without much interest in the sport, validated by media coverage that sees Everest as being endlessly “conquered” rather than passé.

The costs involved, in the order of £50,000 with a reputable company for a single trip, have created dangerously competing dynamics for would-be “conquistadors of the useless” to borrow from the great French mountaineer Lionel Terray.

 For Nepal the Everest season is a valuable source of foreign currency and there is little interest in limiting numbers
If you can only afford to attempt the mountain once, the need to succeed risks doubling – even trebling – down on what is already a risky bet. “Summit fever””, as the accomplished US mountaineer and chronicler of Everest and the Himalaya Alan Arnette told me last week from his home in Colorado, is a real thing. But the economics of Everest operate in more subtle ways as well.

The transactional nature of most Everest attempts has seen a shift in how aspirants view responsibility, moving it away from a question of an individual’s own judgment and subcontracting it to guiding companies, some excellent, some of them far less scrupulous.

For Nepal, where the spring Everest season is a valuable annual source of foreign currency, there is little interest in either limiting numbers or regulating the new cut-price Nepalese companies that have been set up to compete with the expensive foreign-owned guiding outfits.

Perhaps most worrying is that the business model of these newer companies, often charging less than half the price of foreign competitors, critics suggest, relies on the volume of clients and a tacit understanding that many of those signing up will not get very high on the mountain, meaning there is no imperative to check climbing credentials.

Rounding off the whole equation is the question of pricing and value. Western companies, having fixed a price – both cultural and monetary – for an Everest summit, having created a desirable product and a growing market, have also motivated cheaper operators to try to undercut them, making an overcrowded business riskier for everyone.

A quote attributed to one of the pioneers of Everest, the New Zealand mountaineer George Lowe, who helped establish the route up the Lhotse face that most commercial clients now follow, suggested that Everest – 40 years later – had become the “greasy pole of Asia”.

It is not quite true. Looking at Purja’s photo, it is not only dread you sense, but hubris, too. In the suggestion that its summit can simply be bought, a key point has been lost: that climbing is as much about judicious turning back and failure as it is about reaching the top.

(Source: The Guardian)

If you're dreaming of climbing Mount Everest, this is what it takes

Physical training and tens of thousands of dollars are just a few of the things adventure-seekers need to conquer Mount Everest. Experts say it takes much more than that to check it off your bucket list.

Hundreds of people from around the world travel to the Himalayas every year, dreaming of reaching the Everest summit. They spend weeks getting their gear, adjusting to the altitude and simply waiting for good weather.

Here's what you need to know if you are thinking of climbing Everest.

When is the best time to climb Everest?
Most mountaineers attempt to ascend the world's tallest peak in May. There's a brief window of time -- usually after May 15 -- when temperatures are warmer and the high-altitude winds known as the jet stream have moved away from the mountains.

It's also right before monsoon season. Climbers usually try to avoid visiting the Everest region if there's frequent rainfall, as it can make the trail conditions slippery and dangerous.

"It's the time of the year when you have the highest chance of getting to the summit," said Dale Remsberg, technical director for the American Mountain Guides Association.

Having good weather is crucial for climbers. Remsberg said climbers won't try to seek the summit without the right weather conditions. Many spent weeks at base camp just waiting without guarantee they'll actually reach it.

Where does the trip begin?
Mount Everest sits right at the border between Nepal and Tibet. There are many possible routes, but the majority of Everest climbers usually choose between two -- the south route in Nepal and the north route in Tibet.

Most trekking companies operate in Nepal, as climbing in Tibet has become more expensive and more controlled in recent years.

Those climbing on the south route fly into Nepal's capital of Kathmandu, then fly on to the village of Lukla, where travelers begin hiking to the Everest base camp.

How long does it take to climb Everest?
It takes about two months to climb Mt. Everest.

Gordon Janow, director of programs at Alpine Ascents International, a Seattle-based expedition company, flew a group of 12 climbers to the Himalayas in late March and doesn't expect them to come home until the end of May.

The climbers, along with staff members and Sherpa guides, would spend nearly two weeks hiking to the Everest base camp, which sits at an altitude of around 17,000 feet (5,200 meters).

They would then spend about two weeks adjusting to the altitude and waiting on good weather conditions before continuing for another four days, reaching other camps and finally ascending to the summit.

Most climbers spend months or even years before even thinking about making it to the Himalayas. Janow said his guides only take climbers to Everest who have successfully reached one or two other challenging peaks.

How much does it cost?
Going to Everest can be more expensive than buying a new car. Climbers can pay anything from $35,000 to more than $100,000.

The cost includes $11,000 for the climbing permit from the government of Nepal or Tibet, bottled oxygen and high-altitude gear that includes tents, sleeping bags and boots.

It also covers medical care, food and support from Sherpa guides and bottled oxygen for them, which is mandatory for every foreign climber.

Does anyone regulate how many people go up?
Yes, but there is no cap on how many people can make the climb.

A total of 381 permits were issued this year, just nine more than Nepal issued in 2017, according to Danduraj Ghimire, director general of Nepal's Tourism Department.

But Alan Arnette, who has climbed Everest four times, explained that many more people are trying to climb from the Nepalese side.

He believes that about 800 people could be making the journey up since each foreigner requires a Sherpa guide.

While most expedition companies review their clients' experience before helping them get a permit, Nepal does not currently require proof of climbing experience for those climbing Everest, Ghimire said. He said authorities are considering changing that practice.

(Source: CNN)

BBC documentary claims Jesus was a Buddhist monk named Issa who spent 16+ years in India and Tibet

The life story of the most famous person who has ever lived is, in fact, filled with a mysterious gaping hole. From the age of 13 to 29 there is no Biblical, Western, or Middle Eastern record of Jesus‘s whereabouts or activities in Palestine. Known as “The Lost Years,” this gaping hole remained a mystery until one explorer’s remarkable discovery in 1887.

In the late 19th century a Russian doctor named Nicolas Notovitch traveled extensively throughout India, Tibet, and Afghanistan. He chronicled his experiences and discoveries in his 1894 book The Unknown Life of Christ. At one point during his voyage, Notovitch broke his leg in 1887 and recuperated at the Tibetan Buddhist Monastery of Hemis in the city of Leh, at the very top of India. It was here where monks showed Notovitch two large yellowed volumes of a document written in Tibetan, entitled The Life of Saint Issa. During his time at the monastery, Notovitch translated the document which tells the true story of a child named Jesus (i.e. Issa = “son of God”) born in the first century to a poor family in Israel. Jesus was referred to as “the son of God” by the Vedic scholars who tutored him in the sacred Buddhist texts from the age of 13 to 29. Notovitch translated 200 of the 224 verses from the document.

During his time at the monastery in 1887, one lama explained to Notovitch the full scope and extreme level of enlightenment that Jesus had reached. “Issa [Jesus] is a great prophet, one of the first after the twenty-two Buddhas,” the lama tells Notovitch. “He is greater than any one of all the Dalai Lamas, for he constitutes part of the spirituality of our Lord. It is he who has enlightened you, who has brought back within the pale of religion the souls of the frivolous, and who has allowed each human being to distinguish between good and evil. His name and his acts are recorded in our sacred writings. And in reading of his wondrous existence, passed in the midst of an erring and wayward people, we weep at the horrible sin of the pagans who, after having tortured him, put him to death.”

The discovery of Jesus’s time in India lines up perfectly with The Lost Years of Jesus, as well as with the degree of significance of his birth in the Middle East. When a great Buddhist, or Holy Man (i.e. Lama), dies, wise men consult the stars and other omens and set off — often on extraordinarily long journeys — to find the infant who is the reincarnation of the Lama. When the child is old enough he is taken away from his parents and educated in the Buddhist faith. Experts speculate that this is the foundational origin of the story of the Three Wise Men, and it is now believed Jesus was taken to India at 13 and taught as a Buddhist. At the time, Buddhism was already a 500-year-old religion and Christianity, of course, had not even begun.

“Jesus is said to have visited our land and Kashmir to study Buddhism. He was inspired by the laws and wisdom of Buddha,” a senior lama of the Hemis monastery told the IANS news agency. The head of the Drukpa Buddhist sect, Gwalyang Drukpa, who heads the Hemis monastery, also confirms the story. The 224 verses have since been documented by others, including Russian philosopher and scientist, Nicholas Roerich, who in 1952 recorded accounts of Jesus’s time at the monastery. “Jesus passed his time in several ancient cities of India such as Benares or Varanasi. Everyone loved him because Issa dwelt in peace with the Vaishyas and Shudras whom he instructed and helped,” writes Roerich.

Jesus spent some time teaching in the ancient holy cities of Jagannath (Puri), Benares (in Uttar Pradesh), and Rajagriha (in Bihar), which provoked the Brahmins to excommunicate him which forced him to flee to the Himalayas where he spent another six years studying Buddhism.

German scholar, Holger Kersten, also writes of the early years of Jesus in India in the book Jesus Lived In India. “The lad arrives in a region of the Sindh (along the river Indus) in the company of merchants,” writes Kersten. “He settled among the Aryans with the intention of perfecting himself and learning from the laws of the great Buddha. He travelled extensively through the land of the five rivers (Punjab), stayed briefly with the Jains before proceeding to Jagannath.”

And in the BBC documentary, Jesus Was A Buddhist Monk, experts theorize that Jesus escaped his crucifixion, and in his mid-late 30s he returned to the land he loved so much. He not only escaped death, but he also visited with the Jewish settlers in Afghanistan who had escaped similar tyranny of the Jewish emperor Nebuchadnezzar. Locals confirm that Jesus spent the next several years in the Kashmir Valley where he lived happily until his death at 80-years-old. With sixteen years of his youth spent in the region, as well as approximately his last 45, that means Jesus spent a total of roughy 61 to 65 years of his life in India, Tibet, and the neighboring area. Locals believe he is buried at the RozaBal shrine at Srinagar in India-controlled Kashmir. The BBC visited the shrine and you can read about what they found HERE.

(Source: Realize Minds)

The Dalai Lama: Intimate portrait of a spiritual leader

A new book by acclaimed Indian photographer Raghu Rai offers an unprecedented glimpse into the life of one of the world's leading religious figures.

A God In Exile is the result of a photographer's decades-long insight into his muse. Rai took his first picture of the iconic Tibetan spiritual leader in 1975.

He recalled being stopped by the Dalai Lama's security. "I somehow managed to make eye contact with His Holiness and asked him if I could take some photos of him. He smiled and said yes," Rai told the BBC.

Over the years, he has photographed the Dalai Lama many times and has cultivated a "deep friendship".

In March 1959, as Chinese troops crushed an attempted uprising in Tibet, the 14th Dalai Lama, who was born Tenzin Gyatso, fled into India. He was then a young man in his mid-20s.

He was offered asylum by the Indian government and he settled in the northern town of Dharamsala. He was followed into exile by about 80,000 Tibetans, most of whom settled in the same area.

Thronged by Tibetan worshippers and tourists, the Dalai Lama is seen in the above image blessing a woman at a ceremony.

"When he sees his Tibetans, my god! You should see his eyes! It's like a grandfather doting on his grandchildren," Rai says.

In 2014, Rai decided to curate the hundreds of photos he had taken of the Dalai Lama and compile them into a book - a project which, he said, has been in the making for 40 years.

Many of the photos in the collection capture the Dalai Lama in candid moments, giving us an intimate glimpse into his everyday life.

"He loves to play with animals - I was waiting for him one day when he suddenly showed up with a cat," Rai says.

Rai also captured scenes from the Dalai Lama's 80th birthday celebrations in 2015 at home in Dharamsala.

He hosted his siblings, including his older brother, Gyalo Thondup (pictured above), whom he introduced to guests as a "troublemaker".

The book's preface, written by Rai, offers readers an account of his interactions with the Dalai Lama.

"He left an indelible impression on me - gentle, gracious, humble and full of wonder. It is peculiar to say such a thing, but I got the strange yet pleasant feeling of being equals, despite his position. In hindsight I realise it was because His Holiness behaved with such unfeigned kindness and lack of vanity."

Many images in the book feature the Dalai Lama performing innocuous chores such as repairing his TV or gardening in his home - tasks that he always did himself, Rai says.

"In a lot of ways, he gave me everything a photographer ever wants from a subject," the photographer says.

Among the Dalai Lama's favourite places at his home is the garden, where he grows all sorts of plants.

All photographs are part of A God in Exile: The Fourteenth Dalai Lama by Raghu Rai. The book has been published by Roli Books.

(Source: BBC)

Anshu Jamsenpa: The first woman to climb Mount Everest twice in 5 days

Most people don't make it to the top of the world once.

But mother-of-two Anshu Jamsenpa, aged 38, has done it five times, all from the South Col route on the Nepalese side of Mount Everest -- an incredible feat for any mountaineer.

This year, she broke a world record and made global headlines when she became the first woman to conquer the 29,028-feet-tall (8,848 meter) Himalayan giant twice in five days -- first on May 16, and then again on May 21.

Jamsenpa was born in Dirang, a remote mountain town in the north-west Indian district of Arunachal Pradesh, which borders Bhutan and Tibet

Astonishingly, this wasn't her first double ascent on a single trip.

In 2011, Jamsenpa summited the tallest mountain in the world on May 12 and May 21. She subsequently made a single summit in 2013.

Jamsenpa attributes her amazing achievements to the connection climbing Everest gives her to her faith.

"I always think that I am very close to god, I am getting a blessing," Jamsenpa tells CNN of her emotional state while on the mountain. "I only feel that whenever I am at the top."

Jamsenpa was born in Dirang, a remote mountain town in the north-west Indian district of Arunachal Pradesh, which borders Bhutan and Tibet.

Small-town life had its advantages. "You're surrounded by nature," remembers Jamsenpa, referring to nearby Bomdila where she moved to as a child. Yet she also says the area was lacking in exposure to the outside world and opportunities.

The daughter of an Indo Tibetan Border Police officer father and nurse mother, Jamsenpa had three older sisters and a younger brother. She says she always knew she was different.

"When I was small, my family used to watch TV in one room, and I would go to another room, sit quietly, draw the curtains and listen to music. I used to think differently."

While Jamsenpa grew up dreaming of becoming a journalist, she didn't attend university.

Rather, on her 16th birthday, she met future husband Tsering Wange, and fate steered her down a different path.

The week before at his family bakery, Wange had taken a cake order, requesting the text "Happy birthday Anshu Jampsenpa" written on it. He was curious about the girl with the unusual name.

"He called up my cousin (who had placed the order), and she invited him to my birthday party. He said: 'Yes, definitely -- I will come, and bring the cake myself.' So, that's how we met."

In 2000, when Jamsenpa was 21, they got married.

Business savvy
It was Wange's entrepreneurial spirit that nudged Jamsenpa towards Everest.

In Bomdila, he founded a travel agency which organizes trekking expeditions in Northeast India and Bhutan, called Himalayan Holidays.

After Jamsenpa fell pregnant with their second daughter, in 2003, she began working for her husband's travel business full-time.

"When I started doing the accounting, I realized he was running the business at a loss," she says. "He was a workaholic, he just had to work -- but he never maintained the accounts."

Despite being president of the All Arunachal Pradesh Mountaineering and Adventure Sports Association, Wange had "never had the opportunity" to do any climbing himself, but Jamsenpa was hands-on.

Jamsenpa trained for two years before her first attempt at climbing the Everest.

She started taking clients on trekking and river-crossing expeditions around the Himalayas.

During one expedition, a customer suggested that she train professionally.

"He told me: 'You have the courage, and your fitness (level) is also very good -- so why don't you go for a professional course?'

"After that, I immediately I went for an advanced adventure course. Once I started, I never looked back."

Record-breaking summits
In 2009, Jamsenpa had the idea to climb Everest, and began two years of intense training, attending courses aimed at those wanting to climb the world's highest mountain.

"I did all kinds of training -- running, gym, yoga, aerobics, hiking," she says. She also scaled numerous peaks, including Nepal Peak from Sikkim in 2010.

In 2011, joining a group of nine climbers, Jamsenpa headed to Everest. She says she didn't feel nervous about the trip, because she didn't mentally have time to worry.

"Everything happened at the last moment. I didn't have much time to prepare for this expedition, because I was working on (getting) sponsorship," she says.

"I reached base camp and couldn't register in my mind that I had actually planned to climb Everest."

The biggest challenge, she says, was leaving behind her two daughters, then aged 5 and 10 years old.
I reached base camp and couldn't register in my mind that I had actually planned to climb Everest.

"(Leaving them) was the hardest part ... What I decided was this was a time, in my absence, for them to bond with their father."

Jamsenpa made her attempt from the South Col, which sits on the Nepalese side, rather than the North Ridge, which begins within Tibetan borders. "I can't climb from the north side, because we have a visa problem with China. That is why I went from Nepal side," she explains.

Both the North and South Col routes house camps at varying heights, where climbers acclimatize and refuel. On the South Col, the route that Jamsenpa has taken on all five of her ascents, Base Camp is located at 17,600 feet (5,364 meters), and there are a further five camps until climbers make their bid for the top.

Realizing a dream
It was at high altitude that Jamsenpa made perhaps the boldest decision of her life: to try a double ascent of Everest.

The idea was born when Jamsenpa -- unsure of how she was doing -- sought repeated reassurance from her Sherpa guide.

"I was used to asking: 'Do you think I would be able to summit?'"

Despite her insecurities, she was acing the climb.

So much so that at Camp Three of her first ascent, 23,500 feet (7,163 meters) above sea level, her Sherpa raised the idea of a second ascent from Everest Base Camp.

Anshu Jamsenpa completed her second ascent to the top of Mount Everest this year on May 21.

She says he told her, "OK ma'am, not only can you climb once, but you can climb twice."

"The idea clicked from there," says Jamsenpa.

Ten days after her initial summit, she was back on top of Everest. Of all five summits she's made in her lifetime, Jamsenpa says the second one in 2011 was the easiest by far.

"The weather was very good, that made the climb easy," she remembers. "I reached the top five times, but that was the best weather I got. It was so beautiful. It was so clear. It made my climb very easy. It took six hours from South Col to summit."

Jamsenpa says the idea to do a double ascent came from her sherpa, during her very first climb

How did it feel to be on top of the world?

"I was totally blank (when up there) -- I didn't know how things looked," she says.

It was while descending she had a special moment.

"During my first summit, when I was coming back, the weather was bad so I wanted to descend quickly," she remembers.

"I was trekking down and suddenly saw a view of the South Col. I was shocked, because the view -- that picture -- I had seen it in my dreams."

Long way to the top
While her 2011 achievement was incredible, it didn't get her in the record books.

That honor went to Chhurim Sherpa, the Nepali climber who took the record as the first woman to climb Everest twice in 2012.

Jamsenpa claims that Chhurim Sherpa officially broke the record first due to politics: the Nepali authorities processed the paperwork of the homegrown climber before that of Jamsenpa, a foreigner.

Jamsenpa receives medals from the Nepalese government after her first double ascent -- on May 12 and 21, in 2011.

Whatever the reason, Chhurim had made her double ascent from Everest Base Camp inside a week -- faster than Jamsenpa's 2011 achievement.

Jamsenpa says she was slowed down that year, due to the time it took to process the paperwork for her unplanned second ascent.

Determined to beat Chhurim's record, Jamsenpa returned to Everest in 2013. "My plan was to do it in less than one week," she says.

However, Jamsenpa couldn't get permission from the Nepal government that year to summit twice, so settled for one summit, becoming the only female Indian mountaineer to climb the world's highest peak three times.

In 2014, she attempted another double ascent -- but the devastating avalanche in April that year, which claimed the lives of 16 sherpas, ended the climbing season.

In 2015, the Nepal earthquake thwarted her ambition.

Scaling the mountain
That Everest is a perilously dangerous mountain to scale has not escaped Jamsenpa.

Sixty-three sherpas and 111 climbers died on Everest between 1990 and 2016, according to the Himalaya Database.

"You're putting your life at risk for (Everest) each time," she acknowledges.

For Jamsenpa, the tragedy isn't an abstract idea. She's seen it firsthand, both on her second second summit earlier this year, and in 2011, when she came across dead bodies from previous expeditions.

I felt really heavy. It took me some time to overcome that.

"During my second summit this year, I saw someone who was dying -- they were in a critical condition. I felt bad, and then I felt like crying," she remembers.

"But then I motivated myself and said: 'No, this is not going to work. If you cry ... you lose your energy. You are not going to gain anything.'"

Reluctant to leave the climber, Jamsenpa asked her Sherpa what could be done. It was too late.

"I looked back at him, and he was already dead."

"After my summit, I felt really heavy. It took me some time to overcome that," she says.

Finally, success
Before setting out on her expedition this year, Anshu met with the Dalai Lamma in Guwahati, Assam, in India, to receive a blessing from the Buddhist leader.

She describes the experience as "the most beautiful moment in my whole life."

After taking 38 days to acclimatize at Base Camp (at 17,600 ft), on April 4 she began her main journey. On May 16 she unfurled the Indian flag atop Everest.

Three days later, she began her second climb.

On May 21, Jamsenpa safely achieved her dream: she broke the record for the fastest double ascent of Everest by a woman, in five days.

Jamsenpa meets India's Prime Minister Narendra Modi

It hadn't been easy.

"This year, I found it more difficult, because the weather was very bad," she says. "And there were so many people there -- there was traffic."

It didn't help that during her first summit this year she had issues with her oxygen mask: "I ended up losing a lot of energy."

Despite suffering from the effects of a malfunctioning oxygen mask, Jamsenpa managed to break her own record with her double ascent in 2017.

Her body was still feeling the effects of that record-breaking climb more than a month after her return.

"I didn't feel pain when I was up there, but I can feel the pain now -- when you get up, you can feel it. It's on my right leg, both knees and ankles."

Climbing Everest is not just physically challenging, it's a financial feat, too, with Jamsenpa paying $35,000 for each ascent in 2011. She raised the money by asking for sponsorship from the Indian government, and selling land she and Wange owned.

This year, her climb was supported by a spread of sponsors, including the State Bank of India, her profile as a climber in India helped her gain support.

Inspiring women
Jamsenpa has received accolades including Woman Achiever of the Year 2012 from the Federation of Indian Chamber of Commerce & Industry, and was in 2012 decorated with Arunachal Pradesh State Gold Medal.

But she has also faced criticism as a mother and wife for undertaking such a risky path.

"(People) used to tell me: 'Why are you wasting your money, time and energy?'" she says. "(They were) telling my husband: 'Why did you allow your wife to go? She might leave you!'"

Jamsenpa and her husband travel frequently --
although they still have a base in Bomdila, India

But Jamsenpa believes there are more people who are inspired by her achievements, than who are critical of them.

"So many people come to me and say, 'You've inspired us. How do we go?' They're asking for advice, not just on mountaineering -- also in other fields. They say: 'If you can climb mountains, why can't we build things?'"

Her own family has always been supportive.

"My daughters know what I'm doing. And they're very happy and proud. I told them: 'If something happened to me, you should be happy.'"

Jamsenpa would have died fulfilled and fearless.

(Source: CNN)