Hurricane-force winds
blew away tents and
supplies that climb-
ers had painstakingly
hauled up to Camp II,
a crucial rest stop en
route to the summit.
The climbers were
safe, but losing the
camp was a blow. “I
am devastated,” Nims
posted on Instagram
from Base Camp. “Now
I have to reassess and
replan everything.”
ELIA SAIKALY
displaying a Buddhist sense of detachment
toward life’s trials, but the profession takes a
heavy toll. In addition to the physical pain—
faces burned by frostnip, arthritic joints, and
chronic back problems—they’d all lost friends
and relatives to mountaineering. The past seven
years had been particularly cruel. An avalanche
in 2014 killed 16 of the most experienced Sherpas
on Everest and brought the climbing season to a
halt, and in 2015 an earthquake killed 19 people
at Everest Base Camp and about 9,000 across
the entire country. Now the pandemic had cost
them another year’s work. They also knew the
bitterness that comes with a thankless job. “Few
foreign clients acknowledge our help, describing
us merely as nameless high-altitude porters or
serves as Nims’s chief deputy. The old man of
the new team was Pem Chhiri Sherpa, a 42-year-
old Rolwaling Sherpa with 20 years of Everest
experience. Nims also recruited Dawa Temba
Sherpa and Mingma Tenzi Sherpa, both highly
experienced mountaineers. The last team mem-
ber was the youngest: Gelje Sherpa, a 28-year-
old guide with an infectious sense of humor.
As Gelje told jokes and deejayed the New
Year’s Eve party, an idea started to percolate
between the two teams: Why not join forces? As
Pem recalls, the benefits were obvious: “It sped
up the work, and we started working together. It
became easier because we all were Nepalese.”
Sherpas who work in mountaineering have
a reputation for generally being easygoing,
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