The soaring Himalayan mountain range straddling the Nepal-China border has long been defined by two opposing truths: it is one of the most dangerous landscapes on Earth, and it remains one of the most irresistible.
This duality was laid bare this week, when a sudden glacial collapse triggered catastrophic flash floods that swept through river valleys, leaving hundreds dead, leveling entire communities, and leaving hundreds more unaccounted for — including travelers from at least 30 countries. As rescue operations enter their fourth day, bad weather continues to ground search aircraft, complicating efforts to reach remote cut-off areas, while UN agencies have warned that more than 17,000 children among survivors are in urgent need of life-saving aid. Families of missing U.S. nationals have also publicly pleaded for accelerated rescue support.
For centuries, these high peaks have been central to life and trade in the region. Indigenous communities traversed the mountain passes as part of ancient Silk Road trading networks, and groups like Nepal’s Sherpa people developed unmatched expertise in navigating the extreme altitude and treacherous terrain of the world’s highest mountains. When Nepal opened its borders to international explorers in the mid-20th century, that local knowledge became the foundation of the country’s modern mountaineering and trekking industry. The 1953 ascent of Mount Everest by Nepali Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and New Zealand explorer Edmund Hillary — the first confirmed successful summit of the world’s highest peak — cemented the region’s global reputation as a bucket-list destination for adventure seekers.
In the decades since that historic climb, interest in Himalayan trekking has exploded, turning tourism into one of the largest pillars of Nepal’s national economy. In May of this year alone, a record 274 climbers reached Everest’s summit in a single 24-hour window. But this rapid growth has not come without challenges. Overcrowding, mounting piles of garbage and abandoned climbing gear on popular trails, and the strain of mass tourism on fragile alpine ecosystems have sparked ongoing debate among regulators, guides, and environmental groups about how to balance economic growth with conservation.
The flood-hit region, located not far from Nepal’s capital Kathmandu, is one of the country’s most popular trekking hubs, drawing tens of thousands of visitors every year. Rajendra Lama, general secretary of the Nepal Mountaineering Association and a trekking guide with more than 20 years of experience on the trails, has watched the industry transform dramatically during his career. “There’s a big difference from when I started,” Lama explained in an interview with the Associated Press. “Nowadays people need more facilities.” That demand has spurred widespread infrastructure upgrades: paved roads in once-remote valleys, new guesthouses and restaurants along popular trekking routes, even amenities like pizza that would have been unthinkable a generation ago.
Even with the spread of modern tourism infrastructure, Nepal’s Himalayas retain the raw, unspoiled wild beauty that keeps travelers returning year after year. Ariel Estulin, a Toronto-based photographer who has visited Nepal four times over the past 15 years, says the allure lies in the remote, untouched regions far from the crowded Everest base camp trail. “Some of them are so remote that getting to them required two full days of travel on the most unimaginable bus ride from Hell you can imagine,” he said. On those backcountry trips, he often relied on the hospitality of local farming families, sharing meals and a spot on the floor for the night. “It is changing,” Estulin said, “but it will always remain wild.”
As the country grapples with the aftermath of the latest disaster, with the threat of secondary floods still hanging over affected communities, Lama says he is hopeful that the global affection for Nepal will help the region recover. He points to the 2015 Gorkha earthquake that killed nearly 9,000 people, when he feared the disaster would permanently scare off international visitors. Instead, travelers returned quickly, proving the enduring pull of the mountains. Already, he says, he has received hundreds of messages of support from around the world. “It means,” Lama said, “that people love Nepal.”