An extended period of severe travel restrictions seems like an odd time in which to nurture a fledgling tourism-related business, but that doesn’t mean some brave souls haven’t tried. As international borders finally begin to reopen, we share the stories of three entrepreneurs whose patience is finally paying off. What has kept each of them believing in their business is having a goal that is bigger than just making money. Lakpa Sherpa, 31, co-founder of 8K Expeditions, Nepal Summiting the world’s highest peak is a seductive proposition for many. In 2019, Mount Everest (one of 326 Nepalese peaks open to climbers) generated more than US$4 million from the selling of permits alone. An attempt to scale any of the highest peaks involves a team of porters and guides, usually of Sherpa ethnicity . With the onset of Covid-19, more than half of the 3,500 travel operators in Nepal folded, causing many families that relied on the “Everest economy” to fall on hard times. Nevertheless, in April 2021, Lakpa Sherpa registered 8K Expeditions, believing there was no better time than during a lull to lay the foundations of a company specialising in mountain expeditions. How is skiing in Canada now pandemic is easing? 2 resorts put to the test He had run an expedition company with his brothers for five years but had a “different vision”, so Lakpa left and set up 8k with two like-minded friends. The trio pooled their life savings, sold property and borrowed money to raise the US$350,000 needed to hire staff – and insure them – buy equipment, obtain licences and set up an office in Kathmandu . Lakpa says 8K – the name references the fact the world’s 14 highest peaks stand taller than 8,000 metres (26,200 feet) – aims to improve the lot of Sherpas, who are often exploited by agencies; raise guiding and safety standards; and bring tourists to Makalu, home to the entrepreneurial trio and the fifth highest mountain in the world. The entrepreneur knows the slopes of Makalu (8,485 metres) well. He became a porter when he was 14. “I would cry to myself in the early days”, he says, describing how he trekked up mountains in poor footwear while struggling with 30kg (66 pounds) loads. He became a guide at the age of 17, when he left school, and eventually an expedition leader. Although the minimum age of 17 for working on the mountains is applied more strictly today, it is still common for agencies to pay guides and porters months after the climbing season is over – even though customers pay in full before embarking on an expedition. Also, insurance coverage is often inadequate. “We pay our guides 30 per cent more, and in full as soon as they have completed an expedition, even if it means digging into our own pockets to do so,” says Lakpa, who counts 100 guides and porters among his staff. Trusting in the appeal of the Himalayas, Lakpa believes that visitors will return in numbers once problems associated with Covid-19 are a thing of the past. From war shrine to gulag memorial, ‘dark’ tourist sites and why they matter The owners of 8K have already seen former customers sign up to their new venture. On August 15 last year, Lakpa received his first booking for the autumn season (Nepal started receiving climbers again in September, 2020). Many more followed, including from Hong Kong and Singapore. By the end of the April-May 2022 season, 8K will have handled more than 600 bookings, even allowing for a handful of cancellations from Ukraine, and be on track to break even before the autumn. Jamie Van Jones, 36, Salt and Bush Eco Tours, Australia Canadian Jamie Van Jones and Australian Sebastian “Base” Jones, 41, were naturalist guides with the Ponant cruise ship operator and the married couple had just left Antarctica , sailing along Chile’s Patagonia coast, when the pandemic struck. Although grateful that they managed to get home to Western Australia while countries were shutting their borders – especially to cruise-ship passengers and staff – they lost their jobs overnight. The timing couldn’t have been worse; a month earlier they had bought seven acres (2.83 hectares) of bushland in Mandurah, south of Perth. Six months later – in September 2020 – and with government funding, the couple set up Salt and Bush Eco Tours, which specialises in custom-designed guided nature tours on foot or by kayak around Mandurah. “The pandemic made us start our travel agency,” says Van Jones, as losing jobs that they had found hard to walk away from gave them the impetus needed to set up their own eco-business, something they had already talked about. Nature and environmental protection had been central to the couple’s lives – Van Jones has a degree in sustainable development and has worked on environmental causes, while Jones is a geologist by profession. They had explored the area around Mandurah between work trips, and the experience they gained while working for Ponant helped them appreciate the flora and fauna at home. “We have birds that migrate here from Siberia, and about 80 per cent of the world’s carnivorous plants are here,” says Van Jones, to illustrate the biodiversity of Western Australia. The pair became convinced theirs was an ecosystem worth sharing . Under the government’s New Enterprise Incentive Scheme, the couple were matched with a mentor, and learned about the nuts and bolts of keeping a business running. Salt and Bush’s first tour was a collaboration with a man who had become a local celebrity after discovering an orchid species. All 10 spaces on the tour sold and word of the company spread through Western Australia, which wasn’t to reopen – even to interstate travel – until March 3 this year; 697 days after the borders were sealed. Although the coronavirus hasn’t been beaten yet – “Western Australia is seeing a recent surge in positive Covid-19 cases, bookings have dropped to an average of three a week,” says Van Jones – there have been moments to celebrate. Over the antipodean summer spanning the end of 2021 and the beginning of 2022, Salt and Bush was booked five days a week, sometimes running two or three tours a day. “The next step in the business is to do overnight trips,” says Van Jones. The couple have also founded a social enterprise that is partially funded by Salt and Bush. Called Swanlandia, it runs eco-workshops and a nature club for children. “When we left Ponant, we found that what we loved most about our jobs was sharing what we know with others,” says Van Jones. David-Jaya Piot, 25, co-founder of Kulen Elephant Forest, Cambodia Under the fierce Cambodian sun, an elephant seeks respite from the heat by wading into a pond, rolling in mud and splashing water on herself with her trunk. She lets out soft bellows of joy while her friends graze on sugar cane and grass nearby. After years of giving rides to tourists around the Angkor Archaeological Park, in Siem Reap , this is how she will live out the rest of her days. We are still not out of the woods. We won’t be OK until tourism numbers are back to pre-Covid levels David-Jaya Piot, co-founder of Kulen Elephant Forest Kulen Elephant Forest (KEF) consists of 1,100 acres of lush nature reserve in Prasat Bakong, about 40km (25 miles) from Siem Reap city centre. Here, rescued elephants go for long walks, feed and play. Each has a dedicated mahout , Hindi for elephant keeper. Their only responsibility is to behave around human visitors. David-Jaya Piot was born and raised in Siem Reap, where his architect parents built the Angkor Village Hotel in 1994. The family’s hospitality business grew to include a second hotel, a restaurant, a dance theatre and an elephant-ride centre. Piot had completed a degree in economics and finance and was intending, in 2017, to move to London for graduate studies after a sabbatical year in Siem Reap. But he stayed and was tasked with setting up a sanctuary for the elephants. Being a sustainable tourist earns special rewards in this island country Although his family had always treated the animals in their care well, Piot says, elephant riding had become unpopular worldwide because of the mistreatment associated with the practice. Piot’s father had opened a sanctuary in 2003, but demand was too low for it to be sustainable, and the elephants were put back to work. This time round, though, the idea was better received, and, by December 2019, KEF was in business. Piot had to take a crash course in how to manage an elephant sanctuary. He received advice from other centres in Southeast Asia and “Dr Taweepoke Angkawanish, of the National Elephant Institute in Lampang, Thailand, also taught me how to care for elephants, and how to improve their well-being,” says Piot. “I didn’t really know or feel much for elephants when I started but, three years on, I have grown to appreciate how intelligent and sensitive they are.” KEF opened to a warm reception but three months later, countries began introducing travel bans and closing their borders to travellers. For most of 2020 and 2021, KEF saw only a trickle of domestic visitors. To maintain the sanctuary and to feed its 11 elephants – each requires about US$1,000 worth of food a month – Piot dug deep into money his late mother had left him. And with his father now in France, Piot has had to oversee the other businesses his parents owned, even though the hotels and restaurants will remain closed until November at least; in the absence of Chinese tourists, there is little point reopening until the high season for Westerners begins. The last two years have been tough, but Cambodia reopened to fully vaccinated tourists last month , and KEF has been seeing a rising number of visitors. “We are still not out of the woods,” cautions Piot. “We won’t be OK until tourism numbers are back to pre-Covid levels.” He explains why he didn’t abandon Siem Reap during the pandemic. “It didn’t make economic sense to keep the businesses during the crisis. The people who kept their businesses here did it because of their love for tourism, their attachment to the destination and the people.”