- In high-altitude Nepal, one Sherpa village has more Everest summiteers than anywhere else on Earth. Why?
The village of Phortse, in Nepal’s Khumbu Valley, is perched high on a plateau, surrounded by lush green slopes and snow-covered mountains. In a narrow lane at an elevation of 3,800 metres (12,500 feet), two unassuming young men in their early 20s are spinning yarn on their balcony.
Later, in my guest house, I ask our host, Panuru Sherpa, serving us tea, whether he has summited Sagarmatha and he replies nonchalantly that he has indeed – “13 times”.
In a nearby house live a father, son and daughter who in the spring of 2021 reached the peak of Sagarmatha together, a first, and a Guinness World Record.
“When we summited Everest together as a family, there was no plan,” says the daughter, 21-year-old Pasang Kanchi Sherpa, “but when we set the record I felt encouraged to pursue my dream of mountaineering in future.”
And there is probably no other place in the world, except perhaps Everest base camp during climbing season, with such a concentration of Sagarmatha summiteers.
Phortse has the highest number of living climbers who have summited the world’s highest peak – more than 70 – and the highest number of collective Sagarmatha ascents from a single village, according to figures from the Himalayan Database, an online archive of all mountaineering expeditions in Nepal, started and maintained by journalist Elizabeth Hawley, and currently managed by the late Hawley’s assistant, journalist-climber Billi Bierling.
A chance meeting of climbers from Phortse and celebrated American mountaineer Conrad Anker on the north side of Sagarmatha in 1999 laid the foundation for what would become a long and rewarding association, and change the face of Phortse through the Khumbu Climbing Centre (KCC).
Anker had been climbing with Lowe as they aimed to become the first Americans to ski down the 8,000-metre face at the time.
Two months after Lowe’s death, the foundation was established by Lowe’s widow, Jennifer Lowe-Anker – Anker, as in, yes, she later married her husband’s long-time climbing partner, who was also involved with the charity since its inception, and looking to fund a school in the Khumbu Valley.
When locals learned this, they were quick to request something more specific.
“We had so many climbers in Phortse but we didn’t have any technical skills, so we requested that Anker set up a climbing school instead,” says Phunuru Sherpa, the chairman of KCC and a six-time Everest summiteer.
“We didn’t hear back from Conrad or Jenny [Lowe-Anker] for almost a year. In 2002, they came to Khumbu for a long trek and visited Phortse, then went back to America to see if they had enough money to start something like this.”
They had already summited Everest or had climbed some other mountains or worked as trekking guides, so, ‘Why the need to go through all this training?’Phunuru Sherpa
Physiologically adapted to the altitude, Sherpas do have an advantage when it comes to climbing with little to no training. But a lack of technical expertise limits their ability to forge their own career paths independently and, in extreme cases, results in death or disability because of accidents.
In places such as the Khumbu Valley, where the only things that seem to thrive are yaks and potatoes, being trained and then qualified to be paid to guide foreigners up the airless cliffs is an obvious choice.
Phunuru says the aim of the first KCC training session, organised by Anker, was to close that safety gap and train locals in safety basics, but it was not easy gathering the first batch.
“We started the first training in 2004,” he recalls. They went around the Khumbu Valley, trying to convince Sherpas to attend the short course in Phortse, but the mountain dwellers had not been exposed to technical climbing skills and were not thinking of learning.
The first question Phunuru faced, he says, was how much money they would be paid if they came to the school.
“They were all climbers,” he says. “Their thought was that they already had the skills, and they had already summited Everest or had climbed some other mountains or worked as trekking guides, so, ‘Why the need to go through all this training?’”
For that first course, they managed to entice 18 recruits. Since then, more than 1,500 have graduated and the programme has become a leading vocational course in Nepal. It is free of cost, though participants cover insurance, travel to and lodging in Phortse.
“Nowadays, we’re opening the application only for three days,” says Phunuru. “Last year, we released the application forms here in Phortse and in Lukla, Namche and Kathmandu.” In 2019, the 90 available slots were snapped up within hours.
“Our friends in Kathmandu were taking the application forms and within three hours, 35 people had applied. So my friends could not join, because we didn’t have any more space.”
For the course, conducted once a year over two weeks in winter, accomplished and experienced climbers volunteer as instructors to teach KCC students the theoretical and practical basics of ice climbing, rope skills, first aid and rescue, alongside familiarisation with mountaineering and climbing equipment, and weather forecasting.
In the thick of the low-season winter, from late January to early February, the frozen waterfalls around Phortse offer prime training ground.
There are several outfits such as IMG, Mountain Madness, Adventure Consultants, Alpine Ascents and, more recently, Nepali companies such as Seven Summits and Elite Exped, who hire people from Phortse for their expeditions.
“For people who have done training at KCC, it’s easier to get jobs, because we impart all necessary and life-saving skills that are important to work in the mountains.”
Before KCC’s inception, Phortse had barely two dozen Sagarmatha summiteers and only 40 ascents in 24 years. In the spring of 2021, almost 500 KCC students were on the slopes of Sagarmatha, and more than 20 from Phortse had summited.
These young climbers are more than just guides, more than just Sherpas who are just ferrying the load. Nothing happens at once, you need a base to start and KCC provides the baseAmrit Ale
Of Phortse’s 77 Sagarmatha summiteers post-2004, 13 have scaled the mountain once while 14 have reached the top of the world 10 times or more. Panuru, who was one of the key members involved in establishing and running KCC, and later donated his land for the KCC building, has summited Sagarmatha 13 times.
His sheepish admittance of his incredible achievements is characteristic of the talent and skill Phortse hides in plain sight.
Hobnobbing with the who’s who of mountaineering was not the intent, but because of pros such as Anker and American rock climber and mountaineer Emily Harrington, Phortse climbers have been part of many National Geographic and North Face expeditions.
Dawa Yangzum Sherpa, the first North Face-sponsored athlete from Nepal and one of the first women guides from Asia to be certified by the International Federation of Mountain Guides Associations, got her start at KCC.
“Women usually do not get hired on expeditions here,” says Dawa, who is from a small village in the Rolwaling Valley, “so I joined the Nepal Mountaineering Association and got training from Khumbu Climbing Centre in 2010, and I was selected as one of the best students in my batch and Conrad Anker offered me an opportunity to climb Everest with his team.”
Since Phortse falls on a trekking route with no connecting road, construction proved challenging. All materials, solar panels and steel beams had to be either carried by porters or flown in by helicopter.
In Phortse, meanwhile, the partially finished KCC building was razed and, for the next two years, the team refocused their efforts on the rescue and rehabilitation of those affected by the quake.
Today, the KCC building is home to the world’s highest indoor climbing wall, a meticulously stocked collection of the latest climbing gear, and a range of rare mountaineering books, for some of which, Phunuru says, only a handful of copies exist.
Gathered with others inside, 61-year-old Danuru Sherpa grins, his wrinkles from a lifetime spent in the high Himalayas creasing his cheerful smile nearly up to his eyes.
He has summited Sagarmatha 12 times – thrice by the time he enrolled in the first course in 2004. He has conquered Cho Oyu – the sixth-highest mountain in the world at 8,188 metres – six times, and Makalu – the fifth-highest mountain at 8,481 metres – once.
All that was for fun; all this making money from guiding foreign climbers “started in 1974-75”, says Danuru.
“The main reason we started was money, because we had to provide for our families. We don’t have education and people don’t even have laptops or computers to have the usual desk jobs. Boys here are already living at high altitude and so it’s an easy and accessible job. Of course, climbing mountains also means a lot of risk.”
As recently as January 2021, Phortse local 27-year-old Urken Lendu Sherpa, also a three-time Sagarmatha summiteer, lost his life in a climbing accident, but his brother, 31-year-old Tenzing Gyalzen Sherpa, continues to work as a guide and KCC’s vice-chairman.
“These young climbers are more than just guides,” says Ale, “more than just Sherpas who are just ferrying the load. Nothing happens at once, you need a base to start and KCC provides the base.”
According to the Himalayan Database, the youngest Sagarmatha climber from Phortse was 16 and there are at least 22 climbers from the village who had climbed Sagarmatha before turning 20.
Since 2019, in collaboration with KCC, Dawa has been leading fully sponsored courses for Nepali women climbers, to encourage more of them to work and earn their livelihoods on the mountains.
“Now that I have summited Everest, I can climb other peaks,” says Pasang. “I also wanted to make a statement that Nepali girls can climb big mountains regardless of age or gender.”
Pasang had only climbed two 6,000-metre peaks before tackling the world’s highest, with 200 dead bodies still along the ascent. She reached the top on her first attempt, but only after a month’s training at KCC, “because Everest is a bit risky”.
The author’s reporting trip was made possible by a National Geographic Society storytelling grant.