Story by Gideon Lasco

Though far more famous for its beaches and dive spots, the Philippines is a mountainous country. Climbs range from easy day hikes to long and technically challenging multi-day treks, and an emerging outdoor community is busily opening up new, more exciting – and longer – trails. In some places it is even still possible to join a local hiking group on a first ascent. Security concerns, which discouraged some visitors in the past, have been eliminated in many parts of the country and it can be said that hiking in the Philippines has come of age.

As a tropical country blessed with some of the greatest biodiversity in the world, the flora and fauna of the Philippines’ jungles and deep forests can be stunning. Though the pressure of a rapidly growing population has led to the loss of much of the original forest cover, those that trek in far enough are amply rewarded. On a single mountain, it is not unusual to go from tropical jungle on the lower slopes, through pine forests and then on to a moss-hung montane forest of rhododendrons and other shrubs.

The Philippines also forms part of the Ring of Fire, the series of tectonic plate boundaries that encircle the Pacific, meaning earthquakes and volcanic eruptions are an ever-present possibility. This element of uncertainty adds an additional mystique to Philippine mountains and several of the most impressive volcanoes are popular with visitors, domestic and foreign. Mt Pinatubo – source of the most powerful eruption of the 20th century – is now filled with a peaceful crater lake that makes an easy day trip from Manila. Scenic Taal Volcano, a few hours south of the capital, has an island within a lake within an island within a lake.

Further south is Mayon, whose perfect cone is a tropical rival to that of Mt Fuji, while more challenging hikes include those on Mt Kanlaon in Negros and Mt Apo, the country’s highest peak, in Mindanao. There are dozens of volcanoes in all, in varying states of dormancy, but with the threat they pose comes a treat too in the shape of hot springs that serve as the ultimate reward after a hot, arduous summit trek.

As the country is an archipelago of 7,107 islands, the Philippines’ peaks naturally offer stunning sea views and combination land-and-sea adventures are also possible. Mt Di’nem in the far north of Luzon requires a 50-metre swim in open ocean before the trek can begin. Mt Guiting-Guiting (or G2 for short), a 2000-metre mountain on the small island of Sibuyan, surges dramatically from the sea, its rocky knife-edges a worthy challenge that local hikers consider their ‘initiation’ to the world of serious hiking. Virtually every mountain is within 150 kilometres of a coast and many mountain hikes end in a beach, often one far beyond the usual tourist haunts. Though seldom truly technical, hiking in this tropical setting presents its own set of challenges: scrambling over, or balancing along, fallen trees; squelching through mud and crossing or trekking up streams (this is rainforest after all); braving thorny vines and leeches (limatik in Tagalog).

All those islands have also ensured diversity in the cultures you will meet. Up in the Cordilleras range in Northern Luzon are the heirs of many mountain tribes, some of whose ancestors carved the teetering rice terraces such as those at Ifugao, a World Heritage Site often hailed here as the ‘Eighth Wonder of the World’. Some treks such as those to Mt Napulauan and Amuyao even make use of these ‘stairways to the heaven’ en route. In the south, mountains such as Dulang-Dulang lie within ancestral domains whose chieftains still demand a sacrifice of chickens and a ritual dance the night before each trek. What these tribes have in common is a simple hospitality that treats each hiker as a guest. Maps are hard to find but there is always someone willing to guide you up the mountain. Even if you know the way, hiring a guide can add immeasurably to the experience. Get them to tell stories about the mountains, or where the owls hide at night, or about the first hikers who came to visit. Then your trek can become a truly representative mix of nature, culture and adventure.

MT PULAG

At 2,922 metres, Pulag is Luzon’s highest peak and the third-highest in the country. Unsurprisingly then, it has a special significance for the mountain peoples of the surrounding Cordilleras, as well as being one of the most popular hiking destinations anywhere in the Philippines.

Covered in dwarf bamboo that makes it similar in appearance to some of Taiwan’s peaks and unique among Philippine mountains, its slopes appear golden-brown when viewed from afar. Standing on top of Pulag, morning clouds often fill the surrounding valleys, leaving only other high peaks visible, like islands in a ‘sea of clouds’.

Getting there entails passing along rough roads carved from the Cordilleras, through areas inhabited by communities of the Kalanguya and Kankaney tribes. The easy Ambangeg Trail, which takes only four hours to reach the summit, is a popular weekend activity for those coming from Manila. It involves walking through pine and montane forests before camping at the beginning of the dwarf bamboo slopes, then summiting early the next day in time for sunrise.

Longer alternate routes offer steeper ascents (Akiki Trail) or immerse you further in mossy forest, (Tawangan Trail). Still other trails connect Mt Pulag with neighbouring Cordillera peaks, offering the chance of deeper interaction with local inhabitants still living a highland way of life beyond the roadheads in their tiny, remote villages.

MT AMUYAO

The Ifugao people, who see Amuyao as the highest mountain in their world, have their own version of the biblical story of a great flood. In this case the lone survivors were Bugan and Wigan, a couple who build a boat to weather the deluge until they landed on Amuyao and subsequently became the parents of all humanity.

Today, this mountain continues to be an important landmark in Mountain Province, at the heart of the Cordilleras. Though lower than Mt Pulag by a couple of hundred metres at 2,702 metres tall, it is more prominent, being located on the eastern flank of the range.

Simply hiking up to Mt Amuyao’s summit from Barlig in Mountain Province is relatively easy and can be done as a long day hike (8-10 hours return) from the quaint mountain town of Sagada, about 50 kilometres away. This route follows a well-maintained trail, also used to maintain the communication towers up at the summit. Serious hikers, however, prefer the traverse from the summit to Ifugao Province which passes by Cambulo and Pat-yay, two idyllic farming villages that have seen little change throughout the centuries it seems, their wooden houses topped with thatched roofs and surrounded by terraced fields. The hike culminates at the Batad Rice Terraces, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and an enduring agricultural marvel, as you descend these ‘stairways to heaven’ to reach journey’s end.

MT GUITING-GUITING

Dominating the tiny island of Sibuyan, Mt Guiting-Guiting (2,058 metres) surges from the sea with intimidating presence, and its forbidding sawtooth peaks have long been considered off-limits to human beings by the islanders. It was not until 1982 that local hikers braved the rocky upper reaches to reach the summit for the first time. They promptly dubbed it ‘G2’ – an evocation of the allure and difficulty of K2.

The overnight ferry ride required to reach Sibuyan Island from Manila contributes to the allure perhaps, but it is the crossing of the ‘knife-edge’ that is the real highlight. This approach to the summit is traditionally done on the second day, after spending the first day ascending through forests to reach Mayo’s Peak which marks the beginning of the ridge.

Though non-technical and just a few kilometres long, scrambling along this thin ridge can take the entire day (8-10 hours return) and requires a great deal of concentration, as well as the cooperation of the weather. Just a little rain can force the guides to call things off as the rocks turn slippery making this one of the few truly seasonal hikes in the Philippines: it is best to try it in the drier months of February to early May. Even then the wind often picks up in the afternoon bringing clouds in too and adding a time pressure: guides usually set 1:00pm as the cut-off time for a summit assault.

Those seeking an even greater challenge can take on the relatively new option of a G2 Traverse which approaches the summit from the south, involving more rock scrambling and the need to take your full pack across the knife edges. It’s not for the inexperienced.

Though G2’s main draw is its challenging trail, its natural beauty is equally compelling, protected by that same inaccessibility. Local environmental officials say its rainforests are some of the world’s densest, at 1,550 trees per hectare, and its biodiversity is equally stunning, with over 700 species of plants and 130 birds.

MT MAYON

The most active volcano in the Philippines, Mayon is also its most beautiful. Towering gracefully above the Bicol peninsula – its conical shape exhibiting near-perfect symmetry – it has been described as the tropical version of Japan’s Mt Fuji. Thousands visit Bicol each year to catch a glimpse of its grandeur, but for hikers it is far more than a passive spectacle, for scrambling to its top offers a real challenge.

More than 500 kilometres from Manila, Mayon is generally accessed from nearby Legazpi City which is a one-hour flight, or 12-hour bus ride, from the capital. Once there, it is best to consult the tourism office about the trail with the best conditions at the time. Two main routes and several variants are used to reach the summit, while another trail leads to a volcanic feature called the Knife Edge.

Though initially passing though grassland and woodland, hiking to the summit crater mainly requires scrambling up dried-up magma canals and volcanic rocks – to gain almost 2,000 metres of altitude. It’s steep going and helmets are recommended in some parts as there is no knowing when loose rocks above will tumble down. Caution is needed when it’s raining too: the magma canals become rivulets, making the rock treacherous.

The views from the trail, and especially at the top, are fantastic though. As a free-standing volcano, there is nothing to interrupt your panorama of surrounding towns and islands. Little wonder that in the local language, the volcano’s name means ‘beautiful’.

MT BULUSAN

Re-opened after a series of eruptions in 2009-2010, Bulusan Volcano, a hundred kilometres south of majestic Mayon, is a far less regarded gem of the Bicol region. Being 600 kilometres southeast of Manila, the volcano is again most easily accessed by a flight or bus to Legazpi City.

Under forward-thinking management that understands that needs of adventurers and suggests the beginnings of a better way to maintain the country’s trails, Mt Bulusan offers a hiking environment rich in diversity. From the Visitors’ Center, you kayak across the 3,672-hectare Bulusan Lake, surrounded by tropical rainforest that is home to a number of rare birds and mammals. The trail begins at the other side (beware of the leeches!) and leads to a dormant crater that in the wet season from June to October holds seasonal Lake Aguingay. The flat crater floor of volcanic sand serves as the preferred camping spot before going for the summit the following day.

At the rocky summit (1,565 metres), two hours from the campsite, one of Bulusan’s craters is revealed, occasionally still spewing steam – a reminder that you are standing atop an active volcano. The coastline and attendant islands are revealed, along with the faint image of beautiful Mayon at a distance to the northwest.

MT KANLAON

The highest mountain in the Visayas – the belt of islands running through the Central Philippines – and the country’s largest volcano, Kanlaon stands at around 2,435 metres. The hiking trails here take you from forests of majestic, centuries-old almaciga (Agathis philippinensis) trees to a magnificent summit from which you can gaze down into the void – the crater held by some tribes to be the very ‘depths of the universe’. The rocks on this rim are so precarious that hikers are advised to avoid the very edge of it.

There are two official trails up the mountain. The easier, the Guintubdan Trail, takes two days return; the harder, a traverse from the hot spring village of Mambucal to Guintubdan, takes two or three. Expect lagoons, sulphuric vents, caves, rivers and waterfalls along the way before you finally reach a caldera called Margaha, as flat and several times as big as a football field, and flanked by two peaks. It is here where you typically camp before going for the summit.

Kanlaon is the centrepiece of one of the most well-maintained national parks in the Philippines, with access restricted to nine hikers at a time and PHIVOLCS monitoring stations in place to record the mountain’s regular rumblings. Still, eruptions can occur with little warning. In 1996, three people who happened to be at the summit were killed while others ran for their lives as hot, volcanic rocks and ash spewed from the crater.

MT DULANG-DULANG & MT KITANGLAD

The lofty Kitanglad Range is home to some of the country’s highest peaks, some of its most prominent endangered species, and to the Talaandig tribe. Accessible from Cagayan de Oro, this confluence of rugged geography, rich ecology and tribal culture make this range one of the most sought-after hiking destinations in Mindanao. Particularly popular is the Dulang-Dulang – Kitanglad Traverse (fondly called ‘D2K’), a three-day trek which takes you over the second- and fourth-highest peaks in the country, from Sitio Bulogan to Impasug-ong town or vice versa.

As the ancestral domain of the Talaandig, the Kitanglad peaks are considered sacred. Thus a sacrifice of chickens (one to three, depending on the number of hikers) is traditionally required by the local datu (chieftain) before hikers are allowed to begin the climb. This ritual is performed on the eve of the hike, and is accompanied by dancing and chanting, though today, a cash gift is often given in place of the chickens.

As you ascend Mt Dulang-Dulang (7-9 hours up), the trees become stunted and the forest becomes hung with moss until everything is cloaked: from the forest floor up to the highest branches. Squirrels and other mammals as well as endemic birds inhabit this beautiful forest, which is also among the last remaining habitats of the haribon, the critically-endangered Philippine eagle, a national symbol and one of the largest raptors in the world.

A narrow, forested ridge connects the summit of Dulang-Dulang (2,938 metres) to that of Kitanglad (2,899 metres) – and this 6-hour section is the most difficult part of the trek. From Kitanglad’s peak – the site of several communications towers – many more of Northern Mindanao’s high mountains can be seen, extending many kilometres into the wild interior of the island. Most are similarly shrouded in forest and many await exploration.

MT APO

Rising to 2,956 metres, Mt Apo is a rite of passage for local hikers and provides an experience that lives up to their expectations of the country’s highest peak with a range of environments from boulder faces to majestic, lichen-bearded trees; from raging rivers to belching, sulphuric vents.

Accessible from Davao City, the largest city in the Southern Philippines, it can be tackled from various directions, with some routes taking over a week. The two most popular trails are the Kapatagan and the Kidapawan though, which are usually combined into a two- or three-day hike.

The Kapatagan (8-12 hours up) features the mystical tinikaran trees, endemic to the mountain, which look like giant bonsai, and before reaching the summit, involves a few hours of scrambling up the iconic Boulder Face, the raw, rocky upper slopes of the mountain punctured by steamy vents edged yellow with sulphur.

The Kidapawan Trail (7-11 hours up) involves several river crossings. Wooden bridges span the stream in places but in others the crossing is no more than a few strategically situated rocks. Beyond it, the forest is so steep that fixed ropes are in place to assist hikers, and past the forest, a swampland leads to serene Lake Venado, possibly the highest lake in the country.

The summit campsite, 3-4 hours away from either Lake Venado or the start of the boulders, is beautiful, carpeted with endemic grass and shielded from wind by Apo’s peaks. Most then rise next morning to witness the majestic sunrise from the very highest point, pointing out distant peaks and other landmarks as the sun unveils the southern coast of Mindanao. AA

Pushing beyond

There are plenty more peaks to take on beyond those covered here.

On Luzon, Pinatubo and Taal are both straightforward and bear impressive testament to the power of volcanoes to shape the landscape. Major draws, they are best avoided at peak holiday times. Less touristy are the day hikes on Batulao and Maculot in Batangas province, and Pico de Loro in Cavite province, each taking 4-5 hours return.

Many Visayan islands are mountainous too: traditional holiday centres such as Cebu and even Boracay can be getaways to a different sort of adventure, one that is typically overlooked by beach-focused visitors.

Further afield, in the Cordilleras of northern Luzon, or the interior of Mindanao, are entire ranges of mountains that see few climbers. Here local knowledge is key, but once a guide is procured, multi-day traverses deep into the boonies are possible.

Or why not branch out from hiking? In mountain centres such as Baguio and Sagada, rafting and biking are increasingly popular, while a less conventional way to see Mt Apo is the annual Boulder Face Challenge, a gruelling, overnight adventure race.

Practicalities

When to go

Most Philippine peaks can be climbed year round, but the best time is the drier period from December to early May. The typhoon season from June to November brings lots of rain and the possibility of a hike-cancelling storm. This being the tropics though, you should be prepared for rain at any time of the year. Mornings are usually clearer so time your summit push accordingly to get clear views. If you’re hiking a volcano, check the website of the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS), www.phivolcs.dost.gov.ph, for status updates.

What to bring

Always have a poncho or raincoat. Light, long-sleeved shirts and pants protect from thorns and noxious plants in forests. On exposed slopes, you’ll need a hat and sun cream against the intense sun. Nighttime temperatures can drop close to zero on the highest peaks, requiring a jacket and a sleeping bag if overnighting. On multi-day hikes, you’ll need a tent, though in the Cordilleras, you may be able to spend the night in villages along the trail.

Contacts and resources

For practical information, www.pinoymountaineer.com has a database of over 100 hiking destinations in the country.

Outdoor stores: R.O.X. is the most famous chain of outdoor shops, with branches in Metro Manila, Cebu, Baguio and Pampanga. Most big cities have outdoor shops, many of which offer tent rentals. Butane canisters are the most commonly available fuel.

Groups and tours: There is a growing number of hiking and outdoor clubs, some of which are online. Filipino hikers are very sociable – most will be happy to have you join them or at least provide you with assistance. More formally, Trail Adventours (http://trailadventours.com) offers hikes every weekend as well as arranging customised trips.

Safety: The degree of management and maintenance of the trails is highly variable, but there is usually a local authority that keeps track of hikers. Don’t forget to register with them: they often have a mobile number you can reach in case of an emergency. Getting a guide can help with security as well as with navigation.

Story by Steven Ballantyne FRGS

Setting out on an epic expedition is always a good idea at the time. Fired by the thought of adventures ahead, of breathtaking views and pleasurable nights huddled around the campfire with your fellow explorers, excitement runs high and the sense of purpose is clear. But the reality can be far more humdrum and completing the mission in the face of physical and mental exhaustion can come to seem impossible.

Picture for instance Ed Stafford, European Adventurer of the Year in 2011, who set out on a one-year expedition to walk the length of the River Amazon. Losing his original companion after three months, he persevered and finally completed the trek, 860 days after starting out! What kept Stafford focused, what helped him place one foot in front of another for such a long span of time? However hardened explorers are to expedition life, I know very few who do not ask themselves at some stage: ‘Why am I doing this’?

I think Andrew Skurka captured the very essence of the answer when describing his own 7,500-kilometre Alaska-Yukon Expedition (AYE) which circumnavigated some of Alaska’s most rugged wilderness:

“My primary goal in attempting the AYE is unabashedly personal: I want an exceptionally unique, rewarding, and challenging experience . . . it makes me feel alive, like I am capitalising on the 70- or 80-year-long opportunity I have to experience the world.”

On my own expeditions through the jungles of Papua New Guinea, I have found myself shouting out loud, ‘Why’ . . . ‘Why am I doing this’ or ‘What am I doing this for?’ The words are swallowed up by the unforgiving vegetation, but the very act of shouting is a break from long, hard days with seemingly little to break the continuous jungle curtain. It’s my way of dealing with ‘hitting a wall’, of breaking out of days lost to ‘heads down’ as you pick your way across unknown ground.

Having done it, I often feel a sense of relief to have broken the monotony and I regain the excitement to continue. The sound recalibrates my mood, reawakens my senses to the sounds and sights of jungle life around me.

Work out your own trick to play on yourself but as a guide there are three rules of thumb:

Focus on the small picture – Break your expedition down into daily achievements. At times of extreme hardship, break these down further, such as viewing each false peak on a climb as an advancement and only concentrating on the top when physically near.

Go slow to go far – professional exploring is not a race. Take your time, take stock of your surroundings and immerse yourself in every aspect of your day. In the long run this may help you complete the possibly harder days ahead.

Beyond positive thinking – I am always amazed at people’s ability to overcome hardships in order to be the first to do something. It’s one thing to say ‘I am not going to fail’ but to truly believe in it is a different matter. Practise by starting with your normal working day, acknowledging your achievements, no matter how small. AA

Story by Richard Bull

The rescue helicopter took off from the dry lake-bed of Gorak Shep at 5,164 metres, blowing up a swirling cloud of silt as its rotors clawed for purchase in the thin air.

Inside, sat two relieved men. One, a US$65,000-paying Everest expedition client with half-a-dozen frostbitten digits, the other a Sherpa man, Tsering, who had been carrying loads for the same expedition.

Tsering had fallen some 30 metres (100 feet) into a crevasse while carrying oxygen and climbing equipment through the notoriously frightening icefall of the Western Cwm. On bending down to clip onto the fixed safety rope lying on the snow, his overly tall load toppled him forwards into the void. He landed on his back on a ledge of snow breaking a number of ribs. Helped out of the crevasse, he was carried down to base camp in a basket. He got out to walk the last three minutes to save face though – and had done the same on leaving the camp to catch this helicopter ride out, walking in great pain until the last tents were out of view.

The Sherpa had waited several days to hitch a ride in a helicopter with the westerner. It was interesting to watch him sitting snoozing in a corner of the warm room in the lodge. As his breath puffed his cheeks in and out, the left side of his chest remained still, a sort of respiratory limp. Although pain would come with every chest movement, he never complained or let it show on his face and the expedition doctor from New Zealand watching over him was in total admiration of his stoicism.

Stories of the forbearance and abilities of the estimated 600 people who work as ‘climbing sherpas’ on Everest each spring season are legion. In today’s more politically correct age, many visiting climbers are quick to recognise the difficult and dangerous work these people do. Indeed for many, their brush with this storied people incites a certain pride.

It is important to distinguish what the label ‘sherpa’ actually means though. It is frequently misused to embrace all Nepalese natives on an expedition, including porters, those seemingly indefatigable load carriers, most of whom today hail from the hills of Nepal and are not in fact of the people properly called Sherpa. This implied meaning has travelled far, used for everything from a now-defunct brand of truck in Europe to describe a personal representative of a head of state tasked with preparing for an international summit. The implication is the same: a sherpa is someone or something that does the heavy lifting for you.

This confusion is rarely dispelled when trekking in Nepal. Frequently the person who helps put up tents, serves meals and walks with clients is called a ‘sherpa’, irrespective of their actual ethnic background. On a more technical expedition there is also the ‘climbing sherpa’, generally a local person who specialises in working at high altitude. Almost all climbing sherpas are ethnic Sherpa, but few of the porters: none of this proud people wants to be thought of as simply a porter.

The Sherpas are a distinct ethnic group number just over 112,000 in Nepal, according to the 2011 census. The name itself is a mispronunciation of Shar-wa meaning ‘people of the east’ as they originate from the Kham region of East Tibet some 2,000km distant. Researchers generally agree that they began to arrive in their present homeland of the Khumbu, the area around Mt Everest in Eastern Nepal, in small numbers beginning at least four centuries ago. The name ‘Khumbu’ comes from ‘Shyar Khamba’ meaning Eastern Kham people.

These days almost all Sherpa people take Sherpa as a surname which can be confusing to outsiders. But it wasn’t always so. Traditionally there are four main clans with the Sherpa community – Thimi, Thakthowa, Chawa, and Lama – known collectively as ru, meaning ‘bones’ – it is your father’s bones that determines your clan. There are a number of sub-clans who also have different names and where marriage is concerned, you must marry into another clan.

Since the 1850s, many young Sherpa men from Khumbu have left to find seasonal work in Darjeeling, over the border in India. In their culture, the family’s wealth was handed down to the  youngest son which meant the others had to choose between renting their labour locally for a pittance or going out to find their own fortune. By 1901 there were 3,450 Sherpas living there permanently, often working in construction or as ‘coolies’ – high-altitude porters for early mountaineering expeditions.

There they were keen to distinguish themselves from others competing for mountaineering work, and would address themselves as Sherpa to establish their credentials as capable mountaineers. When Nepalese officials were registering all citizens in the 60s, they apparently didn’t ask anyone’s clan name but simply recorded anybody wearing a Sherpa dress as ‘Sherpa’, making it a legally binding fact.

Anthropologist Sherry Ortner researched the history of Sherpas as mountaineers in her book Life and Death on Mt Everest and quotes widely from the expedition reports of the time. She says that the Sherpas’ reputation as outstanding high-altitude workers was founded in the first two decades of the 1900s, and they subsequently became a part of the 1921 Everest reconnaissance expedition in Tibet.

“Of the different types of coolie, the writer has found the Nepalese Sherpas superior to all others,” wrote one. “[O]ur success is only due to the willingness and brave qualities of these people,” reported another.

Their reputation travelled among the explorers of their time. Partially because their clothing was already suited to cold conditions, they managed easily at altitude, and as Buddhists there was “no difficulty about special food for them.”

While those were important factors, their character was also lauded. “Strong, good natured if treated fairly,” and, “excellent men when treated properly,” were typical of the sort of comments made, quotes that perhaps give as much insight into the attitudes of the day among the European elite leading the expeditions as they do into the character of the Sherpas.

Nevertheless, in the years since, Sherpas have become widely renowned for their warmth, generosity, good humour, sincerity, trustworthiness and admirable work ethic. Much of this is rooted in the Sherpa’s Buddhist culture that values respect and compassion for others. Generosity without reward for the self is highly valued.

Mountain guide Phuri Sherpa explains his people’s relationship with the mountains: “There is Khumbi Yuh La [the peak above Namche Bazaar], protector of the whole Khumbu region, and Chogolu near Island Peak. Before [villagers in Dingboche] grew potatoes they used to do a puja, a ceremony, to this mountain. For one or two months they could not make any fires or smoke, to respect this god, so that this mountain doesn’t get angry.”

It is not as fatalistic as it might sound. These are gods that help those who help themselves. They will not protect you directly, but help you to help yourself to stay out of harm’s way. The puja, as well as offering respects to the gods, is also a way of keeping perspective and keeping humble.

Before any expedition begins in the Khumbu, a puja is conducted at base camp at a small stone stupa, with prayer flags and the burning of fragrant juniper branches. Until the 1970s, Sherpas used to conduct this privately in their tents. Ortner documents the rise of the base camp ceremony (particularly at Everest) involving foreigners as a way to make them more aware of Sherpas’ spiritual beliefs, emphasising the fact that they would all be walking up the god/mountain on crampon-shod feet, and to have some moral influence over any wild behavior or overly risky climbing ambitions.

Indeed, though the name Everest has been imposed by outsiders, the mountain has always been referred to locally as Chomolungma, meaning ‘Holy Mother’. Given that the Sherpas are helping those who could be seen to be disrespecting the mountain, it is important to them to be scrupulous about keeping the expedition spiritually clean. Burning trash (bad smells offend the gods) and killing animals are frowned upon at base camp, as are fighting or insulting others. The latter generates thip, a concept of pollution – fights are upsetting and disgusting, even to watch.

In 2011 expedition legend Pertemba Sherpa was reportedly outraged when a bunch of soldiers belonging to the UK organisation Walking with the Wounded, a charity that helps wounded war veterans, marched through base camp naked except for harnesses and high altitude boots. With the typical stay at Everest Base Camp being around six weeks, stories of ‘unclean’ couplings among climbers are also unsurprisingly numerous, and further upset the balance of spiritual ‘cleanliness’ in the eyes of the Sherpas.

Sadly, not all foreigners are sensitive to the ill-feeling this creates. It is perhaps perfectly understandable to be superstitious when you work carries a risk to life, or indeed to be upset when people come to your part of the world and ask for your help to pursue their own ends, then are disrespectful of your values.

Great changes have happened in the Khumbu since Nepal opened up to tourism in 1950, largely as a by-product of mountaineering. Tenzing Norgay Sherpa and the New Zealand beekeeper Edmund Hillary played a big role in this after the pair were the first people to reach the top of Everest. Ang Rita of the Himalayan Trust, a charitable organisation that supports the Khumbu, explains, “After the successful Everest expedition in 1953, the Khumbu and the Sherpas received much more exposure to the world outside.” And so did the fabled yeti. In 1960, Hillary returned with a group hoping to solve the mystery of the yeti. The monastery in the village of Khumjung had a scalp apparently belonging to a yeti and Hillary wanted to have it examined by scientists in New Zealand. The villagers, fearing its loss, wanted some collateral, and were asked what they wanted.

Ang Rita explains, “A man said, ‘we need a school!’ He was a climber, so had gone to Darjeeling many times and encountered many difficulties without being able to read and write, so he said a school.” The following year the school was built and petitions flooded in from all the surrounding villages for the same. Eventually 27 schools were built, and a hospital, which dramatically improved the health of the population.

Ang Rita Sherpa was one of the first students to attend the new school in Khumjung, a village in the heart of the Khumbu, and appears barefoot in a 1961 school photograph. “Look, we had no shoes and we were fine then,” he says. “In 1953, life in the Khumbu was very different to what you see now. There was no school or health facility and life was very hard. There were no tourists, and the Sherpa people had to live a very primitive traditional lifestyle: growing potatoes, going to Tibet, trading sheep wool, and weaving clothing to exchange for food with people from lower down the valley. In those days there was no money, it was the barter system. When I was young I hardly saw money, certainly not paper money.”

Back then, expedition supplies had to be carried almost all the way from Kathmandu to Khumbu, taking 18-19 days. So in 1964 Hillary had a small airport built at Lukla, the gateway to the Everest Region, cutting the journey time down to 40 minutes. He had little idea it would ignite a new industry in the Khumbu that would bring prosperity and opportunity to many. In 2011, more than 36,000 people arrived to trek in the Khumbu, an area with a population of just over 7,000

While trekking tourism has grown hugely, bringing opportunities for many Nepalese whether from the mountains themselves or not, it is mountaineering that has remained the key opportunity for Sherpas. Since the early expeditions, the cooperation between them and foreign climbers has been a much discussed abutting of two very different cultures.

Tashi Sherpa, a cook on Everest expeditions, finds the question of why mountaineers climb perplexing, “Some people really like to go to the top of the world; they come many times, not one time, not two times, they want to reach the summit many times. Sometimes I think they are crazy . . . I don’t know, it’s very difficult to understand.”

The creaking shelves of Kathmandu’s famous bookstore Pilgrims are testament to how many thousands of words have been written in the past about why foreigners climb mountains, whether for their ‘geometric beauty and the promise of adventure,’ or most famously, in the quote attributed to George Mallory, ‘because it’s there.’

For Sherpas it’s generally much more pragmatic. When the current record holder for Everest summits, Apa Sherpa, was asked by mountaineering historian Elizabeth Hawley why he climbed, he said, “I do it to get money to educate my children.”

The gap in values has proven problematic for some, given the strength and ability of the Sherpas. The journal keeper of the 1963 American Everest expedition joked of a hypothetical telegram he would have to send, “THIRTEEN SHERPA REACH SUMMIT OF EVEREST; AMERICANS GREET THEM ON DESCENT WITH CHEERS AND HOT TEA.” It illustrates the question, who was really climbing the mountain, the Sherpas or the foreigners? In more recent times, this has been highlighted by Sherpas breaking speed records on Everest, by finally being credited for their lead roles in rescues, and by the ‘Ice Doctors’, those who fix the ropes through the dangerous icefall, without whom, according to mountaineer Alan Arnette, “climbers would not stand a chance of summitting each year.”

While at times still being thought of as porters, climbing Sherpas are now at times simultaneously thought of as superhuman. Mountaineering journalist Billi Bierling says, “Clients look at the [climbing] Sherpas as if they do not have any human needs. I often hear from people who are coming back from an expedition, ‘but I thought my Sherpa would…’ Well, maybe they forget their Sherpa was also tired and cold – and maybe I guess I had a similar perception of the Sherpas before I climbed Everest, but there I saw tired Sherpas, cold Sherpas, Sherpas who did not want to carry on, who were sitting in one spot for a long time being crushed by their heavy loads. I think the guided climbers should start looking at the Sherpas as human beings, who work hard for their money.”

Climbing Everest as a guide is “double difficult,” says Mingma Sherpa, the first South Asian to climb all 14 8,000-metre peaks. “First we save our own life and then we save our client’s life. We save double lives, and it’s double risk. We always fix tents and ropes, food, everything and we are guiding too. The Sherpa’s risk is three times as high as the clients’. We go through the icefall many more times.”

“The icefall is dangerous,” says Billi Bierling. “Walking through it is like Russian roulette. In recent years there have been a few accidents in the icefall and all of them involved Sherpas.”

“Death is an expensive business in Sherpa culture,” says Phuri Sherpa, alluding to Sherpa funeral rites. A long-time visitor to the Khumbu, guidebook author Jamie McGuinness observes, “The strength of the Sherpa culture is the community, both in the villages and now in Kathmandu. At a death or wedding the whole community is there – the people of that village and surrounding villages.”

A funeral for a respected member of the community might last up to a week with up to 700 people in attendance. “We have to provide gifts of salt and butter for each person, then feeding rice and an endless flow of chang, our rice beer,” says Phuri.

When told about the current insurance pay-out for climbing sherpas, Ang Rita Sherpa scoffed: “That would hardly cover the funeral costs!” Looking later at his old school photo, he points out several of his classmates who were lost on climbing expeditions.

Ang Phurba Sherpa, who now runs the flagship store of the Sherpa Adventure Gear brand in Kathmandu, believes that with better training and more sophisticated equipment than in the 70s and 80s, climbing is now less risky. He lost his father in a climbing accident when there were “no funds or system for that.” He says that some of the younger generation are not following their predecessors into climbing footsteps, they are “finding a better, easier way. Many go abroad for studying, very few come back.”

Most don’t have that option though. Tsering, with mended ribs, will likely be back this season to continue to earn, what is for Nepal, a good living doing dangerous work.

Then there are some, like Mingma Sherpa, who are trying to change the game, to change attitudes to Sherpas and run big expeditions just like foreign companies. He explains his reasons for climbing all 14 eight-thousanders, becoming the 24th person as well as the youngest in the world to do so, and perhaps the first without sponsorship. “Before, people thought we are not real climbers, but regarded the Sherpas as porters. They have climbed Everest 21 times [Apa Sherpa’s summits record], but they are still like workers, not climbers . . . If I, as a Sherpa, can climb these 14 peaks, then people will know that we are also climbers.” AA

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