Crumbling Khumbu

Every spring, around 1,500 climbers camp on or near the year-round ice of the Khumbu Glacier during the climbing season from May to March, turning the area into a propane-fueled, waste-laden environment. The outcome is the melting of billions of years of ancient ice each season.

Globally, glaciers are melting at unprecedented rates, but the loss of Himalayan ice is particularly alarming. This endangers essential water sources that support agriculture and livelihoods for millions across the Indian subcontinent.

Base Camp is increasingly unstable, with its foundational support shifting. A 2018 study from Leeds University indicated that a portion of the Khumbu Glacier near Base Camp is thinning by about 1 meter (3.28 feet) annually. This equates to a staggering loss of approximately 9.5 million cubic meters of water each year—enough to fill 3,778 Olympic swimming pools.

The Khumbu Icefall acts like a slow-moving river of ice, gradually descending the mountain as the glacier recedes, creating a deadly scenario. Between 1953 and 2019, the Icefall claimed 45 lives, with avalanches, collapses, and falls into crevasses as primary causes. The death toll continues to rise, underscoring the increasing danger of Everest: in 2023, 18 climbers lost their lives, marking a record high, with eight fatalities reported in 2024 already.

The Lingtren-Khumbutse tributary of the Khumbu Glacier, covered in granitic debris, is also melting at rates consistent with global trends. The highest glacier on Earth is losing decades of ice annually due to climate change, posing an ever-growing threat.

2,000 Years of Ice Vanish in 30 Years

Climate change is relentless, even at the peak of the world.

A study published in the Nature Portfolio Journal Climate and Atmospheric Research revealed that the South Col Glacier, which climbers must cross to reach Everest's summit, may have lost half its mass due to rising temperatures since the 1990s.

After analyzing the highest ice core ever retrieved, researchers found that the surface ice was approximately 2,000 years old, indicating that all ice formed in the past two millennia has melted away. The team estimated a loss of around 55 meters (180 feet) of ice, with most of this decline occurring since the 1990s.

If this rate of ice loss continues, Mayewski, one of the authors, warns that the South Col Glacier “is probably going to disappear within very few decades.”

The Process

Researchers attribute the rapid ice loss primarily to sublimation, a process where ice and snow evaporate directly into vapor without becoming water. This is prevalent in high-altitude, cold, dry climates with strong winds and ample sunlight—conditions characteristic of Everest's south face.

The situation is exacerbated on the South Col Glacier due to the near-complete loss of snow cover, which typically reflects solar radiation. Without this protective layer, the darker ice absorbs more solar energy, accelerating melting and sublimation, thereby increasing ice loss.

The Looming Threat of Glacial Lakes

Unstable ice poses significant risks, but meltwater presents its own set of dangers.

Meltwater accumulates on both the southern Khumbu Glacier and the northern Rongbuk Glacier during warmer months, draining and reappearing as seasons change. Over the last 40 years, the intensified ice melt has led to the merging of small ponds into larger lakes. Between 2009 and 2015, ponds on the lower Khumbu Glacier expanded by 84%. This exemplifies a positive feedback loop: a small pond absorbs more heat than surrounding rock, warming the water, melting more ice, and enlarging the pond.

While it is critical to avoid sensationalizing potential disasters, the emergence of a large lake at the valley's head is the last thing Everest needs. Nepal is home to 21 such 'ticking time bombs,' where a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF) could wreak havoc on downstream communities.

This has occurred before; in 1985, the Dig Tsho glacial lake breached its moraine dam, destroying a new hydropower station, 30 houses, and 14 bridges in the Khumbu Valley. I witnessed a similar event in my hometown in 2009 when the moraine of Mount Tronador burst, carrying debris to a lake more than 24 kilometers away. Thankfully, there were no nearby homes to be affected.

However, the Everest Valley is vital to Nepal's tourism industry.

A Riskier Business in a Deaf World

Ice melt is undermining a crucial part of Nepal's economy. Mount Everest, central to Nepal's tourism, supported over a million jobs and contributed $2.4 billion to the economy in 2022, accounting for 6.1% of its GDP.

Base Camp acts as the nerve center, offering a luxurious camping experience for clients who invest up to $160,000 for a chance to scale the world's highest peak. Here, they acclimatize to altitude and practice navigating the nearby icefall while enjoying three-course meals.

The proposed alternative location is around Gorak Shep, but it is less flat, has limited water supply, and is farther from the icefall, making the climb longer and more treacherous.

Climbers typically depart Base Camp around 1 a.m. to navigate the icefall while conditions are stable. If they were to start from Gorak Shep, they would face significant disadvantages. By midday, while Base Camp climbers are safely at Camp 1, those departing from Gorak Shep would still be lagging behind, battling harsh and unpredictable daytime conditions. It is evident that increasing temperatures in areas where ice usually adheres to the bedrock will weaken its grip, leading to instability and potential detachment from the substrate.

Additionally, it doesn't require a genius to recognize that what is happening at Base Camp and beyond is unsustainable, damaging, and even inhumane. The visual comparison between traffic jams in Kathmandu and at Everest's summit is striking.

Perhaps the solution lies in creating a stark contrast between the two scenarios. What once represented a remarkable human achievement and a spiritual journey has devolved into an expensive spectacle in our exploitative capitalist society, draining resources from the depths of the ocean to the heights of the mountains.

I once envisioned visiting Everest, drinking its waters, traversing its glaciers, and perhaps even climbing the Hillary Step to take in the view from the summit. The Hillary Step is now gone, a casualty of the 2015 Gorkha earthquake. Yet the obstacle has grown more significant, unpredictable, and deadly: humanity itself.

The winds up there may be deafening. Otherwise, it is perplexing how we remain unresponsive to the urgent call for action.

Be loud.

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