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Climbing Everest just got harder – and not because of the altitude

Nepal’s new rules could mark the end of Everest tourism as we know it.

Reaching the top of the world has never been easy – but now, it’s about to get a whole lot harder. Nepal has proposed a raft of new rules that could drastically change who gets to climb Mount Everest, closing the door on inexperienced adventurers and tightening safety across the board.

The long-awaited bill, introduced to parliament in late April, is being framed as a response to years of criticism over Everest’s growing commercialisation and the dangerous overcrowding that’s plagued the mountain’s short climbing season. It aims to raise the bar for access to the world’s highest peak – both literally and figuratively. From who gets a permit to what happens to their bodies if they die on the mountain.

Why now?

People queuing to reach Mount Everest Summit/Top of the World / Highest Mountain in the Himalayas Nepal
Queues near the summit are a big concern. (Image: Getty Images/Suraj Pokhrel)

In recent years, Everest has seen traffic jams near the summit, shocking images of queues stretching across the Hillary Step, and a troubling rise in deaths. Environmental degradation and a lack of oversight have also led to calls for reform from mountaineers, environmentalists and local Sherpa communities.

This new bill aims to restore discipline, dignity and safety to the climb. And that means saying goodbye to a system where, until now, almost anyone could attempt Everest with the right amount of money and a signed waiver – even if they had no high-altitude experience. But under the proposed rules, that will no longer be enough.

What the new rules say

Mount Ama Dablam. Mountain landscape in Himalayas. Nepal.
Aspiring climbers will need to successfully summit at least one 7000-metre peak in Nepal before applying. (Image: Eugene Ga)

The biggest proposed change? Aspiring Everest climbers will need to prove they’ve successfully summited at least one 7000-metre peak in Nepal before even applying. This eliminates the possibility of Everest being a first-time high-altitude climb – a trend that’s become more common with the rise of guided commercial expeditions.

Other rule changes zero in on safety, experience and accountability. Solo climbs will be banned entirely, and stricter guide-to-climber ratios will be introduced to improve oversight and support. Even climbers who don’t hire Sherpas will be required to engage a licensed Nepali mountain guide, underlining a new ethos: local expertise is not optional.

Every climber will need to provide a medical certificate from a government-approved institution, issued within 30 days of their expedition, confirming they are physically capable of the extreme demands of the climb.

Search-and-rescue cover will also be mandatory, and in a sobering addition, the government would introduce “dead body management insurance" – a new policy aimed at addressing one of Everest’s most tragic and taboo realities.

The deadly truth about Everest

Close-up view of Mount Everest, highest mountain of the world seen from Tibet
This new bill aims to restore discipline, dignity and safety to the climb. (Image: Getty Images/Karin Dohmen)

Every year, people die trying to summit Everest. At least 17 climbers lost their lives in the 2023 season alone, the most ever in a single year. And when someone dies in the “death zone" – the area above 8000 metres where the human body begins to shut down – their body is often left behind.

Why? Because retrieval is incredibly dangerous and expensive, costing anywhere from US$20,000 ($30,000) to US$200,000 ($300,000). Porters and Sherpas risk their own lives to carry out these missions, and families are often left without options.

The new insurance requirement would ensure that every climber’s expedition includes coverage for body retrieval for a period of at least three months. It won’t make the process easier, but it could make it more ethical and less financially devastating for families and local rescue teams.

A cleaner, more respectful mountain

The reforms also tackle another long-standing problem: Everest’s growing garbage crisis.

The mountain has become known as “the world’s highest garbage dump," and for good reason. Decades of climbing have left a trail of discarded oxygen canisters, tents, packaging and human waste strewn across its slopes – much of it frozen into the landscape above the snowline.

Under the new rules, Nepal will scrap the existing US$4000 ($6000) refundable garbage deposit and replace it with a “non-refundable waste management fee", collected at the time of permit issuance. The money will go into a new fund dedicated to climber welfare and environmental conservation.

A wake-up call for adventure tourism

Mount Everest Circuit against a blue sky in the Himalayas Nepal
The aim isn’t to stop experienced climbers. (Image: Getty Images/isoft)

This marks one of the most significant shake-ups in Everest’s modern history. The aim isn’t to stop experienced climbers – it’s to deter underprepared tourists who may underestimate the extreme risks of high-altitude mountaineering. It’s also an effort to give greater recognition and protection to the Sherpa communities and Nepali staff who make every summit possible.

Some fear the new rules could impact Nepal’s economy, which relies heavily on climbing tourism. But others argue the long-term benefits – improved safety, environmental protection and respect for the mountain – are worth the short-term shift.

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Peak fees

Meanwhile, Everest’s permit fee will rise for the first time in years, from US$11,000 ($17,000) to US$15,000 ($23,000) during peak season (March to May). Climbers must also declare in advance if they’re attempting any kind of record, which officials say will help coordinate logistics and media interest and prevent chaos at the summit.

Permits will also become non-transferable and non-refundable, and in extreme circumstances like natural disasters or war, they’ll remain valid for two years. The aim? To curb black market sales, discourage casual dropouts and ensure that permits are taken seriously.

The bottom line?

Himalayan mountain covered with snow
If you don’t meet the requirements, Nepal has other mountains to summit. (Image: Martin Jernberg)

If Everest has been on your bucket list, you’ll now need to prove you’re serious. That means training on other Himalayan peaks, choosing experienced operators and demonstrating that you understand the risks – and the responsibilities – that come with attempting the world’s tallest mountain.

For seasoned climbers, this could mark a long-overdue return to Everest’s roots as the ultimate test of endurance. For bucket-listers with more money than mountain sense, it may signal the end of the road.

All currency conversions were accurate at the time of publishing.

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Emily Murphy
Emily Murphy is International Traveller's Email & Social Editor, and in her time at the company, through various roles, she has been instrumental in crafting compelling narratives that inspire others to explore the world. Her previous job was a journalist at Prime Creative Media and before that she was freelancing in publishing, content creation and digital marketing – equipping her with a diverse skill set that enhances her storytelling and audience engagement. When she's not creating scroll-stopping travel content, Em is a devoted 'bun mum' and enjoys spending her spare time by the sea, reading, binge-watching a good TV show and exploring under-the-radar destinations. Next on her travel wish list? Mexico and an African safari.
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These community homestays are changing how travellers experience Nepal

    After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers? 

    In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.  

    Tharu dance
    Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

    Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?  

    Nepal gray langur
    Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?  

    How tourism is changing in Nepal

    Bardiya National Park
    Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.  

    Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.  

    “Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.   

    Local men in Bhada village
    Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”  

    Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.” 

    CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.  

    A new generation demanding more

    Dalla Town Hall
    Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”  

    We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”  

    Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels
    Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

    In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you… 

    bouda stupa prayer flags
    Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.  

    Boudha Stupa vendors
    Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.  

    A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi
    A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.  

    Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.  

    Life unfiltered in the Terai region

    tharu woman
    Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.  

    Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.  

    safari through Bardiya National Park
    Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.  

    Marigolds
    Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    “The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.  

    On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.  

    community homestay entrance
    A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.  

    The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.  

    In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.  

    food at community homestay
    Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.  

    The power of community homestays 

    community homestay owners in Nepal
    Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.  

    “I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?” 

    The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed. 

    Sonara community room
    An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

    Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.  

    Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.  

    CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.  

    “Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.  

    Elephant watch
    Elephant watch. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

    In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.  

    Gathering greens
    Gathering greens. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

    “We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.” 

    Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”  

    Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal