Nevertheless, there are plenty of people who don't take these high-altitude treks seriously, treating them like a camping trip at the local KOA. Today, the lack of any standard beyond paying for a trekking permit continues to feed this long-standing and dangerous mix of tourism in the Himalayas. Droves of weekend warriors are traipsing around the world's most difficult mountain range—trekking to elevations up to 18,000 feet—without beginning to understand hazards like avalanches and altitude sickness.
More than a decade ago, Nepal scholar Stephen Bezruchka noted this "disturbing trend" among people trekking in the Himalayas. "Less experienced hikers," he said, "are electing to take on harder treks.... In the last year or so, the number of tourists falling from trails, fatally and non-fatally, has increased dramatically."
Not much has changed in this Third World country, where the need for tourist dollars discourages heavier regulation of the trekking industry. There are few ways to reliably check on trekkers' experience, and the government does not require attendance at free safety lectures to get a trekking permit.
If it did, maybe Dr. Doug Sill wouldn't be so busy. Sill is a volunteer physician for the Himalayan Rescue Association, which staffs an aid post at Manang, the village trekkers use to acclimatize before making the 3- to 4-day push for the Thorung La. The pass bisects the incredibly popular Annapurna Circuit and is one of the most toured high-altitude passes in the world.
Last spring, Sill and his teenage son, on their way up the pass to check trail conditions, ran into a Canadian woman suffering from severe frostbite after failing to complete the arduous passage. Even before Sill told me about this woman, I had already heard her story—in fact, several versions of it. News travels up and down the circuit with near-cyberspace efficiency, and hyperbole travels even faster. One night over dinner, I had heard about this lady from a guy who made it sound like chunks of her nose were falling off from the frostbite. (Not a pretty image when you're wolfing down apple fritters.)
Sill's account, while more reliable, is only a little less gruesome.
"I saw this girl with the nose and she really did freeze a third of it," Sill said. "But it's not going to fall off.
"I told her she had to go down or she was going to refreeze it. Two days later I saw her again on the trail going up." He laughs with mild disbelief. "You can make mistakes at 10,000 feet, but when you're at 17,000 or 18,000 feet, it's not very forgiving."
Sill's fellow HRA doctor Vikas Gupta shakes his head. "They really tie in crossing the pass with success of the trek. They feel like if they don't do it then they have failed. Otherwise, it makes no sense to do what she did."
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