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“I never imagined a snow leopard’s habitat would look like this,” said Sajal Tilija, a seventh grader at Janabal Secondary School in Marpha, Mustang, as he stood in a rugged grassland near the base of a massive, barren mountain. “From what I’d read, I thought it would be a desert—dry and all red. But instead, I found some greenery, with pine trees and prickly shrubs,” he added.

Sajal was participating in a camp in Mustang to learn about the elusive snow leopard. He was joined by two classmates, a teacher, and students from other schools. Other participants included field rangers, citizen scientists, artists, journalists, trainers, photographers, community members, and conservationists. The two-day Snow Leopard Scout Monitoring Camp took place in Thorangphedi and Chongur grasslands, near the holy Muktinath temple, on August 29-30, 2024.

“We mostly learned about the local landscape and how climate change is affecting the snow leopard’s habitat. We also learned about snowstorms, avalanches, and how to stay safe in those situations,” Sajal shared.

The participants were also taught how to use camera traps and the essential tools for snow leopard monitoring, like GPS devices, spotting scopes, and binoculars.

At one point during the camp, a group of locals excitedly shouted after spotting a blue sheep on a distant hilltop. Everyone quickly grabbed their binoculars, scopes, and cameras to take a closer look. “It wasn’t easy to spot the blue sheep sitting so far away,” Sajal recalled. “Focusing the lenses was tough. The sheep sat proudly, like a king, high on the ridge above the rocks.”

The camp has been held in Mustang since 2011, providing students with hands-on training in snow leopard monitoring and teaching them to observe their natural habitat, including potential prey species. This initiative continues with support from the Snow Leopard Conservancy, while Teka Samuha Nepal organized this year’s event.

After returning to school, Sajal eagerly shared his adventure with his friends. “I wrote everything in my diary! We spotted a pika, a red fox, and even a mother blue sheep with her baby. We sometimes see blue sheep near the village, but this time felt special. No one believed we found red fox scat!” he said excitedly. He also explained how they set up camera traps and used GPS during the camp.

At school, conservation teacher Amar Ghatane showed images of snow leopards on a projector and encouraged students to share what they had learned with their families and community. “I often tell my sisters and grandmother about snow leopards,” Sajal said proudly.

Sajal’s elder sister, Prasansa, noted how keen he is to share his knowledge. “He’s always learning and sharing something new,” she said. “When we’re out gathering firewood, he reminds me how important it is to protect snow leopards because their extinction would hurt the environment.”

Laxmi, Sajal’s mother, remembered a time when snow leopards preyed on her goats and cows while she lived in a remote area called ‘Chhair’. Now, living in Marpha, jackals prey on her chickens. “Sajal once told me that snow leopards are smaller than tigers,” she recalled. “They live in the mountains and depend on natural prey, mainly blue sheep, which sometimes come into our village.”

The story of snow leopards and human coexistence is playing out in Nepal’s Himalayas. Sajal is just one example of students involved in snow leopard conservation education, an initiative spreading through Mustang and Taplejung. The program raises awareness among students, encourages positive messages within communities that share habitats with snow leopards, and advocates for including conservation topics in local textbooks—working toward long-term sustainability and institutionalizing these efforts.

Holidays in Nepal, especially Dashain and Tihar, are becoming an opportunity for travel enthusiasts to explore the country’s natural beauty and experience its rich cultures and traditions. I recently embarked on a five-day trek to Gosaikunda in Rasuwa, starting from Sundarijal in Kathmandu with a group of friends, and the trip was filled with memorable moments and lessons that could be valuable for the Nepal Tourism Board.

Heavy rains just before the Dashain holiday had initially disrupted my travel plans due to the resulting landslides and floods, which cut off roads across the country. The BP Highway, in particular, suffered severe damage, forcing many travelers, especially those from Bagmati and Koshi provinces, to cancel their plans. Given the road conditions and the ongoing monsoon, I had not made any firm plans. However, an old friend unexpectedly called, suggesting we trek to Gosaikunda—one of the places on my bucket list. After discussing the route, we decided to trek from Sundarijal instead of driving to Dhunche, to avoid the risks posed by monsoon rains and dangerous road conditions.

Our trek began at Sundarijal, where we purchased tickets at the army checkpoint for 100 rupees each. After a four-hour walk, we stopped for lunch at Chisapani before continuing on to our first overnight stop at Pati Bhanjyang. Along the way, we encountered a lively couple drinking local alcohol outside their home. Their warmth and hospitality were infectious, and we even shared a brief dance to a folk song they loved. For me, part of the joy of traveling lies in connecting with local communities and their traditions, and this interaction was a perfect example of that.

The hospitality at Pati Bhanjyang was memorable. The homestay owner served us local meat and a uniquely flavored cucumber, and their warm, friendly treatment made the experience even more special. From Pati Bhanjyang, we set off for Kutumsang (altitude 2,470 meters), but the stunning scenery slowed us down. We kept stopping to capture photos, forgetting the time. One challenge in this area is the lack of readily available food—hoteliers usually only prepare meals if informed in advance. However, the people we met along the way made the journey unforgettable. One elderly woman returning from a local Gumba left a deep impression on me, reminding me of my own grandmother who passed away last year. Our conversation brought back fond memories, and as we parted ways, I left a small token of money with her. She blessed me in return, placing her hand on my head, which brought me close to tears.

The three-hour trek from Kutumsang to Mangin Goth (altitude 3,285 meters) was challenging due to the uneven terrain and the aching leg of one of my friends, which worsened when descending. We pushed through, aware of the dangers posed by the dense forest and the presence of wild animals in Langtang National Park. We finally arrived at Mangin Goth at around 6:15 PM, using the light from our mobile phones. The warmth of the hotel, with its central firewood heating system, was a welcome relief after the exhausting day.

The next leg of our journey, from Mangin Goth to Phedi (altitude 3,720 meters), was even more difficult than we had anticipated. The terrain forced us to take frequent breaks. As we neared Phedi at dusk, the roaring sound of water and the flood-damaged paths heightened our anxiety. The couple running the hotel at Phedi had been there for nearly 30 years, and their story was both inspiring and humbling. They served us a surprisingly delicious meal, and we rested, knowing that the next day would involve scaling the highest pass on the route—Laurebina Pass (4,610 meters).

The climate at Laurebina Pass was unpredictable, with thick fog occasionally obscuring the mountains and lakes. But we were lucky, and at times the fog lifted, revealing the breathtaking views we had come for. It felt as though the landscape was playing hide and seek with us.

The scenery was incredible—tall pine trees, blooming flowers, and snow-dusted mountains. During tea breaks, I asked locals whether they had noticed any changes in the snow-covered peaks. Almost everyone mentioned that the snow has been melting rapidly in recent years and no longer lasts as long as it used to. This reminded me of Amitav Ghosh's “The Living Mountain,” which describes how once-resourceful mountains were exploited, leaving them barren.

While the trek to Gosaikunda via Sundarijal is an adventurous experience, there is a lack of information along the way that can frustrate travelers. I would recommend that the local government and relevant authorities promote homestays and encourage locals to sell homegrown products. Additionally, they should install clear signage and information along the route to prevent confusion. The disparity in treatment between foreign and local tourists should also be addressed to help boost domestic tourism. Finally, the route from Dhunche to Gosaikunda, though well-serviced in terms of lodging and food, should be extended to a three-day trek instead of two, to reduce the risk of altitude sickness for travelers.

Cheering crowds hailed an 18-year-old Nepali mountaineer as a hero as he returned home Monday after breaking the record for the youngest person to summit all 14 of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks. Nima Rinji Sherpa reached the summit of Tibet’s 8,027-meter-high ShishaPangma on Oct 9, completing his mission to stand on the world’s highest peaks.

On Monday, he returned from China to Nepal’s capital Kathmandu, where scores waited to see him. “I am feeling very happy,” he told AFP, draped in traditional Buddhist scarves and garlands of marigold flowers, as he emerged to loud cheers at the airport. “Thank you so much everyone,” he said to his supporters, beaming a wide grin.

Sherpa hugged his family while others rushed to offer him scarves and flowers. He later waved to the crowd out of a car sunroof, while proudly holding the national flag.

Nepal’s climbing community also welcomed several others who returned after completing the summit of 14 peaks. Summiting all 14 ‘eight-thousanders’ is considered the peak of mountaineering aspirations, with all the peaks located in the Himalayan and Karakoram ranges, straddling Nepal, Pakistan, Tibet and India. Climbers cross ‘death zones’ where there is not enough oxygen in the air to sustain human life for long periods.

Italian climber Reinhold Messner first completed the feat in 1986, and only around 50 others have successfully followed in his footsteps. Many elite climbers have died in the pursuit.

‘Trailblazers’

All of the mountains are in the Himalayas and neighboring Karakoram range, which spans Nepal, China, India and Pakistan. In the last few years, mountaineers are expected to reach the ‘true summit’ of every mountain, which many climbers of the previous generation had missed.

Sherpa is no stranger to the mountains, hailing from a family of record-holding climbers, who also now run Nepal’s largest mountaineering expedition company. Raised in bustling Kathmandu, Sherpa initially preferred to play football or shoot videos. But two years ago, he put his camera down to pursue mountaineering.

Sherpa, who already holds multiple records from his ascents of dozens of peaks, started high-altitude climbing at the age of 16, by climbing Mount Manaslu in Aug 2022. Nepali climbers—usually ethnic Sherpas from the valleys around Everest—are considered the backbone of the climbing industry in the Himalayas. They carry the majority of equipment and food, fixing ropes and repairing ladders.

Long in the shadows as supporters of foreign climbers, they are slowly being recognised in their own right. “I want to show the younger generation of Sherpas that they can rise above the stereotype of being only support climbers and embrace their potential as top-tier athletes, adventurers, and creators,” he said in a statement soon after his final summit. “We are not just guides. We are trailblazers.”

In recent years, climbers like Sherpa have set record after record, and are hopeful their feats will inspire the next generation of Nepali mountaineers. The record was previously held by another Nepali climber, Mingma Gyabu ‘David’ Sherpa. He achieved it in 2019, at the age of 30. 

AFP 

Dashain is here and there’s a festive feel in the air. But people ApEx spoke to confessed that it’s not the same anymore. We asked three people how things have changed and what they miss the most and here’s what they had to say. 

Shristika Prajapati, 19

Dashain has always been my favorite festival and getting to spend time with my family is the best part. I miss my brother as he is abroad and he won’t be coming home. I believe Dashain isn’t what it used to be several years ago. It’s changed and people have tweaked the rituals to fit their schedules. I miss the traditional feel of the festival. Many people don’t go to temples and conduct elaborate pujas anymore. Rather, it’s become an excuse to party and have fun without partaking in rituals that actually matter. 

Kusum Rimal, 57

I’m a religious person who enjoys performing puja and spending time with my family. During Dashain, I miss my family even more. My daughters live away from home and they won’t be able to come back and join in on the festivities. Dashain has lost its charm because it’s not about being with your family and friends anymore. Many youngsters these days don’t know why we celebrate Dashain. The older generation must ensure we pass on our traditions and stories so that they aren’t lost over time. 

Bhim Bahadur Tamang, 79

Dashain isn’t about pujas and rituals as it once used to be. It’s more about food and parties and meeting relatives. I guess that is okay too. But I wish we gave more importance to traditions and didn’t let them fade away. I fear that in the future, people won’t even go to put tika and take blessings from their relatives as they will be too preoccupied with their lives. Since most families are scattered around the world, the tradition is already on the decline.