Who Gets to Climb Mount Everest? Nepal’s 7000-Metre Rule Could Redefine Himalayan Ambition
Nepal is on the verge of reshaping the gateway to the world’s highest summit. The country’s National Assembly has passed an Integrated Tourism Bill that would require prospective Everest climbers to first summit at least one mountain above 7000 metres within Nepal before qualifying for an Everest permit. The bill now awaits passage in the lower house and presidential assent, but the signal is clear: Everest may no longer be open to anyone with ambition and a cheque. If enacted, the rule would mark one of the most consequential shifts in Himalayan mountaineering policy in decades.
Why 7000 Metres? Why within Nepal?
Nepal boasts 86 recognised peaks below 8000m, offering ambitious options to the alpinists. These mountains vary dramatically in character — from relatively “easier” 7000ers with well-established routes to technically demanding ascents that test endurance, weather judgement, altitude adaptation and logistical planning. By specifying within Nepal, the proposed law does more than set an altitude benchmark. It asserts a kind of mountaineering sovereignty: experience elsewhere — in the Andes, the Alps, or even the Karakoram — may not suffice.
Likely qualification peaks include:
Himlung Himal (7126m) — increasingly popular, moderate difficulty, commercially viable.
Putha Hiunchuli (7246m) — remote, physically demanding but less technical.
Baruntse (7162m) — located near the Khumbu, already used as an Everest stepping stone.
More technical 7000ers such as Tilicho Peak and Gangapurna are less likely to become mainstream qualification routes but could see increased attention. Ironically, some climbers may opt to qualify by climbing an even higher mountain first — such as Manaslu or Cho Oyu — though doing so would involve greater cost and risk.
Safety Reform — or Economic Strategy?
The government’s rationale centers on safety and sustainability. In recent years, images of long queues near Everest’s summit have drawn global scrutiny. Critics argue that inexperienced climbers (with limited high-altitude exposure) contribute to congestion in the “death zone” above 8000 metres, increasing risks not only for themselves but for Sherpa guides and support teams.
Requiring a prior 7000-metre ascent could:
- Improve altitude acclimatization experience
- Reduce dependency on fixed ropes and supplemental rescue
- Filter out under-prepared aspirants
But the rule also has economic implications. If climbers must first attempt a 7000er inside Nepal, the country captures additional permit revenue, expedition logistics spending, and extended stays in regional trekking economies. Less-visited regions like Nar-Phu or the Dhaulagiri range could benefit. Expedition companies may even formalize “Everest Pathway” programs — a two-year progression model: 7000er first, Everest next.
Is this a safety reform — or a strategic restructuring of mountaineering tourism? On the Tibetan side of Everest, managed by China, regulations have historically been stricter regarding permits and expedition approvals. While not formally requiring a 7000-metre summit, climbers typically need documented high-altitude experience and must join approved expeditions. Nepal’s proposal goes further by codifying altitude progression into law. Altitude alone does not equal competence. A guided ascent of a relatively straightforward 7000er may provide acclimatization but not necessarily technical self-sufficiency.
Key questions still remain: Does summiting one 7000-metre peak truly prepare someone for Everest’s extreme exposure and oxygen deprivation? Could congestion and environmental strain spread downward? Should prior experience in places like Pakistan or South America count? Perhaps, most critically: is Everest a mountain that should be earned through apprenticeship — or does restricting access undermine the democratic spirit of exploration?
For decades, Everest has symbolized the ultimate achievement — increasingly accessible through guided logistics, supplemental oxygen, and commercial infrastructure. But this new rule hints at a philosophical pivot: from bucket-list summit to structured Himalayan progression. If implemented, Nepal may not just be regulating Everest. It may be quietly redefining what it means to be an Everest climber. Nepal’s parliament is now debating more than a tourism bill. It is debating the future identity of the world’s highest mountain.
