KATHMANDU, MAY 14 Every time a mountaineer stands victorious on a rooftop of the world, a Nepali guide is there just behind the frame-often invisible, always essential. And yet, expedition operators say, the government has long looked the other way. This spring, as the rope-fixing team for the Expedition Operators Association Nepal (EOAN) successfully opened the route to the summit of Mt. Everest and Mt. Lhotse, the men behind the mission are speaking out. They are tired of being ignored. 'I am totally happy for making successful ascent of Everest by EOAN rope fixing team on 13 May 2026 at 10:25AM,' said Pemba Sherpa, coordinator of the team. 'I have big respect for all of them – without them this would not happen. They are the backbone of mountaineering.' But pride, Pemba adds, is laced with pain. While the mountain workers-mostly Sherpa climbers and guides-fuel a tourism industry that brings billions to the nation, they remain unsung heroes in the eyes of their own government. 'The nation's economy from mountaineering is booming because of them,' Pemba said. 'But for these unsung heroes, the nation has no eyes. If nothing changes, who will fix the ropes on Everest.' Nepali guides risk their lives on every expedition, facing avalanches, crevasses, and oxygen-starved death zones. Yet, Pemba notes, when disaster strikes, there is no state rescue backup, no economic safety net for their families, and no official presence beside grieving loved ones. This season, three Nepali guides have already lost their lives while working for foreign climbers on Mt Everest alone. 'Even there is nobody from the nation side when they face problems on the mountain,' he said. 'No rescue backup, no economic backup once they vanish during their climb. Their children grow up without fathers, without proper education facilities.' According to Pemba, insurance for rescues remains inadequate, salaries and allowances fluctuate unpredictably, and many active Sherpas now feel trapped. The result is a quiet exodus: young Sherpa adolescents, seeing no future, are abandoning climbing altogether for jobs abroad. 'If this pattern persists,' he warned, 'the availability of Sherpas to facilitate mountain climbs might dwindle in the coming years. That would collapse Nepal's mountain tourism industry-which brings revenue for the government, employment, and opportunities for the people.' One of the most painful realities, Pemba said, is what happens when a guide dies. Retrieving bodies from high altitude is staggeringly expensive, and though handling companies are sometimes forced to bear the cost, the burden often delays proper last rites. 'When will this change on mountain tourism?' he asked. Meanwhile, the government collects hefty royalties from foreign climbers. But not a portion of that money, Pemba shares, has been allocated to support the livelihoods, education, or families of those who have perished-nor to uplift the Sherpa community and the mountain workers who make every summit possible. 'This must change now,' he demanded.