Everest legends shatter records: Kami Rita reaches 32nd summit, Lakpa claims 11th

On a Sunday in May, two Nepali mountaineers reached the summit of Mount Everest and, in doing so, rewrote the record books they had already written themselves. Kami Rita Sherpa, fifty-six years old, guided a group of clients to the 8,849-meter peak for the thirty-second time in his life. On the same day, Lakpa Sherpa, fifty-two, summited for the eleventh time. Both had broken their own records—the only records that mattered to them anymore.

Kami Rita's relationship with Everest began in 1994, more than three decades ago. Since then, he has returned almost every year, sometimes twice in a single season, until the mountain has become less a destination and more a workplace, a second home, a kind of calling. He was born in the Solukhumbu region of Nepal, in a family already shaped by mountains and the knowledge they demand. The nickname "Everest Man" stuck because it described not just what he had done but what he was—a person for whom the world's highest peak had become inseparable from identity.

In 2018, Kami Rita became the first human being to summit Everest twenty-two times, a milestone that broke a record he had previously shared with two other Nepali Sherpa mountaineers. Those two retired from the mountain after that. He did not. He kept climbing. The records kept falling. By Sunday, he had added ten more summits to that 2018 total, a pace that suggests the mountain has not finished with him yet.

Lakpa Sherpa's story carries a different weight. She was the first Nepali woman to reach Everest's summit and return alive, an achievement that came in 2000. That single ascent opened a door that had been closed. She walked through it repeatedly—eleven times now, more than any other woman on Earth. Her life became the subject of a 2023 documentary called "Mountain Queen," which traced not just her climbs but her existence as a single mother navigating a profession that demands everything and gives back only the view from the top.

Nepal's government moved quickly to acknowledge what had happened. The tourism department issued congratulations. Prime Minister Balendra Shah wrote on social media that the two climbers had "once again written history," and he framed their achievement in language that suggested something beyond sport: "Such historic success can only be achieved through unwavering courage, rigorous self-discipline, and honest dedication to one's work." The words carried weight because they were true. There is no luck on Everest, no shortcuts, no days off.

The context matters. Nearly five hundred foreign climbers have been granted permits to attempt Everest this year. Almost all of them will hire at least one Nepali guide—guides who do not themselves need permits, who know the mountain the way a city dweller knows the streets of home. Kami Rita and Lakpa Sherpa are not anomalies in this system; they are its apex, the ones who have stayed longest, climbed highest, and come back most often. Their records are not just personal achievements. They are statements about what the human body and will can endure when shaped by geography, culture, and an almost incomprehensible commitment to a single mountain.