The Rise, Fall, and Rise of Drones on Everest — 2025

My tent at Everest Base Camp (EBC)—Nepal side—is right next to the main helipad used to launch the drones. As the picture above shows, approximately six feet away from my tent, there is a small hill—at the top of which is the helipad.

There is a near-constant buzz of activity—not so much from helicopters (although they do take off and land regularly from it, too), but of drones.

This year, as CNN reported, drones were approved for transporting items to and from Everest Base Camp in Nepal up to camps on the other side of the Khumbu Icefall. In addition, there were reports that drones would be route-finding through the Khumbu Icefall as a trial run or experiment of sorts to spare the renowned Ice Doctors from having to identify the best paths.

It has been exciting to witness the evolution and inaugural deployment of this impressive technology from such a close vantage point.

The DJI drones schlep oxygen canisters, tents, ladders, and ropes hither and yon. These trips would take even the fastest Sherpas many hours, yet can be completed in mere minutes with drones. For instance, I timed a recent roundtrip of a drone carrying tent parts up to Camp 1 or 2. That drone departed, deposited its cargo, and returned back safely less than ten minutes after its original takeoff. Most of the other drone roundtrips have run at more or less that same pace.

As The New York Times reported, the phenomenal speed of these drones also means that Sherpas will make fewer passes through the infamously hazardous Khumbu Icefall to cache gear and supplies—ultimately saving lives.

To be clear, drones cannot and should not replace Sherpas. Some critics have worried about the drones’ corresponding noise pollution spoiling an otherwise serene natural environment. However, helicopters previously served similar purposes in what were far more dangerous (due to having people on board) and much louder operations.

Given the tradeoffs and the Sherpas who will be spared, I remain an enthusiastic fan of employing drones on Everest for delivering loads and removing waste.

From my unbeatable front-row-seat location at Everest Base Camp, I am not bothered by the commotion overhead. Rather, I am quite pleased to see how we are proactively engaging the latest technological advances to increase efficiency, reduce risk, save lives, and—as the range and capabilities of the drones are extended (it is my understanding that, currently, they can reach only Camp 2 and below)—take better care of the higher camps.

We simply must get Everest cleaned up. It has become international news that conditions on the upper mountain are deplorable, and humans are collectively soiling this global treasure.

Although these days many of us practice Leave No Trace principles and pack out our own waste, some climbers have not done their part. It is long past time to rectify this problem, which is unforgivably furnishing Everest with a bad reputation that she does not deserve.

Drones are the solution. We must work together and commit to taking advantage of these flying machines to return Everest to her glory.

I have lost count of the number of drone takeoffs and landings from my temporary backyard on any given day—there are too many of which to keep track. Nearly as soon as the drone lands, its tireless pilots have reloaded and sent it back on its merry way above the Khumbu Icefall yet again. 

 

 

April 22, 2025, was windier than usual. Despite the challenging weather, it was another busy day of drone traffic (indeed, I shot this particular video—above—of the later-crashed drone earlier that same morning). By afternoon, however, the helipad/drone launchpad became eerily quiet. I was not sure why I had not seen a drone launch or return in hours. What happened? Rumors spread rapidly at Everest Base Camp, and—at dinner—I learned that the drone had crashed.

Each drone is estimated to cost around $70,000 in U.S. dollars.

Traversing through the Khumbu Icefall the next day, on April 23, 2025, my legendary Sherpa Guide—Pasang Dawa Sherpa “PaDawa”—and I spotted, and he then quickly photographed, the fallen drone on our way up to Camp 1. 

Since then, media stories emerged that the drone’s parachute deployed and it made an “emergency landing,” but did not actually “crash.”

Is this a PoTAYto/PoTAHto distinction? Or is there a legitimate difference between emergency landings and crashes? Decide for yourself.

Take a look at PaDawa’s image on which we have zoomed in below for your convenience, and decipher whether the drone—splayed like a dead spider—enjoyed an ordinary unplanned landing in an unusual place or whether it was something of a crash.

Perhaps we can compromise and deem it both a crash and a landing—a crash landing, as it were…

By May 5, 2025, when I returned to my tent at Everest Base Camp after another rotation through the Khumbu Icefall (to higher camps and back down), at least one replacement drone was already hard at work.

I recorded video of the new drone flying on May 7, 2025, that you can watch below.

It was a relief to hear the familiar whir of drone motors once again briskly ferrying materials up this magnificent mountain—producing a now-comforting background white noise that sounds an awful lot like tremendous innovation and progress to me.