Like many others, I've long harbored a desire to climb some of the world's most renowned mountains. While I’ve been fortunate to explore parts of India’s Himalayas, it hasn't fully quenched my ambition. One of my biggest travel regrets is not climbing Mount Kilimanjaro during my time in Tanzania.
Despite the privilege inherent in this regret, I find the concept of mountain climbing both peculiar and intriguing. Through reflection, I’ve linked this ambition to a deeper drive for conquest and dominance.
In researching this topic, I noticed that many inspirational quotes on Pinterest romanticize mountain climbing as a way to overcome personal challenges. This romanticism can be compelling, but it often overshadows the practical realities and impacts of such endeavors.
Inspirational quotes may provide motivation, but problems arise when these metaphors translate into reality, driving people to pursue these feats without considering the broader consequences. This blind pursuit of personal ambition can have detrimental effects on others.
I’m not dismissing mountain climbing entirely. It can be a worthwhile travel choice compared to other tourism activities. However, it’s essential to acknowledge the troubling aspects of these ambitions, which go beyond the idealised images on Pinterest.
These posts rarely address the disconnect and issues of commercialisation and environmental carelessness that accompany ambitious travel pursuits. Such concerns can sometimes overshadow the simple inspirations that initially attract people to these adventures.
Mountain climbing gained prominence in the mid-1800s with scientific exploration and colonial expansion. Romanticism of the 19th century depicted mountain climbing as a spiritual journey, symbolising inner growth achieved by reaching the summit.
Moreover, there’s a troubling notion that mountain climbing is tied to a need for conquest. This imperialist mindset, ingrained in our history, persists in contemporary climbing culture.
Mount Everest exemplifies this quest for conquest. For the native Sherpa community in Nepal, Everest, known as 'Chomolungma' or "Goddess Mother of the Land," holds sacred significance. Yet, the influx of climbers to Everest’s Base Camp—sometimes up to 500 per day during peak season—has led to pollution, environmental degradation, and disrespect for the Sherpas’ cultural connection to the mountain.
Everest, a major draw for Nepal’s tourism industry, mirrors the commercialization that echoes colonialism. Named after British surveyor George Everest, the mountain's colonial naming disregards the sacred names given by local cultures. In China, it’s called the 'Holy Mother Peak,' and in Tibet, the 'Holy Mother,' reflecting spiritual significance that has been overshadowed by colonial legacy and tourism.
The legacy of colonialism is evident not just in names but in the unequal dynamics between tourists and local communities. Indigenous values and sacred sites are often overlooked in favor of commercial interests, resulting in a loss of cultural and environmental significance.
Similarly, Uluru in Australia, a sacred site for Indigenous Australians, has faced disrespect due to tourism. Despite ongoing pleas from Indigenous groups to cease climbing, many still pursue the climb, demonstrating a profound disregard for Indigenous wishes and cultural values.
These actions highlight a troubling sense of entitlement among travelers, leading to exploitation and cultural erosion. This entitlement fuels a cycle of corruption and disrespect, perpetuating the legacy of colonialism in the realm of tourism.
We can break this cycle by being mindful of our travel choices. As privileged travelers, we need to understand the impact of our actions on others and the environment. Travel is a privilege, not a right, and should be approached with respect and responsibility.
Every trip should remind us that we are visitors, and with that comes the responsibility to honor the values and traditions of the places we visit.
Respect costs nothing, but its impact is invaluable.
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