A little over a decade ago, Nirmal ‘Nimsdai’ Purja was still new to the high mountains. He was raised in the flatlands of Nepal where rhinos ruled and felt at home in the stark Afghanistan landscape while serving the British Gurkha forces. The rendezvous with altitude was by chance, but it left him fascinated. He decided to return to the mountains. And soon enough, for good.
Last week, Nimsdai, 43, and nine other climbers were killed by an avalanche on Broad Peak, the world’s twelfth highest mountain that lies in Pakistan. The world sat up and took notice, much like it did when he first arrived on the climbing scene.
Some of the best mountaineers have silently gone about making their mark, notching up many firsts along the way. That was never Nimsdai’s style, for he demanded attention. Not everyone agreed with his approach to mountaineering, and he drew detractors and admirers in equal measure. Those early climbs gave him instant attention. And though Nepal has had a lineage of remarkable climbers, it was this late bloomer who made the spotlight his own.
The Nimsdai Method
There are 14 eight thousand metre mountains in the world. Most mountaineers spend a lifetime of resources to climb them all. A few live to tell the tale. Reinhold Messner, the first to do so, took 16 years; the last record before Purja—14 peaks in 8 years—was held by Kim Chang-ho. Then, along came Nimsdai in 2019, pulling off the feat in six months and six days as part of Project Possible (It was bettered by Kristin Harila and Tenjen Lama Sherpa in 2023).
The manner in which it was done was never witnessed before. A crack team of Nepali climbers who trusted each other with their lives and worked in perfect sync at altitude. Helicopters that rushed the team from base camp to base camp to save on time. A quick dash up one mountain while fixing ropes, tagging the summit and then over to the next one. Until they were all climbed.
As the leader of the pack, Nimsdai did everything that was necessary to get the job done—whether it was mortgaging his home to raise the initial funds, or surviving an avalanche to finish the climb on Annapurna. Call it a high profile publicity stunt or a new approach to climbing the 8,000ers, it captured the imagination of armchair mountaineers and drew the ire of purists. Anyone with a faint idea of mountaineering was hooked to this reality television with the stunning high mountains as backdrop. The sponsors were smiling.
The fourteen mountains were climbed. A best seller and an engaging documentary roped in overnight fans. Nimsdai’s bravado was blatant, he claimed that while climbing with him, success was as much a guarantee as safety. His guiding company Elite Exped took off, drawing everyone from royalty to record chasers. His apparel and gear brand offered the latest in mountaineering. The Nimsdai brand was for anyone who could afford it.
A Quest to be the Best
His backstory was as fascinating as his lifestyle: A former soldier who had been awarded the Order of the British Empire and had given it all up to climb. A man from the plains, leading men from the mountains, embracing anyone who wished to party hard, climb harder. Nimsdai made mountaineering cool. His words could give the best motivational speakers a run for their money: “Giving up is not in the blood, sir” became an instant hit.
Besides making these climbs seem effortless, he was also one to set aside everything to rescue a climber in distress. And anybody who ever bumped into him had a photo to share or a story to tell. The new poster boy of modern mountaineering was accessible and human. And everyone was interested in his next big climb.
That moment came in 2022, as he trained his sight on what was long considered an impossible feat and the last big challenge in mountaineering. A winter ascent of K2, the second highest mountain in the world, had denied the most skilled climbers for decades. Nimsdai wanted to claim the honour for the Nepalis, who he believed had long been climbing in the shadow of their foreign counterparts.
Three Nepali teams including Nimsdai’s went about making independent progress up the slopes of K2. After another party at base camp, their goals aligned and they decided to work their way to the top together. The moment produced a mountaineering classic—ten Nepalis walking in unison to the summit, singing their national anthem to celebrate the moment. As always, Nimsdai was there.
The scar on his impressive resume were the allegations of sexual misconduct by two female climbers in 2024. He denied them at the time, and since no one pressed charges against him, there was no trial.
Up on the mountains, it was business as usual. Nimsdai climbed the fourteen 8,000ers on another occasion, this time without oxygen and became the fastest to do so (two years and 150 days). Broad Peak was his penultimate climb in yet another cycle; it would have been his 58th summit of an 8,000 metre mountain.
Before the climb, Nimsdai wrote, “Broad Peak, I ask for nothing but safe passage up and back down. I take zero mountains for granted. Not one. The moment my foot leaves basecamp, it’s 100%. Always has been. Always will be.”
That was never in doubt. But as always, it’s the mountains that have the final say. They are mighty, for a reason.
Shail Desai is a freelance writer based in Mumbai.