Ten Summits: Lhakpa Sherpa, the Highest Mountain Is You
On May 12, 2022, Nepali woman Lhakpa Sherpa drew worldwide notice by reaching Mount Everest's summit for the tenth time. She had earlier attained nine straight successful ascents, setting a record that already made her the world's most successful female Everest climber. British director Lucy Walker captured the entire tenth climb on film.
Lhakpa stood before the camera, steadied her emotions, and described her tenth summit: "This ascent, my tenth summit—I leave my dark past behind me." Her tone was firm and conclusive, without a trace of hesitation or ambiguity. That film came after six years spent on Lhakpa's personal life and the daily routines of her two daughters, combined with the demanding and exceptional nature of that particular climb, which led Lucy to complete the powerful and captivating documentary *Queen of Everest: Lhakpa Sherpa*.
Reaching the tenth summit clearly carried profound meaning for Lhakpa, signaling that she had fully moved beyond her painful past. As a new world opened up before her, she realized her most heartfelt ambition: to reshape the lives of both herself and her daughters, to elevate the standing of Sherpa women, and to prove that women are equally capable. Meanwhile, those fierce, resolute words—spoken like a proclamation—seemed aimed at herself no less than at the entire world.
Through her actions, Lhakpa has undeniably inspired not just Nepal but women everywhere. She is now 48—an age that for many is nearly half a lifetime—yet that does not mean it is too late. As a girl, she often wondered what lay on the other side of the mountain, and climbing to the summit to see for herself became her deepest ambition. She longed to witness firsthand the kinds of people who lived beyond those peaks. However, the reality she faced was hard.
Lhakpa was raised in an isolated, strikingly beautiful setting that resembled paradise, yet it was ruled by severe moral principles and old-fashioned customs. These traditions harshly curtailed any creativity or attempts to look beyond her surroundings. Additionally, as a girl, she was flatly refused an education—only boys were allowed to attend school, a practice deeply fixed in the system.
Every day, Lhakpa spent four hours commuting along mountain roads to ferry her brother to and from school, acting as his "bus." At some point, her curiosity and desire for the outside world became too much to contain, and she asked her family’s elders about it. They told her, "There is nothing out there, only terrifying yetis." Surprisingly, Lhakpa continued to accept that explanation well into her teenage years.
Her realization came only after she observed Western tourists venturing deep into the Himalayas—the so-called yetis, she understood, were just a trick the elders used to convince her to forsake her ambitions and accept the customary position held by local women.
It was precisely because of Lhakpa’s twofold transcendence that director Lucy Walker, who had never met the Nepali woman before, was drawn to her: Lhakpa had risen above the deeply entrenched prejudices and limitations that her local society placed on women to enter the wider world, and she had exceeded physical and natural constraints to stand on top of the Earth’s highest mountain. What an extraordinary twist of destiny it was. Those who do not fear mountain heights carry the summit inside them. ‘My life has hurt me,’ Lhakpa said. ‘No matter where I go, the pain follows me.’
Looking back, that unutterable experience was indeed a journey through the night. It's hard to believe that Lhakpa still faced an extremely difficult road ahead before she could truly transform into a "queen." She said that Everest gave her the appearance of strength, that it is a queen mountain, and that it turned her into a queen.
Lhakpa once believed she would die during the first instance of domestic violence. Even after she had used her intelligence, bravery, devotion, and hard work to edge closer to her cherished mountaineering path—working as a guide for foreign visitors, breaking free from the surrounding peaks, and at last taking the chance to achieve her first successful summit—her circumstances remained largely unchanged. A broken marriage then turned into yet another major barrier, keeping Lhakpa isolated for an extended period.
At its core, everything in the world is fundamentally alike; we grasp metaphors for any given thing only by living through something else. During a haze of near-death, a fleeting hallucination showed Lhakpa her daughter’s face. That instant sparked an overwhelming, instinctive resolve that dragged her from the brink: she must model fearlessness for both herself and her child. Since no other person could offer salvation, she had to fight—her only option was to save herself.
Lhakpa toiled without rest as a porter, cleaner, mountain guide, kitchen hand, tea house owner, construction worker, laundry worker, and dishwasher at Whole Foods. Yet through all these ups and downs, she never gave up climbing. Life, like a summit climb, demands enduring storms and following perilous paths before one can catch sight of the rainbow and attain tranquility and contentment. A deep and agonizing change is often the precondition for rebirth.
Mount Everest holds extraordinary significance for Lhakpa. To her, it has never been an object to conquer; instead, interacting with it is more akin to engaging in a dialogue. Her resilience and seemingly inexhaustible drive all stem from the mountain goddess she venerates. As Lhakpa, the Goddess of the Mountains, put it, "In Sherpa culture, Mount Everest means goddess and mother. I respect this mountain as deeply as I respect my own mother.
Even after ten successful summits, Lhakpa still considers Everest a divine mother mountain, one beyond any doubt. She anthropomorphizes the peak, relating to it as if it were alive. In her inner world, Everest's position and importance match those of her mother. "Mount Everest is my doctor—she heals my soul. I can feel the inner communication between our souls. When life gets difficult, I think of my snowy mountains. The snowy mountains were my childhood companions. I tell Everest, you have given me everything," Lhakpa states.
To Lhakpa, Everest is her inner anchor, the goddess of the mountains. She sees the peak as a spiritual guide, a steady companion, and a wellspring of inspiration. In her heart, the mountain embodies an enduring spirit, resolute and immovable, much like Everest itself.
For Lhakpa, Everest is a confidant in solitude, a comfort in exhaustion, a pillar in moments of weakness, and in triumph, it remains unchanged—aloof from joy or grief, standing with awe-inspiring majesty that pierces the sky. Having been raised amidst stunning peaks, this child of nature carried within her an instinctive respect for the environment. The snowy mountains have always inspired in her deep veneration and wonder.
To her, a mountain is sacred, and she knows how to treasure and respect that. Standing before a lofty summit, each individual receives their own distinct insight. Conquest has never been the true purpose of climbing. A mountain, being a beautiful presence, cannot truly be conquered—only its elevation can be measured against humans, who are powerless to dominate it. Climbing awakens and nurtures the fresh possibilities hidden within a person. In transcending oneself, one reaches a new dimension.
No stride is without meaning. Every painful step counts, and every failure carries a purpose. Nor is any journey through darkness wasted—all are needed to ultimately reach the light. Like Lhakpa, she has proven through her own actions that women can stand as tall and grand as Mount Everest, reaching the clouds, while still humbling herself and bowing before the majesty of snowy mountains.
Reading a book by an Indian philosopher, one passage seemed to describe Lhakpa perfectly. Even though each climb culminates in a successful summit, the process varies every time. Lhakpa's spirit has been reshaped, tempered, and polished through these repeated ascents. Ordinary tasks can be faced with renewed clarity and awareness, uncovering fresh significance and rewards. Every element is an essential part of the journey; only through this does one's step gradually become steady and determined.
The climb will certainly be difficult, yet it brings immense rewards. Within you rests a great mountain—Mount Everest. Through the effort, struggle, challenges, and hardships of the ascent, something keeps crystallizing within you until you reach the summit. At the peak, you have not only conquered a mountain—you have become one. You rise to a height you had never imagined.
If we must define women's power, it is not just a theory or a catchphrase. It is about action, proving yourself through tangible deeds, and laying down a path for others to follow. By changing her own life, Lhakpa has achieved self-realization and, in turn, empowered others, sharing with them her endless strength and radiance. She stated: "The world is watching. I want the world to see that I am brave. I will take action, like a strong woman. This is who I am— I will not give up. I will climb." She also said: "You once lived in dark depths, but now you dwell in the sunlight.
Through a dual narrative structure, the film constantly shifts between Lhakpa's past and present. "This is me." "The fulfillment of one's own life." The story can be entered via three distinct paths, each providing its own viewpoint, as we join Lhakpa on her journey to the peak of her life. One path is that of an outdoor athlete, focusing on how Lhakpa pushed beyond limits to reach the summit. Another path leads into a broken family, where her two daughters achieve healing and restoration through their mother's relentless effort, inspiration, and support.
This isn’t the first Himalayan story Lucy has told. The region’s awe-inspiring natural beauty, paired with the tender humanity of its people, is woven into a seamless whole—a blend of strength and gentleness. At the heart of it all is a woman who, though battered by darkness, never broke, and who shaped a fulfilled life through sheer will and insight. In this way, the audience’s feelings are carried slowly back and forth between suspense and calm.
As far back as 2006, the effort by a group of blind Tibetan teenagers to climb Mount Everest by its northern slope captured Lucy Walker’s attention. Their story moved her so profoundly that she went on to make the documentary *Blindsight*, which was based on that experience. From then on, Walker has maintained a deep engagement with the human and geographic landscapes of Tibet, cherishing a particular affinity for the region. In an interview with *Filmmaker Magazine*, she reflected on the profoundly emotional process of creating *Mountain Queen*.
Making a film, she explained, is like falling in love with your subjects; without that love, the film wouldn't exist—though it's not romantic love but a profound sense of joy, awe, support, and witness rising from deep within. She treasures sharing significant moments in her subjects' lives and gradually forming sincere emotional connections with them, describing such experiences as an immense privilege.
Lucy’s camera avoids placing undue weight on Lhakpa’s tenth successful summit; instead, it highlights the contrasting presentation of Lhakpa’s inner path leading to that moment. That focus is what makes the film so affecting. Lucy tends to seek out and follow the deeper narratives of her subjects, binding together countless turns and trials with dense, powerful emotional ties. And this cherished feeling does not cease when production ends or after the movie comes out; it keeps developing, growing, and persisting.
The film is evidently far more than an adventure story about testing the limits of nature. Rather, it is a breathtaking legend of a woman's life blooming radiantly atop the world’s highest peaks.