A new wave of landslides and torrential rain has claimed roughly 30 lives across Nepal, compounding a humanitarian crisis that has already left the Himalayan nation staggering from catastrophic flooding earlier this year. The country is still grieving the aftermath of August's disaster, which killed 1,400 people and left thousands more unaccounted for. The latest bout of extreme weather, which began in earnest late last week, has forced more than 1,900 families from their homes and damaged over 240 residences, according to the national disaster management authority. Roads have been washed out, bridges destroyed, and buildings reduced to rubble as communities across the mountainous interior struggle to cope with yet another onslaught.
The impact has been felt acutely in Nepal's trekking heartland. The Annapurna Circuit, a world-renowned route that winds through the districts of Manang and Mustang and normally takes up to three weeks to complete, has been effectively severed. Hundreds of hikers have been compelled to abandon their journeys, with many airlifted out of remote villages by helicopter. For a nation that depends heavily on trekking revenue, the closure of such an iconic trail represents both a human tragedy and a significant economic blow, particularly as the tourism sector was only beginning to recover from the pandemic and earlier monsoon damage.
Among those affected are trekkers who have described harrowing ordeals while descending from the high mountains. Jake Stacy, a 21-year-old from Suffolk in the United Kingdom, was stranded along with his Nepali guide in Yak Kharka, a settlement in upper Manang, after heavy snowfall blanketed the region last week. Faced with treacherous conditions, the pair decided against attempting the Thorang La pass, the highest and most demanding point on the circuit. After finally reaching the base camp in Pokhara on Tuesday night, Stacy recounted how they had to carve their own paths across steep, muddy mountain slopes. With a river rushing below and the ground saturated from days of rain and snow, every step carried risk, he said. He also noted that numerous other trekkers were evacuated by helicopter.
Australian hiker Andrew Graham and his guide Prem KC found themselves navigating an equally perilous route after turning back from Manang village. Graham said they had to cross more than 15 landslides on their descent, a journey he described as increasingly dangerous as the residual risks from saturated ground continued to build. Their difficulties deepened when they arrived at the village of Chame, only to find it had been evacuated because of the looming threat of further landslides. With no shelter available, the pair was forced to spend a night in the jungle. A massive landslide has partially blocked a river flowing through Chame, creating a temporary lake that has submerged homes and a vital bridge. Local residents told the BBC that authorities have spent three days attempting to release the trapped water using excavators, but their efforts have met with limited success.
The psychological toll on both guides and visitors has been severe. Trekking guide Tse Ring Doma described leading her group across 28 separate landslides. For her, the mental strain proved more daunting than the physical exhaustion, especially given the fresh trauma of last month's enormous disaster. Even the sound of thunder was enough to send people running from their shelters to check whether another catastrophe was bearing down on them, she said. Her client, Norwegian trekker Ellen Wahlström, reflected on the disparity between the experiences of visitors and locals. She observed that tourists were fortunate in that their worst-case scenario meant abandoning some belongings, whereas residents faced the possible loss of their homes and land. Wahlström also credited authorities with clearing many of the landslides "surprisingly fast," though the scale of the destruction has clearly outstripped the response.
While road damage in Manang has been extensive, with several bridges swept away and communications severed in some areas, the trekking region has so far escaped fatalities. Mukti Prasad Khanal, the chief district officer, confirmed that no one had been killed in the trekking zones. However, the same cannot be said for other parts of the high country. Near the base of Himlung Peak, close to the border with Tibet, four bodies have been recovered and 12 people remain missing following an avalanche. That incident underscores the extreme volatility of conditions across Nepal's mountainous terrain, where avalanches, landslides and flash floods can strike with little warning.
The disruption to the Annapurna Circuit has reverberated through the trekking industry and the communities that depend on it. A representative of the Annapurna Conservation Area Project, the local trekking authority, said approximately 700 trekkers remain stranded in Pokhara, waiting for permission to begin their hikes. The authority has been holding them back despite mounting pressure from the trekking industry to declare the route open. The official acknowledged that the pressure is considerable, but safety considerations have taken precedence given the unstable state of the trails and the ongoing risk of further landslides. Additionally, Indian pilgrims who frequently travel to the ancient temple of Muktinath have been instructed to fly from Jomsom to Pokhara rather than attempt the overland journey, as the road has been cut off by the disaster.
The broader implications for Nepal are sobering. The country's mountainous geography makes it inherently vulnerable to landslides and flash flooding, particularly during the monsoon season that typically runs from June through September. Climate scientists have long warned that a warming atmosphere can hold more moisture, leading to more intense rainfall events. Nepal's recent experience—first with August's record-breaking floods and now with this fresh wave of destruction—appears consistent with those projections. For a developing nation with limited resources, the cumulative cost of repeated disasters threatens not only lives and livelihoods but also critical infrastructure such as roads, bridges and hydropower facilities that are essential to economic development.
As rescue and relief operations continue, the immediate priority remains reaching stranded communities and delivering emergency supplies. Many displaced families are sheltering in temporary camps, with blue disaster-relief tents pitched on muddy hillsides. Buti Tamang, speaking from one such tent in the town of Battar, north-west of Kathmandu, told BBC Nepali that his family's home had been completely destroyed and that they had lost numerous relatives. His grief is shared by countless others across the affected districts. Ramesh Ghale, another displaced resident, described the miserable conditions in the camps, where rainwater leaks through the tent fabric and there is nowhere else to go. The images of flooded valleys, collapsed buildings and makeshift shelters paint a grim picture of a nation enduring one of its darkest seasons in recent memory.
Rebuilding will be a long and costly endeavor. Beyond the immediate humanitarian response, Nepal will need to invest in more robust early-warning systems, slope stabilization and safer settlement planning. Experts argue that disaster risk reduction must be integrated into every level of governance, from village councils to federal ministries. The challenges are immense, but so too is the resilience of Nepali communities, who have weathered earthquakes, floods and landslides for generations. For now, however, the focus remains on survival, as the rains continue and the mountains remain dangerously unstable, leaving trekkers, locals and authorities alike hoping for a break in the weather before the next disaster strikes.
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