The making of Lhakpa Sherpa: inside the extreme athlete’s record-breaking journey

A 2017 study by the University of Cambridge and University College London found that Himalayan Sherpas, an ethnic group of Tibetan descent, have unique physiological adaptations—cells that carry more oxygen and generate energy more efficiently at altitude. When I ask Sherpa about this apparent genetic advantage, she acknowledges the traditional Sherpa strength, particularly among those who grew up in mountain villages. She’s also quick to point out a generational shift: younger Sherpas born in Nepal’s capital of Kathmandu, for example, raised on city life and modern conveniences, lack the same prowess despite sharing similar DNA.

“They’re almost [like] tourist baby, not so strong,” she says. “But come from the mountain, village area, that’s Sherpa, very strong.” The implication is clear: genetics may provide the canvas, but environment, upbringing and consistent hard work create the masterpiece.

Her observation goes beyond physiology. Sherpas from mountain villages often possess an organic connection to high-altitude living that cannot be taught through education alone. The younger generation, she says, speaks excellent English and receives proper schooling, but struggles with the mountains. “They love to go mountain, but very quick changing mind and saying, ‘Oh my god, too dangerous.’”

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While the world celebrates male mountaineers with sponsorships and fame, Sherpa has spent most of her life climbing quietly, often funding her expeditions herself. For years, the single mother worked minimum-wage jobs in the US state of Connecticut, where she lives with her two daughters. The sponsorship rejections have been persistent and puzzling to her. 

Even as her accomplishments mounted—becoming the first Nepali woman to summit and descend Everest alive in 2000, then breaking her own record nine more times—corporate support remained elusive. She’s approached numerous companies that one might think would eagerly associate themselves with such remarkable achievement, but the response has been silence or refusal.

Her record-breaking tenth Everest summit in May 2022 was crowdfunded. Even after the success of the 2024 Netflix documentary Mountain Queen: The Summits of Lhakpa Sherpa, which documented that incredible ascent, she has yet to see the expected influx of sponsorship offers. But even in the face of financial hardship, she refuses to yield: “People not give me sponsor, I keep going. Doesn’t matter. I keep climbing. I want to show them how women can do it with their own sponsor. That is what I want to do.”

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Surprisingly, for someone who has summited the world’s highest mountain ten times and conquered notoriously dangerous K2—the world’s second-highest peak, which she climbed for the first time in 2023—Sherpa doesn’t follow a rigorous training regimen. Her preparation is refreshingly straightforward: hiking small mountains in Connecticut, staying healthy and maintaining mental positivity.

Her approach challenges conventional wisdom about elite athletic preparation. Rather than complex training protocols, she emphasises experience, intuition and trust—trust in yourself and your climbing partners. The mountain itself becomes the training ground, with each climb imparting knowledge that even the most advanced gym equipment can’t offer.

Her current work reflects this philosophy. After years in various jobs, this year, she set up Hiking with Lhakpa, a guiding company where she can share her experience with others. Driven by an awareness of mortality and legacy, she wants to pass on her climbing knowledge to others before it’s too late. It’s invaluable information for anyone who wants to do what she does. What is also essential and sobering is her honesty about the reality of her occupation.

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“Sometimes I’m scared. I’m scared myself,” she admits. “My God, maybe I die.” She describes passing deceased climbers preserved in ice and navigating crevasses where one misstep means death. But she continues, drawn by something greater than fear and framing mountaineering as a competition with two possible outcomes: “Sometimes I win, sometimes mountain win. I win is good. Mountain win, I’m dead.” 

This acknowledgement, combined with the choice to climb anyway, reveals the psychological core of extreme athleticism. It’s the capacity to respect danger while refusing to be paralysed by it.

In between scaling mountains and unlocking milestones others told her she couldn’t achieve, Sherpa was also fighting to survive at home. A relationship in Nepal left her with a baby son, Nima, and such shame that she felt unable to return to her village. Later, her marriage to Gheorghe Dijmărescu, a Romanian-American mountaineer and the father of her daughters, Sunny and Shiny, turned violent, leading her to flee to a women’s refuge with her girls. The couple divorced in 2015, with Sherpa gaining sole legal custody of their children. Dijmărescu died in 2020.

These experiences, while deeply painful, honed the resilience that defines her. She acknowledges that women who’ve been hurt develop a particular toughness—they don’t give up easily.

And she’s far from giving up climbing. The 52-year-old confirmed her intention to climb Everest again, saying: “I want to challenge myself how much I can do. I want to [see] how much this old lady can do.” She’s also working on climbing the highest points of all 50 US states, driven by a hope to learn about American mountains and share her knowledge through her company. “I born two American girls,” she quips. “I want to teach America you no need the Himalayas. You have beautiful mountains here.” 

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This democratisation of mountain knowledge reflects Sherpa’s broader mission: to prove that extreme athleticism isn’t reserved for the privileged or educated. Her journey from illiteracy to world record holder challenges assumptions about who belongs in elite sports. It also reflects how she defines success: it’s having the freedom to pursue what her heart wants rather than about achieving sponsorships, recognition or records. 

When asked for advice to young athletes, her response is direct: “You must fight. Really push hard. You don’t push hard, you don’t win.” She balances this intensity with a moral framework instilled by her father: “You do good things, don’t steal, don’t lie, you don’t need to be scared [of] nobody,” she says. “My dad told me this. You keep doing good things and people [will] love you, respect you.”

In an era obsessed with optimising performance through technology and science, Sherpa’s simple approach is a breath of fresh air: trust your body, respect the challenge, stay positive and keep walking when others rest. “Keep doing your dreams, keep going and you can reach your own summit.”

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