02/07/2026
EXCLUSIVE: The first public interview with Hillary Dawa since he left the hospital, where he tells the story of his incredible six-day self-rescue from 7,8000 meters on Mt. Everest!
This is the first time he has told his own story, on his own terms.
"My name is Dawa Sherpa. People call me Hillary Dawa. I am 57 years old.
Now my health is gradually improving. Everything else is getting better, but my lungs are still not fully recovered. The doctors told me it will take another three weeks before they can say I've fully recovered.
I keep thinking about what happened. When I lie down, I remember everything. My life feels like a dream. I keep asking myself, 'How did I survive? How did I get out of there?' Looking back, I realize how dangerous it really was.
People say there is good money in climbing, but money has never been my main concern. My focus has always been trekking Peak. I worked as a cook on my first expedition and again on my second. I was paid about 10,000 rupees per day. I had gone there just to cook at Camp 2, not to climb higher or carry heavy loads.
Then another Sherpa kept encouraging me to continue. He said, 'Come on, let's go.' I thought I would only go as far as the South Col. But once I reached the South Col, I felt I had to continue toward the summit.
After returning from the South Col, I was already exhausted. The next day I climbed again. We went from Camp 2 to Camp 4. At Camp 4 I was already very tired. We were supposed to summit that night, but people below were telling us not to go.
We started climbing around 11 p.m. By about 5 p.m. the next day, we had reached around 8,400 meters. A police climber and I were together. He told me not to continue because it would take too long and our oxygen wouldn't last. Around 5:30 they turned back. I saw headlamps near the summit, and we also slowly began descending.
The plan was to reach camp and leave early the next morning, but delays kept happening. I kept sitting and resting. I was using oxygen continuously. Eventually, while moving along the fixed rope, I became completely exhausted. I had already emptied eight oxygen cylinders.
I had sleeping bags packed in bags. One climber walking ahead told me to keep moving while he rested because he felt dizzy. My legs stopped working. I found some noodles, ate a little, rested, and eventually fell asleep.
The next morning around 10 o'clock I regained consciousness and returned to Camp 2. There I could cook my own food properly. The other Sherpas had gone down with another guide. I expected they would return so we could descend together.
The Sherpas had gone to lower camps to carry equipment from Camp 3. There were empty oxygen cylinders and other gear that needed to be collected. I waited, thinking someone would come, but nobody came—not a single person.
The following morning I packed everything, including sleeping bags, mattresses, and empty oxygen cylinders. We had been told that leaving an oxygen cylinder behind would result in a $250 penalty. I had eight empty cylinders, so I carried them with me. I thought I would meet someone on the way and we could share the load, but I didn't meet anyone.
The ladders across the crevasses were still in place. There was one long ladder made of five sections, but one section had been removed. There was another small ladder with one side unsecured.
I clipped into the safety rope and carefully started crossing. Suddenly the ladder shifted, and I fell. At first I didn't feel anything. Then I realized I had landed on a steep snowy slope and slid headfirst into a deep crevasse.
At that moment I thought, 'This is where my life ends.' If there hadn't been snow, I would have died immediately. The next day I heard what sounded like a helicopter, but I couldn't see anything. After a day and a half I gave up hope. I thought maybe my body would be found in two, three, or four days. I had already accepted death.
Then suddenly I heard a loud crashing noise. An avalanche came. Surprisingly, the avalanche that could have killed me actually saved me. It filled part of the crevasse with snow, making it possible for me to climb out.
I slowly climbed upward, searching for a way out. Eventually I spotted a fixed rope. When I saw ropes on both sides, I finally felt hope. I followed the ropes downhill.
I had no water, so I survived by eating snow. When I finally reached flowing water, I drank. After that I met people, and I immediately felt safe.
The people were shocked to see me. They said, 'You're the one who went missing! We've been searching for you.' They gave me biscuits and later hot water. Someone contacted the SPCC rescue team. They arrived, carried me, and evacuated me by helicopter to the hospital.
When I arrived at the hospital and saw everyone, I felt great relief. People from my village had also come. I had no idea how worried my wife had been. I only learned about it later. Monks later came together to perform prayers for me.
Looking back, the biggest lesson is that you should never leave your climbing partner. Timing is also very important. Climbers should move earlier so there are always people nearby to help with gear and support each other.
This time I was completely alone. If I had had a partner, I believe I would have escaped much sooner. But there was no one with me, and that made all the difference."
Watch the full original video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RuIyupuIOZ8
