Mount Everest is a graveyard. That’s not being dramatic; it’s just the literal truth. When you get above 8,000 meters into the Death Zone, the physics of survival change, and the human body basically starts dying. Among the hundreds of bodies scattered across the slopes, one became more famous than the rest. Green Boots Mt Everest isn't just a morbid curiosity. For decades, he was a literal waypoint. A marker. "When you get to the cave with the guy in the green boots, you're almost there," climbers would tell each other. It sounds cold, but at that altitude, your brain is starved of oxygen and your primary goal is not dying. You don't have the luxury of being sentimental.
Who Was the Man Behind the Boots?
Most people in the mountaineering community are fairly certain Green Boots was Tsewang Paljor. He was a 28-year-old head constable with the Indo-Tibetan Border Police. In 1996—the same year as the infamous disaster chronicled in Into Thin Air—Paljor was part of a three-man team from India attempting the summit via the Northeast Ridge. He was strong. He was experienced. But the mountain doesn't care about your resume. On May 10, 1996, Paljor and his teammates, Tsewang Smanla and Dorje Morup, got caught in the same ferocious storm that claimed the lives of Rob Hall and Scott Fischer on the other side of the mountain.
They thought they had reached the summit. They hadn't. They were actually about 150 meters short, but in a whiteout, everything looks the same. They dropped summit flares and started their descent. Paljor never made it back to Camp IV. He sought shelter in a limestone cave at 8,500 meters, curled up to protect himself from the wind, and simply never woke up. For twenty years, he stayed there. His bright Koflach boots—neon green and impossible to miss—stuck out into the path, forcing every climber heading for the summit from the North side to literally step over his legs.
The Ethics of Passing a Body
You've probably wondered why nobody buried him. It feels wrong, right? But here's the thing about 8,500 meters: a frozen human body weighs about 200 pounds, and at that altitude, lifting a candy bar feels like a deadlift. To move a body requires a team of six to eight Sherpas, thousands of dollars in oxygen, and a massive risk of more people dying. Most families can’t afford it, and the Nepalese or Chinese governments aren't exactly running a recovery service at the edge of space.
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So, Green Boots became a feature of the landscape. Honestly, the psychological toll on climbers is the part people don't talk about enough. Imagine you're exhausted, your lungs are burning, and you're terrified. Then, you see a man who looks like he’s just taking a nap, except he’s been dead for two decades. It’s a reminder. It’s a warning. It says, "This could be you in twenty minutes."
The David Sharp Controversy
In 2006, the legend of Green Boots took a dark, controversial turn. A British climber named David Sharp attempted a solo summit without enough oxygen. He ended up in the very same cave as Green Boots, shivering and dying of hypothermia. Over 40 climbers passed him that day. Some thought he was Green Boots. Others thought he was already dead. By the time a team actually stopped to help him on their way down, it was too late.
The outcry was massive. Sir Edmund Hillary himself weighed in, saying the "humanity" had gone out of climbing. This incident forced a huge conversation about the commercialization of Everest. If you pay $60,000 to reach the top, do you stop for a dying man and give up your dream? Most elite climbers say yes. But in the thin air, morality gets blurry.
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Did Green Boots Disappear?
Around 2014, climbers started reporting that Green Boots was gone. People assumed the Chinese Mountaineering Association had finally moved him or buried him under rocks. It’s a sensitive topic. Moving a body on the North Side (Tibet) is wrapped in political and logistical red tape. Later, in 2017, some climbers claimed they saw him again, possibly uncovered by shifting snow or high winds.
The mountain is constantly changing. Bodies appear and disappear as glaciers move and snow melts. In recent years, climate change has been uncovering "lost" climbers at an alarming rate. It’s making the North Side a very different place than it was in the 90s.
What This Means for Future Climbers
If you're planning on tackling the North Ridge, you need to understand that the ghost of Green Boots still haunts the route, even if the body is obscured. Everest isn't a trophy; it's a massive, indifferent rock.
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- Respect the Dead: If you encounter remains, do not take photos. It sounds obvious, but "dark tourism" is real and it’s disrespectful to the families.
- Know the Landmarks: Understand that "Green Boots' Cave" is a specific geographic location. Use it for navigation, but remember the tragedy it represents.
- Prioritize Safety Over Summit: David Sharp died because he pushed too hard with too little. No view is worth a permanent stay in a limestone cave.
The story of Tsewang Paljor is a reminder that the mountain always has the last word. Whether he is currently visible or buried beneath the ice, his presence changed how we view the ethics of high-altitude mountaineering. It shifted the focus from "reaching the top" to "getting home."
If you want to dive deeper into the logistical side of Everest, look into the work of Alan Arnette. He’s arguably the most respected chronicler of Everest seasons and provides incredible insight into why recoveries like Paljor’s are so rare. You might also check out the Himalayan Database, which meticulously tracks every summit and fatality. It’s sobering, but necessary reading for anyone obsessed with the world's highest peak.
To understand the current state of the mountain, keep an eye on the official reports from the CTMA (China Tibet Mountaineering Association). They are the ones who ultimately decide the fate of the "permanent residents" on the North Side. Following their annual updates will give you a clearer picture of how they are handling the increasing number of exposed remains due to glacial retreat.