The Red Bulletin December 2020 (UK)

Nims Purja
Everest, 2017
This shot was taken as Purja fixed lines to the summit as part of the
Gurkha 200 expedition. “The weather was brutal,” he says. “It’s so painful
that you think you’d rather die, but death isn’t the solution.”
I couldn’t go that fast, but my body was
taking it OK. That’s when I had a
pulmonary oedema [fluid on the lungs].
It’s like drowning. More than anything
I was ashamed, because I had the
knowledge to avoid that, but you don’t
know where your limit is until you push it.”
If that attitude seems reckless, Purja
sees it differently. “It is reckless to many.
Even in the Special Forces I was known for
taking high risks, but risk is not one size
fits all. If a BASE jumper does his stuff,
I can’t do that. You live in the moment,
but that doesn’t mean you don’t do a risk
assessment. It’s a thin line between being
brave or stupid; living in that moment
and getting yourself killed. I want to live
in the moment for a long time.”
When Nims Purja was 13,
he decided to swim across
one of the biggest rivers in
Nepal. “I was just in my
underwear. I wasn’t a good swimmer, but
I was committed and got to the bank on
the other side,” he recalls. “Then I was
like, ‘Fuck, now I have to go back again.’”
As he began his return swim, he started
thinking. “I remembered stories of
people getting attacked by crocodiles. I
was so tired – I came to that point where
you have to give up, so I did. And I stood
up. I found I was in knee-deep water.
I thought, ‘Thank God.’” Purja is giving
an example of his willingness to test his
limits, but he’s aware it also shows his
capacity to perhaps reach too far.
In 2018, Purja was appointed head
of extreme cold-weather warfare in the
SBS. “My job was to learn new climbing
techniques and teach that to my fellow
operators,” he explains. “I said to my
command, ‘Since my job is this and I
have so much leave, I’d like 18 days off to
climb the world’s five highest mountains.
It’s good for the unit.’” His superiors
were ecstatic, then they researched what
he was planning. “They told me, ‘You
cannot take the risk.’ I said, ‘Fine,’ and
that’s when I decided to leave the job.”
It wasn’t a decision he took lightly.
“I was the bread earner for my family.
Every month, I sent money directly from
my pay cheque to my parents. My dad
was half-paralysed, and my mum was
living in a room in Kathmandu to be near
the medical facility. For me to give up
everything now was crazy. My brother
called. He said, ‘No Gurkha’s ever made
the SBS – you’re the first. You’re close to
your pension – why sacrifice that?’ He
was furious. He didn’t speak to me for
two months.”
Meanwhile, Purja’s plan, which had
now become Project Possible, hit a wall.
“A friend who was leading the financial
side said, ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t raise any
funding after trying for seven months.’
I had only two months to raise £750K.
It was hard, going to every sponsor,
begging. I got £1,000 here, £5,000 there,
but it wasn’t enough; no one believed in
the vision. Some said, ‘If you’re a badass
climber, why have we never heard about
you?’ And I’d say, ‘Because I was in the
Special Forces.’ One guy told me, ‘Maybe
you didn’t get sponsorship because you’re
not white.’ It hit me. I said, ‘You could be
right.’ But at the end of the day, it doesn’t
matter. In life there are harder problems,
but you solve the problem. So I
remortgaged the house, I got the biggest
amount I could – 60 grand – and put
10K aside so, should something happen,
it would pay the mortgage. I started
the mission with five per cent of what
I needed. I was driving down the M3
one day with tears coming from my eyes.
I never cry, but I couldn’t stop. All I could
NIRMAL PURJA
42 THE RED BULLETIN