In recent years, the culture of trekking and mountaineering has shifted from introspective exploration to externally validated accomplishment. This short essay critically examines the rise of certificate-oriented treks and the commodification of high-altitude experiences, drawing on personal reflection and broader trends in adventure tourism. From summit selfies to laminated certificates, it explores how social media, bucket-list marketing, and consumer expectations have transformed sacred and solitary landscapes into stages of performance. Juxtaposing this trend with traditional values of humility, transformation, and reverence, the essay asks: what is lost when the journey becomes a product? Through examples from Kilimanjaro, Everest, Annapurna, and beyond, it advocates a return to a slower, deeper, more meaningful engagement with the mountains—one not stamped or shared, but quietly carried within.
Summits for
Show: On the Commodification of Trekking
In the summer of 2005, I stood atop Kilimanjaro, Africa’s highest peak. It was a curious postscript to a much tougher expedition I had just led to Kamet (7,756 m) in the Garhwal Himalaya. Where Kamet demanded every ounce of focus and humility from our team, Kilimanjaro was, for me, undertaken almost light-heartedly—a quick adventure out of curiosity.
At the chilly Uhuru Peak, I took in the moment quietly. It was a still, wordless instant—the kind that plants a seed. In hindsight, that was the germination of my love for Africa. It was only the next day, on my way out of the national park, that a guide pressed a colourfully printed certificate into my hands, congratulating me on my success. I remember thanking him politely and stuffing the certificate into my pack, not ungrateful but faintly bemused. After the profound effort and inner journey of Kamet, this piece of paper felt inconsequential—a token to say I had been there, done that. I folded it away and forgot about it.
Little did I know that this summit certificate—at the time a quirky souvenir—would, in the years to come, become a central artefact in what I now think of as the performance culture of trekking.
The
Certificate as Summit
The thought resurfaced years later when a man from Kolkata, quite earnestly, contacted me requesting a summit certificate for Everest—not for himself, but for his wife. They had been part of a guided trip, and whether she had actually reached the summit or not remained unclear. He was desperately seeking the certificate as proof, willing to pay a significant sum for it. The paper, to him, wasn’t a souvenir. It was the summit.
More recently, I saw a Facebook announcement from a trekking operator celebrating that their clients had
“earned their certificates” for reaching Annapurna Base Camp. The wording struck me: not “completed the journey,” not “witnessed the mountain”—but earned their certificates. It made me pause. At what point did walking through a Himalayan valley demand official endorsement? When did the validation become more important than the experience?
Welcome to
the Era of Trophy Trekking
From
Kilimanjaro to the Inca Trail, from Everest Base Camp to Kedarkantha, the
certificate has evolved from keepsake to badge of honour. For many, it is the
most anticipated moment of the trek—the formal, frame-worthy declaration that
one has achieved something. On Kilimanjaro, for instance, the Tanzanian
authorities issue green certificates for those reaching Stella Point and gold
for those reaching Uhuru Peak, complete with date, altitude, and signature¹.
In Nepal,
companies guiding clients to Everest Base Camp (5,364 m) offer
"Certificates of Accomplishment" even though it is not a summit.
Tibet-based operators describe such documents as “your best bragging rights”².
Indian trekking firms similarly issue e-certificates for popular trails such as
Kedarkantha, Brahmatal, and Sandakphu. Some even issue participation
certificates to those who did not complete the trek³.
At first
glance, this may seem harmless. After all, who doesn't like a souvenir? But the
certificate culture, as it grows, reveals a deeper transformation in how many
people relate to the outdoors. The emphasis is shifting from presence to performance,
from experience to evidence, from being moved by a mountain to proving you were
there.
From
Souvenirs to Status Symbols
The shift is
visible across the adventure tourism industry. Trekking packages often include
not just logistical support but also professional photos, achievement badges, and
pre-printed banners for summit selfies. An entire economy thrives on producing
portable, postable tokens of triumph.
For an
increasing number of people, the mountain is not the goal. The goal is what the
mountain gives them: a certificate, a selfie, a story to tell, a box ticked on
a bucket list. Achievement replaces absorption. And in this shift, something
elemental is lost.
This isn’t
merely a philosophical issue—it has real consequences.
The Darker
Side: Forged Summits and Faked Proof
The pressure
to have done it—and to have something to show for it—has led some to fake
it. In 2016, an Indian couple, Dinesh and Tarakeshwari Rathod, claimed to be
the first Indian husband-wife team to summit Everest. Nepal’s Ministry of
Tourism initially issued them certificates. But their summit photo turned out
to be digitally manipulated—a crude Photoshop job superimposing their faces
onto another climber’s image⁴. Once the fraud was exposed, their summit
certificates were revoked and they were banned from climbing in Nepal for 10
years⁵.
A few years later, another Indian climber, Narender Singh Yadav, claimed to have summited Everest in 2016 and submitted faked photos to obtain an official certificate. He was even shortlisted for India's prestigious Tenzing Norgay Adventure Award—a distinction that, given its recurring controversies, often raises deeper questions about the country’s understanding of adventure itself. It took several whistle-blowers to reveal that Yadav never made it to the top.
In 2021, his certificate was rescinded and a climbing ban imposed⁶.
These are
not isolated cases. Around the world, from marathon races to mountain ascents,
there is a rising incidence of achievement fraud—false claims made to
gain social capital, jobs, awards, or simply admiration. When the certificate
becomes the goal, truth becomes negotiable.
Overcrowded
Peaks and Cultural Fractures
Beyond
ethical concerns, the trophy culture of trekking is putting enormous pressure
on fragile ecosystems and traditional communities. In 2019, a photo of a
traffic jam near the summit of Everest went viral. Dozens of climbers, crammed
into the Death Zone above 8,000 m, waited for their turn on the summit ridge⁷.
That same season saw a record number of Everest deaths, many due to congestion.
In India,
the popular Kedarkantha trek has been inundated. On New Year’s Day 2022, over
3,000 trekkers attempted the summit. Locals described it as a stampede⁸. The
alpine meadow was left littered with plastic, snack wrappers, and liquor
bottles⁹. The once-quiet village of Sankri, now a booming trailhead, is
struggling with sewage issues, water shortages, and unregulated construction¹⁰.
In Ladakh,
the authorities had to close Stok Kangri, once the most climbed 6,000 m peak in
India, due to overuse. The sacred mountain was being “loved to death” by
trophy-seeking trekkers and operators marketing it as a beginner’s summit¹¹.
And then
there’s the cultural toll. As trekking becomes a transaction, locals often
become service providers in their own sacred landscapes. Sherpas on Everest,
Chaggas on Kilimanjaro, and Quechua porters in Peru carry the weight of other
people’s ambitions—often without receiving even the certificates that climbers
so proudly display¹². Their knowledge, resilience, and sacrifice are invisible
behind the photo ops.
The
Addiction to Applause
Social media
has fuelled this performative mindset. Treks are planned with the end-photo in
mind. Hashtags and filters replace journaling and reflection. One now prepares
not just physically for a climb, but narratively—deciding in advance how the
experience will be framed and received online.
As British
adventurer Adrian Hayes observed, “All these internal drivers—self-fulfilment,
curiosity—have been overtaken. We’re in a massive epidemic. We’re striving for
recognition and fame.”¹³
Even the
noble idea of turning back, once a mark of wisdom and mountain sense, is now
often seen as failure unless mitigated by a photo or certificate of
participation. But the mountain does not owe you a summit. Or a certificate. Or
a narrative arc. It simply is.
What We
Might Lose—and What We Can Still Keep
When
climbing becomes performing, and walking becomes posing, we lose the elemental
gift of the mountains: their silence, their challenge, their refusal to flatter
our egos.
I have
returned from many expeditions with no photos, no summit, no applause. But
those are often the ones that taught me the most. The wind on a remote ridge.
The decision to turn around. The quiet meal in a shepherd’s hut. These don’t
fit easily onto a certificate or Instagram story—but they endure.
So here is
my invitation: by all means, accept your certificate if offered. Pose for the
photo. But don’t let that be the point. Let the real proof lie in your
patience, your humility, your willingness to walk slowly, listen deeply, and
return changed.
Endnotes
- “Mount Kilimanjaro Certificate.”
Tranquil Kilimanjaro. https://www.tranquilkilimanjaro.com/mount-kilimanjaro-certificate/
- “Get Mt. Everest Certificate!
Your Best Bragging Rights for Tibet Tour.” Tibet Vista, 2024. https://www.tibettravel.org/everest-base-camp-trek/everest-certificate.html
- “Do you provide a certificate of
completion?” Bikat Adventures. https://www.bikatadventures.com/Home/Itinerary/Annapurna-Base-Camp-Trek
- “Indian Couple Banned from
Climbing After Faking Ascent of Everest.” The Guardian, 31 August
2016. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/aug/31/indian-couple-banned-climbing-fake-everest-ascent
- “Nepal Cancels Everest Summit
Certificates.” BBC, 2016. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-37218238
- “Nepal Bans Three Indian
Climbers.” The Guardian, 12 Feb 2021. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/feb/12/nepal-bans-indian-climbers-accused-of-faking-everest-summit
- “Everest Traffic Jam at 8,000
Metres.” BBC News, 2019. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-48395880
- “New Year Stampede on
Kedarkantha Peak.” Deccan Herald, 2022. https://www.deccanherald.com/specials/insight/is-a-boom-in-trekking-an-uphill-task-for-conservation-1147720.html
- Ibid.
- Ibid.
- “Stok Kangri Trek Banned to
Regrow Ecology.” Trekking Community of Ladakh, 2020. https://www.indiahikes.com/blog/stok-kangri-banned
- “On Summit Certificates, Liaison
Officers and Funny Mountaineering Rules.” Mark Horrell Blog, 2016. https://www.markhorrell.com/blog/2016/on-summit-certificates-liaison-officers-and-funny-mountaineering-rules/
- Hayes, Adrian. Interview in The
Guardian, 2019. https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2019/sep/26/everest-instagram-climbers-mountaineering
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