Until 1964, Lukla, as its name implies, was the place with many sheep and goats. Things there changed dramatically when Sir Edmund Hillary began construction of an airfield to aid in bringing supplies and materials for his school building projects in the Solukhumbu. Before then, a trek to the eastern Himalayan region had to begin at Jiri, the end of the road from Kathmandu. Lukla Airport significantly reduced the number of days needed for an approach hike through the rugged lowlands. The great convenience of bypassing the arduous hike beyond Jiri has made a trek to Everest Base Camp much more appealing to countless westerners. In January 2008, the airport was renamed in honor of Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay Sherpa, the first persons to reach Everest’s summit.

On 8 October 2008, just as we were beginning to think seriously about this visit, a Yeti Airlines DHC-6 Twin Otter, crashed on final approach to the cloud cluttered asphalt runway and caught fire, killing eighteen passengers and crew. The aircraft’s captain was the only survivor. By then, Lukla was already firmly entrenched on any popular listing of the “world’s most dangerous airports.” 

A little research reveals its reputation is well earned. Considering the extreme nature of the nearby landscape, Lukla’s location was the best candidate for the engineers to construct the facility. However, the surrounding terrain, thin air (at 9,318 feet elevation, oxygen is only 70% that at sea level), highly changeable weather and the airport’s short (1,476 feet), narrow (65’), sloping (12% gradient!) runway make it one of the most challenging landings in the world. There are no landing aids, and, due to the terrain, no prospect of a successful go-around on the short final.

After an approach through a maze of spectacular mountain peaks, pilots must throw their propellers into hard reverse even before they touch down to avoid crashing into the looming mountain cliff face. As they race down the steep incline for takeoff, pilots must gun their engines to avoid an abrupt drop-off two thousand feet down to the river valley below. There is no room for error. However, as one local assured me, considering the amount of traffic through the facility (over 50 flights a day – of course limited to daylight hours and good weather!), flying into Tenzing-Hillary is probably not much more dangerous than driving a car on a busy, crowded road in Kathmandu. Having seen traffic in Kathmandu Valley, I admit I did not find this faint praise for Lukla’s safety particularly comforting.

With all that as background, we found ourselves aboard a twin-engine Dornier 228 aircraft at the very smoggy Kathmandu domestic terminal, ready for the short forty minute hop to Lukla. As we climbed out of the Valley, the air cleared and the full range of distant peaks came into view. In the noisy plane, it was impossible to talk, but as the ride turned bumpy, one of my fellow trekkers held up a note reminding me the day’s date was Friday the 13th. Once again, not particularly comforting…

The approach to Lukla was as exciting as predicted, and we made it to within about a hundred yards of the runway before the cross winds convinced our pilot to abort the attempt and return us to Kathmandu. Reminding myself of the recent crash, I admired his caution. We would have one more free afternoon to explore the capital city, and hopefully try the flight to Lukla again in the morning. By then I was sure my nerves would not be a factor, as I would be an old hand at this…