Arriving at Lo Manthang, the traditional power center of trans-Himalayan authority and a historically powerful state, it was around 5:30 PM. It was the 30th day of the first month of the year according to Nepali Calendar.

Experiencing a day that felt meaningful in life was no small matter. Oh! Lo Manthang—the place I had heard of since childhood! Within its earthen walls lay earthen houses and a civilized earthen palace. Today, to witness Lo Manthang’s civilization firsthand was certainly no trivial opportunity.

Climate change in the high Himalayas

Our vehicle moved forward as I traveled with senior journalist Harihar Virahi. It felt as if we had toured the Lo Manthang town, or the civilization itself, in just a short ride. A small settlement nestled among the Himalayan landscape, beside it a small stream, perhaps of strategic importance—during the state’s peak, outsiders would have had to cross it to enter the settlement. This tiny stream probably helped protect the settlement back then.

A small local market served its people; the majority of the buyers were locals rather than tourists. Across the stream were tiny hills shaped like little mounds, with neither greenery nor snow. Later, we learned that the original Lo Manthang was not this market area but lay inside the massive mud-and-stone walls, now painted red and white, visible from the outside. Our curiosity and anticipation centered on entering these walls. Alongside me, Birahi Dai and senior journalist Taranath Dahal shared the same eager anticipation.

The journey from Jomsom highlighted that climate change has had the greatest impact on Nepal’s high Himalayan regions. Overall, climate change has not only affected the environment but also created human crises. Age-old traditions and cultures are vanishing.

Indigenous agricultural systems, techniques, and traditional foods are disappearing. Human relations, social structures, and geographic assets are affected. The relationship between humans and wildlife has also been disturbed, and climate change has triggered new conflicts between tradition and modernity. Lo Manthang, and Mustang as a whole, are no exception.

Making democracy more accountable

As a participant in the Lo Manthang International Media Summit organized by the Nepal Press Union, my understanding of climate change deepened. Studying from books differs greatly from experiencing situations firsthand.

Moreover, assessing the situation and formulating strategies for action is yet another matter. It is fortunate that the 20-point declaration issued by the Press Union in Lo Manthang nearly four months ago remains extremely relevant.

The declaration highlighted environmental issues and noted: due to disappointment and anger toward political leadership and growing neglect of the political system, reforms are needed to make democracy accountable and results-oriented.

Had this point been addressed in time, some of the tragic consequences of poor governance after the Gen Z movement—which caused the deaths of people and substantial property loss on September 8 and 9—might have been mitigated.

The declaration emphasized that political parties and civil society organizations complement democracy; their cooperation and balance help make the state accountable, democratic, and responsive.

The Nepal Press Union called for a proactive role in continuously improving the political system. Unfortunately, the state never took this seriously, forcing us to witness a historic tragedy.

Inside Lo Manthang Palace, the declaration was released in the presence of Rural Municipality Chief Tasi Norbu Gurung, local intellectual Karma Bangel, senior journalists Harihar Birahi, Taranath Dahal, Hari Binod Adhikari, Union President Shiv Lamsal, Senior Vice President Prem KC, Vice Presidents Nakul Aryal and Tanka Adhikari, General Secretary Dilip Paudel, Treasurer Madhav Dhital, and journalists Poshanath Adhikari, Lokraj Awasthi, and Narayan Adhikari.

Before and after the release, we toured the palace area. That night, we stayed at Hotel Mystic. By the time we arrived, it was around 7:30 PM. After tea and coffee, we discussed Lo Manthang’s history, civilization, and the impacts of climate change with Chief Gurung, hotel operator Rambahadur, and Karchung Lhamo Gurung. Earlier, similar discussions took place at the palace with senior Karma.

Natural and human crises in the Himalayas

During discussions on climate, I recalled a study by the Mangrove Foundation, shared by journalist Lokraj Awasthi. According to the study, high-altitude areas have experienced dramatic changes over recent decades. Mountains once covered in snow are now barren and dry. Glacial, snow-covered, and ice-bound regions in the Himalayas are shrinking faster than the global average.

The Himalayas are warming twice as fast as other regions, and global temperature rises are severely affecting snow and ice levels. This is creating human crises and becoming a problem for both nature and people. Based on this, Lo Manthang and Mustang are directly impacted by climate change.

As we sat by the fire at Hotel Mystic, our sense of thrill grew. We learned that in Mustang, a district famous for receiving snow instead of water, snowfall has been missing for years. Locals, raised amid snow, now find it scarce. The rare snow they see feels fleeting. Many questions arise: Why doesn’t it snow as before? Why is agriculture different? Why has humidity decreased? Why is the land heating up?

Locals see mountains turn into bare hills, fertile land dry into wastelands, and landslides on hills during off-seasons. Springs supplying village water have dried. Lo Manthang and Mustang residents are witnessing these changes firsthand, likely caused by climate change.

After dinner, it was around 10 PM. Some considered trying local hot broth to ward off the cold, but the hotel manager, Karchung, warned that we were at 3,850 meters above sea level and cautioned against it. She also gave us Himalayan garlic, advising it would prevent altitude sickness—a tip I still remember.

I shared a room with Virahi Dai. My bed was by the window. Since we planned to leave for Korala early the next morning, I hoped for a deep sleep but could not fall asleep quickly. Possibly due to the fear of altitude sickness, I felt mild cramps at midnight. The night passed, and we rose early to walk around Lo Manthang town and revisit the palace area.

Waiting for preservation: Lo Manthang Palace

Lo Manthang Palace, a magnificent structure of stone and mud, once a center of power and local faith, now seems nearly deserted. A domestic dog appears to guard what soldiers once did. Built in the 15th century, the palace was known as Tassi Dhyaffel Palace, meaning “Fortunate Palace.”

Local intellectual Karma Bangel explains that the first king, Ame Pal, built a nine-meter-high, 563-meter-long wall to protect against external attacks. During the day, the palace opened; by evening, it was closed. Inside the wall were houses, monasteries, and a grand mud palace. There were once 160 houses inside, along with ministries for governance.

Construction outside the walls was forbidden due to fear of enemy attack. After the republic was established, settlements began expanding beyond the walls, reducing palace oversight and giving it a sense of isolation.

Some call it a “mud city” due to its construction. The palace, of historic and archaeological significance, awaits preservation, promotion, and development.

Despite the republic, locals still honor the royal family. The last king, Jigme Parwal Bista, is revered. Preserving this palace as a tourist destination could improve local living standards and economic activity, says Chief Gurung.

Lo Manthang was once an independent state, its economy tied to the salt trade. When the trade route closed and cultural movements arose in Tibet, commerce declined, weakening the local economy. Later, when Prithvi Narayan Shah began Nepal’s unification, Lo Manthang’s rulers sent envoys to pledge support, merging it into Nepal’s history, explains Karma Bangel.

Lo Manthang has five wards, around 2,000 people, and sits in a dry valley enclosed by mud walls. Its natural beauty is matched by rich cultural heritage—palaces, monasteries, royal and local traditions, and Tibetan-influenced lifestyle.

Over 2,000 years ago, the “Sija Zhong” cave was carved into the mud hills, with at least 60 rooms inside. Tourists rarely leave without seeing it. Yet, this historical and tourist potential remains underutilized. The 26th king still resides in the area between the Nilgiri and Dhaulagiri ranges.

Lo Manthang is a center of Tibetan and Buddhist culture for thousands of years, reflected in monasteries, palaces, and ancient paintings. Palaces and monasteries such as Rajmahal, Jhampa, Thubchen, Chhode, and Chhopel are of religious and artistic significance. The dry terrain is home to royal monasteries, ancient murals, sculptures, and Buddhist texts. The historical palaces attract tourists, and with proper preservation and promotion, could become a prime destination benefiting locals and the state.

Waiting for tourism development in Lo Manthang

We met and spoke with many locals. Despite its potential, foreign tourist numbers remain low due to regulations. While nearby Marpha, Jomsom, Kagbeni, and Muktinath attract thousands annually, Lo Manthang, 75 kilometers from Jomsom, sees fewer visitors. Chief Gurung explains that foreigners must pay $500 for a 10-day visit, limiting tourism development.

With state facilitation, thousands of tourists could visit annually, boosting local life, agrees senior journalist Harihar Virahi.

Lo Manthang was a trade route hub between India, Nepal, and Tibet from the 15th to 20th centuries, but now the pass is mostly inactive. Locals struggle to trade, and even emergency medical evacuations require Home Ministry permission, causing delays that can be life-threatening.

Lo Manthang, established in the 14th century (around 1380 AD) as the capital of Lo State, lies between the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri ranges. After tea, we continued our journey toward our next destination, Korala.