In the remote Limi Valley of Nepal, the 1,000-year-old village of Til is on the brink of being abandoned. On the night of May 15, residents were jolted awake by a terrifying cascade of earth, water and rocks that rushed down the mountain toward their homes. Barefoot and frantic, they carried their elderly to safety as 21 families fled their mud-roofed houses and sheltered in nearby fields.
For two weeks they lived in tents, with barely any outside help. With infrastructure destroyed and no immediate government aid to rebuild or relocate, they returned to their damaged homes — but their decision was unanimous: they will leave Til by the end of this year.
Til is the most isolated of three villages in the Limi Valley — located near the Nepal-Tibet border, about 4,000 meters above sea level. Despite its harsh terrain, the valley once supported nearly 1,000 people in about 180 households. Culturally, the village leans toward Tibet: the people speak Tibetan, and Buddhist monasteries that date back to the 10th century stand in the region.
Until now, the community had been largely self-reliant, surviving epidemics and natural disasters through their own organization. But the recent deluge appears to stem from a melting permafrost lake high in the mountains, experts say — meltwater from thawed permafrost can pool in depressions and then suddenly burst, triggering catastrophic floods.
In the aftermath, the village has lost critical services: electricity, irrigation systems, and key footbridges that connected Til to the outside world were washed away. Even before this disaster, the community was shrinking. Young people were leaving for cities, and two of the three monasteries in the valley have already dwindled in influence.
One of the region’s most vocal voices is 25-year-old climate activist and filmmaker Tashi Lhazom, who grew up in nearby Halji. She has worked tirelessly to bring attention to the plight of her community, creating fundraising campaigns and challenging officials to take action.
Donations helped set up tents, solar lights and water supplies. Using these funds, the community rebuilt a bridge that had been swept away earlier in the year.
But despite the relief, locals are increasingly worried they may not survive future floods. Multiple bridges have failed in recent years, and more landslides continue to shake the fragile terrain.
With no satisfactory government response, villagers have formally requested support — funds, land for relocation (many want to move to Kathmandu), and a full assessment of the valley’s glacial lakes.
Even as Til’s residents prepare to leave, they carry their traditions with them. “We cannot carry the monastery, but we will take our statues, relics and other artefacts … if we are alive, we can keep our culture alive,” says one villager.
If they leave, the neighboring village of Halji, with about 400 people, would become the final guardian of Limi Valley’s thousand-year-old legacy.
