Narrator: The rarest honey
in the world is only found at high altitudes.
Narrator: Like this remote cliff in the Himalayas of Nepal.
Honey hunters hang by a rope ladder to harvest these combs.
Narrator: One wrong move and the plunge is 800 feet.
Narrator: What's extracted is called mad honey,
because it can make you hallucinate.
For centuries, an Indigenous people,
the Gurungs, have been the only ones to harvest it.
It's a big part of their culture.
And they believe it has healing properties, too.
But now, the rest of the world has caught on.
A 32-ounce bottle goes for $300 in the US.
We followed Man Bahadur Gurung
on the three-day-long honey-hunting ritual to find
out why this ancient tradition is still happening
and what makes it such a risky business.
The village of Sildhunga sits
about 20,000 feet above sea level high in the Himalayas.
Sixty-four families live here,
and they're all involved in the hunt for honey.
Everyone comes together the day before for the Maruni dance,
which celebrates good over evil.
The next day, Man, the village's main honey hunter,
gets the handmade bamboo ladder ready.
Narrator: They keep essentials to the minimum: ropes, buckets,
and gear to protect against bee stings.
They're heading to Tarebhir, a cliff where they've hunted
for thousands of years.
It's a three-hour drive.
The village elder leads the commencement ritual.
At the bottom of the cliff,
they start a fire to smoke out the bees.
Narrator: At the top,
another group assembles the ladder.
Then they tie it
to a tree and slowly move it down the cliff.
Man climbs down the ladder barefoot for the best grip.
He's about 80 stories above ground.
Narrator: But for safety,
Man ties himself to the ladder by a rope.
That's his only harness.
As the bees swarm around him ...
Narrator: ... he puts his hands in his pocket
to protect them from stings.
He still remembers the time when he was attacked
by bees three years ago.
Narrator: The stings are painful,
and to avoid fainting, Man rubs honey into his hands.
But he's trading one risk
for another, because the honey makes his hands slippery.
Still, it has been 30 years since a honey hunter died
on the job.
Narrator: Man uses his 12-foot-long stick, called a tango,
to cut the honeycomb.
Narrator: Finally, he breaks off the comb.
800 feet below, a plastic sheet catches it.
Narrator: They collected eight combs, leaving behind 36 others.
The next day, hunters head back
to the village and start extracting the hunt.
Narrator: Man says it's more abundant, stronger, and sweeter
in the spring.
The smaller combs usually have the most, about 500 ounces.
Locals celebrate the hunters' safe return
in a tradition called Shyo Shyo.
It's meant to settle any nerves the men had during the hunt.
Narrator: These customs have passed down for generations
in Nepal, where people have been using this honey
as a natural medicine since 1300 BC.
They believe that it cures respiratory issues and
that it works as an antiseptic and an aphrodisiac.
And over the last decade,
the rest of the world has begun to catch on.
Narrator: While scientists are still researching the effects
of mad honey, global demand has exploded in recent years.
And that has led to overharvesting,
with foreign groups coming in to hunt
for their own honey in the Gurungs' land.
Narrator: So the Gurungs found a solution to regain control.
Narrator: And there's a reason why it's home
to the very uncommon mad honey. The largest bee species
in the world, measuring up to 1.2 inches, lives here.
The apis laboriosa nest in altitudes ranging
from 3,000 to 10,000 feet above sea level.
And they feed on a specific type
of rhododendron that has a neurotoxin in its nectar.
That's what triggers hallucinations.
But climate change is causing the flowers to bloom unpredictably.
The bee population is also shrinking
because of natural disasters like wildfires,
heavier rainfall, and extreme temperature changes.
This all means less honey.
In 2022, the village harvested about 4 gallons
of honey, compared to about 40 gallons in 2017.
Half of the honey is distributed evenly to every single villager.
Narrator: The rest goes to markets in Nepal.
Other cliffs across the Himalayas
and Turkey also have mad honey,
and it sells online for hundreds of dollars.
But this village makes only $1,800
on average every year from honey sales.
Narrator: So it's not really about the money.
Most people here rely
on farming for a steady income, like Man's father.
Narrator: But he participates in all of the
hunting traditions, like every villager.
Man began hunting in his early 40s, when the Gurungs believe
a man is in the prime of his life.
Before that, he worked construction jobs in Malaysia.
In fact, 56% of Nepali families have at least
one person working and living abroad,
because of the lack of jobs in the country.
They send home more than $6 billion in remittances.
Man's son is also a construction worker.
Narrator: Man hopes he will come home soon to carry
on the tradition of honey hunting.