Himalaya,
My father-in-law was a U.S. communications officer stationed in New Delhi and he also covered Nepal. He's dead now, but we used to have some interesting conversations about his air travels in Asia when I was a young student pilot.
One of the places he mentioned, I believe, was Simikot, where he said the runway ended and that was it -- a 1,000 or 2,000 drop to the nearest ground and mountains on the other end. It could have been somewhere else, but the message is clear. No missed approaches.
At the time he said most of the flights in and out of Nepal (this being in the late 1950s) were piloted mainly by ex-pats from Britain and the U.S. The Burma hump warriors who stayed behind for whatever reasons. He said a lot took to the bottle. He had one flight out on a DC-3 where the pilot stood beside the plane with a bottle of Scotch waiting for the sunrise and as soon as it had crested, took two big swigs and said, "Let's go."
My father-in-law died peacefully in Virginia at the age of 84, although he told me a number of hair-raising flying incidents while based in New Delhi in the 1950s.