Last chance tourism accelerates the loss of nature

In a world where glaciers are melting and coral reefs are disappearing, a sudden trend is emerging: “Last Chance Tourism.” With an urgent desire to see nature’s unseen wonders, travelers flock to places like Antarctica’s ice shelves and the soaring Great Barrier Reef. Paradoxically, the act of seeing these treasures accelerates their destruction, suggesting a cruel irony.

In fact, an important study highlights the central role of tourism in fueling the crisis it capitalizes on. The sector is said to produce 8.8% of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions, with a significant portion coming from transport – aircraft, cars and ships. As destinations struggle with increased extreme weather, rising insurance premiums, declining water resources, and loss of biodiversity, last-chance tourism is expanding.offers “once-in-a-lifetime” encounters tinged with dread and a sense of foreboding.

The appeal of what is being lost

Last chance tourism, defined as travel driven by fear of irreversible loss, taps into the deep human longing for something real in the face of potential ecological disaster. Phrases like “see the Great Barrier Reef before it disappears” or “hike the Mer de Glace before it disappears” are common on social media and tour operator websites, beckoning eco-conscious adventurers willing to pay premium prices for a strong emotional experience. Iceland, which has seen a fourfold increase in tourism since the early 2010s, attracts visitors drawn to ice caves and geothermal pools, mesmerized by landscapes on the brink of change.

Tourists who pursue this type of tourism are frequently drawn to the Pacific Islands, Greenland, and perhaps especially Antarctica. For example, the White Continent sees almost 118,000 tourists in the 2024-2025 season, an increase due to travel tours that advertise penguin kayaking and helicopter ski tours – experiences that cost from 10,000 euros to 50,000 euros. However, this flow comes at a cost. Heavy metals, such as nickel, copper, lead, zinc and chromium, have been found by researchers in high-traffic zones to be ten times higher than they were 40 years ago, resulting from fossil fuel transportation. These pollutants darken the ice, reduce reflection and accelerate melting, and it is said that a single tourist trip to Antarctica can precipitate 100 tons of snow.

The Great Barrier Reef faces similar challenges. A severe coral bleaching event – unprecedented in scale – will affect more than 84% of the world’s reefs between 2023 and 2025, leaving what some call a “graveyard of dead corals”. Despite the damage, motorboats continue to transport people to snorkel among the remains, although each trip worsens conditions that kill the coral.

Even the Alpine regions of Europe are suffering. According to France’s CNRS, the Alps and Pyrenees have lost nearly 40% of their glacier mass in less than 25 years. Chamonix’s Mer de Glace, the largest glacier in France, has retreated more than two kilometers in the past century, exposing fragile, emerging ecosystems. Glaciologist Jean-Baptiste Bosson has emphasized the need to preserve these areas for study and conservation. Cogwheel trains and new gondolas are being used to bring more visitors to the glacier’s edge, supposedly to raise awareness of climate issues – however, this comes at a clear cost to the vulnerable terrain.

A moral dilemma

Last-chance tourism presents a stark paradox: those who seek out the natural wonder of extinction inevitably hasten their own demise. Air travel creates significant carbon emissions, while foot traffic degrades soil, destroys roads, and produces waste. In addition, boats damage shorelines, noise impacts wildlife, and visitors inadvertently transport invasive species or disease into fragile environments. Overcrowding puts more pressure on destinations, turning sanctuaries into environmental burdens.

Also, this trend represents a clear example of inequality. High-end travel is available to wealthy individuals – whose per capita carbon emissions exceed global norms – while the impacts, from atoll flooding to barren ski slopes, are disproportionately felt by poorer communities.

However, there are those who argue that tourism promotes empathy. Some recent studies seem to suggest that … directly experiencing vulnerability, some suggest, can lead to an ecological awakening, turning politicians’ feelings into action through advocacy or changed habits – especially with informed guidelines. However, the evidence paints a more nuanced picture: relatively few tourists fundamentally change their behavior after a trip, leaving “awareness” as an abstract comfort rather than a significant change.

Cultivating Conscious Exploration

Does the perception of potential harm always need to be present to accelerate real change? The rise of last-chance tourism highlights humanity’s complicated relationship with the natural world: we are fascinated by its magnificence, but seem dependent on its exploitation. This raises a key question: How can we appreciate without hurting others?

The answer may lie in reimagining our approach to travel. “Slow travel”—using methods such as trains, bicycles, or walking—can reveal local treasures while minimizing environmental impact, requiring effort that, in turn, increases appreciation. Consider rediscovering easily accessible local environments, such as nearby forests or beaches, where natural beauty remains relatively untouched. In some cases, the most profound act of conservation may be in collective restraint, the preservation of wonder through a conscious decision not to intervene.

Finally, as the ice melts and the coral blooms, last-chance tourism serves as both a lure and a sign of the times. It challenges us not to simply witness the decline but to actively create ways to ensure that irreplaceable things are not lost forever, learning to respect a world that deserves protection, one intentional step at a time.