Antioquia, a department renowned for its diverse ecosystems ranging from high-altitude páramos to tropical forests, finds itself at a critical crossroads. As tourism surges, environmental authorities are taking unprecedented steps to protect their natural heritage, marking what could be the beginning of widespread restrictions on access to some of the region’s most treasured natural areas.
Recent closures signal a watershed moment
The story of Antioquia’s fight against destructive tourism is best illustrated by two landmark closures that have reshaped the department’s approach to environmental protection. The first came at Páramo del Sol, stretching across Urrao and Frontino municipalities. At 4,080 meters above sea level, the site’s peak, known as Campanas, stands as Antioquia’s highest point. What was once a pristine sanctuary for the endangered Andean bear transformed over years into a cautionary tale of tourism gone wrong. Unauthorized parties, mounting garbage, and widespread contamination forced Corpourabá to implement a complete shutdown of tourist activities in mid-2022. The closure, extended until August 2025, has already shown promising results: frailejones are recovering, native forests are regenerating, and there are encouraging signs of Andean bear activity returning to the area.
The second closure, announced on October 9th, 2023, targeted Cerro Las Palomas in Sonsón. This site, occupying merely half a hectare at 3,300 meters altitude, houses something extraordinary: a newly discovered species of frailejón (Espeletia restricta) found nowhere else on Earth. The closure came after years of watching groups of 30-40 people, sometimes swelling to 140 visitors in a single weekend, trample through an area that scientific studies suggested could sustain no more than ten visitors at a time. The decision to close Las Palomas wasn’t just about protecting a single species – it was about preserving an entire interconnected ecosystem where countless species depend on this unique frailejón’s survival.
The scale of the problem: A crisis across ecosystems
The impact of uncontrolled tourism stretches far beyond these two high-profile cases. Cornare and Corantioquia have documented serious degradation across at least ten protected areas, each with its own tragic story of environmental decline:
The cave crisis
The caves within the Regional Integrated Management District of Forests, Marbles and Pantágoras represent one of Colombia’s most significant speleological treasures. These aren’t just any caves – they’re part of a select group of 250 documented cave systems in the country. Recent reports to Cornare have revealed motorcycles entering these delicate formations, threatening irreplaceable geological and biological features that took millennia to form.
The cloud forest predicament
The cloud forests of Cacica Noria in Antioquia’s Northeast region represent a particularly poignant case. Discovered just eight years ago following the Peace Agreement, these mysterious forests had remained relatively untouched during Colombia’s conflict years. Now, they face a new threat from unregulated tourism, endangering their unique ecosystem before scientists have fully documented their biodiversity.
Wetland degradation
The Río Negro inlets in Necoclí, crucial nurseries for fish populations, face mounting pressure from tourist activities. These wetlands play a vital role in the region’s ecological balance, but increasing foot traffic and development are disrupting their delicate ecosystems.
A system under unprecedented pressure
The challenge facing Antioquia’s environmental authorities goes beyond simple overcrowding. David Echeverri, Head of Forests and Biodiversity at Cornare, describes a perfect storm of factors that have overwhelmed the region’s capacity to manage tourism:
Social media has revolutionized how people discover natural destinations, but not in a good way. A single viral post can draw thousands of visitors to ecologically sensitive areas virtually overnight. These sudden influxes bypass traditional planning processes and overwhelm local infrastructure. More critically, they circumvent environmental impact assessments that should precede any significant increase in human activity in protected areas.
The problem is compounded by a severe lack of enforcement resources. Local authorities often learn about new “tourist attractions” in their jurisdiction only after they’ve gone viral on social media. By then, informal trails have been carved, makeshift parking areas have appeared, and damage to local ecosystems has already begun.