Springfield Resort Gilgit, Gilgit Baltistan

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Deosai National Park: Where Tourism, Conservation and Climate Change Meet

By Ahmed Wali Khan

At more than 13,000 feet above sea level, Deosai National Park is not simply a tourist destination. For the people of Gilgit-Baltistan and for travellers from across Pakistan and around the world, visiting Deosai is often a dream. For many visitors to Skardu, a journey feels incomplete without experiencing this extraordinary high-altitude wilderness.

Deosai has a character that is difficult to describe in words. The vast open plains, changing landscapes, colourful summer wildflowers, cold winds and intense sunshine create an experience that remains in one's memory for a lifetime. Marmots can often be seen near the road or resting on rocks, while the sighting of the Himalayan brown bear remains one of the most exciting experiences for wildlife lovers.

There is a reason why Deosai is often associated with the legendary “Land of Giants.” The moment one enters its vast plateau, there is a strong sense of arrival into a world very different from the valleys and towns below.

Deosai is home to remarkable landscapes, wetlands, lakes and wildlife. Sheosar Lake, surrounded by the vast plateau and distant mountains, is among its most beautiful attractions. During summer, seasonal flowers spread across the plains in different colours, transforming the landscape into a natural garden.

The Deosai of the Past

Visiting Deosai was once a serious adventure. It required careful planning, proper equipment and, most importantly, an experienced driver. The roads were narrow, rough and often dangerous. Only skilled local 4x4 drivers were familiar with many of these difficult routes.

Crossing Bara Pani was once an important part of the Deosai adventure. Before the construction of the RCC bridge, the river crossing could be extremely challenging, particularly during summer when water levels increased. For drivers, it was a technical test of skill, while for tourists it was the real experience of a jeep safari.

Those who travelled through Deosai during those days still remember the adventure with joy and laughter. The journey itself was part of the experience.

Today, things have changed considerably. Improved roads and infrastructure have made Deosai more accessible. The bridge over Bara Pani has made travel safer and easier, while roads through the park provide easier access to different parts of the plateau and towards Sheosar Lake.

Accessibility has brought benefits, but it has also created a new challenge: increasing tourist pressure on a fragile ecosystem.

My First Journey to Deosai

My first visit to Deosai was in 2003. I travelled with my cousin Karim, his wife and his son from Gilgit towards Astore and then Deosai in his old Willys Jeep.

Those were very different days. The roads were narrow, dangerous and challenging. Travelling towards Doyan, the steep climbs and deep valleys below could be frightening. However, the journey itself was an unforgettable adventure.

I still remember reaching the higher areas where forests and flowing water surrounded us. Karim pointed towards a small wooden structure and told me that it had been established by my grandfather, Mehboob Wali, who had served as a Forest Officer during the British period in the region.

There were no mobile phones, no digital cameras and no modern gadgets in our pockets. We carried a film camera and a few basic belongings. After reaching Rama Meadows, we spent the night at PTDC. At that time, Rama was peaceful, open and largely untouched. The meadows were almost empty, with only a few cows grazing in the distance.

The following morning, we travelled towards Deosai through Chilim. Tourism was almost completely inactive during those years, particularly after the events of 9/11. We did not come across domestic or foreign tourists on the way.

After having tea at Chilim, we reached the forest check post and entered Deosai. I still remember the excitement of entering this legendary landscape for the first time. Karim removed the top of the Jeep, giving us a completely open view of the surroundings.

Then, after taking a turn, Sheosar Lake slowly appeared before us. It was a view of a lifetime.

Karim drove towards the lake, where we saw two people windsurfing. There was a camp near the lake, and after some time we met Wajahat Malik, the well-known documentary filmmaker. We had tea at the camp before continuing our journey towards Skardu.

At that time, crossing Bara Pani and travelling down towards Skardu was still a challenging adventure.

Deosai Through Different Years

My second major experience of Deosai came when I had the opportunity to camp there with a team of around thirty to forty people connected with the Pakistan Wetlands Programme. At that time, I was working with the socio-economic team, and along with my colleagues, we conducted field activities with communities living around the Deosai region.

This experience helped me understand that Deosai is not only a tourist destination. It is also connected to local communities, grazing practices, livelihoods, wetlands and the wider ecosystem of the region.

I crossed Deosai again in 2012 while travelling towards the Concordia trek. Even during summer, the area was quiet, and I remember seeing very few visitors.

Then, in 2020, before the Gilgit-Baltistan elections, I again travelled across Deosai. It was November, and the landscape had completely changed. The green plains of summer had turned yellow and brown. As we reached Bara Pani, snowfall began.

That is the beauty of Deosai: every visit offers a different experience.

Conservation: A Success That Must Continue

One of the most encouraging aspects of Deosai National Park is the visible presence of wildlife. The conservation efforts carried out over the years, particularly for the protection of the Himalayan brown bear and other species, demonstrate the importance of protected areas.

The credit for this progress goes to the concerned departments, conservation organisations, local communities and the Wildlife Department. Their efforts have helped protect wildlife and maintain the ecological importance of this remarkable landscape.

However, conservation can never be considered a completed task.

As tourism increases, the pressure on Deosai will also increase. More vehicles, more visitors, temporary camps, waste, noise and human activity can gradually affect wildlife and damage the fragile alpine environment.

A national park cannot survive only through rules on paper. It requires proper management, monitoring, trained staff, responsible tourists and the participation of local communities.

Tourism Brings Opportunity—and Pressure

During the summer season, Deosai now receives a large number of visitors. Temporary camps and rest areas are established, and tourists travelling long distances stop to enjoy the landscape, have tea and continue their journey.

This tourism creates economic opportunities for local people. It supports drivers, guides, hotels, camps, restaurants and other tourism-related businesses.

But Deosai is not an ordinary destination.

It is a fragile high-altitude ecosystem. Its short summer season, wetlands, grasslands, wildlife habitats and natural vegetation can be easily disturbed.

The question, therefore, should not be how to stop tourism. Tourism is important for the economy of Gilgit-Baltistan. The real question is:

How can we manage tourism without destroying the very environment that attracts tourists?

We need a system that creates a win-win situation for both Deosai National Park and its visitors.

This may include controlling the number of vehicles entering sensitive areas, regulating temporary camps, improving waste management, ensuring proper toilet facilities, restricting off-road driving and educating visitors about responsible behaviour.

Tourism should support conservation, and part of the revenue generated from visitors should directly contribute to the protection and management of the park.

A Visitor's Experience

While discussing Deosai with Zartaj Subhani, a social worker based in Karachi and a regular traveller to the northern areas, she spoke highly of her experience in the park.

She was particularly impressed by the natural beauty of Deosai, the changing colours of the landscape and the purple flowers that dominated parts of the plains during her visit. She also enjoyed watching marmots moving freely in their natural habitat.

She appreciated the development of improved camping facilities near the lake, particularly the availability of clean toilets and running water. Such facilities are important because responsible tourism does not mean denying visitors basic comfort. Instead, it means providing facilities in a way that reduces environmental damage.

Climate Change: The Challenge Ahead

While Deosai continues to attract visitors because of its natural beauty, climate change presents a serious long-term challenge.

Gilgit-Baltistan is already experiencing changing weather patterns, glacier melt, extreme rainfall, flash floods and other climate-related events. High-altitude ecosystems such as Deosai are particularly sensitive to changes in temperature and precipitation.

Changes in snowfall, the timing of seasonal melting, water availability and the short growing season can affect the wetlands, vegetation and wildlife of the plateau. These changes may not always be immediately visible to tourists, but their long-term impact could be significant.

This makes scientific monitoring and long-term research extremely important.

Deosai should not only be promoted as a tourist destination. It should also be treated as an important natural laboratory where scientists, conservationists and government departments can study the effects of climate change on high-altitude ecosystems.

Eco-Tourism Is the Way Forward

The future of tourism in Deosai must be based on eco-tourism rather than uncontrolled mass tourism.

Visitors should come to enjoy the beauty of the park, but they should also understand its ecological importance. Tourism operators and drivers should be trained in responsible tourism practices. Visitors should be encouraged to take their waste back, avoid disturbing wildlife and remain within designated routes.

There should also be greater involvement of local communities in tourism and conservation. When local people benefit from protecting nature, conservation becomes more sustainable.

Deosai has given us an incredible natural treasure. The challenge now is to ensure that development and tourism do not destroy its wilderness.

I have travelled across Deosai in different years and during different seasons—from the quiet and almost untouched Deosai of 2003 to the increasingly busy landscape of recent years. Every journey has been different, but the feeling of entering those vast plains has remained the same.

Deosai is more than a road to Sheosar Lake. It is more than a place for photographs and social media videos. It is a living landscape of wetlands, wildlife, flowers, mountains, rivers and stories. The roads may have changed. The bridges may have made the journey easier. Tourism may continue to grow. But one thing must remain unchanged: our responsibility to protect Deosai.

If we manage tourism responsibly, strengthen conservation and take climate change seriously, future generations will also have the opportunity to experience the same sense of wonder when they enter the vast plains of the legendary Land of Giants.

Deosai does not need fewer visitors—it needs more responsible visitors, better management and a stronger commitment to conservation.
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Ahmed Wali Khan
Development Entrepreneur | Climate Change, Eco-Tourism & Conservation Advocate
Based in Gilgit

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Shandur: Where Polo, Nature and Culture Meet at the Roof of the World

By Ahmed Wali Khan

For the people of Gilgit-Baltistan and Chitral, Shandur is more than a mountain pass. It is a name that carries memories, history, culture and a deep connection with one of the most remarkable landscapes in northern Pakistan.

For generations, people from different walks of life have travelled towards Shandur to witness the famous polo festival, meet friends and relatives, camp in the open landscape and experience the extraordinary beauty of this high-altitude region.

Located at an elevation of around 3,700 metres (12,200 feet), Shandur is internationally known for hosting one of the world's highest polo grounds. Every summer, usually in July, the Shandur Polo Festival brings together polo teams and spectators from Gilgit-Baltistan, Chitral and other parts of Pakistan, while also attracting tourists and lovers of mountain culture.

The annual festival is traditionally centred on competitive polo between teams representing the two regions. But Shandur itself is much bigger than the few days of polo. It is a vast and environmentally sensitive high-altitude landscape of mountains, pastures, streams, lakes and wetlands.

A Journey Through Shandur

I have crossed Shandur Pass many times during my lifetime. Every journey has been different. From changing weather to difficult roads and the vast open landscape, travelling across Shandur has always been an experience as well as a challenge.

I attended the Shandur Polo Festival only once, during my school days in the early 1990s. At that time, the journey itself was a major part of the adventure. The roads were narrow and rough, facilities were limited, and travelling between Gilgit and Chitral was long and tiring.

Yet, despite the lack of infrastructure, the enthusiasm of the people was remarkable.

Today, Shandur is much easier to access from both sides. Improved roads, media coverage and the growth of domestic tourism have transformed the festival into one of Pakistan's most important cultural and tourism events. Thousands of people now travel to this remote high-altitude landscape, and for several days, Shandur almost becomes a temporary town.

This development has created economic opportunities, but it has also created new challenges.

A Fragile High-Altitude Ecosystem

Shandur and its surrounding valleys are not simply tourist destinations. They are environmentally important landscapes containing high-altitude pastures, streams, lakes and wetlands.

The wider Shandur-Hundrap landscape is protected as a national park and contains important high-altitude habitats. These ecosystems support biodiversity and play an important role in water systems that sustain communities downstream.

The approaches to Shandur pass through some of the most beautiful valleys of Ghizer, including areas known for trout fishing, camping, rivers and spectacular mountain scenery. The landscape offers enormous potential for eco-tourism, but tourism in such fragile environments must be carefully managed.

High-altitude ecosystems recover slowly from environmental damage. A small amount of waste, vehicle movement or disturbance that may appear temporary can remain visible for years.

During the polo festival, the arrival of thousands of visitors places enormous pressure on the area. Temporary camp villages are established, vehicle movement increases dramatically and large quantities of food waste, plastic and other waste are generated.

The lakes and wetlands near the polo ground deserve particular attention.

If tourism continues to grow without a proper environmental management system, the very landscape that attracts visitors could gradually be damaged.

Tourism Must Not Leave a Permanent Footprint

Eco-tourism should not simply mean bringing more tourists to a beautiful location. True eco-tourism means ensuring that tourism contributes to conservation, benefits local communities and supports the long-term protection of natural resources.

The Shandur Polo Festival can become a model for responsible tourism.

This year, according to the observations of Mr. Sikander Wali, a corporate executive and regular participant who travels from other parts of Pakistan to attend the festival, a significantly higher number of public toilets were established compared with previous years. This was an important and positive step.

However, toilets alone are not enough.

A comprehensive environmental management plan should be implemented before, during and after the festival. This should include:

Strict waste collection and removal from the festival area.

A ban or significant reduction in single-use plastics.

Clearly designated camping areas.

Protection of wetlands and sensitive areas from vehicle movement.

Proper sewage and sanitation management.

Awareness campaigns for visitors.

A strict “leave no trace” policy for all camps and participants.

Environmental monitoring after the festival.

The responsibility should not rest only with the government. Visitors, event organisers, tourism departments, local businesses, security institutions and the media must all play their role.

After the last tent is removed and the visitors have returned home, Shandur should look as clean and natural as it did before the festival began.

Wildlife and Water Need Protection

The streams and rivers around Shandur have historically supported trout, and conservation efforts have contributed to improving fish populations in some areas. The surrounding landscape also provides habitat for important wildlife. During winter, brown bear sightings have occasionally been reported in the wider area.

These are reminders that Shandur is not an empty playground for human activities. It is a living ecosystem.

Climate change adds another layer of concern.

Across Gilgit-Baltistan and Chitral, glaciers, snowfall patterns, water systems and mountain ecosystems are changing. High-altitude wetlands and lakes are particularly sensitive to changes in temperature and precipitation.

Wetlands are often underestimated, yet they play an important role in storing water, supporting biodiversity and maintaining ecological balance. The high-altitude lake and wetland systems around Shandur deserve scientific study and stronger conservation attention.

The potential for recognition and protection of important wetlands, including consideration under international conservation frameworks where scientifically justified, should be explored through proper environmental assessment.

Remembering the Original Spirit of Shandur

To understand the future of Shandur, it is important to listen to those who remember what it was like before roads improved, before large crowds arrived and before the festival became a major tourism event.

While speaking with Mr. Ali Ahmed Jan, a senior conservationist and consultant, he shared his memories of learning about the Shandur Polo Festival as early as 1980 while studying in Gahkuch.

According to his recollection, he came across a handwritten public announcement regarding a Shandur polo tournament. The announcement had been given to his father by his friend Amir Ullah Khan, himself a polo player and associated with the Chitral District Council. Mr. Ali Ahmed Jan reproduced the announcement and displayed it in Gahkuch Bazaar.

Those early matches and competitions between communities from Upper Ghizer and Upper Chitral helped strengthen what would later develop into the annual Shandur Polo Festival.

Mr. Jan attended the festival in 1994, when travelling to Shandur was far more difficult than it is today. Roads were rough and narrow, and the journey between Gilgit and Chitral could take around twelve exhausting hours.

Yet the number of spectators was remarkable.

There were no large camp villages, limited infrastructure and few basic facilities. There were no major corporate sponsors and far less commercial activity. But the festival had something powerful: its original community spirit.

The people came for polo.

They came to support their teams, meet friends, celebrate their culture and enjoy the rivalry between the two regions. The event was rooted in local identity and the ancient love for the game.

Memories of an Earlier Shandur

An even earlier perspective comes from Major (Retd.) Ahsan Wali, who has visited Shandur on several occasions over more than four decades. His memories provide a remarkable account of how access, infrastructure, tourism and the overall environment of Shandur have changed with time.

Major Ahsan Wali first visited Shandur with his father, affectionately known as Baba, around 1967 or 1968. At that time, his father was serving as the APA Gilgit. Ghizer District had not yet been established, and the entire area, including Punial and Yasin valleys up to Shandur, was administratively part of Gilgit District.

He recalls that the family spent a night in Gupis with the late Raja Sahib before continuing their journey towards Shandur the following day. The road was narrow, and travelling through the mountains was a true adventure. On the way, they stopped for lunch at a rest house in one of the villages before continuing towards Shandur Pass.

What he remembers most clearly, however, is the Shandur landscape itself.

> “I remember Shandur as a lush green, bowl-shaped open area, with a lake on one side. Cattle were grazing, and there was no construction in sight.”

It was a Shandur almost untouched by commercial tourism. There were no temporary markets, no large camp villages and no crowds of thousands of visitors. The landscape was dominated by open pastures, grazing animals, water and mountains.

He also remembers his father spending time angling in the lake, although he was unable to catch any fish.

Major Ahsan Wali's second visit came in 2003, when he travelled with the late Shafqat Wali Khan to attend the Shandur Polo Festival. Brigadier Inayat Wali Khan, who was then serving as a Colonel and posted at FC Headquarters Peshawar, had also travelled with his family to witness the finals.

By this time, Shandur had already begun to change. The roads were still kacha and difficult, although somewhat wider than before. The Chitral Scouts had constructed accommodation near the polo ground, representing the beginning of more permanent infrastructure in the area.

His third journey came in 2007, during a fifteen-day family road trip. The family travelled from Dir through Lowari Top—at a time when the Lowari Tunnel was still under construction—before travelling across Chitral Valley towards Damas, Gupis, Gilgit and eventually Rawalpindi.

During this journey, the family stopped at Shandur Top and had tea at the Chitral Scouts' hut. However, after leaving Shandur, they could not find a single place to stop for a cup of tea until reaching Gupis.

This small memory reflects just how remote and isolated Shandur and its surrounding areas still were only two decades ago.

His fourth and most recent visit was in 2009, when he travelled from Damas to Shandur with his sons, cousins and nephews to watch the finals.

But by then, he observed a very different Shandur.

The once quiet and open landscape was overcrowded. Large numbers of visitors had arrived for the festival, and temporary shops and commercial stalls had appeared to serve them.

> “Shandur was overcrowded and had become dirtier and dustier, with lots of temporary shops open for visitors.”

His memories provide an important timeline of change.

From the lush green and largely untouched Shandur of the late 1960s, to the remote and difficult-to-access Shandur of the early 2000s, and eventually to the increasingly crowded festival of 2009, the transformation has been dramatic.

This transformation has brought opportunities for local communities and has introduced Shandur's unique polo tradition to a wider national and international audience.

But the memories of those who witnessed the Shandur of the 1960s also raise an important question:

Can Shandur continue to grow as a tourism destination without losing the natural beauty and environmental balance that made it special in the first place?

When the Festival Becomes Bigger Than the Game

There is no doubt that the Shandur Polo Festival has brought positive attention to the region. It has introduced Pakistan's mountain culture to a national and international audience and created opportunities for tourism and local businesses.

However, growth also brings the risk of losing authenticity.

Today, the event involves tourism departments, government administrations, security forces, scouts and many other institutions responsible for managing an event attended by thousands of people. Security and public safety are clearly important in such a large gathering.

But as the festival grows, an important question must be asked:

Are we protecting and promoting the spirit of Shandur, or are we slowly turning it into a heavily managed spectacle?

Many visitors feel that the actual polo match and local culture should remain at the centre of the festival. Long official protocols, excessive waiting, unnecessary ceremonies and activities with little connection to the history of Shandur can sometimes overshadow the real purpose of the gathering.

The original strength of Shandur was its people.

It was a meeting point between communities. It was about rivalry without hatred, competition with respect and the shared love of horses and polo. The festival should not lose this identity.

Security arrangements are necessary, but they should facilitate the event rather than overwhelm it. Government institutions should support local culture rather than dominate it.

The heroes of Shandur should remain the polo players, horses, local communities and the extraordinary landscape itself.

The Future of Shandur

The future of Shandur must be built around a balance between culture, tourism and conservation.

The festival can continue to grow, but growth should be sustainable. More visitors should not automatically mean more environmental damage, more commercialisation or the loss of cultural authenticity.

Shandur has the potential to become one of Pakistan's strongest examples of community-based eco-tourism.

Imagine a festival where every visitor is informed about the fragile environment before entering the area; where plastic waste is strictly controlled; where local communities benefit directly from tourism; where wetlands are protected; where camping follows environmental standards; and where the cultural history of polo receives more attention than unnecessary displays.

Such a model would protect both the environment and the identity of the festival.

Shandur belongs to the people of Gilgit-Baltistan and Chitral, but its ecological and cultural importance goes far beyond regional boundaries.

It is a landscape of water, wildlife, mountains and memories.

It is also a reminder that tourism comes with responsibility.

As climate change continues to affect our mountains and as tourism reaches even the most remote corners of Gilgit-Baltistan and Chitral, we must learn from places like Shandur.

We cannot continue to celebrate nature while leaving it polluted behind us.

We cannot promote eco-tourism while ignoring wetlands, wildlife and waste.

And we cannot preserve culture by turning every cultural tradition into a commercial or official spectacle.

The real beauty of Shandur is not only the world's famous high-altitude polo ground. It is the landscape surrounding it, the history carried by the people, the rivers and wetlands, the wildlife, the horses and the generations who kept the spirit of polo alive.

The challenge now is simple: let Shandur grow, but do not let it lose its soul.
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Ahmed Wali Khan
Development Entrepreneur | Eco-Tourism, Climate Change & Conservation Advocate

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Khunjerab National Park: Where Conservation, Culture and Eco-Tourism Meet

By Ahmed Wali Khan
Development Entrepreneur & Tourism Advocate, Gilgit-Baltistan

Travelling towards Khunjerab National Park is one of the most extraordinary experiences in Pakistan. As the Karakoram Highway climbs through narrow valleys, deep gorges and some of the world's most dramatic mountain landscapes, the scenery begins to feel like an entirely different world. Dark, rugged mountains rise on both sides, glaciers and high-altitude streams shape the landscape, and wildlife continues to survive in one of the harshest environments on Earth.

Located in Upper Hunza, Khunjerab National Park covers approximately 2,269 square kilometres and reaches elevations of more than 17,000 feet. It is among Pakistan's highest and most spectacular protected areas. The park is also strategically important because the Karakoram Highway passes through this remarkable landscape towards the Khunjerab border crossing, connecting Pakistan with China.

But Khunjerab is far more than a highway, a border crossing or a tourist destination. It is a living landscape of exceptional biodiversity, indigenous culture, wildlife and environmental significance. Its future will depend on whether development, tourism and conservation can move forward together.

A Landscape of Wildlife

For any nature lover travelling through Khunjerab, one of the most exciting experiences is the possibility of seeing wildlife in its natural habitat. The park is particularly famous for its populations of Siberian ibex, which can sometimes be seen from the road, especially during autumn and winter. A lucky traveller may even witness a small herd crossing the mountainside or moving across the road.

Khunjerab National Park is also home to important populations of wildlife, including the elusive snow leopard, Siberian ibex, blue sheep and other high-altitude species. The region's vast and relatively remote mountain environment provides critical habitat for wildlife that cannot survive in heavily disturbed landscapes.

The park was originally established primarily to protect wildlife, particularly the endangered Marco Polo sheep, one of the most magnificent wild sheep in the world. Historical accounts suggest that the species was once more commonly found in the region. However, its population declined significantly over time, and the Marco Polo sheep has not been regularly seen in the Pakistani side of the Khunjerab region for many decades.

Today, there is renewed interest in exploring whether this remarkable species can eventually be reintroduced through scientific planning, government support and, most importantly, the participation of local communities.

The Meaning and History of Khunjerab

The name Khunjerab itself reflects the region's cultural and linguistic heritage. In the Wakhi language, local interpretations associate Khun with "blood" and jerav with "stream," creating a name that carries the memory and identity of this ancient mountain landscape.

The high-altitude communities living within and around the boundaries of the park have their own unique history and culture. The Wakhi people are an indigenous community of the region with deep cultural and historical links to Central Asia. For generations, communities maintained connections across the mountains through the Wakhan Corridor, travelling and trading with neighbouring regions.

Until the late 1970s and 1980s, these mountain connections remained an important part of the social and economic life of the people. Even today, the language, traditions, architecture and way of life of the Wakhi community remain an important part of the cultural landscape surrounding Khunjerab National Park.

The park itself was formally established in 1975, following wildlife surveys and conservation efforts that highlighted the importance of protecting the Khunjerab region. The mapping and early conservation work associated with the park helped establish one of Pakistan's most important high-altitude protected areas.

A History of Wilderness and Adventure

Khunjerab has long attracted explorers, hunters, researchers and travellers because of its remote wilderness and exceptional wildlife.

Historical hunting records from the region describe the extraordinary challenges of travelling through these mountains before modern roads made access easier. In his book Shikar in the Days Gone By, former political figure and hunter Gohar Ayub Khan described his hunting expeditions in the Khunjerab region during the 1960s, when the landscape was far more isolated and travelling through these mountains was itself a major expedition.

Such historical accounts provide an interesting record of how dramatically the region has changed. The construction of the Karakoram Highway transformed Khunjerab from one of the world's most remote mountain regions into an international corridor linking Pakistan and China.

However, development has also brought new environmental challenges.

Development, Traffic and Growing Tourism

Today, thousands of people travel through the Khunjerab region every year for trade, tourism and cross-border movement. During the summer season, domestic tourism has increased dramatically. The improved road network has made it possible for visitors to reach areas that were once accessible only to experienced mountaineers, local communities and scientific expeditions.

While tourism creates economic opportunities, uncontrolled tourism can also place enormous pressure on fragile mountain ecosystems.

One of the growing concerns is waste management. Plastic bottles, food packaging and other waste can quickly become a serious environmental problem in high-altitude areas where ecosystems are extremely fragile and waste decomposition is slow.

Heavy traffic can also disturb wildlife, while unregulated roadside stops, noise and human activity may affect the natural behaviour of animals.

The future of Khunjerab should therefore not be based on attracting the maximum possible number of visitors. Instead, it should focus on responsible, regulated and high-value eco-tourism.

A national park should never become just another picnic destination.

Climate Change Is Already Changing the Mountains

During my discussions with Mr Noor Hayat, a permanent resident of Moorkhun village in Gojal, retired schoolteacher and experienced big-game outfitter, he shared his observations of how dramatically the region has changed over his lifetime.

According to him, development is moving rapidly into the region, but at the same time, local temperatures are changing and glaciers are retreating at an alarming pace. Communities are increasingly experiencing flash floods, cloudbursts, soil erosion and damage to riverbanks and agricultural land.

For mountain communities, climate change is not simply an international discussion or a subject for conferences. It is becoming part of everyday life.

When a glacier melts rapidly, when a cloudburst destroys a road, or when erosion threatens a village, families living in these valleys directly face the consequences.

Mr Noor Hayat also expressed concern about changes in wildlife and the disappearance of the Marco Polo sheep from the Pakistani side of the region. He is among those who believe that, with proper scientific research, community participation and government support, serious efforts should be considered to restore suitable wildlife populations and strengthen the ecological integrity of the park.

Conservation, however, must always be based on scientific assessment. Reintroduction of wildlife cannot simply be an emotional or symbolic project. It requires habitat evaluation, cross-border cooperation, disease assessment, genetic considerations and long-term monitoring.

Community Conservation and Trophy Hunting

The communities of the region have also developed experience in community-based conservation and regulated trophy hunting programmes. Under properly managed systems, a portion of the revenue generated from legal hunting can support local communities and create an economic incentive for protecting wildlife and habitat.

Species such as ibex and blue sheep have become part of community-managed conservation programmes in parts of Gilgit-Baltistan.

However, the long-term success of such programmes depends on transparency, scientific population monitoring and ensuring that local communities receive meaningful benefits. Trophy hunting should never be viewed simply as a commercial activity. It must remain connected to conservation objectives, sustainable quotas and the protection of wildlife populations.

The fact that wildlife can generate income for communities through photography, guided tourism and carefully managed conservation programmes creates an important opportunity. In many mountain areas, living wildlife can become more valuable to local communities than wildlife that is lost forever.

The Untapped Potential of Eco-Tourism

Khunjerab National Park has enormous potential to become a model for eco-tourism and conservation in Pakistan.

Imagine carefully managed wildlife photography tours during winter, guided ibex-watching expeditions, birdwatching programmes, snow leopard tracking experiences, cultural tourism with Wakhi communities and educational visits focused on glaciers, climate change and high-altitude ecosystems.

Winter tourism could be particularly valuable. Unlike mass summer tourism, specialised wildlife and photography tourism can attract international visitors who are willing to spend more while creating less environmental pressure.

This could provide employment for local guides, drivers, photographers, guesthouses, conservation workers and young people from surrounding communities.

Khunjerab is one of the few places in Gilgit-Baltistan where travellers have a realistic opportunity to observe wild ibex in their natural environment. Snow leopard sightings have also been reported in the wider region, making the area especially attractive for serious wildlife enthusiasts and photographers.

The objective should not be to turn every mountain valley into a commercial tourist attraction. Instead, tourism should be designed around the carrying capacity of the environment.

Small groups, trained local guides, strict waste regulations, designated viewing areas and community participation can create a far more sustainable model than uncontrolled mass tourism.

A Vision for the Future

Khunjerab National Park stands at an important crossroads.

On one side is rapid development, increasing traffic, expanding tourism and growing pressure on the environment. On the other is an opportunity to demonstrate that conservation and economic development do not have to be enemies.

The people living around the park should not be treated as outsiders to conservation. They must be recognised as partners and custodians of the landscape. Their knowledge, history and experience should be included in decisions about wildlife, tourism and environmental protection.

The Government of Gilgit-Baltistan, the Wildlife Department, local communities, tourism operators, researchers and conservation organisations need to work together to develop a long-term management vision for Khunjerab.

This should include:

- Stronger wildlife monitoring and scientific research.
- Improved waste-management systems along the Karakoram Highway.
- Regulation of tourism activities inside sensitive areas.
- Community-based eco-tourism opportunities.
- Training for local youth as wildlife guides and nature interpreters.
- Wildlife photography and birdwatching tourism.
- Climate-change monitoring and community preparedness.
- Protection of glaciers, wetlands and fragile alpine habitats.
- Scientific assessment of opportunities for restoring lost wildlife populations.
- Greater involvement of indigenous Wakhi communities in park management.

Khunjerab National Park is not simply a destination at the end of the Karakoram Highway.

It is a landscape where wildlife, mountains, glaciers, history and indigenous culture come together. It is one of Pakistan's greatest natural treasures and has the potential to become an international example of how conservation, community participation and responsible eco-tourism can work together.

The challenge now is clear: development is coming rapidly, tourism is increasing and climate change is transforming the mountains.

The question is whether we will protect Khunjerab before it is too late.

If managed wisely, this remarkable national park can continue to provide refuge for wildlife, preserve the cultural heritage of its mountain communities and create sustainable economic opportunities through eco-tourism.

The future of Khunjerab should not be measured by how many vehicles pass through it, but by how successfully we protect what makes this landscape extraordinary in the first place.