From the Great Barrier Reef to the Arctic ice sheets, some of the world’s most fragile ecosystems are drawing travellers for what’s known as 'last-chance tourism'—visiting endangered places before they vanish. While it raises awareness about climate change and biodiversity loss, this type of travel also carries contradictions. The carbon emissions and heavy footfall from tourism can speed up the very decline people come to witness, making it a double-edged phenomenon that sits at the crossroads of curiosity and conservation.
Tourism today is far from carbon-neutral. In fact, before the pandemic, global tourism was responsible for about 8–9 per cent of all greenhouse gas emissions worldwide, amounting to more than 5 billion metric tonnes of CO₂ annually. That footprint was growing at 3.5 per cent every year, more than twice the pace of the global economy. On an individual scale, the numbers are just as stark—the average tourist generates around 3.4 tonnes of CO₂ per trip, largely from air travel, which accounts for nearly 60 per cent of the sector’s emissions.
The picture is not evenly distributed. A handful of countries dominate tourism’s carbon load. In 2019, the United States, China, and India alone contributed nearly 40 per cent of all tourism-related emissions, and together accounted for about 60 per cent of its growth. In fact, just 20 countries are responsible for three-quarters of global tourism’s emissions, underscoring how unequal the burden is, with high-income travellers leaving a far larger footprint than those in poorer nations.
The environmental toll doesn’t stop with carbon. Popular destinations themselves often pay the price of being loved to death. Coral reefs, for example, bear the brunt of marine tourism: 90 per cent of snorkeling and diving happens on just 10 per cent of the world’s reefs, creating immense localised pressure. On top of that, an estimated 14,000 tonnes of sunscreen wash into the oceans every year, with 4,000–6,000 tonnes affecting reef zones directly and contributing to coral bleaching. In Egypt’s Gulf of Suez, scientists found that each new resort built along the coast led to a nearly 2 per cent loss in live coral cover.
Cruise tourism adds its own layer of damage. A single cruise ship can produce 210,000 gallons of sewage, one million gallons of grey water, eight tons of garbage, and 25,000 gallons of oily bilge waste on just one trip. In the Caribbean alone, this pollution has damaged 14 per cent of coral reefs, not to mention physical destruction—like yachts accidentally plowing through thousands of square feet of reef.
Taken together, the statistics show the central paradox of last-chance tourism. Travellers racing to see the Great Barrier Reef, the Arctic ice sheets, or the Sundarbans before they disappear are often accelerating the very decline they fear. What was once framed as a way of raising awareness is, increasingly, part of the problem: a carbon-heavy scramble to witness vanishing wonders, even as the act of getting there pushes them closer to the brink.
Experts argue that responsible tourism is possible with stricter regulations.
Outlook Traveller spoke to environmentalists, conservationists, and tourism managers for perspectives on making last-chance tourism more responsible.
Speaking about how tourism is managed in the Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove forest, Singaram Kulandaivel, Chief Conservator of Forests, Government of West Bengal, emphasises the crucial role of local communities. The region’s tourism is closely tied to the Joint Forest Management Committees (JFMCs)—grassroots bodies notified by the state government. “They work at the forest and forest-fringe level, and all protection and conservation efforts depend heavily on their support,” he explains. In South Bengal alone, there are more than 6,000 such committees, each with around 100–120 families involved, making them a backbone of conservation.
From these committees, locals are selected and trained by the forest department to work as tourist guides. Equipped with uniforms and basic training, they are attached to boats and launches operating in the Sundarbans. “Because they are from the area, they know the creeks, the hotspots, and even where wildlife like tigers or crocodiles are being sighted,” says Kulandaivel. These guides not only enhance the visitor experience but also ensure that tourism activities remain within regulated zones.
The department strictly monitors tourist flows to avoid overcrowding and ecological stress. With around 8–9 key sightseeing hotspots spread across 12,000 square kilometres, including the Sundarban Tiger Reserve, authorities cap the number of daily visitors and lodges permitted inside. “Overcrowding puts pressure on the ecosystem. That’s why we regulate how many tourists can enter each day, and every boat must follow a notified route, reporting at checkpoints along the way,” he notes.
Kulandaivel is also clear about the consequences of violations. Some boat operators, lured by the prospect of showing tourists a tiger or taking them into prohibited creeks, risk breaking the rules. But the penalties are severe: launches worth crores can be seized, and operators blacklisted. “In a protected area, if it’s not permitted, it’s prohibited. Anyone trying to be over-smart will be caught. Even tourists themselves often upload photos on social media, and that’s enough for us to act,” he warns.
At the heart of his message is a reminder that the survival of tourism depends on the survival of the Sundarbans itself. “This is one of the most dynamic ecosystems on Earth. If it is threatened by overexploitation, everyone loses—the animals, the mangroves, and the people whose livelihoods depend on them. Our request is simple: let the ecosystem survive, so that communities and tourism can thrive together in coexistence,” he says.
In the Sundarbans, sustainable tourism efforts centre on eco-friendly practices that safeguard both wildlife and the environment. A key example is the Sundarban Ecotourism Project, which trains and supports local communities to create responsible tourism experiences—ranging from boat tours and guided nature walks to cultural interactions. The initiative also partners with local stakeholders to improve waste management and ensure that tourism activities do not compromise the fragile mangrove ecosystem.
Somnath Kar, head of accounts at Jhore Jole Jongole, an eco-heritage resort in Jharkhali, Sundarbans, explained how tourism is strictly regulated in the world’s largest mangroves. “There are firm government guidelines for visitors as well as locals. No one is permitted to enter the deep creeks where the Royal Bengal Tiger may rest, and littering or tampering with the ecosystem is punishable. Even fisherfolk and boatmen face restrictions—if they venture too far, their boats can be seized by the authorities. Teasing or disturbing wildlife, including saltwater crocodiles, is strictly prohibited,” he said.
By the Herobhanga River in Jharkhali, Manu Baidya sells wood-apple mash to passing visitors. “Tourists give a big boost to our economy—they buy from us,” she says, gesturing to nearby stalls stacked with hand-carved wooden crafts. But she adds a note of prudence: “We always remind them to be mindful during their stay. Our people have deep respect for wildlife.” That respect is rooted in tradition; locals perform the Bonbibi Puja, seeking blessings from the forest’s guardian deity before venturing into the mangroves to collect honey and wax.
Other experts also argue that visitor caps, eco-friendly operators, and conservation-linked ticketing can reduce harm. Digital alternatives like VR tours or documentaries also provide awareness without physical pressure.
Environmental activist Somendra Mohan Ghosh, who has been at the forefront of efforts to protect Kolkata’s Rabindra Sarovar Lake, believes the challenges posed by unplanned tourism and climate pressures extend far beyond urban wetlands. He points to the rising frequency of natural calamities in hill stations during the monsoon season, where disasters are often simplistically blamed on cloudbursts. “It is not just the cloudbursts,” he stresses. “The geology of hill stations has its limits. Excess load on fragile hilly soils, vibrations from unscientific construction, heavy traffic, and interference with river paths through hydel projects all contribute to landslides and floods.”
Ghosh explains that these pressures have made hilly terrains like Darjeeling and Kalimpong increasingly vulnerable. Construction of large-scale projects without considering the carrying capacity of the land, or ignoring geological assessments, destabilises entire landscapes. “When you disturb river paths or overload the slopes with construction, nature will retaliate in the form of calamities,” he warns.
The concerns are not confined to hill stations. Along coastal and riverine zones, Ghosh highlights how the tourism boom has fuelled rampant, unregulated construction of hotels, resorts, and homestays. Many of these projects, he notes, bypass essential processes such as Environmental Impact Assessments (EIA), public hearings, and disaster management reports—requirements under Coastal Regulation Zone (CRZ) notifications. “So many homestays, resorts, and hotels have come up in violation of CRZ and RRZ rules. Without EIAs or proper clearances, they are not only illegal but also disastrous for the environment,” he says.
The impacts are already visible. In the Sundarbans, mangroves are under stress from unregulated tourism. In the hills, biodiversity is shrinking under the combined pressure of unchecked development and increasing tourist inflows. Ghosh cautions that livelihoods themselves are at stake when ecosystems collapse. “Tourism cannot thrive if the natural environment it depends on is destroyed. The same tourists who come for nature will stop coming once the forests, rivers, or mangroves vanish,” he adds.
For him, the way forward lies in enforcing existing rules and ensuring that development does not come at the expense of fragile ecosystems. Sustainable tourism, he argues, is the only balance. That means adhering to CRZ and RRZ norms, conducting thorough impact assessments, and prioritising ecological health over short-term profit. “If we want our lakes, rivers, forests, and hills to survive, tourism must be aligned with the carrying capacity of the environment. Otherwise, we are just inviting more disasters,” Ghosh says.
Punarbasu Chaudhuri, professor and head of the Department of Environmental Science at the University of Calcutta, points out how social media–fuelled misinformation can drive reckless tourism. “There are fake news items—for example, I once came across a claim that an ancient temple had been excavated in the Sundarbans. There was nothing of that sort,” he says. Such rumours, he explains, often trigger unnecessary tourist rushes, with some even posing as researchers. “It’s important to check credentials and credibility, because many parts of the Sundarbans cannot be accessed without special permission, and that too strictly for research,” he adds.
At its best, last-chance tourism can spark conversations about climate change and inspire activism. At its worst, it becomes exploitation disguised as adventure.
If tourism continues unchecked, the very landscapes that attract travellers will collapse under the weight of human pressure. Without stricter regulations, scientific planning, and responsible visitor behaviour, the spots may soon become cautionary tales of ecological neglect. Yet, there is still room for optimism. With conscious choices by governments enforcing environmental norms, businesses embracing eco-friendly models, and travellers practicing mindful tourism, destinations can thrive, balancing livelihoods with conservation.
Q1. What is last-chance tourism?
Last-chance tourism refers to travelling to destinations or natural wonders that are threatened by climate change, over-tourism, or ecological decline.
Q2. Why is last-chance tourism controversial?
While it raises awareness about fragile destinations, it can also accelerate environmental damage and strain local communities if not managed responsibly.
Q3. Which destinations are most affected by last-chance tourism?
Examples include the Great Barrier Reef, Arctic glaciers, Venice, and the Sundarbans, all of which face climate-related and human pressures.
Q4. How can travellers practice responsible last-chance tourism?
Tourists can minimize impact by choosing eco-certified operators, respecting local cultures, reducing carbon footprints, and avoiding overcrowded sites.
Q5. What role does last-chance tourism play in conservation?
Done responsibly, it can support conservation funding, create awareness, and empower local communities to protect their natural and cultural heritage.
