HAVING served as a Tourism Officer with the Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation (PTDC) for over a decade, I have closely witnessed the evolution of Pakistan’s tourism landscape.
I’ve seen the joy and awe on visitors’ faces as they experienced our northern valleys for the first time. Tourism once showcased the greener, softer side of Pakistan—a land of breathtaking landscapes and warm hospitality.
But ever since I transitioned into the development sector, working on natural and man-made emergencies such as floods, droughts and displacements, I’ve seen another side: one marked by growing vulnerability. This dual lens has made it painfully clear that the line between beauty and danger is thinner than ever. Never in my PTDC years did I witness the kind of recklessness now so common. Families, especially youth, risk their lives for a photograph or selfie, often with tragic outcomes.
Every summer, as the plains heat up, millions head to the north—Swat, Skardu, Hunza, Naran, Kaghan. These landscapes offer relief and wonder, but behind the beauty lies a growing threat: tourism, when mixed with carelessness and climate extremes, can turn deadly. The 2025 season has already seen painful losses. A car plunges into a ravine in Lower Kohistan—eight family members dead. Four friends disappear during a night drive in Gilgit-Baltistan. Perhaps the most chilling was the recent incident on the Swat River, where a family sat midstream in folding chairs, ignoring warnings. A sudden surge swept them all away. Despite rescue efforts, most perished.
Overloaded vehicles, inexperienced drivers, night travel, no safety gear—these stories repeat themselves, pointing to something deeper: climate change is reshaping the risks. Pakistan is no stranger to climate change, but the signs are intensifying. Weather patterns have become erratic. Long heatwaves are now followed by sudden cloudbursts and flash floods. Glaciers are melting at alarming rates, rivers swell without warning and poor urban drainage turns every downpour into a disaster.
These climate extremes don’t just threaten urban life—they also make tourism riskier. Sudden flooding, collapsing glaciers and treacherous road conditions are increasingly common. Smarter water management, improved early warning systems and resilient infrastructure are no longer optional—they are necessary. Meanwhile, our capacity to store water is declining. There’s no comprehensive rainwater harvesting policy. Urban water tables are sinking and groundwater is being extracted unsustainably. When rain does come, it’s wasted—lost in floods or sewers. This is not just an environmental issue; it’s a governance failure.
In many of these tragedies, rescue efforts were delayed or under-equipped. Locals and volunteers are often first on the scene. The role of Provincial Disaster Management Authorities (PDMAs), district administrations and Rescue 1122 must shift from reactive to proactive. During the tourism and monsoon seasons, they need well-equipped teams deployed in high-risk areas—near rivers, tourist spots and landslide zones. Real-time monitoring, swift evacuations and strong communication systems can save lives.
We must shift from reaction to prevention. Pakistan needs to make rainwater harvesting a national priority, not just on paper. It should be mandatory in urban planning, housing and public infrastructure. Capturing seasonal rain instead of letting it flood cities is crucial. Regulating groundwater extraction is equally urgent. Without legal frameworks, communities will continue to over-extract, worsening shortages in already water-stressed cities. Investment in water storage—both local systems and large reservoirs—is essential to reduce flood risks and ensure water availability during dry months.
Also critical is enhancing groundwater recharge. In cities where paved surfaces block natural absorption, recharge wells at runoff hotspots should guide water back into aquifers. A model example is the groundwater recharge system developed by IWMI, WaterAid and PCRWR in Islamabad’s Kachnar Park. Here, rainwater is collected and injected underground, improving the water table in nearby Sector I-8. Islamabad receives 1,400–1,600 mm of rain during monsoon. Properly channeled, this water can revive the city’s groundwater and ease urban flooding, which has worsened in recent years.
All these efforts must be backed by coordinated governance, clearly defined roles, adequate funding and political will. Without this, even the best solutions fall short. Northern Pakistan isn’t a theme park—it’s a delicate ecosystem. Tourists must travel with care, hire experienced drivers, avoid night drives, use life jackets during water activities and follow local guidance. A photo is never worth a life. Government agencies must also play their part, through early warnings, visible signage, safety regulations and on-ground enforcement.
As the climate crisis deepens, Pakistan’s rivers, glaciers and mountains are becoming more unpredictable. Unless we act—individually and collectively—preventable tragedies will continue. We must move from awe to awareness, from reaction to readiness. The north will remain beautiful. But whether it remains safe is up to us.
The writer is a communications professional with over two and a half decades of extensive experience with government, the United Nations and the development sector, currently working with the International Water Management Institute (IWMI), focusing on climate resilience, water governance, and public awareness.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in the article belong solely to the author and not necessarily to the author’s employer, organisation, or other group or individual.
