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At an altitude of 4,200 metres in the Sierra Nevada del Cocuy, Colombia, Edilsa Ibañéz Ibañéz lowers a cupped hand into the water of a glacial stream. A local guide and mountaineer, she has grown up drinking water that runs down from the snowy peaks above. As she stands up, however, the landscape that greets her is markedly different from that of her childhood.
“We used to think the ice would be eternal,” says Ibañéz, 45. “Now it is not so eternal. Our glaciers are dying.”
The Sierra Nevada del Cocuy is one of six remaining glaciers in Colombia. Although it has lost more than 90% of its ice since the second half of the 19th century, Ibañéz says it contains about 36% of the country’s total glacial coverage.
Swathes of dry rock are exposed in areas once carpeted in snow in the high Sierra Nevada peaks. On the trail leading to the Cóncavo peak, stone markers have been placed like gravestones to indicate the position of the snow line in years past. The farthest marker, dating from the end of the 19th century, is several kilometres from the nearest ice.
The peak itself presents a similarly grim picture. Fingers of greying ice slide towards the rocky mass below, where frozen boulders soften and thaw in the harsh sun. Deep within the glacier, the shifting ice emits loud cracks that rattle through the thin air above.
Although the Sierra Nevada del Cocuy is home to the largest glacial mass in the country, it is far from alone in its fate. Rising global temperatures and increasingly unpredictable weather patterns are devastating all six of Colombia’s remaining glaciated areas.
In 2024, neighbouring Venezuela became the first country in modern history to lose all its glaciers, and some predict that Colombia could go the same way in as little as 30 years.
“Even if we were to very aggressively over the next 10 to 20 years reduce greenhouse gas emissions, it wouldn’t be enough,” says Mathias Vuille, a professor of atmospheric and environmental sciences at the University at Albany, who has been studying the climate crisis in the Andes for more than 30 years. “They aren’t accumulating any fresh snow and ice any more – they are doomed.”
Colombia’s lowest-lying glacier, Santa Isabel in Los Nevados national park, far west of the Sierra Nevada del Cocuy, will probably be the first to disappear. According to data from the Institute of Hydrology, Meteorology and Environmental Studies (Ideam), it will probably be gone within five years.
Matteo Giraldo, 32, from the nearby city of Pereira, has been walking in the mountains around Santa Isabel for the past 16 years. “I’ve cried for the situation with the glacier,” he says. “To see it before and after has been something I’ve felt in my heart.”
Along with others who have frequented the glacier in recent decades, Giraldo has seen firsthand the changes that caused one section, Conejeras, to disappear entirely between December 2023 and February 2024.
The loss of Colombia’s glaciers poses a ticking timebomb for those living in the country’s high-altitude regions.
Vuille says: “Glaciers are constantly melting in the tropics – that means they constantly release water. That’s why they are essential, like a reservoir. It is your only water source if you live very close to the glacier.”
The ability of glaciers to retain and release vast quantities of water makes them a vital source for communities living across the Andes. The Sierra Nevada del Cocuy alone contains the equivalent of about 256,000 Olympic swimming pools of water.
Unlike their counterparts in higher-latitude regions, such as Europe and North America, Colombia’s tropical glaciers are relatively constant in temperature. This results in a shorter period of ice accumulation and a longer, year-round period of water release. People living in Colombia’s mountains rely heavily on the swiftly diminishing glaciers for their main water supply.
Ibañéz and her relatives, who live at the foot of the Sierra Nevada del Cocuy, consider themselves part of this group. “Very soon, we will be the first to run out of water,” she says. “Most people here aren’t aware of this.”
Hernando Ibañéz Ibañéz, Edilsa’s brother and a community leader, fears for the future of his community. “Right now, I have 250 families dependent on one aqueduct,” he says. “According to what we observe daily, in 10 years we will no longer have this aqueduct. This is a concern for future generations.”
As Colombia’s glaciers hurtle towards extinction, they serve as an alarm bell signalling a much broader pattern of environmental degradation already straining the entire country’s water supply. After historic droughts across Latin America, the country’s capital of Bogotá is still zonally rationing water – residents were asked to “shower together” to preserve diminishing water supplies in 2024.
Colombia’s páramos – unique, high-altitude ecosystems – are intimately tied to the country’s water supply system. These act as natural reservoirs, storing and releasing water due to the presence of endemic plants known as frailejones.
Due to their high altitude, some of Colombia’s páramos are partially fed by glacier meltwater, though the impact of glacier loss on these already threatened habitats is unknown.
“The glacier is an alarm that is sounding,” says Jorge Luis Ceballos, a glacier researcher at Ideam. “It is saying that the mountain is changing. The páramo is also changing – but we don’t know how.”
The disappearance of Colombia’s glaciers adds to the uncertainty over the long-term future of its páramo ecosystems, which are already severely affected by the climate crisis, unsustainable agricultural practices and forest fires. In January, a fire in the Boyacá region destroyed more than 500 hectares (1,235 acres) of páramo.
Beneath the mountains of Santa Isabel lie acres of páramo. Some areas are distinctive for their lack of the characteristic frailejones plant, which is crucial for the ecosystem’s ability to retain water. Residents say this is due to cattle being grazed in the area.
As Colombia heads toward a future without glaciers, Ceballos and his colleagues continue to climb them to gather images and data that play a vital role in documenting their decline – and to understand more about how to adapt.
“We haven’t been able to answer the question of how to prepare ourselves for a future without glaciers,” he says. “We are still missing investigations.”
The one certainty, Ceballos says, is that Colombia’s glaciers will disappear – and relatively soon. For those living in their shadow, the impact runs deep. “We feel this loss,” he says. “When we lose a glacier, it’s not just water. It is also a loss of environmental heritage.”
Families who have lived in the region for generations, such as Doris Ibañéz Cristancho’s, are helping to support the scientific studies. Sitting on her property in the Sierra Nevada, Cristancho looks out across the snow-dusted peaks that have dominated the landscape since her childhood. She wonders how much longer she will be able to enjoy this view – soon, the only evidence of the Sierra Nevada’s white peaks may be pictures and old maps showing trails to the glacial summits.
“Every peak you can see from here, you see it diminished. I feel deeply nostalgic seeing how they are deteriorating,” she says. “The mountain doesn’t speak. Yet, it is alive and feels.”
