Thirty Years on Ice: A Witness to the Changing Face of the Baltoro

From Cleanup Expeditions to Climate Chronicles: My Four Treks to K2 Base Camp

By Afzel Scherazi

President of Mountain Wilderness Pakistan

The Karakoram has been my office, my temple, and my obsession for three decades. The trek to K2 Base Camp via the Baltoro Glacier is a journey I have made four times now—in 1994, 2004, 2010, and again this year. Each pilgrimage was undertaken with a purpose, and together, they have given me a unique and alarming timeline of change in one of the world’s most fragile ecosystems.

I did not just come as a trekker; I came as a custodian. This year the Academic Alpine Club of Italy and Mountain Wilderness International decided to send a small party to assess the cleaning situation in the Central Karakoram National Park. The team consisted of myself, representing Mountain Wilderness Pakistan, and Umberto Maurizio Villotta from Italy. The Sella Foundation generously funded the trek, while on-the-ground logistics were managed by Trango Adventure, based in Skardu.

Before I became familiar with the Baltoro-K2 trail, veteran mountaineer and environmentalist Professor Carlo Alberto Pinelli (recipient of the Sitara-i-Imtiaz) introduced a groundbreaking concept on K2. In 1990, he organized an expedition titled Free K2, which did not aim to reach the summit, but rather to clean the mountain of old ropes, abandoned tents, and other remnants left by previous expeditions. This initiative was likely the first enduring example of a high-altitude cleanup effort.

1994: The First Cleanup

As a young man, I led a team under the Adventure Foundation of Pakistan with a clear mission: to clean the camps en route to K2 BC. The trail was littered with remnants of ambitious expeditions—empty oxygen cylinders, shredded tents, and discarded fuel canisters. We filled sack after sack with the debris of adventure, believing we were restoring the mountain’s pristine glory. Back then, the greatest threat seemed to be human carelessness, a problem we thought we could solve with determination and enough garbage bags.

2004: Assessing the Human Tide

A decade later, I returned to the Baltoro on the golden jubilee of K2’s first ascent. The celebrations had brought a massive influx of climbers and trekkers. Commissioned by Mountain Wilderness International and WWF Italy, I was tasked with assessing the environmental impact of this surge of visitors. The findings were sobering. What had once been a problem of scattered litter had evolved into a broader strain on the entire ecosystem. It was a clear signal: with rising popularity, the Baltoro required sustainable management—not just occasional cleanup efforts.

2010: Scaling Up the Cleanup Efforts

Our mission gained momentum. As part of the Alpine Club of Pakistan’s “Keep K2 Clean” expedition—carried out in collaboration with EvK2CNR—we pushed beyond base camp and set our sights on the Abruzzi Spur, the legendary route to the summit. There, our team meticulously removed the remnants of past expeditions from the mountain’s very flanks. It was gruelling and dangerous work—an effort to erase the lingering traces of previous climbs and restore to K2 the reverence it so deeply deserves.

2025: The Most Drastic Change

This year, I returned to assess the progress of the cleanup efforts. But the most immediate—and most alarming—change wasn’t the litter. It was the glacier itself.

The Baltoro Glacier is collapsing.

My thirty-year perspective leaves no room for doubt. Global warming here is not a distant theory—it is a visceral, dramatic reality.

• The Vanishing Neighbour: At Khoburtse, the glacier from Liligo Peak that was a proud, white river joining the Baltoro back in 1994, has almost completely vanished. Where there was once a massive flow of ice, now only barren moraine and collapsed, dirty remnants remain, like the grave markers of a fading ice age.
• A Glacier in Retreat: The traverse from the Baltoro snout towards Liligo, Khoburtse, and Urdukas now reveals a terrifying sight. The glacier has receded so dramatically that it has pulled away from the main ridgeline, exposing raw, uncovered earth that hasn’t seen the sun in thousands of years. This retreat is accelerated by the formation and subsequent bursting of glacial lakes, which further scours and weakens the ice.

A Changing Trail Culture

The human dimension is changing as well. The resilient porters—once the unsung heroes of the Karakoram—are becoming increasingly rare. In their place, long mule caravans now dominate the trail. Though efficient, each animal hauls up to 100 kilograms of gear and, regrettably, contributes significantly to trail pollution in its own way. The cultural essence of the trek is shifting—and not entirely for the better.

A Call to Action: The Stakes Could Not Be Higher

Pakistan’s glaciers are at stake—and the Baltoro stands as a stark, heartbreaking testament. The Central Karakoram National Park (CKNP), along with international scientific organizations, must act with urgency. The time for periodic cleanups is over. What is needed now is a sustained, scientific, and well-funded effort focusing on:

1. Continuous Monitoring: Establishing permanent research stations to monitor glacier retreat, ice melt, and water flow.
2. Waste Management Systems: Implementing and enforcing a strict ‘pack it in, pack it out’ policy for all expeditions, including human waste, backed by audits and penalties.
3. Sustainable Porter Policies: Supporting the porter community and establishing guidelines for livestock use to minimize their environmental impact.
4. Global Advocacy: Using the Baltoro’s undeniable evidence to tell the world a story of glacial retreat—a global crisis unfolding at our doorstep.

To stand on the Baltoro today is to stand on the front lines of climate change. The throne room of the mountain gods is undergoing a violent transformation. The silence of the peaks is now broken by the sound of melting ice and shifting rock. We have cleared the mountain of its trash. Now, we must summon every resource to protect the ice beneath it. The lesson of the past thirty years is painfully clear: if we lose these glaciers, we lose far more than a trekking route—we lose a vital part of our planet’s ecosystem, our heritage, and our future.