Across mountain ranges and coastal parks, more than 70 hiking routes have been abruptly taken off the map as the climate crisis reshapes what is safe, or even physically possible, for people on foot. Trails that once closed briefly for snow or routine maintenance are now being shut because rock faces are collapsing, heat is turning canyons into ovens and storms are ripping paths out of the ground. I see a pattern emerging in these closures that goes far beyond one bad season: the basic assumptions that built the modern hiking boom no longer hold.
Instead of a predictable calendar of summer access and winter shutdowns, land managers are confronting “never-before-seen” combinations of heat, rain, wind and thaw that can transform a familiar route into a high‑risk corridor overnight. The result is a new era of triage, where authorities are weighing safety, tourism income and ecological damage in real time, and where hikers are being asked to rethink what responsible adventure looks like.
From Lombok to the Alps, iconic routes are being pulled offline
The most visible sign of this shift is the growing list of marquee destinations that are suddenly off‑limits. At the beginning of the year, officials at Mount Rinjani National on the Indonesian island of Lombok announced that its summit routes would stay closed after a series of extreme weather events destabilised slopes and damaged infrastructure. The park, a magnet for international trekkers, is now a case study in how tropical volcanoes are being hit by more intense rainfall and wind, which can trigger landslides on already fragile ash and pumice. When a place as heavily visited as this shuts down, it sends a signal that the risk calculus has changed.
In Europe, the same story is playing out at higher latitudes and elevations. Last summer, authorities in the Alps temporarily closed dozens of trails after perilous rockfalls made classic ridges and traverses too dangerous to cross. Warmer temperatures are melting the permafrost that once glued these mountains together, loosening boulders and entire cliff sections above popular paths. When I look at the closures in northern Italy and Switzerland, I see not isolated accidents but a structural weakening of the terrain that hikers and guides have relied on for generations.
“Never before” rockfalls and the physics of a warming mountain
Experts who have spent their careers in these landscapes are blunt about how unusual the current conditions are. Piero Carlesi, president of the scientific committee of the Italian Alpine Club, described the situation by saying, “Never before have we seen such an incredible increase in rockfalls,” a warning that reflects what is happening on paths across northern Italy. When permafrost thaws, ice that once filled cracks in the rock disappears, removing the natural cement that held entire faces in place. The result is a cascade of debris that can wipe out a trail in seconds or leave it buried under unstable rubble for months.
Authorities in Italy have responded by closing dozens of routes outright, sometimes with little notice, after inspections revealed that slopes above them were no longer stable enough to guarantee basic safety. Officials have framed these decisions as a reluctant but necessary response to “increasingly intense weather patterns” that are making hiking treacherous in places that were once considered routine. I read that as a recognition that traditional risk models, which assumed slow, predictable erosion, are being outpaced by the physics of rapid warming.
Heat, storms and the new calendar of closures
It is not only rock and ice that are forcing managers to rethink access. In coastal California, extreme heat is now a primary reason for seasonal shutdowns. In the San Diego region, land managers have introduced annual closures on popular canyon and desert routes to reduce the risk of heatstroke and give staff time to reinforce signage and shade structures, a strategy highlighted when As Alex Lai reported on how extreme temperatures were prompting new safety warnings. I see these measures as an acknowledgment that the traditional advice to “start early and carry water” is no longer enough when midday temperatures can spike into life‑threatening territory.
At the other end of the spectrum, winter storms are still closing trails, but the pattern is shifting. On the East Coast, the hiking season on Mount Katahdin in Maine ended abruptly when wintry weather swept in, bringing temperatures that dropped to single DEGREES as cameras showed a LIVE look at the mountain. All trails up Katahdin, which is the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, were closed for the season as ice and wind made the upper slopes too hazardous. What stands out to me is how managers now have to navigate both unseasonal warmth and sudden cold snaps, often within the same month, as the jet stream wobbles and storms become more erratic.
Local economies and trail crews under pressure
Behind every closure notice is a web of economic and social consequences. Alpine villages in Lower Valais and other mountain regions depend on summer hikers to fill hotels, restaurants and guiding calendars. When dozens of routes are shut at short notice because of rockfalls or landslides, bookings evaporate and seasonal workers are left in limbo. The same dynamic is playing out in Lombok, where the closure of Rinjani summit trails has hit porters, homestay owners and transport operators who built their livelihoods around the trekking trade. I see a growing tension between the need to protect visitors and the economic imperative to keep routes open.
On the ground, trail crews are racing to adapt infrastructure that was never designed for this level of stress. In the northeastern United States, Andrew, a trails coordinator for the Aderondic Mountain Club, has described how extreme weather events are washing out bridges, eroding switchbacks and overwhelming drainage systems that used to cope with typical storms. Crews are now building wider water bars, raising tread surfaces and rerouting paths away from flood‑prone gullies, but every redesign costs money and time. From my perspective, the maintenance backlog is becoming a hidden casualty of the climate crisis, as clubs and agencies struggle to keep even flagship routes in an adequate state of repair.
Rethinking access, responsibility and the future of hiking
As closures multiply, I see a deeper debate emerging about what access should look like in a rapidly changing climate. Officials in tourism hotspots are trying to balance the desire to welcome visitors with the obligation to keep them safe and to avoid pushing fragile ecosystems past a tipping point. In some Alpine areas, managers are experimenting with timed entries, mandatory guide requirements or seasonal caps on numbers to reduce pressure on the most vulnerable routes. In Indonesia, park authorities at Lombok have framed safety as the “top priority,” even when that means turning away climbers who have travelled across the world.
For hikers, the new reality demands a shift in mindset. In places like northern Italy, where “Never before” conditions have forced abrupt closures, I believe responsible recreation now includes checking real‑time advisories, being prepared to change plans and understanding that a closed gate is not an inconvenience but a safety measure. Urban residents planning escapes from cities such as New York to mountain regions in Europe or Asia are being urged by Jan and other experts to factor climate volatility into their itineraries. The closure of more than 70 trails is not just a logistical headache, it is a warning that the landscapes we love to walk through are being remade in real time, and that our habits will have to change with them.
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