GHY 4530/5530 - Andean Mountain Geography - Appalachian State ...

GHY 4530/5530 - Andean Mountain Geography – Summer Session II, 2013
Faculty: Dr. Baker Perry (with Dr. Anton Seimon)
Office: 363 Rankin Science West
Phone: (828) 262-7058
Email: perrylb@appstate.edu
Course Description: The course will begin with discussion of the significance of mountains in geographical inquiry,
continue with an overview of the important physical processes (i.e. mountain forming processes, mountain
meteorology, vegetation) and also include study of the human dimensions of mountain environments (i.e.
mountain peoples and cultures, sustainable development), paying particular attention to the Andes Mountains and
the country of Peru.
Objectives: Upon completion of this course, students should have a better understanding of Andean mountain
environments and peoples and be able to think critically about contemporary mountain issues. Students will
demonstrate an understanding of the role of global climate change in changing the physical and human geography
of mountain regions.
Grading: Field Journal 50%
Discussion 20%
Response Paper 15%
Exam 15%
Journal: A detailed field journal comprises 50 percent of your overall grade for this course. You are expected to
keep daily entries that 1) summarize your activities, hypotheses, data collection, and field methods, 2) process and
reflect upon discussions, conversations, and/or observations, 3) draw connections between your
experiences/observations and the readings and discussions. The journal is due on July 29. Please note: This is not a
personal journal.
Discussion: Facilitating a discussion on one of the readings is 20 percent of your final grade in this course. Outside
research to provide additional information on the topic is expected. The student discussant should provide a
general overview of the topic, introduce the authors of the article, briefly summarize the major findings and
conclusions, and come up with several questions to guide group discussion.
Response Paper: A response paper will account for 15 percent of your final grade. Papers should be between three
and five pages in length and respond to one of the issues discussed in the readings, seminars, or field visits.
Students should meet with the instructor to choose and appropriate topic. The response paper is due on July 29.
Exam: The exam will be administered at the conclusion of the trip and is worth 15 percent of your grade.
Graduate Students (GHY 5530-145): In addition to all assignments described above, graduate students enrolled in
GHY 5530 will be expected to do a significant amount of additional work and all assignments will be graded at a
higher level of expectations. Graduate students will lead three discussions of articles assigned and will provide a
typed summary of each presentation to hand out to the class. Each of those summaries should incorporate at
least five additional sources from scientific journals and must provide full bibliographic listings. Graduate students
will also write a term paper upon return from the field portion of the course. The presentations, journal, exam, and
term paper will each account for a quarter of your final grade. Papers should be between twelve and fifteen pages
in length and focus on a topic agreed upon with the professor. A handout will provide additional details. The term
paper and journal are due on July 29.
Selected Reading List for Andean Mountain Geography – GHY 4530/5530
Background Readings
Burger, R.L., and L.C. Salazar. 2004. Machu Picchu: Unveiling the Mystery of the Incas. New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press.
Halloy, S.R.P., A. Seimon, K. Yager and A. Tupayachi. 2005. Multi-dimensional (climatic,
biodiversity, socioeconomic, and agricultural) context of changes in land use in the Vilcanota watershed, Peru.

In Land Use Changes and Mountain Biodiversity. E.M. Spehn, M. Liberman and C. Körner (eds.), CRC Press,
Boca Raton.
Ives, J.D. B. Messerli, and E. Spiess. 1997. Mountains of the World—a global priority. In Mountains of the World: A
Global Priority, eds. Bruno Messerli and Jack D. Ives, 1-15. New York, NY: Parthenon.
Schroeder, K., C. Wood, S. Galiardi, and J. Koehn. 2009. First, do no harm: Ideas for mitigating negative community
impacts of short-term study abroad. Journal of Geography 108: 141-147.
Starn, O., C.I. Degregori, and R. Kirk. 2005 (2 nd Edition). The Peru Reader: History, Culture, Politics. Durham, NC:
Duke University Press.
Discussion Articles (In Chronological Order)
Lauer, W. 1993. Human development and environment in the Andes: a geoecological overview. Mountain
Research and Development 13:157-166.
Chepstow-Lusty, A.J., M.R. Frogley, B.S. Bauer, M.J. Leng, K.P. Boessenkool, C. Carcaillet, A.A. Ali, and A. Gioda.
2009. Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context. Climates of the Past
5: 375-388.
Harden, C. 2006. Human impacts on headwater fluvial systems in the northern and central Andes. Geomorphology
79: 249–263.
Wright, K.R., G.D. Witt, A.V. Zegarra. 1997. Hydrogeology and paleohydrology of ancient Machu Picchu. Ground
Water 35: 660-666.
Larson, L.R., N.C. Poudyat. 2012. Developing sustainable tourism through adaptive resource management: a case
study of Machu Picchu, Peru. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 20: 917-938.
Young, K.R., and J.K. Lipton. 2006. Adaptive governance and climate change in the tropical highlands of western
South America. Climatic Change 78: 63-102.
Hole, D.G., K.R. Young, A. Seimon, C. Gomez, D. Hoffmann, K. Schutze, S. Sanchez, D. Muchoney, H.R. Grau, E.
Ramirez. 2010. Adaptive management for biodiversity conservation under climate change – a tropical Andean
perspective. In, Herzog, S.K., R. Martínez, P.M. Jørgensen & H. Tiessen (Eds.). Climate change effects on the
biodiversity of the tropical Andes: an assessment of the status of scientific knowledge. Inter-American Institute
of Global Change Research (IAI) and Scientific Committee on Problems of the Environment (SCOPE), São José
dos Campos and Paris.
Seimon, A., T.A. Seimon (co-lead authors), P. Daszak, S. Halloy, P. Sowell, B. Konecky, L.M. Schloegel, C.A. Aguilar, J.
Simmons, and A. Hyatt. 2007. Upward range extension of Andean anurans to extreme elevations in response
to tropical deglaciation. Global Change Biology 13:288-299.
Hardy, D., M.W. Williams, and C. Escobar. 2001. Near-surface faceted crystals, avalanches, and climate in highelevation,
tropical mountains of Bolivia. Cold Regions Science and Technology 33: 291-302.
Bush, M.B., J.A. Hanselman, and W.D. Gosling. 2010. Nonlinear climate change and Andean feedbacks: an
imminent turning point? Global Change Biology 16: 3223-3232.
Statement of Student Engagement with Courses
In its mission statement, Appalachian State University aims at “providing undergraduate students a rigorous liberal
education that emphasizes transferable skills and preparation for professional careers” as well as “maintaining a
faculty whose members serve as excellent teachers and scholarly mentors for their students.” Such rigor means
that the foremost activity of Appalachian students is an intense engagement with their courses. In practical terms,
students should expect to spend two to three hours of studying for every hour of class time. For this study abroad
course, students should expect to spend the bulk of that time, or approximately 50 to 75 hours, completing the
readings and other assignments prior to departure. Approximately 25-38 hours of journaling, reading, and study
will be expected during the time abroad, and an additional 25-38 hours of research and writing will be expected in
order to complete the final paper for the course upon return.
2

GHY 4530/5530 (Andean Mountain Geography)
Author and Year Title Date Responsible
Lauer 1993 Human development and environment in the Andes: a geoecological overview 8-Jul
Chepstow-Lusty et
al. 2009
Harden 2006
Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management
context
Human impacts on headwater fluvial systems in the northern and central
Andes
Wright et al. 1997 Hydrogeology and paleohydrology of ancient Machu Picchu 12-Jul
Larson & Poudyat Developing sustainable tourism through adapative resource management: a
2012
case study from Machu Picchu, Peru
Adaptive governance and climate change in the tropical highlands of western
Young & Lipton 2006
South America
Hole et al. 2010
Adaptive management for biodiversity conservation under climate change -- a
tropical Andean perspective
Seimon et al. 2007
Upward range extension of Andean anurans to extreme elevations in response
to tropical deglaciation
Hardy et al. 2001
Near-surface faceted crystals, avalanches, and climate in high-elevation,
tropical mountains of Bolivia
8-Jul
9-Jul
12-Jul
13-Jul
13-Jul
17-Jul
18-Jul
Bush et al. 2010 Nonlinear climate change and Andean feedbacks: an imminent turning point? 19-Jul

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First, Do No Harm: Ideas for Mitigating Negative Community Impacts of Short-
Term Study Abroad
Kathleen Schroeder a ; Cynthia Wood b ; Shari Galiardi c ; Jenny Koehn c
a Department of Geography and Planning, Appalachian State University, Boone, North Carolina, USA b
Sustainable development, Appalachian State University, Boone, North Carolina, USA c Appalachian State
University, Boone, North Carolina, USA
Online Publication Date: 01 May 2009
To cite this Article Schroeder, Kathleen, Wood, Cynthia, Galiardi, Shari and Koehn, Jenny(2009)'First, Do No Harm: Ideas for
Mitigating Negative Community Impacts of Short-Term Study Abroad',Journal of Geography,108:3,141 — 147
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First, Do No Harm: Ideas for Mitigating Negative Community Impacts of
Short-Term Study Abroad
Kathleen Schroeder, Cynthia Wood, Shari Galiardi, and Jenny Koehn
ABSTRACT
This article presents the results from a
research project on the host community
impact of college students participating
in university-sponsored international
experiences. It finds that little reliable
data is available on the impact that
our students have on host communities.
The article concludes that nondamaging
international experiences require a substantial
amount of planning, experienced
group facilitation, and solid debriefing
of students and community members.
We recommend that geographers with
a critical perspective and extensive
foreign expertise should help guide
the development of these experiences
and urge their universities to screen
study abroad for unintended negative
outcomes on local communities.
Key Words: short-term study abroad,
impact on host communities
Kathleen Schroeder is an associate professor at
Appalachian State University, Boone, North
Carolina, USA, in the Department of Geography
and Planning.
Cynthia Wood is an associate professor at
Appalachian State University, Boone, North
Carolina, USA, in sustainable development.
Shari Galiardi is the Director of Service-
Learning at Appalachian State University,
Boone, North Carolina, USA.
Jenny Koehn is the Associate Director
of Student Programs at Appalachian State
University, Boone, North Carolina, USA.
INTRODUCTION
In the United States, internationalization is an important component of the
mission statements of many colleges and universities, and the numbers reflect
this commitment as student participation in study abroad has grown 150 percent
over the past decade (Institute of International Education 2007). In the President’s
Column of the Association of American Geographers (AAG) newsletter, Victoria
Lawson (2005) comments on this trend and the contributions that geographers
are well positioned to make to an internationalized research and teaching agenda
across campuses.
With an increased emphasis on internationalization, U.S. institutions are
looking to expand their offerings beyond the typical model where language
students spend a semester in a European country. Students across campuses
are encouraged to go abroad in a growing variety of models that can range from
one-week alternative spring break service projects to year-long exchanges. Demand
for study-abroad opportunities is increasing and the Lincoln Commission
recently proposed sending one million Americans abroad by 2016 (Commission
on the Abraham Lincoln Study Abroad Fellowship Program 2005).
Where are all these students going? Presently, the United Kingdom remains
the number-one-ranked destination for U.S. students, but China is now
a top-ten destination as are Mexico and Costa Rica. Countries on the list of
the top-twenty destinations include South Africa, Brazil, and Ecuador (Institute
of International Education 2007). International offerings at a typical mid-sized
public institution in the United States include programs to locations as diverse as
Ecuador, India, New Zealand, and Ghana. The Lincoln Commission recommends
that these nontraditional locations become an increasing percentage of studyabroad
destinations. Following the recommendations of the Lincoln Commission,
the Simon Act currently awaiting approval in Congress mandates “diversifying
locations of study abroad, particularly in developing countries” (NAFSA
2008).
What has been virtually ignored as short-term study abroad has grown on
college campuses is a critical examination of the impact of these programs on the
communities that students visit. 1 The most recent edition of the Forum on Education
Abroad’s Standards of Good Practice for Education Abroad (2008, 19), for example,
makes no recommendations on mitigating the effects of study abroad on local communities,
suggesting only that the organization sending students “respect the cultures
and values of the countries in which it operates.” The implications of a group
going to London are significantly different than going to a remote village in China,
but increasingly universities are offering and students are choosing programs that
take them far off the beaten track, with unexamined and unintended consequences
for host communities. Given the drive to increase the number of students going
abroad, it is urgent that these consequences be considered by both institutions
and faculty in the design and implementation of short-term study-abroad
programs. 2
In this article, we draw attention to the numerous and often unforeseen ways
that students might impact local communities. We have developed this inquiry
through an examination of the relevant bodies of literature and from ongoing
research and discussions with a wide variety of stakeholders involved in shortterm
study abroad on and off our campus. We conclude with six recommendations
that we encourage faculty to take to their home institutions.
Journal of Geography 108: 141–147
C○2009 National Council for Geographic Education 141

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Schroeder et al.
WHAT ARE THE IMPACTS ON LOCAL COMMUNITIES?
Considering how difficult it is to collect information on
the topic, it should not be surprising that we have virtually
no idea of how students’ impact places—particularly the
small, rural, research sites that many geographers are
likely to take our students. David Zurick (1992) and other
geographers have examined sustainable tourism, but not
with a specific eye towards the impact that our own
students are having.
Many of the potential negative impacts of foreign visitors
are highlighted by the literature on tourism, especially
its economic, social, and cultural effects (Archer, Cooper,
and Ruhanen 2005; McLaren 2006). Shaw and Williams
(2002) and Lew, Hall, and A. Williams (2004) provide
comprehensive examinations of tourism from a geographic
perspective. While we believe that there are significant differences
between study abroad and tourism, in considering
the potential negative impacts on host communities there
are many similarities. Like tourism, study abroad “creates
impacts and consequences; we cannot prevent these, but
need to plan and manage to minimize the negative impacts
and emphasize the positive impacts” (Archer, Cooper, and
Ruhanen 2005, 79). And as with tourism, these impacts
occur because study abroad “brings about an intermingling
of people from diverse social and cultural backgrounds,
and also a considerable spatial redistribution of spending
power, which has a significant impact on the economy of
the destination” (Archer, Cooper, and Ruhanen 2005, 79).
It is possible that even more than most tourism, study
abroad is “by its very nature. . . attracted to unique and
fragile environments and societies and. . . in some cases the
economic benefits [to host communities] may be offset by
adverse and previously unmeasured environmental and
social consequences” (Archer, Cooper, and Ruhanen 2005,
79).
The tourism literature suggests that short-term studyabroad
programs may do damage to their host communities,
and points to an array of questions that we should ask
in order to evaluate the potential for such negative impacts,
including the following:
Where does the food/water/housing for our students
come from? Do we impose any hardship on
local people, such as water shortages? What about
garbage disposal and pollution? Is land being used
for visitors rather than local needs?
Does the economic impact of study abroad promote
economic inequality in the community? Do
foreigners or local elites own or manage the
hotels that students occupy during their visit? If
“home stays” are part of the study abroad, do
students live in middle-class homes, so that poorer
people do not receive any economic benefit and
income inequality is worsened? Are guides and
drivers outsiders or wealthier members of the
community? Do local prices go up as a result of the
student visit? The giving of gifts can contribute to
142
similar inequalities, however well-intentioned—
can nonmaterial gifts be given instead, or gifts to
the community as a whole?
Do student visits contribute to economies of dependency
on outsiders, orienting those economies
to pleasing or providing pleasure for wealthy
foreigners rather than to local needs?
Is there a “season” for foreign visitors to come to
the area, such that student visits contribute to a
“boom and bust” cycle in the local economy? Is
there any way to mitigate this effect?
Do students’ patterns of consumption (both during
and before the visit) contribute to problems in
the community? The “demonstration effect” of
students bringing high-end travel gear, lots of
clothes, spending money easily on restaurants, giving
gifts, etc. may create resentment, the perception
of American students as wealthy consumers with
no responsibilities at home (McLaren 2006), or the
desire in local people (especially youth) to leave
the community so that they can make money to
buy similar goods and services. Even traveling on
an airplane or simply traveling away from home
can create these problems among people who do
not have that option.
Are local people excluded from any of the areas
where students are encouraged or allowed to go?
Are students well-behaved and respectful in terms
of the local culture? Do they dress inappropriately,
or otherwise commit cultural offenses that will
anger, distress, or shock people in the local community?
Do students see culture, indigeneity, and
the “authenticity” of local people as commodities
to be consumed? What other cultural impacts
result from student visits? Cultural differences in
themselves are likely sources of confusion and
conflict if unanticipated.
Do students smoke, drink, or do drugs during their
visit? The effect of these behaviors can range from
being poor role models for local youth to bringing
new addictions to the community.
Are other expressions of privilege demonstrated
by students during their visit, such as doing
things “our” way, eating “our” food, playing
“our” music, requiring things to be done on “our”
schedule?
How well are students prepared to understand
the community they are visiting? Do they bring
damaging stereotypes with them that can be countered
before, during, and after the program? These
stereotypes might be as narrow as “Bolivians,” but
for most students are more likely to be broader,
such as “poor people,” “indigenous people,” or
“people in developing countries,” as well as racist

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and exoticizing images of people in out-of-the-way
places.
Are there human rights issues already present that
are exacerbated by the presence of foreign visitors?
Does anything about the students’ presence or
activities reinforce a negative self-image for local
people, for example that Americans are smarter,
more competent, more attractive? Is there any way
their presence could promote a positive self-image
instead?
There are many other questions that can and should be
asked when considering the effects of short-term study
abroad on local communities. Many of these are placespecific
and evaluation requires local knowledge. Consulting
local people on these questions may be helpful, but is
unlikely to give a complete picture. The economic stake of
having visitors return may be very high, so there is incentive
to give positive reviews of the local experience of students
and the impacts of their presence. Politeness compels most
people to respond favorably when asked if student visits
have had a positive effect on the community. And of course,
most people are not trained to detect or analyze the effect
of visitors on local communities. Direct observation can
also be helpful, but must be considered from a critical
perspective as well. Local people may be observed to smile
and appear happy when they are genuinely happy, but also
when they have little choice about it, as “being happy” is
required for visitors to spend money, give gifts, or come
back.
RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODS
These issues prompted the development of a research
team (composed of faculty members, student development
staff, and a student) at Appalachian State University to
look at the impact of our students on the places that they
visited. In the course of our research, we have examined
one-week alternative spring break service projects, as well
as other short-term study-abroad programs, especially nontraditional
ones, through a review of data on program
destination and continuity, surveys of students, interviews
with host community partners, and focus groups with
faculty and staff leading study-abroad programs.
The one-week international alternative spring break
service study-abroad programs offer one hour of academic
credit, but are not faculty-led. With the guidance of the
campus-based volunteer and service-learning program,
students develop the programs, recruit other students to
participate and find a faculty partner to accompany the
group. Unlike many alternative spring break programs
across the country, there is academic coursework and
substantial preparation and reflection required of students
before and during the program abroad. From 2006 to 2008
ten alternative spring break programs were implemented
in the Dominican Republic, Costa Rica, Panama, Jamaica,
and Belize. A total of 125 students participated over that
Ideas for Mitigating Negative Community Impacts of Short-Term Study Abroad
time period; some have returned for more than one year. Of
these 125, twenty have subsequently enrolled in a semesterlong
international program. This enrollment is significantly
higher than for the population of students at large and may
support the argument that international alternative spring
breaks and other short-term study-abroad programs can
serve as gateways to longer study-abroad experiences.
In addition to alternative spring breaks, there are a significant
number of other short-term study-abroad programs
at our university, which are designed and implemented by
faculty and professional staff. These programs all carry academic
credit, with coursework completed before, during,
and after the program abroad. The “abroad” components
of such programs occur at various times depending on
the program, including winter and spring break, but most
commonly are completed during the summer.
The research team collected data from four sources
hoping to catch a glimpse of how students impact the
communities that they visited:
1. In 2007 we conducted semistructured interviews
with the faculty and professional staff partners who
participated on alternative spring break programs.
2. That same year we conducted semistructured interviews
with host agency personnel. These interviews
were conducted by the faculty and staff partners on
each program.
3. We also analyzed data from a required student
survey from the international alternative spring
breaks.
4. In 2008 we conducted a series of focus groups with
a wider range of faculty and professional staff who
have led study-abroad courses (not all of which
included a service-learning component).
In these group discussions, we hoped to see if participants
were concerned about the impacts that their students
are having on host communities and, if so, what they
did to mitigate potential damage. In this research we
were especially concerned about issues of equity and,
in particular, who benefited locally from the students’
presence in the community.
RESULTS
Faculty and Professional Staff Interviews
The faculty and professional staff who served as partners
for the alternative spring break programs in 2007 included
three people who had considerable international experience
and one who had no previous international travel experience.
One faculty member was a geography professor. Two
of the four participants expressed some skepticism about
the positive impact on communities that they expected from
the program before they departed.
After they returned, all four faculty and professional
staff partners were interviewed. All reported favorable
143

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Schroeder et al.
impressions of the student impact on the communities they
served. When asked why they thought that students were
well received in their host communities, their responses
varied. One explained that they had worked closely with a
successful U.S. Peace Corps volunteer that was living in the
host community as they were setting up their program.
The volunteer had done an excellent job of preparing
both the students and the host community for the visit.
Others commented that the agencies that they were volunteering
with played similar roles in preparing both
students and the communities for the exchanges. One
faculty member commented that the host community was
so inundated with volunteers that he doubted that his
particular group could have any negative impact.
With regard to issues of how equitably the benefits of the
exchange were shared within the communities, two faculty
and professional staff partners noticed significant effort by
the host agency to make sure that the tangible benefits of the
students’ presence were shared within the community. One
commented about the particular effort of the family that
was hosting them to make sure that the students stopped
by the stores that were owned and run by other families.
However, another noticed that the project that they were
working with seemed to be exacerbating inequality.
Host Agency Interviews
In 2007 faculty and professional staff partners on the
alternative spring break programs were asked to interview
representatives of their host agency to try to determine
the possible negative impacts that student groups could
have, phrased in terms of how the programs might be improved.
These interviews were shared with members of the
research team when the groups returned to campus. In all
cases, the representatives of the host agencies said that
student groups provided needed assistance and, in some
cases, a significant revenue stream for their projects. This
result was expected and not terribly helpful. Several of
the faculty and professional staff partners pushed their
interview subjects a bit more by asking about the negative
impacts of other student groups in the past. One host agency
representative complained about the late night drinking
activities of other student groups.
Student Participant Surveys
Completion of a post-experience survey is a requirement
for alternative spring break participants. The research
group collected fifty-four completed surveys from the
2007 international alternative spring break participants.
Students were asked if they believed that their group had
an impact in the community in which they worked. All
students responded either “strongly agree” or “agree” on a
five-point Likert scale. When prompted to provide details
of the intangible impacts of their programs (impacts other
than money and physical labor), some students felt that
they reduced local people’s negative stereotypes about
Americans and that they helped local people feel more
144
pride in their communities. Student surveys were not
particularly good instruments for prompting reflection on
the possible negative impact that their presence might cause
(for example, demonstration effects and exacerbation of existing
inequality). However, one professional staff partner
commented that serious discussion of these concerns was
shared during time set aside for reflection while they were
in the host community.
Focus Groups with Faculty and Staff
In order to expand our research beyond the experiences
of alternative spring break programs, four one-time focus
groups were completed in 2008 with faculty and staff
who had led or accompanied short-term study-abroad
programs through the university’s Office of International
Education and Development in the previous five years. All
programs are organized by the group’s facilitator—vendors
are not used on our campus. Of the forty-one faculty and
staff invited to participate, twenty-six participated. Staff
participants were student development professionals from
a variety of offices across campus and faculty were from numerous
departments, with representatives from all colleges
at the university. The research team intentionally sought
out participants who had led programs to “vulnerable”
places: all who had led or facilitated programs in Latin
America, Africa, and Asia were asked to participate, as well
as one that visited the Maori in New Zealand. However,
many who had been to less vulnerable places in Europe
and Australia were also asked. When there was a choice,
faculty and staff who had led multiple programs with
larger numbers of students were asked to participate over
those with fewer numbers and less experience. Participants
ranged in experience from second-year assistant professors
who had led one program to full professors who have been
leading programs for over twenty years.
One striking finding was that most participants had
not seriously considered the negative impacts that their
students might have abroad when they were planning
their program, even those who were able to articulate
potential negative effects during the focus groups. This was
attributed to the real needs of pressing program logistics,
including planning the syllabus. Of those who did plan
for potentially negative impacts of their program, the most
common measure was developing group guidelines or
setting up penalties (including sending students home)
for destructive behavior related to alcohol consumption.
Participants were nearly unanimous in their view that
alcohol abuse contributed substantially to poor student
behavior and increased the likelihood that the students
would have a negative impact on the community they
visited.
However, few participants went beyond thinking about
the negative impact that alcohol can have to consider other
unintended negative consequences. Few expressed concern
over exacerbating income inequality, though some commented
on the demonstration effects of bringing wealthy
students into poor communities. In general, virtually all

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participants assumed or asserted that economic repercussions
were positive, and had considered few or no
cultural or social effects of the study-abroad program
they led. Even senior faculty members with extensive
international experience and doctorates in a social science
discipline had not thought through the implications for
host communities of their visits. However, there were a
few faculty and staff (not always the most experienced)
who did discuss negative effects, some they had actually
seen, others that they feared. Once these were mentioned
in the focus groups, most participants were interested in
hearing about issues they had not considered, and all were
actively concerned about the effects of student visits on host
communities.
The few who mentioned negative impacts were concerned
primarily with economic issues that result in
inequity or dependency in host communities, though there
were also concerns about cultural impacts. Home stays
in middle-class housing, unequal distribution of gifts, the
demonstration effect of student consumption, and reliance
upon relatively wealthy visitors to solve local problems
were all discussed. One participant had put a hold on
taking students to an area he had visited for decades,
because he saw major signs of dependency, on him and
the relationships his programs had established in the
community, for addressing local concerns, especially in
providing money. One had stopped going to areas that were
geographically and culturally isolated because he feared
the effect of his programs on those communities, which he
perceived as particularly vulnerable. On the other hand,
one faculty member commented that ten more students
from our university going to Madrid were not going to
have much of an impact on local inhabitants.
These focus groups indicate that faculty and staff who
lead short-term study-abroad programs are generally unaware
of possible negative impacts on host communities
and do not consider the effects of their programs, with the
exception of bad behavior resulting from student abuse of
alcohol. However, once potential negative impacts came
up in discussion, virtually all were receptive to considering
these impacts and thinking about how to mitigate
them.
RECOMMENDATIONS AND CONCLUSIONS
Although this research project is still in its early stages,
we feel comfortable drawing some basic conclusions and
making some general recommendations. As researchers,
we have been pleased with how receptive stakeholders
are to making improvements to study abroad in terms of
its effects on host communities. We are hopeful, therefore,
that with time and effort many of these recommendations
will become standard practice at universities and colleges
engaged in such programs.
Institutional Commitment
Colleges and universities must make institutional commitments
to evaluating and mitigating the negative im-
Ideas for Mitigating Negative Community Impacts of Short-Term Study Abroad
pacts of short-term study abroad on host communities.
The commitment of individual leaders of such programs
is necessary, but not sufficient to achieve this goal, as
institutions must provide training, support, and review of
programs to ensure that host communities are not harmed
by our students’ education abroad. As research in this
previously unexplored aspect of study abroad develops,
institutions can help program leaders learn about potential
negative impacts of study abroad. In those institutions that
use vendors to provide short-term study abroad, this
commitment must be transmitted to vendors, and
contracts issued only to those that meet this new
criteria.
Knowledgeable Program Leaders
Program leaders and administrators must become as
knowledgeable as possible about host communities and the
ways they may be harmed by short-term study abroad, in
order to predict and evaluate potential negative impacts.
This process is likely to be helped tremendously by
the involvement of experienced faculty. This does not
necessarily mean that such faculty must lead every program
since they are not necessarily sensitive or trained to observe
the impacts on communities. A committed program leader
may be able to reduce such effects through serious study
and consultation with faculty as well as members of the
community. Whenever possible, however, the expertise of
faculty knowledgeable about the community or the area
to which students are traveling should be involved in
the planning of the program, and in evaluating potential
impacts. Superficial observation is no substitute for
knowledge and analysis resulting from training in the
field.
Student and Community Preparation
Students must be prepared and guided during the program
so that they become active participants in evaluating
and preventing negative impacts on host communities.
Preparation and work during the program has three
components.
First, knowledge of the community must be built so
that students will understand, insofar as possible, how and
why things work the way they do in that area, including
the likely reaction to Americans and effects of students’
presence there. Through guest lectures, readings, films,
and pre-program group presentations, much of this can be
accomplished and will allow service to be well-integrated
with cultural learning.
Second, the group must engage in systematic analyses of
the many ways outsiders can affect any community, how
power dynamics are likely to come into play within and
between the host community and the student group, the
special vulnerabilities of the community being visited, and
ways to minimize negative impacts. This analysis must
include the (gentle!) lesson that good intentions do not
necessarily prevent harm—those intentions must be armed
with knowledge, sensitivity, humility, and commitment.
145

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Schroeder et al.
Facilitating power/privilege simulation activities, conducting
panel discussions with previous participants, engaging
in frank group discussions, and requiring reflection/reaction
papers from the students before departure
can all assist with teaching these important lessons before
engaging with the host community.
Third, group cohesion and a shared commitment to
respect and share with the host community in a spirit
of mutual learning, and an exchange of equals must be
developed. This kind of cohesion and commitment must
be created through activities, sharing and reflection both
before and during the program. Before the program,
students might engage in group projects about the culture,
meet with students who have been on the program before,
and discuss their likely reactions to the culture(s) they will
be experiencing. Building a group contract about behaviors
on the program that will mitigate potential negative impacts
will also make for a more successful program generally.
Once abroad, home stays to encourage cultural immersion,
making time in the program to be with local people in
contexts that allow for sharing, using local languages when
possible, structuring evening reflection time that allows
for open discussion, and encouraging a group journal
and/or individual journals are among the practices that
are fundamental to creating groups that will be sensitive
to and work to prevent negative impacts on the community
being visited, as well as encouraging good cultural
exchange.
Teaching students how to journal prior to departure
is both an important academic and life skill. Instructors
should develop structured journal questions that
allow reflection to take a deeper, more critical perspective,
rather than just reporting on the experience.
Varying the reflection processes throughout the experience
will accommodate various learning styles and
encourage deeper, more powerful learning. Many ideas
for reflection can be found on the Campus Compact
(http://www.compact.org) and the National Service-Learning
Clearinghouse (http://www.servicelearning.org) Web sites.
Finally, consult with and prepare the community, in
advance of the visit. Members of the host community may
have good suggestions for minimizing negative effects,
but not necessarily. They are as unlikely as students to
have an understanding of foreigners, however interested
they may be. If members of the community have some
understanding of the students’ culture, some potential
conflicts and distress may be reduced. If a local university
or agency is part of the study-abroad program, they should
also be brought into discussions of the effects of the program
on local people, something that they may not have thought
about any more than our institutions have. Ultimately, host
communities should have control over if and how student
groups should visit and study.
Consider Not Going
Consider not going on certain programs and reducing the
numbers of students going overseas. Given the potential
146
environmental, social, and cultural costs of study abroad,
there are some places there is just no responsible way to
visit. Programs with the highest probability of harm to
the host communities should simply not be developed,
despite the recommendation of the Lincoln Commission
and student demand. These locations may not always
be obvious. The environmental impact of visiting some
locations may be profound even when the cultural effect
might be minimal. Some places may be visited so much that
it seems they cannot be harmed—but the cumulative impact
of many visitors to a small place may be cause to hold back
from going there. Attention to the cumulative impact as
well as the higher investment in time of responsible study
abroad also suggests that the number of programs as well as
the number of students on each program should be reduced.
With greater understanding of student learning outcomes
and how they can be applied, this reduction in numbers
might be used to improve the quality of short-term study
abroad.
Long-Term Relationships
Establish long-term commitments to specific communities.
Most of the recommendations above are ultimately
dependent on this; while many of the negative effects of
study abroad can be anticipated with sufficient preparation,
others cannot. Only by knowing people and learning about
a community over time can these unanticipated impacts
be detected and mutual trust created such that problems
can be discussed and addressed. This is not a panacea—
a long-term relationship may in itself become a problem
if it becomes a dependent one. But the dangers of “drive
by” study-abroad programs are too clear to be continued,
once the effects on host communities are acknowledged.
We should be clear that “drive by” is not the same as a
program with a short duration. Programs that last as little as
a week can be long-term provided the institution maintains
a relationship with the host community. Conversely, simply
because a group stays in a particular place for an extended
period of time does not ensure an equitable long-term
relationship.
Institutional Review of Study Abroad
U.S. colleges and universities should develop institutional
review boards (IRBs) to screen international experiences
for unintended negative impacts that shortterm
study abroad might have. IRBs already exist across
campuses to ensure that faculty research does not endanger
the health or safety of our research subjects.
The same consideration should be given to communities
that host our students abroad. These IRBs should be
composed of faculty with academic expertise in vulnerable
areas as well as those with experience in study-abroad
programs.
Though the effects of short-term study abroad pale in
comparison to the overall impact of other forms of travel
from the U.S., academic institutions bear a special responsibility
to engage in ethical relationships with communities

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hosting our students during study abroad. Understanding
and working to mitigate the negative impacts of study
abroad on host communities must become part of how we
understand what we do when our colleges and universities
sponsor such programs.
We are all too aware that this research raises as many
questions as it answers. How exactly does one prevent
dependency from developing in a long-term study-abroad
relationship? How do we determine the cultural impact
over time of students’ study abroad? How do we spend
money to feed and house students without increasing
income inequalities? These are difficult questions, and
the answers to some of them may not even be possible.
But we believe that if these questions are not asked, if the
impacts on local communities of study abroad continue to
be ignored, that we will without a doubt be engaged in the
pursuit of academic goals at the expense of people who
have no choice about the matter. Many of the answers to
these questions are held within our collective knowledge
of the places with which we have deep relationships. Our
long-term commitments to the places we have studied
provide the starting point for what we hope will be long
and fruitful conversation.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors are indebted to our student researcher Kara
Brown who did much to get this research project started
and provided thoughtful critiques in its early stages. Dr.
Sarah Banks, a sustainable tourism expert, also contributed
substantially to this project in its formative stages.
NOTES
1. Research on the effects of study abroad on students
remains underdeveloped. How long do students
need to be abroad before they start to gain crosscultural
skills? What experiences and assignments
are necessary to meet learning objectives? Of the
few studies that examine the impact on students,
some are very disturbing. Gmelch (2004) studied the
journals of students enrolled in anthropology classes
at the University of Innsbruck. Students attended
classes Monday through Thursday and traveled on
the weekends. Analysis of student journals found
that they were surprisingly shallow, naïve, and
simplistic; students gained very little from simply
traveling.
2. Short-term study abroad is the largest growing
proportion of international programs at this time,
and, in our view, much more likely to have negative
impacts on host communities than individual or
small groups of students who go on semester or yearlong
study abroad at a foreign university.
Ideas for Mitigating Negative Community Impacts of Short-Term Study Abroad
REFERENCES
Archer, B., C. Cooper, and L. Ruhanen. 2005. The positive
and negative impacts of tourism. In Global Tourism, ed.
W. F. Theobold, pp. 79–102. New York: Elsevier.
Campus Compact. 2008. Resources. http://www.compact.
org/syllabi/syllabus.php?viewsyllabus=691 (accessed
September 23, 2008).
Commission on the Abraham Lincoln Study Abroad
Fellowship Program. 2005. Global competence and national
needs: One million Americans studying abroad.
http://www.nafsa.org/public policy.sec/public policy
document/study abroad 1/lincoln commission report
(accessed May 14, 2008).
Forum on Education Abroad. 2008. Standards of good practice
for education abroad. http://www.forumea.org/
standards-standards.cfm (accessed October 3, 2008).
Gmelch, G. 2004. Let’s go Europe: What student tourists
really learn. In Tourists and Tourism: A Reader, ed. S. B.
Gmelch, pp. 419–432. Long Grove, Illinois: Waveland
Press.
Institute of International Education. 2007. Opendoors 2007
fast facts. http://opendoors.iienetwork.org/ (accessed
February 19, 2008).
Lawson, V. A. 2005. Internationalizing geography at the
dawn of the twenty-first century. AAG Newsletter 40:2,
3.
Lew, A., C. Hall, and A. Williams, eds. 2004. A Companion to
Tourism. Malden, Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishers.
McLaren, D. 2006. Rethinking Tourism and Ecotravel. Bloomfield,
Connecticut: Kumarian Press.
NAFSA: Association of International Educators. 2008.
Public policy: Senator Paul Simon Study
Abroad Foundation Act. http://www.nafsa.org/
public policy.sec/commission on the abraham (accessed
October 3, 2008).
National Service-Learning Clearinghouse. 2008. Library
services. http://servicelearning.org/library/lib cat/
index.php?action=detailed&item=4272 (accessed September
23, 2008).
Shaw, G., and A. Williams. 2002. Critical Issues in Tourism: A
Geographical Perspective. 2nd ed. Oxford, UK: Blackwell
Publishers.
Zurick, D. 1992. Adventure travel and sustainable tourism
in the peripheral economy of Nepal. Annals of
the Association of American Geographers 82 (4): 608–
628.
147

Mountains of the World - A Global 1
Priority
Jack D. lues, Bruno Messerli, and Ernst Spiess
INTRODUCTION - CHAPTER 13
(1992) AND THE EARTH SUMMIT
REVIEW (1997)
In 1992, the Rio Earth Summit (UNCED) not only
established the UN Commission on Sustainable
Development (CSD), it set in motion the mechanism
for review of the progress made within the
first five years following the Summit (Rio Plus Five
or Earth Summit Review, 1997). In turn, the CSD
appointed Task Managers for each of the chapters
of Agenda 21. Task Managers were related to Focal
Points located within the existing structures of the
relevant UN agencies. As mentioned in the Preface,
the UN Food and Agricultural Organisation (FAO)
accepted the role of Task Manager for Chapter 13
(managing fragile ecosystems - sustainable mountain
development) (see also Chapter 18).
The main approach of the Rio Plus Five review
has involved each Task Manager unit, through its
own committee structure, working in close association
with the CSD. The ensuing comprehensive
report is to be submitted by the CSD to a Special
Session of the UN General Assembly in New York,
scheduled for June 1997. This report should contain
the following elements:
(1) overall assessment of the economic, social, and
environmental situation five years after
UNCED, and prospects for the future;
(2) main achievements following UNCED;
(3) most significant problems in Agenda 21 implementation;
(4) major challenges and priorities for the period
following 1997;
(5) suggestions for institutional changes following
1997.
This general framework has been applied in standardised
fashion to each Task Manager and the
space allotted for the individual chapter reports has
been tightly constrained. Nevertheless, beyond the
precise specifications for the chapter reports, the
Task Managers have had considerable freedom of
action. In the case of Chapter 13, there has been a
virtually unprecedented level of collaboration
amongst UN agencies, national governments, international
organisations, NGOs, and research institutions.
This book, and the companion document:
Mountains of the World: Challenges for the 21st
Century (Mountain Agenda, 1997), of course, is
only one element of the FAO Chapter 13 Task
Manager initiative. Its preparation, while supported
financially by several governmental and UN
agencies, especially by the Swiss Agency for
Development and Cooperation, has been a strictly
open academic and independent process.
There is no doubt that the Rio Earth Summit
with Agenda 21 has produced a much heightened
awareness of the essential role played by the mountains
as an integral part of the global biophysical
and socio-economic system. It has also stimulated
a large number of initiatives at all governmental
and NGO levels. Whether or not this activity has
moved from simply further increasing mountain
awareness to actually changing conditions for the
better, will be part of the task of the Special Session
of the UN General Assembly to answer. In practice,
we believe that much longer than five years will be
required and the question will need a specific answer
in a case-by-case evaluation for individual
mountain regions. Thus, the present Rio Plus Five
exercise, while it will go part way toward a general
assessment, should be regarded as a first step in
what must be framed as a long-term undertaking.
In addition, the review process should aid in the
identification of any trends, based on selected case
studies, it should point to areas of weakness in the
post-Rio process, and layout, much more precisely,
the challenges and priorities that must be faced as
we enter the next millennium.
To provide a baseline for future mountain evaluation
it should be worthwhile to consider the
introductory statement from Chapter 13:
1

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
Mountains are an important source of water,
energy and biological diversity. Furthermore,
they are a source of such key resources as
minerals, forest products, and agricultural
products, and of recreation. As a major
ecosystem representing the complex and
interrelated ecology of our planet, mountain
environments are essential to the survival of
the global ecosystem. Mountain ecosystems
are, however, rapidly changing. They are
susceptible to accelerated soil erosion, landslides,
and rapid loss of habitat and genetic
diversity. On the human side, there is widespread
poverty among mountain inhabitants,
and loss of indigenous knowledge. As a
result, most global mountain areas are
experiencing environmental degradation.
Hence, the proper management of mountain
resources and socio-economic development
of the people deserves immediate attention.
(Agenda 21, Chapter 13, final version,
adopted by the Plenary Session in Rio de
Janeiro on 14 June, 1992).
We submit that the above quotation is an imperfect
statement: it was a compromise that had to be
pushed through the UNCED Preparatory Committees
in the face of considerable opposition. This
opposition challenged the stand that mountains
constituted a viable unitary system, or formulation,
and argued that the mountain issues were already
covered in many of the other chapters that were
being developed to become Agenda 21 (Table 1.1).
This led to the contention that a special chapter for
mountains (i.e. Chapter 13) was not necessary.
While it is impressive to see how many chapters
of Agenda 21 have elements that relate directly to
mountains, the same can be said for tropical
rainforests, and the other 'fragile ecosystems': and
at the moment of potential challenge in Rio, Chapter
13 was approved by acclamation and without
controversy. However, we expect that the issue of
mountain authenticity will continue to surface
during these times of limited resources and international
uncertainties. Thus we will contend that,
while the mountains do contain elements of all the
other major (and more readily defined) ecosystems
- tropical rain forests, arid zones, polar-type
regions, coastal zones, grasslands, wetlands, and
the various other forest ecosystems - their unique
characteristic, verticality, overwhelmingly warrants
their priority ranking. To this argument can
be added the warning that many of the past
2
development projects failed, at least in part, because
mountain specificities were either ignored or
not fully understood (Chapter 14).
Our argument, however, will only be justified to
the extent that an integrated and comprehensive
approach to mountain development, and its
supporting research structure, is recognised and
attained. By this we mean, amongst other requirements,
a strong linkage between the human and
biophysical elements of the mountain environment
must be perfected, and that the mountain problems
must be integrated with all related global issues
(Figure 1.1).
DEFINITION OF THE MOUNTAIN
ZONE
As with many aspects of application of mountain
knowledge to policy formulation in the interests of
sustainable development, a basic problem remains:
how do we define mountain? The inability of
mountain scholars to produce a rigorous definition
Table 1.1 Agenda 21 chapters with relevance to
mountains
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 18
Chapter 24
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
International Cooperation
Combating Poverty
Protecting and Promoting Human
Health
Sustainable Human Settlements
Making Decisions for Sustainable
Development
Combating Deforestation
Combating Desertification
Sustainable Agriculture and Rural
Development
Conservation of Biological Diversity
Protecting and Managing Fresh Water
Women in Sustainable Development
Strengthening the Role of Indigenous
People
Partnerships with NGOs
Local Authorities
Strengthening the Role of Farmers
Financing Sustainable Development
Technology Transfer
Sciencefor Sustainable Development
Education, Training, and Public
Awareness
Creating Capacity for Sustainable
Development
International Law
Information for Decision Making
(and so on)

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
Mountains are an important source of water,
energy and biological diversity. Furthermore,
they are a source of such key resources as
minerals, forest products, and agricultural
products, and of recreation. As a major
ecosystem representing the complex and
interrelated ecology of our planet, mountain
environments are essential to the survival of
the global ecosystem. Mountain ecosystems
are, however, rapidly changing. They are
susceptible to accelerated soil erosion, landslides,
and rapid loss of habitat and genetic
diversity. On the human side, there is widespread
poverty among mountain inhabitants,
and loss of indigenous knowledge. As a
result, most global mountain areas are
experiencing environmental degradation.
Hence, the proper management of mountain
resources and socio-economic development
of the people deserves immediate attention.
(Agenda 21, Chapter 13, final version,
adopted by the Plenary Session in Rio de
Janeiro on 14 June, 1992).
We submit that the above quotation is an imperfect
statement: it was a compromise that had to be
pushed through the UNCED Preparatory Committees
in the face of considerable opposition. This
opposition challenged the stand that mountains
constituted a viable unitary system, or formulation,
and argued that the mountain issues were already
covered in many of the other chapters that were
being developed to become Agenda 21 (Table 1.1).
This led to the contention that a special chapter for
mountains (i.e. Chapter 13) was not necessary.
While it is impressive to see how many chapters
of Agenda 21 have elements that relate directly to
mountains, the same can be said for tropical
rainforests, and the other 'fragile ecosystems': and
at the moment of potential challenge in Rio, Chapter
13 was approved by acclamation and without
controversy. However, we expect that the issue of
mountain authenticity will continue to surface
during these times of limited resources and international
uncertainties. Thus we will contend that,
while the mountains do contain elements of all the
other major (and more readily defined) ecosystems
- tropical rain forests, arid zones, polar-type
regions, coastal zones, grasslands, wetlands, and
the various other forest ecosystems - their unique
characteristic, verticality, overwhelmingly warrants
their priority ranking. To this argument can
be added the warning that many of the past
2
development projects failed, at least in part, because
mountain specificities were either ignored or
not fully understood (Chapter 14).
Our argument, however, will only be justified to
the extent that an integrated and comprehensive
approach to mountain development, and its
supporting research structure, is recognised and
attained. By this we mean, amongst other requirements,
a strong linkage between the human and
biophysical elements of the mountain environment
must be perfected, and that the mountain problems
must be integrated with all related global issues
(Figure 1.1).
DEFINITION OF THE MOUNTAIN
ZONE
As with many aspects of application of mountain
knowledge to policy formulation in the interests of
sustainable development, a basic problem remains:
how do we define mountain? The inability of
mountain scholars to produce a rigorous definition
Table 1.1 Agenda 21 chapters with relevance to
mountains
Chapter 2 International Cooperation
Chapter 3 Combating Poverty
Chapter 6 Protecting and Promoting Human
Health
Chapter 7 Sustainable Human Settlements
Chapter 8 Making Decisions for Sustainable
Development
Chapter 11 Combating Deforestation
Chapter 12 Combating Desertification
Chapter 14 Sustainable Agriculture and Rural
Development
Chapter 15 Conservation of Biological Diversity
Chapter 18 Protecting and Managing Fresh Water
Chapter 24 Women in Sustainable Development
Chapter 26 Strengthening the Role of Indigenous
People
Chapter 27 Partnerships with NGOs
Chapter 28 Local Authorities
Chapter 32 Strengthening the Role of Farmers
Chapter 33 Financing Sustainable Development
Chapter 34 Technology Transfer
Chapter 35 Sciencefor Sustainable Development
Chapter 36 Education, Training, and Public
Awareness
Chapter 37 Creating Capacity for Sustainable
Development
Chapter 39 International Law
Chapter 40 Information for Decision Making
(and so on)

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
Plate 1.1 Nevado Sajama, 18° South, Bolivia's
highest mountain and site of the world's highest forests
tPolylepis trees close to 5000 m). (Photograph:
B. Messerli)
Scottish Cairngorms, and large sections of the
mountains in Norway and Sweden, at least rise well
above both the climatic and the anthropomorphic
timberlines; the Mittelgebirge (Middle Mountains)
of Central Europe rarely do so. Yet they must all
be included as mountains.
We can trace the beginnings of intellectual realisation
of the significance of mountains in the
'Western context' to Alexander von Humboldt
(1769-1859). His travels in the Andes led him to
categorise the three-dimensional nature of mountains
and to recognise the influence of latitude on
the elevation of the distinctive altitudinal belts
(Figure 1.2). These altitudinal belts primarily identify
the upslope progression of changes in vegetation
cover and landforms. He also recorded the
adaptation of the Andeans to these altitudinal 'life
zones' in terms of their subsistence and patterns of
movement and exchange. Much later, this very
4
early initiative evolved into John Murra's (1972)
concept of the 'vertical archipelago', itself derived
from Carl Troll's (1954, 1975, 1978) elaboration
of Humboldt's legacy (Bromme, 1851) into his
more sophisticated concept of altitudinal belts.
Troll went on to attempt a natural science classification
of mountains with a clear distinction between
Hochgebirge (High Mountains, such as the
Alps) and Mittelgebirge (Middle Mountains, such
as the Black Forest), and between the glaciated and
non-glaciated mountains.
Nevertheless, since Troll's interests extended to
embrace mountains world-wide, he quickly identified
the dilemma facing any attempt to produce a
universal classification. For instance, he referred to
mountain areas in the humid equatorial zone, such
as those extending above 3000 m in Indonesia, as
'high mountains without a high mountain landscape'.
This problem facing attempts to produce a
classification of mountains becomes even more
acute, for instance, when we try to incorporate the
high lands of Ethiopia and East Africa. These highland
areas traditionally have been much more
favourable to human settlement than the surrounding
arid and semi-arid lowlands. Further difficulties
arise with mountains in the extreme arid zone, such
as the Eastern Pamir and the Tibesti and Hoggar of
the Sahara that have neither forest belts nor landforms
produced by former glaciation. And for
mountains in general, the most intensely utilised
terrain is that located below the high mountain
stage (upper timberline) (Figure 1.3): here are to be
found the more serious intensities of human landscape
intervention. More recently, these schematic
representations have combined physical and
human attributes of verticality (Lauer, 1993; Figure
1.4) and have been employed to demonstrate
responses to climatic change over thousands of
years (Messerli, et al., 1993; Figure 1.5).
Concurrent with, and subsequent to, but also
using the Trollean altitudinal belt classification as
a starting point, Uhlig (1984, 1995), Grotzbach
(1984, 1988), Kreutzmann (1995), and others,
developed a tentative cultural geography of mountain
regions (see Chapter 2). This depicts a fine line
between the impacts of increasing altitude (the
verticality issue) and the overlay of culture and,
more recently, the penetration of the world market
economy with the accelerated spread of modern
communication systems. Uhlig, in particular,
studied the altitudinal limits of domestic crops and
forms of human subsistence, such as Almwirtschaft

(mixed mountain farming), transhumance, and nomadism
(Uhlig, ed. Kreutzmann, 1995). Crotzbach
(1988) proposed the first cultural geographic
typology of mountains.
From the foregoing discussion it should be
apparent that the world's mountains do not lend
themselves to a unifying definition and classification
that goes beyond the simple combination of
'steepness of slope' and 'altitude'. Mountains,
obviously, are regions of accentuated relief and
MOUNTAINS OF THE WORLD
altitude, which influence climate, soil fertility,
vegetation, slope instability, and accessibility.
From the humid sub-tropical and temperate zones
polewards, all land-use activities are disadvantaged
compared with the subjacent and neighbouring
more densely populated lowlands. This comparative
mountain disadvantage has been recognised in
the recent extant and pending legislation of
European countries, such as Switzerland, Germany,
Norway, and others (Chapters 4 and 5). But
Plate 1.2 Mountains in high latitude, even of modest elevation, display a 'high mountain' (Hochgebirge)
landscape, comparable to the Alps cut off at timberline and reduced to sea level. Inugsuin Pinnacles, Baffin
Island, Canada, in latitude 70 0N. (Photograph: J. D. Ives)
5

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
11 percent exceeds 2000 m; 5 percent lies above
3000 m; and 2 percent above 4000 m. In certain
regions of the world, such as Western Europe, the
humid inner tropics, and the Pacific high islands,
500 m is already a significant altitude. However,
much of Kansas, Nebraska, and eastern Colorado
lies appreciably higher than this and, to the inhabitants
of these flat prairie lands, mountains begin
much further westward, along the Rocky Mountain
front at about 1500 m. Similar comparisons
can be made for other parts of the world.
To demonstrate that nearly half of the world's
land surface lies above 500 m tends to support our
conclusion that the search for a unitary definition
of mountain is to chase a chimera. It follows that
several definitions, which are region-specific, are
needed. While we believe it has been necessary to
pursue this rather tortuous path in our opening
chapter, we also contend that to pursue it further
becomes academic. We therefore return to our
long-standing guestimate that 'mountains occupy
about a fifth of the world's land surface and provide
the direct life-support base for about a tenth
of humankind'. We will return to this 'truism' after
a global survey of mountains and a discussion of
the one outstanding aspect - verticality - mountains
as high-energy environments.
A BRIEF SURVEY OF THE WORLD'S
MOUNTAINS
Mountains are found on every continent, from the
equator polewards as far as land persists. Taken
together, on account of their three-dimensional
nature, as a single great landscape category, or
ecosystem in the broadest sense, they encompass
the most extensive array of topography, climate,
flora and fauna, as well as human cultural differentiation,
known to humankind. Furthermore,
geologically and tectonically, mountains comprise
the most complex elements of the earth's underlying
structures.
Mountains and uplands incorporate the inhuman
and extremely cold and sterile high ice
plateaus of Antarctica and Greenland, and the
high, dry, hypoxic, and almost inhospitable ranges
of Central Asia and the south-central High Andes.
They also include the richly varied, and even
luxuriant, ridge and valley systems of the humid
subtropics and tropics, such as the Himalaya, the
Hengduan Mountains, Mt Cameroon, sections of
the Northern Andes, and parts of New Guinea. In
East Africa and Ethiopia the flanks of the high
8
mountains have long been a preferred human habitat
compared with the more arid lowland areas
that surround them. Additionally, there must be
included an enormous compass of other mountains.
Thus, there are the high volcanoes, for instance,
of Indonesia, the Caribbean, and Hawai'i,
where humans have long benefited from access to
rich soils and have been exposed to extreme fiery
hazards. There are also what are usually called
middle mountains (German: Mittelgebirge), ranging
from Tasmania to South Africa, and from
Central and Northern Europe to the Urals and
Siberia. While these latter contrast with the Alps
(the epitome of the Hochgebirge) because of
their more subdued relief, their other mountain
attributes demand special policies to ensure sustained
resource use.
Mountains and uplands contain the largest
number of environmentally protected areas,
including biosphere reserves, national forests,
national and international parks, and World Heritage
Sites (see Chapter 11), of any of the world's
major landscape categories. Even when we exclude
the two big ice sheets, mountains provide more
than half the world's fresh water (see Chapter 7),
as well as significant proportions of its timber (see
Chapter 13), minerals (see Chapter 9), and grazing
lands (see Chapter 15). They also serve as the abode
of the deities of many of the world's religions (see
Chapter 3) and provide an over-arching spirituality,
aesthetic, and source of myth, legend, and
psychological balm and aspiration for society at
large (see Chapter 12).
When the intrinsic and spiritual resources are
considered together, we are compelled to assert that
mountains, in addition to providing the life-support
base for about ten percent of the world population,
are vital for the well-being of more than half
of humankind. Their priority ranking, as world
governance begins to grapple with sustainable
development for the twenty-first century, would
appear secure from the foregoing introductory remarks
alone. Yet we must also take into account
the actual and perceived threats to the lowlands if
mismanagement of mountain resources continues
unabated. In this sense, mountains are not only
suppliers of many products, they are protection
watersheds for the lowlands. The converse of 'protection'
is that they are potential destroyers of the
life-support systems of the hundreds of millions of
people on the plains. Even when the threats, for
instance, of deforestation as a cause of catastrophic
flooding of Gangetic India and Bangladesh, are

Plate 1.3 Mount Kasbegh (5047 rn), Caucasus,
once the place where an angry Zeus chained the
miscreant Prometheus for giving fire to mankind.
Today, Georgians, Ossetians, Chechens, and Russians
devastate both the mountain environment and
each others' homelands. (Photograph: J. D. Ives)
only perceived rather than proven, there are both
serious implications as well as prospects for profligate
expenditures to solve problems that have not
been correctly analysed (Ives and Messerli, 1989).
In many parts of the world, mountains form
international and provincial frontiers, and many of
these today are in contention. We need only
mention the entire Hindu Kush-Karakorum­
Himalayan region; the frontiers of Chile, Argentina,
Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador in the Andes; the
Caucasus; and the Balkans. The majority of today's
most pernicious and destructive armed conflicts,
guerrilla activities (Chapter 6), as well as the devastating
drug wars, hinge on our mountains.
But there are also positive aspects that need to
bereinforced. Mountains harbour by far the largest
number of distinct ethnic groups, varied remnants
of cultural traditions, environmental knowledge,
and habitat adaptations; they host some of the
world's most complex agro-cultural gene pools and
traditional management practices (ef Peruvian
Andes: Zimmerer, 1996). They offer primary challenges
to research and scholarship and will likely
prove vital field laboratories for early detection of
some of the first indications of climate change
(Chapter 17). The positive benefits that are inher-
MOUNTAINS OF THE WORLD
ent in the proliferation of trans-border parks-forpeace,
inspirational enrichment, recreation, and
spiritual and physical challenge, make mountains
an indispensable element of the human heritage.
These attributes will become increasingly important
if the enormous problems of the next century
are to be faced and overcome.
Perhaps the only generalisation that can be
made about mountains, however, is that, except for
the three-dimensional landscape characteristic and
the relative marginality and inaccessibility, generalisation
should be avoided. In the popular eye,
until recently (and still a prevailing trait), mountains
have been perceived as vast, rugged, and
remote landscapes, seemingly inured to human
environmental impacts. Despite this, by the 1960s
another, contrasting, popular view emerged. In this
view, over-development, winter sports, mass tourism
in general, rapid population growth, deforestation,
soil erosion, accelerated run-off and devastating
downstream effects, have been perceived as
leading to a world super-crisis. Yet these viewpoints
are overwhelmingly those from centres of
population and power from outside the mountains.
At the same time as this great mountain contradiction
was emerging (the one viewpoint producing
complacency and benign neglect, the other leading
to hysteria) bilateral and international development
agencies tended to treat mountains as
unimportant two-dimensional adjuncts to be
accommodated as fringe attachments to the big
development projects on the surrounding and
much more densely populated plains. It seems that
there was (is) a prevailing conviction that, dollar
for dollar, better investment value would be obtained,
in terms of economic successes, in the lowlands.
Here accessibility is superior, infrastructure
better developed, or less costly to establish and
maintain. Traditionally, therefore, most political
and economic interactions between highlands and
lowlands have been initiated from the lowlands:
policy decisions made in the lowlands and imposed
on the highlands. The inhabitants of the mountain
regions have been obliged to suffer exploitation, or
to defend themselves, or to react to outside pressures;
they have had little chance to act out their
own destinies.
PHYSICAL PROCESSES IN MOUNTAINS
In providing an overview of the dynamic geomorphic
processes operating in mountains, we must
emphasise that by far the majority of twentieth
9

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
century research in this field has concentrated on
the Hochgebirge. The reasons for this are obvious
and yet are worthy of emphasis here. First, there is
the personal attitude of individuals from 'Western'
affluent societies. The high mountains are dramatically
appealing and there is no doubt that an
adventure element has influenced many mountain
researchers. Second, there is also a pragmatic
element. With the quantification of geophysical
mountain research in the two decades following
World War II, steeper and relatively unvegetated
slopes greatly facilitated the acquisition of 'precisely'
surveyed process data in a relatively short
time period, simply because the processes are more
dynamic under these types of locale. (Downslope
movement proceeds much more rapidly and, therefore,
can be measured to a much higher standard
of accuracy with the available instruments in unit
time.) A third factor could well be that of the
relative inaccessibility of the research site, whereby
markers and instruments could be left in place over
several years with much reduced risk of interference
by curious villagers or passers-by.
Today, a vast literature exists on this general
field of enquiry. Some of the elements of high
mountain process studies are mentioned here because
the results must be taken into consideration
whenever human interventions are to be perpetrated
on mountain slopes at any altitude. The
Plate 1.4 Unteraargletscher near Grimselpass,
Switzerland: frost weathering, glaciated landforms
and retreating glaciers. (Photograph: J. D. Ives)
10
primary English language references are: Rapp's
(1960) pioneer study of mountain slope processes;
Price's (1981) synthesis of mountain physical geography;
Gerrard's (1990) more recent synthesis of
research on the same topic; Barsch (1984); and
Hewitt's attempts to link our growing knowledge
of catastrophic processes and their interactions
with humans and their property, in terms of natural
hazard research (see Chapter 16).
Itcan be argued that more geomorphic work can
be accomplished during single catastrophic events
than from all mass-transfer precisely measured for
a decade, or observed over centuries (Ives, 1989).
The effects of a hundred-year or even several
hundred years' event may also be dwarfed by even
more spectacular occurrences: for example, a very
large landslide that occurred in the Langtang
Himal, Nepal, 25 000 or more years ago. This
landslide displaced approximately 10 km 3 of debris
through a vertical distance of 2000 m. Something
similar occurred at Kofels, in the Otztal Alps
of Austria, about 9500 years ago, when a landslide
displaced 3 km ' of debris through up to 1000
vertical metres (Heuberger et al., 1984).
Some other examples may be mentioned here.
First, in 1970, a debris flow, resulting from an
earthquake-induced avalanche near the summit of
Huascaran (6768 m) in the Peruvian Cordillera
Blanca, covered 150 km 2 with debris, annihilated
the town of Yungay, and killed 18000 people
(Patzelt, 1983). Second, in October, 1968, rainfall,
varying between 600 and 1200 mm fell on the
Darjeeling area of the Himalaya, during a three-day
period at the end of the summer monsoon period
when the ground was already saturated. Some
20000 people were killed, injured, or displaced
(Ives, 1970; Starkel, 1972). Third, in southeast
Iceland 155 mm of rain in twenty-four hours on 29
July 1982 caused several dozen debris flows in a
small area of Skaftafell National Park. One of us
has photographed and observed this area qualitatively
from 1952 to 1994 and estimates that (with
the exception of the very high rates of glacial
erosion, deposition, and associated jokulhlaup or
glacial lake outburst flood and fluvio-glacial activity)
this single geomorphic event accounted for
more 'work' than all other processes combined
over the last 100 years. Fourth, on July 19 and 20,
1993, an extraordinary flood event took place in
eastern and central Nepal with catastrophic effects:
several districts were hit by floods and hundreds of
landslides, and many people died or became homeless.
Due to the very high level of sedimentation,

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
knowledge and long-term experience relating to the
use of mountain resources. External impacts, such
as mass-tourism and new traffic systems in
industrialised countries, and economic decline and
migration in developing countries, have disturbed
this balance. The following three examples
illustrate how mountain areas under different
climatic-ecological, socio-cultural and economicdemographic
conditions have been confronted
with very different problems and processes on their
development path from the past into the future:
(1) Let us first consider Kilimanjaro, a volcanic
massif in the tropical zone close to the equator:
in addition to its cultural and spiritual significance,
this mountain is the primary source of
much of the water, food, fuel, and building
material for the people of north-central Tanzania.
Unfortunately, the capacity of Mount
Kilimanjaro to continue to provide these vital
products and services is being threatened by
inappropriate and, in some cases, over-exploitation
of many of its natural resources. Much
of the current stress on natural resources is a
result of the dramatic increase in human population
on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro: it
has more than tripled during the last forty
years, and the mountain area now has the
highest rural density of any administrative
district in Tanzania (Newmark, 1991).
By contrast with mountain areas in other
climatic zones, the tropical mountains offer
very favourable ecological conditions with
fertile soils, especially on volcanoes, and sufficient
precipitation for agricultural production.
But will it be possible to find a balance
between the new cultural, economic, and ecological
forces?
(2) Our second example is the Middle Mountains
of Nepal in the subtropical climatic zone with
a seasonal monsoon precipitation regime:
parts of Nepal are facing a serious problem in
being unable to maintain soil fertility in
agriculture and forestry. In order to meet the
food, animal feed, and fuelwood demands of
the rapidly growing population, there has been
a gradual transformation from single to multiple
annual crop rotation. This practice has
developed to the point where three crops are
grown annually in all areas of the Middle
Mountains where irrigation water is available.
Soil fertility has changed and soils have become
very acidic. All soil fertility conditions
12
are marginal and put into question the longterm
sustainability of current levels of production
(Schreier et al., 1994). How can a new
balance be struck between ecological conditions
and economic needs? Can the needed
alteration in cropping intensity and the introduction
of nitrogen-fixing trees and crops
constitute sufficient responses for promoting
sustainability?
(3) Third, let us consider the Alps, situated in the
temperate climatic zone, surrounded by highly
urbanised and industrialised areas. Recent
research projects have found that today about
44 percent of the Alpine population is living
in so-called Alpine towns, concentrated in the
main valleys along the traffic routes (pers.
comm. Paul Messerli; Batzing et aI., 1996).
These approximately 150 towns could assume
new functions or new responsibilities in the
future development of Alpine regions. But it is
not yet clear, whether these urban populations
could preserve a special Alpine-oriented cultural
identity, and whether there is the necessary
interest and capacity to create a new
balance between rural and urban areas within
the Alps. Could this represent an opportunity
for new forms of co-operation between mountain
farming and off-farm employment in the
urban areas close by?
These three examples, illustrate three very different
situations on the long and difficult path to sustainable
development. New questions are being raised
everywhere, and new solutions must be found in
connection with all the internal and external forces.
Solutions could include: economic diversification,
appropriate agriculture, adapted forms of tourism,
controlled migration, long-term investment in
infrastructure, improved social conditions, better
education, and more political autonomy.
CONCLUSION
The complexities of the high mountain stage
(Hochgebirge), in terms of the physical processes
that are occurring today and have occurred in the
past, have been reviewed briefly above. It is equally
apparent, however, that inhabited mountain
regions are even more highly complex fields for
study and, therefore, for management. Thus, international
collaborative efforts are needed, including
standardisation of objectives and methods, shared
data banks, and identification of minimum needs.

MOUNTAINS OF THE WORLD
Plate 1.6 The Yulongxue Shan (Jade Dragon Snow Mountains 5596 m) from the black Dragon Park,
Lijang City, NW Yunnan, China. (Photograph:]. D. Ives)
In these closing years of the twentieth century that
are characterised by increasing scarcity of research
funds, this recommendation for expansion of
effort, even for the establishment of a world network
of mountain research activities, may appear
impractical. In this respect it is worth considering
the fate of some highly expensive development
projects in mountain regions. For instance, the
engineer's estimate of the useful life of a large
hydroelectric scheme is often proved to have been
greatly over-optimistic because no attention was
paid to the dynamics of the mountain catchment in
which the infrastructure was placed. Reservoirs
that rapidly fill with sediment should not be contemplated,
let alone constructed; and this occurs so
frequently and at great cost to all concerned because
of the lack of attention paid to geomorphic
and hydrologic conditions. Similarly, poorly
designed roads lead to instability of extensive
mountain slopes and serious downslope damage.
Resource mismanagement in mountain lands in
general, often due to ignorance, or to disregard for
long-term objectives and concentration on the
short term, has the potential for devastating losses
in the surrounding and densely populated lowlands.
The problem is exacerbated by the extreme
unreliability of much of the available data and the
tendency to generalisation instead of careful local
assessment.
The need for special attention being given to the
mountains and their people, therefore, is understandable.
If aid and development must take on a
capitalist concern with immediate returns on investment
then, obviously, it would be rational to
neglect the mountains. But this is the short-term
view. The long-term implications are becoming
increasingly clear and are inextricably entwined in
the growing concern that continuing development
must be sustainable. This overwhelmingly reflects
the remarkable initiatives taken during the Rio
Earth Summit (UNCED). The present volume has
the intention of aiding the clarification of the longterm
viewpoint; this chapter to lay the general
framework for that clarification.
13

MOUNTAINS - A GLOBAL PRIORITY
References
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Partnership, UNCED: Geneva, p. 115
Aulitzky, H. (1974). Endangered Alpine Regions and
Disaster Prevention Measures, Nature and Environment
Series 6, Council of Europe, Strasbourg, p. 103
Batzing, W., Perlik, M. and Deklova, M. (1996).
Urbanization and depopulation in the Alps (with 3
colored rnaps). Mountain Research and Development,
16(4): 335-50
Barsch, D. (ed.) (1984). High Mountain Research.
Special issue of Mountain Research and Development,
4 (4): 286-374
Bromme, T. (1851). Atlas zu Alexander von Humboldt.
Kosmos: Stuttgart
Dow, V., Kienholz, H., Plam, M. and Ives, ]. D.
(1981). Mountain hazards mapping: Development of
a prototype combined hazards map, Monarch Lake
Quadrangle, Colorado, USA (with fold-in map).
Mountain Research and Development, 1(1): 55-64
Grotzbach, E. F. (1984). Mobility of labour in high
mountains and the socio-economic integration of peripheral
areas. Mountain Research and Development,
4 (3): 229-35
Grotzbach, E. F. (1988). High Mountains as Human
Habitat. In Allan, N.]. R., Knapp, G. W. and Stadel,
C. (eds.) Human Impact on Mountains. Rowman and
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Gerrard, A.]. (1990). Mountain Environments: An
examination ofthe physical geography ofmountains.
MIT Press: Cambridge, MA, p. 317
Heuberger, H., Masch, L., Preuss, E. and Schroecher,
A. (1984). Quaternary Landslides and Rock Fusion in
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Geographical Journal, 80: 26-31
Ives, ]. D. (1989). Mountain Environments. In
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Protection of the Environment. Citra del Vaticano:
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Pontificiae Academiae Scientiarum Scripta Varia,
pp.289-345
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Kienholz, H., Hafner, H., Schneider, G. and Tamrakar,
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Nepal's Middle Mountains, with maps of land use and
geomorphic damages (Kathmandu-Kakani area).
Mountain Research and Development, 3 (3): 195-220
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in the Andes: A geoecological overview. Mountain
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Hochgebirgsforschung, no. 6, p. 110

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24
Multidimensional (Climatic,
Biodiversity, Socioeconomic),
Changes in Land Use in the
Vilcanota Watershed, Peru
Stephan Halloy, Anton Seimon, Karina Yager,
and Alfredo Tupayachi
INTRODUCTION
To investigate the dynamic changes affecting
biodiversity across the vertical gradient of the
Vilcanota watershed in Peru, we utilize the
major vertical profile of the Vilcanota–Urubamba
Valley (the Sacred Valley of the
Incas at its center). The area combines features
of interest for our research, such as a tropical
location in a major biodiversity hotspot, which
has also been a cultural vortex with thousands
of years of occupation and development of
resilient sustainable land uses; the point of origin
of many indigenous agricultural staples,
some of which are now important agricultural
crops at a global level; and a unique annually
resolved climatic record of more than 500 years
in the Quelccaya ice cap to the southeast of the
watershed (Thompson et al. 1985; Seimon and
Halloy, this volume). As it descends, the Vilcanota–Urubamba
changes its cross section (Figure
24.1), topography, and mesoclimates, traversing
an extreme range of climates and
environments. These have been described and
classified by many researchers (e.g. Brisseau,
1981; Galiano Sánchez, et al., 1995; Gentry,
1993; Sibille, 1997). The watershed starts in the
permanent snow and glaciers of the steep peaks
above 6300 m (Ausangate), where mean temperatures
are below 0°C. We recently recorded
(in 2002) the highest vascular plants at 5510 m,
close behind the retreating glaciers in this area.
High-Andean vegetation develops rapidly down
from this level. Around 4900 m, llama and
alpaca grazing signal the rising level of human
occupation. The highest human occupation
found is the house of Pedro Godofredo above
Murmurani, at ~5050 m.
The undulating altiplano between 4900 and
4200 m gives way to steep incised valleys as
the rivers cut their way down to the Amazon.
As in the altiplano, human occupation has
developed in these valleys over the centuries,
cultivating the valley floors and terracing the
steep valley slopes to expand production areas.
Apart from the valley topography and gradual
increase in temperature, an important environmental
factor is the drying of the climate
towards the valley floors as a climatic effect of
valley wind circulation (Troll, 1968). About 350
km down from its source, the valley finally
opens into the foothills of the Andes and the
Amazonian lowland forests and savannahs,
where mean annual temperatures are around 23
to 29°C, and annual rainfall is around 1700 to
2000 mm. Due to the strong orographic gradients,
all climate parameters vary in short distances.
For example, rainfall slightly to the
southeast of the Urubamba at San Gabán and
Quince Mil (600 m) reaches 3000 to 6000 mm
per year.
Data on species richness will be reviewed,
and we will examine information on present
impacts affecting the natural and managed
biodiversity and the manner in which the latter
is distributed. Given the region’s rich biodiver-
321

3523_book.fm Page 322 Thursday, September 29, 2005 10:38 AM
322
Altitude (m)
7000
6000
5000
4000
3000
2000
1000
0 0 50 100 150
sity and the reported past levels of prosperity
at a time (>500 years BP) when resource use
has been claimed to be more sustainable in the
long term, the question that comes to the fore
is: Why human populations now suffer extreme
poverty and environments undergo rapid degradation?
We examine the temporal dynamics of
various components in this three-dimensional
space and explore possible drivers in view of
human pressures and climate change. Several
questions that arise are: Is loss of biodiversity
through land use change a consequence of poverty?
Is poverty related to a failure to incorporate
traditional biodiversity stewardship into
modern agricultural systems? Do market pressures
tend to decrease the use of traditional
agricultural management (e.g. Swinton and
Quiroz, 2003; Halloy et al., 2004)?
METHODS
We surveyed, collated, and calculated the information
and literature on land use and biodiversity
for the Vilcanota–Urubamba watershed.
Political (and hence, census) boundaries are not
drawn along watershed boundaries, so we
selected 33 representative districts along the
Land Use Change and Mountain Biodiversity
200
km from source
250 300 350 400
FIGURE 24.1 Topographic profile of the Vilcanota Valley, lengthwise from SSE to NNW with five cross
sections approximately W–E to show the changing valley configuration. The Vilcanota is represented by the
altitudes of 33 district capitals (dots), some of which are located away from the valley center, hence the higher
points. Four additional points complete the profile: village of Santa Barbara (4000 m), outlet of Sibinacocha
Lake (4850 m), Rititica summit (5250 m), and the summit of Vizcachani (near the source of the Vilcanota
above 6200 m). The five cross sections (full lines) are taken at the level of the capitals (from left to right)
Sicuani, Pisac-Cusco, Ollantaytambo, Machupicchu, and Quellouno.
main axis of the valley. To approach biodiversity
at this regional scale, we use proxies (which
are more or less relevant and debatable, and
provide insights into the system) such as percentages
of land use and rates of change (e.g.
deforestation, cultivated crops, and grazing),
each of which has its own impacts on biodiversity.
Cultivated area of each species of crops
was collated from all districts, a necessary
caveat being that census data are sensitive to
human reporting and data-gathering techniques.
Many smaller crops and crop areas are not
reported, thus biasing the data toward larger
areas and crops. However, this is not unlike the
bias that occurs in any biodiversity study toward
larger, more abundant, and more visible species.
Table 24.1 shows the seven provinces of the
Cusco Department, along with some portions
in the Vilcanota Valley. Further details on the
33 districts are in Appendix I. Cusco Department
has a total area of 71,987 km2,
slightly
larger than the island of Tierra del Fuego. The
area of the 33 districts studied here is 29,337
km2,
or almost half of the department.
Diversity was evaluated as simple species
richness, following the Shannon–Weaver information
index of diversity ( H = ln , where
p
i
p
i

3523_book.fm Page 323 Thursday, September 29, 2005 10:38 AM
Climatic, Biodiversity & Socio-Economic Changes in Land Use in the Vilcanota Watershed, Peru
TABLE 24.1
Provinces of the Cusco Department with districts used in this study, together with their
population and area
Population,
Density (inhabitants
Province Capital Projection 2002 Area (km2)
km-2)
Total departments Cusco 1,208,689 71,987 16.8
Acomayo Acomayo 34,652 948.22 36.5
Calca Calca 65,330 4,414 14.8
Canchis Sicuani 107,012 3,999 26.8
Cusco Cusco 319,422 617 517.7
La Convención Quillabamba 194,395 30,062 6.5
Quispicanchi Urcos 89,264 7,565 11.8
Urubamba Urubamba 56,352 1,439 39.1
Source: From the 1993-1994 Census, Instituto Nacional de Estadística e Informática, Peru, (INEI 2003).
pi
= (abundance of species i)/total abundance;
[Shannon and Weaver, 1949]), and as frequency
distributions (Williams, 1964).
We integrate this study with ongoing
research at the regional altitudinal limits of life
in the Lake Sibinacocha area. As part of a global
network to monitor the effects of global change
on biodiversity, we established in 2002 a Global
Research Initiative in Alpine Environments
(GLORIA) site at 5250 m. This follows a standardized
methodology of inventories and temperature
measurements for long-term comparisons
(Pauli et al., 2002) and is logged as a
Global Terrestrial Observation Site (Halloy and
Tupayachi, 2004).
VERTICAL DISTRIBUTION OF
DIVERSITY
Braun et al. (2002) calculated the number of
species of seed plants in an altitudinal profile
of Peru from Brako and Zarucchi (1993) (Figure
24.2). They found that the number of species
in the Andes above 500 m is more than the
total number of Amazonian species in Peru. At
the highest levels, over 250 species of seed
plants are recorded above 4500 m for the whole
of Peru. At the eastern headwaters of the Vilcanota,
at the Rititica GLORIA site, we found
24 vascular plants and 28 nonvascular plants
(bryophytes and lichens) in a 274-m2
sampling
area at 5250 m in midwinter 2002. Higher up,
323
flowering plants were found to 5510 m, right
up to the receding ice cliff edge above Rititica.
Gentry (1993) noted that although 43% of
Peruvian seed plant species are from lowland
Amazonia, 34% grow in lower-Andean forests
between 500 and 1500 m, and a remarkable
57% are recorded from Andean cloud forests.
The high-Andean region above 3500 m contains
approximately 14% of the Peruvian flora.
LAND
USE
IMPACT
Land-based agriculture contributes 25.4% of
the gross domestic product (GDP) and provides
47.5% of employment in the Cusco Department
(MAP, 2003). The proportion of total land area
that is dedicated to cultivation averages 8% for
the whole valley, ranging from less than 1% for
Pitumarca and Checacupe districts (limiting
ecological conditions near the altitudinal limits
of cultivation) to 33% for Quellouno (recent
major increase in export crops, principally coffee).
Grazing affects almost all lands accessible
to stock within the valley. Based on a generous
assumption (with present management prac-
tices) of one stock unit
1
per hectare, and calcu-
lating from all stock censused in the six valley
provinces (Sibille, 1997), we obtain that most
1 Stock unit is equivalent to a 45 kg ewe suckling a lamb
or a 55 kg pregnant ewe. This amounts to around 0.02 stock
units per 1 kg of live weight; 1 stock unit requires 520 kg
of dry matter of feed per year.

3523_book.fm Page 324 Thursday, September 29, 2005 10:38 AM
324
Altitude (m) (max level)
6000
5000
4000
3000
2000
1000
0
1 10 100
n species seed plants
provinces carry stock requiring 60% (Calca,
Quispicanchi) to 150% (Canchis) and 190%
(Cusco) of their total land area. Only La Convención
requires a minor 3.5% of its land area
to feed existing stock. Because only a certain
fraction of their total land area is suitable for
natural pastures (e.g. 64% for Canchis, 40% for
Cusco, and less than 24% for the remaining
provinces, INEI in MAP [2003]), the overstocking
becomes even more notorious. These are
indications of unsustainable levels of overgrazing
that exceed the carrying capacity of the
land. Fallow and harvested lands also fulfill a
role in providing feed for grazing stock, but this
is not quantified in censuses.
Although some level of grazing can
enhance biodiversity by reducing competition
(Fowler 2002), intense overgrazing as suggested
by these data leads to depletion of palatable
species, reduction of ground cover, and
erosion (Duncan et al., 2001). Depending on
management, livestock, as do cultivated plants,
Land Use Change and Mountain Biodiversity
1000 10000
FIGURE 24.2 Number of seed plants at each altitudinal level in Peru, combined from Braun.
will carry with it a variety of commensal/accompanying
species including their parasites,
as well as transport seed plants that are
abundant near their main grazing areas. A 2001
survey around Lake Sibinacocha found that
rodent diversity increased around llama and
alpaca corrals at an altitude of 4900 m as an
effect of anthropogenic enhancement.
The steep terrain of most of the central valley
implies high erosion risk: 85% of areas cultivated
in the higher areas (310,000 ha) are on
steep to moderately steep slopes. They are susceptible
to erosion but most are not subject to
any soil protection practices at this time (MAP,
2003), unlike ancient mitigation practices of
terracing, irrigation, managing soil organic
matter, etc.
Deforestation for agricultural land and firewood
is claiming large areas of the central valley.
For the center of the Valle Sagrado, Galiano
Sánchez et al. (1995) quote deforestations levels
of 90% of original forests for valley bottom

3523_book.fm Page 325 Thursday, September 29, 2005 10:38 AM
Climatic, Biodiversity & Socio-Economic Changes in Land Use in the Vilcanota Watershed, Peru
forests (2700 to 3300 m), 60% for mixed forests
of the slopes (3300 to 3700 m), and 20% of the
Polylepis forests from 3700 to 4800 m. The
Ministerio de Agricultura (MAP, 2003) estimated
that 50% of the best forests of the department
were cut down by 1995, including 15%
of the humid lowland forest, more of which is
being cut at a rate of 20,000 ha per year. Land
use conversion has opened up 630,000 ha in the
22 years from 1972 to 1994, representing an
increase of 29.5%.
Introduced species constitute an insufficiently
evaluated risk in the area. Weeds of temperate
regions are widespread in the middle
reaches of the valley, although many weeds in
turn have their uses (see subsection titled Land
Use Impact). Irreversible changes are being
mediated by exotic species: large areas are
reforested with eucalyptus, bringing considerable
changes to the landscape and ecosystem,
including scenic aspects, soils, erosion, availability
of firewood, and capability of native species
(including animals and medicinal plants)
to survive under their canopy. Other invasive
species that have probably had a major impact
in this area include trout, widely introduced for
subsistence and recreational fishing.
Mining at high altitudes, as well as the
impact of large oil deposits found in lowlands
(Camisea, Sibille, 1997), provide an incentive
and a subsidy to develop roads and infrastructure
that then allow penetration into vast new
areas, in addition to their direct impacts on
devegetation and toxic wastes.
Factors slowing the expansion of land use
impacts include difficult access and legislation.
Although steepness and lack of roads has provided
some protection to more remote parts of
the valley, the only formally protected area in
the Vilcanota Valley is the Santuario Histórico
de Machu Picchu in the Province of Urubamba.
With 32,592 ha, it represents almost 23% of the
area of that province but only 1% of the area
of the 33 districts considered in this study. For
comparison, in its land use capability classification,
INRENA (2000; in MAP 2003) considers
that 66% of Departmental lands should be
classified as protection land, with only 33%
suitable for agriculture (3% arable, 0.4% permanent
crops, 14% suitable for forestry plantations,
and 16% suitable for rangeland manage-
325
ment). Yet in the 1994 census of the 33 districts
of the Vilcanota, arable and permanent crops
alone already cover 8% of the land area, implying
that expansion is unsustainable.
RESOURCE DISTRIBUTION IN
HUMAN POPULATIONS
The distribution of economic resources can
determine the magnitude and type of land use
and its effect on biodiversity. Resource distribution
is explored from the point of view of
land size distribution, distribution of the abundance
of crops, and distribution of wealth
(social indicators of poverty).
CULTIVATED
DIVERSITY
LAND
DISTRIBUTION
AND
The distribution of access to productive land
depends on the distribution of cultivated parcel
sizes. This overlooks the issue of spatial distribution
but is, nevertheless, a large-scale proxy
for overall distribution. Plots around a peasant
community tend to be of relatively small (typically,
much less than 0.5 ha) and even sizes
(e.g. for similar cultural landscapes in Peru and
Bolivia, see Liberman Cruz, 1987; Pietilä and
Jokela, 1988). These areas close to villages produce
the mainstay of daily sustenance and hold
the highest crop and native plant diversity (Zimmerer,
1997; Ramirez, 2002). In the 17 higher
districts (>3000 m, more highly populated) of
the Cusco Department, Peru, 93% of properties
are less than 5 ha, the mean parcel size is 0.37
ha, and the average cultivated area per person
in the overall population is 0.14 ha (INEI,
2003). The distribution of plot sizes controlled
by a single family tends to a classic lognormal
pattern with occasional large outliers, indicating
an imbalance (Halloy et al., 2004). Larger
cultivated areas are developed further from
houses and are hence tied to the availability of
transportation and farm machinery. In the two
lower, more market-oriented districts (~650 m),
only 22% of properties are less than 5 ha, the
mean property size is 1.3 ha, and the cultivated
area per person is 0.74 ha.
Larger plot sizes are driven mainly by largescale
cultivation of commercial crops (e.g. coffee
and cocoa in lowlands; maize, wheat,

3523_book.fm Page 326 Thursday, September 29, 2005 10:38 AM
326
ulluco,
and potato in highlands). Much larger
cultivated sizes in tropical lowlands are an
effect of dynamic colonial expansion into the
lowlands and are contrary to ecological expectations
(i.e. higher potential yields mean that
smaller plots are sufficient for equivalent
yields). Older, more established societies tend
to produce lognormal distributions of the cultivated
areas of crops (e.g. Halloy, 1994; Halloy,
1999), whereas younger colonizing societies
have distributions that depart strongly from the
lognormal. In the Vilcanota, we can see this, in
particular, in the lowering of diversity index ( H)
values in La Convención (below 1.8), despite
high species numbers (60 to 75) (Figure 24.3).
Many central and highland areas, despite species
numbers well below 50, maintain a relatively
high diversity ( H between 1.6 and 2.4),
thanks to a more even species distribution.
However, some highland areas have very low
diversity where crop cultivation becomes ecologically
marginal.
H diversity cultivated plants
2.6
2.4
2.2
2
1.8
1.6
1.4
1.2
1
0.8 0 100 200
km from source
Land Use Change and Mountain Biodiversity
WEALTH
DISTRIBUTION
AND NUTRITION
Despite a wealth of biodiversity and productive
land, the 1993 census recorded that 60% of
children were chronically malnourished and
infant mortality was 91.8 per thousand for the
Cusco Department (Table 24.2).
Fecundity (number of children per woman)
typically declines with development. The more
highly developed Cusco Province shows a rating
of 2.8, but poorer and less educated provinces
show much higher values (e.g. Quispicanchi
5.8, Urubamba 5.0; Sibille [1997]. In a
paradox that is repeated around the world, the
areas richest in cultivated plants are the poorest
and most malnourished. However, we note that
this is not a linear relation, as improved quality
of life was found at even higher diversity in
traditionally cultivated areas (Halloy et al.
2004).
300 400
FIGURE 24.3 Shannon–Weaver index of diversity for cultivated plants across 33 districts of the Vilcanota
Valley.

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Climatic, Biodiversity & Socio-Economic Changes in Land Use in the Vilcanota Watershed, Peru
TABLE 24.2
Social indicators vs. cultivated plant diversity in some Cusco Provinces, 1993 census
Area Cusco Department Canchis Province Calca Province Cusco Province
Chronically
malnourished children
(%)
60.0 59.2 65.5 42.0
Infant mortality rate per
1000
91.8 114.2 86.7 47.7
Number of species of
cultivated plants per
1000 inhabitants
3.8 3.6 3.8 0.6
Source: 2003 Censos. INEI Instituto Nacional de Estadística e Informática (Peru). In: http://www.inei.gob.pe.
SPECIES
CULTIVATED
RICHNESS
AND
SPECIES
DISTRIBUTION
OF
A total of 157 categories of cultivated plants
were recorded in the 1993 agricultural census.
Several census categories represent mixed bags
of species in which there may be only one or
several species ( Vergel Hortícola Plátano [vegetable
plots planted with bananas], Vergel Frutí-
cola
[fruit orchards],
Flores
[flowers], etc.;
Table 24.3). Hence, estimates of species richness
based on the census are underestimates.
This species richness is not fixed in time; the
actual varieties and species that are grown are
continuously changing with a rapid turnover
rate (e.g. Halloy, 1999; Ramirez, 2002).
Census data of cultivated crops represents
only a fraction of total cultivated plants. For
example, for the total area above 3500 m, the
INEI 1993 census data records 52 species of
cultivated plants in a total of 6679 ha. However,
in a small area of 686 ha above 3500 m in Calca
Province, Ramirez (2002) recorded 76 species.
In addition, a large number of adventive or
“weedy” species accompany cultivation, and
additional native species “tolerate” and persist
in cultivated areas along road edges, hedges,
gullies, etc. Many such species are also used by
local populations (Rapoport et al. 1998). For
example, Vieyra-Odilon and Vibrans (2001)
report 74 weed species found in maize fields in
Mexico that were useful as forage, potherb,
medicinal, or ornamental plants. In the high
327
Andes of neighboring Bolivia, Hensen (1992)
reports the use of 204 species of plants in the
community of Chorojo, Cochabamba, from
3500 to 3800 m, most with forage and medicinal
uses. Of these, 24 species were used as
food. In every relevé in fallow terrain near La
Paz, de Morales (1988) reports that 6 to 12
weedy species are found. Detailed recordings
of plant use in the Andes are available in a range
of publications (e.g. Brücher, 1989; NRS, 1989;
Zimmerer, 1997).
Sibille (1997) (following INEI, 1986)
quotes 193 plant products (including 142 arable
crops, 37 permanent crops, and 14 grasses) for
the whole of Cusco Department, whereas
Galiano Sánchez et al. (1995) quote 96 useful
species (including this time forestry species)
and 685 vascular plant species in a 50 km
2
area
of the Sacred Valley, ranging from 2715 to 5300
m. They also recorded 40 nonvascular cryptogams.
The present total of 157 cultivated species
in the Vilcanota Valley and 193 for the whole
Cusco Department can be compared to 160 species
claimed to have been commonly used for
food, medicine, and other purposes in precolonial
times for Peru (Tapia and Torre, 2003).
It is of some concern for conservation that
most of the rarest cultivated plants are natives,
whereas many of the common species are
exotic.

AU: What is
this?
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328
TEMPORAL DYNAMICS
HISTORICAL
PERSPECTIVE
It is interesting to compare the present situation
with that recorded by the Spaniards in the early
1500s. The area that was then the center of the
Inca dominions was praised by chroniclers as
a place where “no one ever went hungry” and
where “purposely made storage areas were
overflowing with vegetables and roots to feed
the people and also herbs” (Peró Sancho quoted
in Murra, 1975).
Indeed, traditional land use management
practices were able to support the livelihoods
of households and communities for several millennia
and were sufficient for the rise of complex
civilizations centuries prior to Spanish
occupation. The ample increase in production
under the Inca empire may have, in part,
depended on their careful environmental husbandry
(including tactics of soil conservation,
water management and irrigation, management
Land Use Change and Mountain Biodiversity
TABLE 24.3
Most Commonly Cultivated Plants over 33 Districts according to 1993 Agricultural
Census
Census Name
Species/Variety
English Name Scientific Name Area (ha) Number of Districts
Café or cafeto Coffee
Coffea arabica
25,511 7
Maiz amiláceo Starch maize Zea mays
11,375 33
Papa Potato
Solanum tuberosum
8,132 33
Cacao Cocoa
Theobroma cacao
6,581 7
Achiote
Annatto Bixa orellana
4,462 6
Coca Coca
Erythroxylum coca
3,705 8
Haba Broad bean
Vicia faba
3,282 30
Yuca Cassava
Manihot esculenta
3,003 8
Cebada grano Barley grain Hordeum vulgare
2,428 27
Trigo Wheat
Triticum aestivum
2,029 29
Vergel
Vegetable
Multispecies 1,006 32
hortícola–plátano garden–banana
Maiz amarillo Yellow maize Zea mays
1,916 30
Vergel frutícola Fruit orchard Multispecies 1,435 29
Arveja (alverjón) Green pea
Pisum sativum
529 29
Olluco Ulluco
Ullucus tuberosus
1,466 29
Oca Oca, NZ yam Oxalis tuberosa
100 28
Note:
The two right columns show total area cultivated (first ten are the species with largest cultivated areas) and number
of districts where the crop is recorded (following six are species with high number of districts but lower area).
Source:
2003 Censos.
Instituto Nacional de Estadística e Informática (Peru). In: http://www.inei.gob.pe.
of domesticated plant and animal diversity, and
protection of natural vegetation and fauna)
(Halloy et al., 2004).
It is possible that habitat degradation
induced by ancient hunter–gatherers and pastoral
nomads may have contributed — together
with population increase, extended annual
occupation, rise of social stratification, and the
need to increase production for both social and
livelihood needs — to the development of civilizations
incorporating the conservation measures
in force at the time of arrival of the Spanish
(Kessler, 1998).
Despite such measures, it seems likely that
considerable destruction of the high-altitude
Polylepis
forests took place long before the
arrival of the conquistadores in 1532 (Gade,
1999; Kessler et al., 1998). Before the arrival
of the Spanish, the Andean landscape had
already experienced significant levels of transformation
and degradation. Gade estimates that
some 65% of the natural forest had been

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Climatic, Biodiversity & Socio-Economic Changes in Land Use in the Vilcanota Watershed, Peru
depleted before the Spanish arrival, shortly after
which 90% became depleted (Gade 1999). The
Spanish conquest resulted in increasing deforestation
rates as they consumed large amounts
of wood for constructions and the smelting of
ores in mining activities.
Upon arrival, the Spanish implemented
agroforestry measures in an attempt to compensate
for excessive consumption levels. Unfortunately,
such measures did not suffice, and the
landscape became mostly depleted of trees.
After the decimation of the indigenous population
in the 16th century, a majority of the rural
landscape was abandoned. Denevan argues that
much of the natural landscape was able to
recover as a result of the population decline and
may have contributed to the early 19th-century
misconceptions of the “pristine” landscape
(Denevan, 1992). However, the introduction of
nonnative species also became commonplace.
The Spanish experimented early with the nonnative
poplar and capuli trees (Gade 1975), but
the most influential species to be introduced in
the late 19th century with unprecedented fruition
was Eucalyptus globulus.
CLIMATE
CHANGE
Given the context of intense human and environmental
heterogeneity and fluctuations over
time, encountering a signal of climate change
effects is not a simple matter (e.g. see meta
analyses as in Parmesan and Yohe (2003), but
such an approach is still to be realized in Peru).
However, there are some observations pointing
towards vegetation and land use advancing
towards higher altitudes in recent decades.
Toward the middle of the last century, Troll
(1968) observed that in the Central Andes of
Peru and Bolivia, maize could be grown up to
3500 m, whereas tuberiferous plants (potato,
oca,
isaño,
and ulluco)
and introduced wheat
and barley reached their upper limit at 4100 m.
Mitchell (1976), followed by Price (1981), also
placed the altitudinal limit of cropping at 4100
m. Higher up, the grasslands were grazed by
llamas, alpacas, and wild vicuñas. Uninterrupted
plant cover ended at around 4700 m,
where nightly frosts began. The climatic snowline
was indicated at 5300 m.
329
Interpretation of such reports is problematic,
given their nonspecificity in terms of location
or dates, as well as issues of time lag
between observations and publication. However,
these and other authors had extensive
experience in geography, and it is unlikely that
their observations would be far off the mark.
More recently, Tapia and Torre (2003) quote
several crops grown up to 4000 m, two species
grown up to 4100 m (maca and kañiwa), and
one (Papa amarga: Solanum juzepczukii)
grown
up to 4200 m. Potato cultivation today in the
Vilcanota headwaters occasionally reaches
4580 m (Chillca, our observations in 2004).
Recent attempts to cultivate oats and potato
have even been made at 5050 m above Murmurarni,
although these were unsuccessful.
Interestingly, archaeological remains show
that these and higher areas were cultivated in the
more remote past. Archaeological remains of cultivation
higher than today have also been noted
in the Cordillera Blanca (Cardich, 1985). In 1985,
Cardich also observed that since he began making
observations, “the limit of cultivation has been
moving upward and crops are now grown at
higher elevations than during previous decades.
Simultaneously, there has been an accelerated
recession of glaciers in the high cordilleras, as
well as disappearance of snow and consequent
opening of passes connecting the Pacific and
Atlantic slopes.” In summary, 2002 cultivation
levels are higher than in the past decades and
recent centuries, but still not as high as maximum
levels reached at some time in the past, presumably
before the Little Ice Age. The first post–Little
Ice Age settlers in the Sibinacocha area moved
into the valley in 1906 (Pedro Godofredo, personal
communication, 2003). Today, there are a
number of corrals and settlements.
POPULATION
AND LAND
USE
An indication of the growing population impact
is its increasing concentration in urban centers,
from 25% of the department’s population in
1940 to 46.5% in the 1993 census (Figure 24.4).
For the whole Department, infant mortality has
declined from 149 per 1000 births in 1979 to
1980 to 101 in 1990 to 1991 (Sibille, 1997).
Because of political–economic change, there is
also a strong net outmigration, principally

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330
towards centers offering employment and natural
resources (Lima, Arequipa, and Madre de
Dios). Emigration rates are rapidly increasing.
From 8% of the total Departmental population
in 1961, emigration climbed to 16% in 1972,
18% in 1981, and 21% in 1993 (Sibille, 1997).
Emigration from rural areas contributes to
important land use changes with mixed impacts
on biodiversity: lack of maintenance of terraces
and irrigation leading to erosion, lack of control
of animals leading to grazing and overgrazing,
lack of cultivation leading to weedy successional
phases, then back to vegetation that is
more diverse, etc.
Sibille (1997) also indicates that agricultural
land is decreasing significantly in several areas
due to urban encroachment. Thus, Cusco province
lost 62% of its arable land in the 10 years
from 1985 to 1995, whereas Urubamba lost
25%. At the same time, he reports a loss of some
of the more traditional crops to livestock grazing
and intensification of farming (e.g. irrigated land
has increased 89% in 22 years from 1972).
Many irrigation schemes disregard impacts on
the overall social and natural web of interactions
(Liberman Cruz, 1987), leading to further loss
of arable land and native biodiversity.
The advance of the agricultural frontier is
particularly evident in the lowland areas, where
Standardized to 1 for first value
2.00
1.50
1.00
0.50
0.00 1940
1950 1960
Urban population
Arable land, cusco prov.
Remaining forests
Land Use Change and Mountain Biodiversity
it is marked by large-scale deforestation. However,
although less evident, use pressure is
growing in the highlands as well, as manifest
by the increasing altitude at which crops and
livestock are grown and the increasing intensity
and density of cultivation.
THREATENED
SPECIES
Although there is no data specific to the Cusco
Department, Pulido (2001) reports threatened
animal species for Peru have increased from
162 to 222 from 1990 to 1999. Such increases
have been recorded around the world in what
is often more a matter of increased monitoring
and perception than of real change of status in
such short times. Amphibian decline noted
around the world is also being observed in the
Vilcanota region, with local people reporting
the apparent reduction or total disappearance of
three to four species of frogs in areas close to
4000 m. Although a causal relation has yet to
be found, it is of concern that recent sampling
above 4400 m found evidence of deadly chytrid
fungus infections (believed to be implicated in
global decline) in remote populations of the
aquatic Telmatobius marmoratus (DeVries et
al., 2004).
1970 1980 1990
Year
Total population
Irrigated land
Infant mortality
Utilised land
FIGURE 24.4 Combined social and environmental changes in Cusco Department, Peru (data from INEI in
MAP, 2003 and Sibille, 1997).

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Climatic, Biodiversity & Socio-Economic Changes in Land Use in the Vilcanota Watershed, Peru
DISCUSSION AND
CONCLUSION:
MACROECONOMIC DRIVERS
There is considerable understanding of the
small-scale effects on biodiversity of land use
changes (e.g. other chapters in this book).
Although we recognize the rich tapestry of
ecology, farm- and people-scale dynamic processes
that underpin the large scale, there is also
a need to understand the large spatial scale and
drivers. The increasing complexity on larger
scales creates particular research difficulties,
including reliance on secondary information,
the importance of historical information, consistency
of information across scales and across
disciplines, and the translation of methods and
language between disciplines.
The remarkable diversity of environments
in the Vilcanota Valley arising from the combination
of topographic conditions, altitude, and
rainfall, together with the mosaic of natural disturbances
and dynamic human management
strategies, has led to a high-energy system with
high biodiversity and high flows of materials
among its landscape components.
The main threats to biodiversity in the Vilcanota
presently involve land use changes. Mitigating
the effects of those changes on biodiversity
requires identifying and understanding
the drivers of change. This chapter is a contribution
to identify the next level of causal interactions
between biodiversity, land use changes,
and socioeconomic drivers (the macroeconomic
system). There is added value in that patterns
observed in the Vilcanota are comparable and,
hence, can be extrapolated (with careful consideration
of differences) to a large range of
similar valleys along the Central Andes, and
likely provide insights for similar valleys
worldwide.
SUMMARY
We explore the multidimensional environment–biodiversity–human–time
complex of an
important cultural and ecological hub in the
Central Andes of Peru: the Vilcanota–Urubamba
river catchment (Sacred Valley
of the Incas and Cordillera de Vilcanota). The
331
watershed begins at the upper borderline of the
biosphere where glaciers are retreating, vegetation
and local fauna are rising, and humans are
cultivating crops and herding camelids at
increasingly higher altitudes. Maximum altitude
of potato cropping is now reaching 4580
m, whereas the highest vascular plants were
found at 5510 m. The number of cultivated species
and varieties censused is up to 34 above
3600 m. The midaltitude Valle Sagrado has
been occupied for millennia, but is presently
undergoing dramatic changes (deforestation at
60 to 90%, fire, exotic invasions, large eucalyptus
plantations, etc) resulting from socioeconomic
pressures (poverty, malnutrition in 60%
of children, outmigration at >21%, market pressures
leading to monocultures, and intensive
cropping), causing a restructuring of spatially
and temporally integrated land use patterns. The
number of cultivated plants can be up to 49 in
one district around 3500 m, whereas total number
of vascular plants above 3500 m in Peru is
>1800. The lower part of the valley reaches the
Amazonian lowlands, providing a pathway for
intensive exchanges with the higher regions. Up
to 75 species of cultivated plants are censused
in one lower district, with 6500 species of vascular
plants recorded below 500 m. Andean valleys
such as the Vilcanota, reaching from glacial
peaks to tropical rainforests, provide unique
opportunities for understanding the complex
interactions between landscape, biodiversity,
human cultures, and land use change at a large
scale. The complex mix of macroeconomics,
culture, and ecology are key causes of land use
change and its effect on biodiversity.
References
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334 Land Use Change and Mountain Biodiversity
APPENDIX I
Altitude Population,
Capital Projection Area
Province District Capital (m) 2002 (km2 Density
(inhabitants
) km-2 ) Educationa Housingb ha Percentage Ratio of
cultiv. of Land in Permanent
n cult. Cultivated per Parcels

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Climatic, Biodiversity & Socio-Economic Changes in Land Use in the Vilcanota Watershed, Peru 335
Canchis Pitumarca Pitumarca 3570 7,692 1,118 6.9 24 56.7 20 674.6 0.09 56.2% 0.0000 2.60 2.96
Urubamba Chinchero Chinchero 3762 10,166 95 107.5 49.2 21.3 34 3138 0.31 64.7% 0.0001 3.34 1.08
Acomayo Mosoc Llacta Mosco Llacta 3802 1,750 44 40.1 43.3 32.6 6 106.5 0.06 64.7% 0.0000 3.43 5.63
Note: Districts of the Cusco Department with parts in the Vilcanota watershed, ranked by altitude of the district capital. Collated and calculated from 1993–1994 census, (INEI, 2003).
a Proportion of total population above 15 year with complete or partial primary schooling.
b Percentage of housing with no services (water, electricity, and sewage).

3523_book.fm Page 336 Thursday, September 29, 2005 10:38 AM

Human Development and Environment in the Andes: A Geoecological Overview
Author(s): Wilhelm Lauer
Source: Mountain Research and Development, Vol. 13, No. 2, Mountain Geoecology of the
Andes: Resource Management and Sustainable Development (May, 1993), pp. 157-166
Published by: International Mountain Society
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3673633
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MOUNTAIN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT, VOL. 13, NO. 2, 1993, PP. 157-166
HUMAN DEVELOPMENT AND ENVIRONMENT IN THE ANDES:
A GEOECOLOGICAL OVERVIEW
WILHELM LAUER
Geographisches Institut der Universitdt Bonn
Meckenheimer Allee 166
5300 Bonn 1, Germany
ABSTRACT The natural environment and human development and culture are closely related. The basic physical features of relief,
climate, and soil and the biological resources of flora and fauna were important factors that influenced early human evolution,
expansion, and development. In Latin America, the geoecological features gave rise to horizontal and vertical differentiation. Two
examples are examined.
In Mexico between 1600 B.C. and A.D. 1500 climatic changes resulted in population fluctuations, varying degrees of environmental
damage, and cultivation change from dryland farming to irrigated fields.
The system of subsistence of the Callawaya people in Bolivia is adapted to the environment and each family owns land in all
altitudinal belts between 3,000 and 4,300 m, so that they are almost self-sufficient and risks of food shortage are minimized.
Today, population pressure, on the one hand, and migration to the cities, on the other, have undermined traditional land use.
Socioeconomic change in rural mountain areas is inevitable and a balance should be maintained between preservation of traditional,
though less productive, systems and the modernization and improvement of the standards of living of mountain people.
RESUMt Perspective geologique de l'homme et de l'environnement dans les Andes latines-americaines. Le milieu naturel, le developpment
humain et la culture sont etroitement lies. Le relief, le climat, le sol et les ressources biologiques de la flore et de la faune ont
beaucoup influence l'evolution humaine, l'expansion et le developpement. En Amerique latine, les caracteristiques geoecologiques
ont donne lieu a une differentiation horizontale et verticale. Deux exemples sont examines dans cet article.
Au Mexique, au cours de la periode comprise entre 1.600 ans av. J.-C. et 1.500 ans ap. J.-C., les changements climatiques ont
entraine des fluctuations de la population, diff6rents degr6s d'endommagement de l'environnement et un changement du mode
de culture, de la culture a sec a la culture irriguee.
Le systeme de subsistance des Callawaya en Bolivie est bien adapte a l'environnement et chaque famille de paysans possede des
terres dans toutes les zones altitudinales entre 3.000 et 4.300 m, de sorte qu'ils se suffisent pratiquement a eux-memes et que les
risques de disette sont minimises.
A l'epoque actuelle, la pression demographique et la migration vers les villes ont ebranlI les modes traditionnels d'utilisation
des terres. Le changement socio-economique dans les regions rurales de montagne est inevitable, mais il est important de respecter
a la fois les besoins de preservation des modes de vie traditionnels, bien que moins productifs, et ceux de la modernisation et
de l'amelioration du niveau de vie de la population montagnarde.
ZUSAMMENFASSUNG Mensch und Umwelt in den lateinamerikanischen Anden: Eine geookologische Ubersicht. Natfirliche Umwelt, menschliche
Entwicklung und Kultur sind eng miteinander verflochten. Grundlegende, physikalische Merkmale wie Relief, Klima und Boden
und die biologischen Ressourcen wie Flora und Fauna waren wichtige Faktoren, die die fruhe menschliche Evolution, Ausbreitung
und Entwicklung beeinfluB3ten. In Lateinamerika verursachten die geo-6kologischen Merkmale horizontale und vertikale Differenzierung.
Zwei Beispiele werden untersucht.
Zwischen 1600 BC und 1500 AD ffhrten Klimaanderungen in Mexiko zu Schwankungen in der Bev6olkerungszahl, zu
Umweltschaden von verschiedenen Schweregraden und zu einem Wechsel in der Landbestellung, wobei bisher unbewasserte Felder
jetzt bewassert wurden.
Das Subsistenzsystem des Callawaya Volkes in Bolivien ist der Umwelt angepaBt; jede Familie besitzt in allen H6hengiirteln zwischen
3.000 m und 4.300 m Land, was sie beinah unabhangig macht gegenuber dem Risiko der Nahrungsmittelverknappung.
Heutzutage haben Bev6olkerungsdruck einerseits und Abwanderung in die Stadte andererseits die traditionelle Landnutzung
untergraben. Ein sozio-6konomischer Wandel in den landlichen Berggemeinden ist unabwendbar, und dabei sollte ein Gleichgewicht
zwischen den traditionellen - wenn auch weniger produktiven- Systemen und der Modernisierung angestrebt werden, um den
Lebensstandard der Bergbev6olkerung zu verbessern.
INTRODUCTION
The history of mankind in America is characterized by the American Cordillera from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego;
relatively clear premises: during the late-Pleistocene era within a relatively short time a significant differentiation
early peoples intruded into the continent from the Bering and diversification took place among the hitherto uni-
Strait and continued south along the mountain range of formly structured population; with this came an adapta-
? International Mountain Society and United Nations University

158 / MOUNTAIN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
tion to a mountainous land with dissimilar geological
formations and that included nearly all the climates that
exist on earth.
The natural features of this mountain region and
human development and culture are closely correlated.
Especially in the early days of human expansion basic
In this paper the geoecological characteristics of the
Latin American Andes are discussed by describing the
horizontal and vertical differentiations, and the relation-
ships between the people and environment are explained
in terms of historical stages of development as well as
spatial distinctions.
When mountains are examined as living space (human
habitat) it is apparent that they present both desirable
and undesirable qualities. Because of favorable climates
that allowed plants to be cultivated, centers of early
civilization developed in mountains and here the gene-
pools are concentrated, from where they spread through-
out the world.
Glaciated mountain regions provide water supplies and
mountains of volcanic origin are rich in mineral deposits.
Furthermore, areas with soils derived from volcanic
activity in the intermontane valleys and basins are positive
factors for human habitation. They were beneficial to the
development of early civilizations in Columbia, Peru, and
Bolivia, as well as the Mexican highlands and the young
volcanic mountain ridge between Guatemala and Costa
Rica.
In non-tropical regions mountains may be seen as
living spaces of an inhospitable nature. Mountains may
be barriers to human activities, areas of inhospitable
climate with frequent natural hazards, such as landslides,
avalanches, and solifluction, and regions of severe
cold.
However, in the tropics and some areas of the sub-
tropical mountains, land that is hospitable to human
activity is extended altitudinally due to climatic factors,
and therefore living space is vertically expanded. Outside
the tropics permanent settlements are restricted to lower
levels of the mountains and only a few seasonal dwellings
lie above. In contrast, in the tropical Andes permanent
settlements lie at higher altitudes and seasonal supple-
mentary areas lie on the lower slopes and even in the hot
lowlands.
Climatic conditions are very important factors in the
development of mankind throughout the Andes. The
American Cordillera encompasses all the climatic zones
of the world (Figure 1). The Latin American sector lies
mainly in the tropics. Only the southern end extends to
the climatic belt of the westerlies. Thus, in most of the
region seasons are determined not by temperature but
by rainfall, and altitudinal zonation controls the natural
environment. This, in turn, influences the vegetative cycle
THE GEOECOLOGICAL POTENTIAL
physical factors, such as climate, rock strata, and soil, and
biological resources were important factors of selection.
People, in groups or as individuals, had to adapt to
natural conditions and to utilize the natural resources for
the development of civilization.
of the plants and the course of the agrarian year, and so
the economic rhythm of each local area.
The well-known three-dimensional scheme of temperature
decrease with increasing altitude (temperature
altitudinal belts) and the decrease of rainy seasons from
the equator to deserts divides the Andean chain into
humid and arid, as well as into warm and cold, tropics
(Figure 2). In Latin America these thermal zones are
called by the well-known names first used by Alexander
von Humboldt (tierra caliente, tierra templada, tierrafria, and
tierra helada or gelida).
Towards the outer tropics the climatic as well as
vegetation belts come closer together. Whereas the timberline
from the inner tropics towards the marginal
tropics increases slightly from 3,000 up to 4,000 m,
beyond the tropics it decreases continually and relatively
rapidly to low elevations; in Tierra del Fuego the timberline
is only a few hundred meters above sea level (Figure
3), finally reaching sea level toward the southern extremity
of the landmass.
The correlations between altitudinal belts of climate
and vegetation, on the one hand, and the agricultural
belts, on the other, are significant. The relationship
between the land-use systems and the natural potential
mainly depends on the climatic adaptability of the cultivated
plants, so that the agricultural altitudinal belts can
be described by means of climatic parameters and are
characterized by cultivated crops. Therefore, the history
of Andean agriculture is at the same time the history of
the adaptation of rural production to the thermal and
hygric altitudinal belts, so that even today economy and
ecology interact closely.
The physical parameters are not the only factors and
the land is also characterized by human activity. The
feasibility of cultivation in different regions plays an
important role in the evolution of the way of life. In the
Andes the development of the Inca civilization is based
on the cultivation of root crops (potatoes, oca, izano, and
mashua) in the altitudinal belt above 3,600 m. Such a belt
does not exist in the northern hemisphere in the marginal
tropics of Mexico. There maize has been the basic food
since settlement although it grows only up to a height of
around 3,000 m. In colonial times the cultivation belt
extended up to the treeline and wheat and barley were
grown. In Peru and Bolivia there is a cereal belt below
the root crop belt where mainly domestic maize, wheat,
and barley as well as legumes are cultivated.

.. ...: . . ... .. . .. . ...
* '.. .. ..:... ar'-.
. ..0.JF I
....lbima tic d ren aiaion
-:
150- :N
50O-
* .fo -:^
_ 10-U humid months.
'- isubaShid modnth
. 4-6.i humid monts
.2-3-Apinid t
a.rhudid M athsl:
-.2.-3h.uhmid ..mo.nths;. :
-. r l. *-mn . : h : s
*" 6. :1 .humid. months :
Sm..
T(C)
.
^% . :.. ,.:. . z.O
C.. .. 3312m
... : .. . . . .. .
: .. . . . . . .. % . . . . . . . .
i
TCC)
T(CC)
20
10 .. . . .. . .. . ::
La Pa.-l Alto. 4058m.
*5.0- N:(mm):: T(:):
100-
: : t:
. .: . x
.. 1
: :: j..: .: :. .. I .
.. . _ >
:::... ...
:: .::: . [:
*:. t. :'
*. o:. ..
... .. .X .
* b ..
* .: . :: / . ::
Subtropics and Mid-La
s a ntarctic rain-fores
bro.. .leaves: a
mixed :. : .._ .s.'. :::
: '_ hard. eavs forest
* moist high grass-land
* thorn- and succulent si
....
:.......... . ..:.. ... . : .. .....
*: :.: ** ^ P .:.:. .............: ...: : :^^^
[..] deserty Puna. .. ::
[* semidesert and desert.
. . : ---- ---- - . . . . . . . . . . :
FIGURE 1. Climatic differentiation and vegetation belts of the Andes (modified from various authors).
W. LAUER / 159
.' ...
.....
* . . . .

160 / MOUNTAIN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
humid months
12 11 10 9 8 716 5 4 3 2 1
arid months 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
IMES
humid semihumid
I
semiarid
arid
wet tropics I
dry tropics
P>pE P=pE
P annual range of temperature
Evergreen montane rain forest (cloud forest)
V/////// Evergreen rain forest (warm tropics)
Warm
tropics
FIGURE 2. Three-dimensional hygrothermal belts of the tropical Andes.
p,",,,,, Semi- Evergreen montane forest
.\A,\,\, {(ptly. trade wind influence)
rj/'/;"; Semi-Evergreen rain forest
/,5,,///J ( ptly. monsoon forest)
[ j Cold
tropics
PHASES OF DEVELOPMENT IN THE ANDEAN AGRICULTURAL LANDSCAPES
In general, the Indian culture of the Andes was mainly the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the
influenced by three phases of revolution: the Hispanic twentieth centuries.
Conquista; the Age of Enlightenment which led to the
separation of colonies from the motherland; and the
technological conquest of the 'American Way of Life" at
These external influences had more disadvantages
than advantages for Latin American development. Indian
civilization received "transformation pushes" from the
I
0

W. LAUER / 161
0 Lo
N
20 0? 20 40 60 8o 10? 120o v 16? 18o 200 220 2to 26? 28o 30
I.- Kolumbien - 1- Ecuador -
| Peru Peru/Bolivien- Chile
tr
'-j ; Pramo
I 1 7Ceja de la
^ .' 4 Montaia
tropical
''
upper montane
a IT' cloud forest
| t l t t |tropical
9' t t T montane forest
. tropical
LT i p rain-forest
L
.,* l.
|,/
moist Puna
"{Pajonalcs
~' |'
raingreen mesophytic
, dry shrub
I ;p ;P P| raingreen moist Forst
I ?I and moist savannah
-- -y ? I raingreen dry forest
-? |'/ and dry savannah
desert Puna
* " .: " dry Puna
? ??4t IPolylepis woodland
| ^ * 1 raingreen thorn
'v f vr and succulent shrub
v semidesert
:v v .. ~ succulent scurb
v sm v
FIGURE 3. A cross-section of the vegetation belts along the western slope of the tropical Andes.
European culture when America was discovered. Depend-
ing on the stage of development each indigenous group
was affected differently and unequal relationships of
dependency remain today. The native population has
received no real benefits from the influx of foreigners
and their industrial world, especially in rural areas.
The major social and technical changes that occurred
in Europe and America did not affect the Andean states
or lead to comparable innovation there. Neither the
Agrarian Revolution, that began in Europe around
A.D.1 700 and continues even today as the "Green Revolu-
tion," nor the Industrial Revolution, which began in
Europe about A.D. 1780, has had a comparative influence
in South America. The establishment of universal educa-
tion did not take place there and knowledge remained
mainly a privilege of the elite. The advances in medical
technology led to a population explosion followed by a
diminishing standard of living. Also the rapid extension
of the transport and communication systems in the Old
World during the second half of the nineteenth century
were only barely realized in the Andes.
*I '. * outertropic andine
bunch grass formation
desert
[ |.:'5~!. -Loma-vegetation
***. v . . with Tillandsia
Unfortunately, in light of the above, it seems unlikely
that the ecological revolution which has just taken effect
in the industrialized countries will affect Latin American.
One of the basic requirements for environmental aware-
ness is a high standard of living that is the outcome of
effective reforms and control of population growth. In
other words, the balance between demographic factors,
economy, and ecology is disturbed. This imbalance may
be derived from external factors, such as climatic change,
as well as from internal ones. Disruptive factors cause
radical changes that may have either positive or negative
consequences.
A major transition took place when societies moved
from hunting and gathering to a settled way of life. It
is likely that the eradication of the Pleistocene mega-
fauna, for the most part by hunters, led to development
of agrarian societies in the "Old" as well as in the "New"
World. This transition lasted at least 2,000 years and
certainly man came into conflict with nature as well as
into conflict with man.

162 / MOUNTAIN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
FIGURE 4. Number of the archaeological
sites in different prehistoric
cultural phases in the Tlaxcalaregion
(after Garcia Cook, 1976),
and the morphological processes
caused by human activity in different
regions of study area (modified after
Heine, 1976).
Number of the settlements
-400
-300
-200
-100
C|
Cultural Phases C - A 0z C
S ,
I
(after Garcia Cook) E | 1
B.C. 2000 1500 1000 500 0 500 1000 1500 AD
Slopes $ t
| t I , . _ ....
I
High-
Plains
and
Basins
North r-.- ~
Middle
East J.
0
.-
j.
-
1
*-
U
a I
Glacier advance i,- M
M v
in comparison with present
Archaeological and geoecological studies in Mexico
indicate the interaction of landscape change with the
history of humankind during the prehispanic cultural
phases between 2000 B.C. and A.D. 1500. The results of
these interdisciplinary studies include: that migration and
changes in the location of settlements occurred within
each epoch (Figure 4); that changing climate has had
an influence on historical development within the past
3,500 years; that population has fluctuated throughout
time and with it differing degrees of environmental
damage; a cultivation change from dryland farming to
irrigation led from dispersal to concentration of population
and from a purely agrarian society to one based on
the division of labor. Furthermore, there are indications
that increases in population led to intensification of
production and environmental degradation.
In the study area of Puebla-Tlaxcala during the late
pre-classical era between 800 and 300 B.C. the increase
I
k/ 11.1 /4
6I

0
t)
.c
b
ft
iz
m
5500
5000-
I O0
3
I *500
free solifluction
"'
bound soliifluction
." Puna belt }^
Nivodo Ullo Kh
561
E semiarid mes ophytic cjshrub terrace cultures
N;vodo Akamoni m
o- 5500
semihumid mesophytic cej shrub33
:
E tropical montane forest [j[',', :
[P
[:1
Polylepis trees
thorn and succulent shrub .,
"
iros
"5
ris belts' ^ ,
PTL potential tree line
PFL potential forest line
FL forest line
...f,rr- ...
':- ''',
.
'f .
-'' .^: pastures tor lomas, ''
-5000
-".
i'.' :".-; . ., ~".~ .s' '.': s-:? : ,ee, 2. ''
-4500
alpocat and shehp. .'.:'.' ."
---- ?
.?~ ..`.Z:~:?Z..~.~:`~..~.:4:.`~.~;'~:!;~*.:~~~.!~;i:~: :..x' -A"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~b:'
e
:x=.-:./.~.'''A
.~:;~:.~.`o.... ~.~. ..
~~~~~~~~~~000~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FIGURE 5. Agro-ecological altitudinal belts of the Charazani region.
The cultivated area was reduced, small villages were
abandoned and, where people concentrated within the
irrigated areas, the slopes were severely eroded.
It can be seen that climatic change certainly influenced
The example of the Callawaya people of Bolivia exem-
plifies the persistence of ancient systems of cultivation
that still operate in several regions of the Andes. The
ecological system and the land-use system are in balance
although the economy is characterized by the common
problem of overpopulation, low crop yields, and lack of
modern technology. This traditional way of life is worth
preserving as a relic of pre-colonial times although the
indigenous people may strive for modernization.
The Callawaya are an ethnic group in the northeastern
Bolivian Cordillera whose way of life and land-use systems
are based primarily on the traditional, colonial agro-
ecological conditions. Families own land and cultivate
terraces in all altitudinal belts between 3,000 and 4,300
m (Figure 5). Hence the communities are nearly self-
sufficient in their food requirements. The wide vertical
extent of the fields reduces the risk of harvest failure and
trade relationships between the three altitudinal belts
provide the Callawaya with all their essential needs-from
the puna belt above, characterized by cattle-breeding,
and from the lower mountain forest belt of the Yungas.
. ' C..'ot:.t
. - : - 6.~

164 / MOUNTAIN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
FIGURE 6. The subsistence system of
the Callawaya mountain people.
cultivation of.: 'mdnufacture of..:
bitter potatoes chufio and tunta
(3900. -4.300mn, from bitte'r potatoes
' ' ' .; .:. . , nd:'tu rilltia from
::" :-. . .:..:.:ull u co :
'c :':, .
llama, and alpaca, and since the Hispanic Conquista
there are also sheep, goat, pigs, and cattle. During
colonial times cereals were grown below the Indian
agricultural belt (3,500-3,000 m) where, in addition to
the main domestic crop of maize, wheat has become
increasingly important; the rotation of wheat with barley
and legumes (peas and beans) optimizes the use of soil
nutrients so that fallow is no longer necessary. In this
cereal belt, which was initiated during the Hispanic
colonial time, nutritional levels of the local population
improved noticeably.
The Callawaya own land in the three cultivation belts
in order to diversify food supply. Access to lands in more
distant altitudinal belts and down to the Amazonian
lowlands is made possible by special farming arrange-
ments and paid for by division of labor or a proportion
of the harvest. Interchange with stable trade relationships
takes place beyond family limits and even over tribal
boundaries. Caravans transport agricultural products to
markets on the old footpaths down to the tierra caliente
and upwards to the pasture belt, and also in a lateral
direction to the capital of La Paz and to Peru where
complementary exchanges are made (Schoop, 1982)
(Figure 6).
The Callawaya are an example of an indigenous pop-
ulation that has been, and still is, able to use natural
HUMAN ACTIVITY AND THE ANDEAN ECOSYSTEM
dlmas,alpocas, heepeand pigs
.....................:
Isheep pand goats, pigsj
(st ubble :'pa sture).?.:::
The vertical system of the crop and pasture belts as well
as the vertical and horizontal traffic of production,
exchange, and trade secures the lifestyle of the commu-
nities and tribes (the Ayllu). The term "vertical control"
implies maximum use of ecological belts in the economy
of the Andean society (Murra, 1975). Brush (1977, 1982)
found three types of use of the different altitudinal belts
by one ethnic group, the Ayllu.
1. The compressed type, where the settlements in the
belt of root crops and cereals are accessible within
a few hours from all ecological belts and are used
directly by the settlement.
2. The archipelago type, where other agricultural belts
can be reached from the central settlement within
a few days.
3. The supplementary type where the essential food
supply of a settlement is supplemented by trading
with producers in other belts. This is the most
frequent type today (Figure 7).
This entire system operates on a network of footpaths
partly initiated by the Inca. The caravans consist mainly
of mules although at higher altitudes llamas are also
used. However, today there are trucks wherever roads are
well constructed.
resources by using the different altitudinal belts in an
adapted system of economy which includes terrace culti-

UmLanded property <
(perhaps Market-place)easonal
vation and well-designed crop rotation. But environ-
mental degradation caused by the indigenous people is
severe, especially at the high altitude up to treeline where
the main settlements lie. In the upper tierrafria destruc-
tion of the natural vegetation is nearly complete. Land
clearing by burning for cultivation, the unregulated
taking of fire wood and commercial timber, and extensive
cattle ranching are responsible for destruction of the
natural vegetation especially in the puna and the
grasslands.
The model (Figure 8) shows human influence on the
natural ecosystem and the partial destruction due to
extensive cultivation and cattle breeding. In many cases,
the timberline has been disturbed and lowered by several
Although the systems of adaptation to the mountain
environment in rural areas are impressive, the con-
sequences are misuse and degradation of the natural
vegetation. Not only population pressure but also aban-
donment due to migration to cities leads to change.
Large areas of farm land are no longer cultivated;
terraces and irrigation networks are going to ruin; con-
sequences of erosion leave irreversible damage due to
ettlements
MODERN TENDENCIES AND DANGERS
W. LAUER / 165
FIGURE 7. Types of vertical accessi-
bility of the agrarian belts of the
central Andes.
hundred meters, in some places to below 3,000 m. In
Ecuador our research placed the potential treeline at
about 4,000 m, but this cannot be determined if the
treeline comprises a closed wood. It may be indicated that
climate played a part because, with the arrival of humans
in the Andes during the postglacial warming, the mean
annual air temperature was about 2?C higher than today.
Therefore treeline would be several hundred meters
higher. The gradual climatic cooling may have hastened
the process of degradation of the upper treeline area in
addition to human influence. Grazing by goats and sheep
introduced from the Old World led to more rapid
destruction in the upper treeline area and a lowering of
the belt of closed forests.
more frequent floods and greater sedimentation in the
foothills.
The future development of the Andean region requires
a return to the farming practices of the prehispanic
period that have been largely forgotten. The extension
of a system of terracing is a priority, but modern tools
may be used without incurring damage in some instances.
Old tools may be more suitable but a well-adapted land-

166 / MOUNTAIN RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
FIGURE 8. Succession of ecosystems in the Andes
(modified after Ellenberg, 1979).
use system may sometimes be labor intensive. The cultiva-
tion of the indigenous and well-adapted introduced
species may be improved by modern technology that
includes resistance to disease and pests, reduction of
harvest risk, and a higher intensity of use. Industries
based on native products for the local market and also
for export should be encouraged. The pasture use today
is characterized by overstocking by introduced European
hoofed mammals such as cattle, sheep, and goats which
rapidly destroy vegetation. One solution to this problem
may be the cultivation of fodder crops or stabling and
creation larger markets for animal products.
Improvements in agricultural production should be
judged not only by their economic success but also in
relation to their ecological and social effects. In spite of
the preservation of traditional systems adapted to the
natural environment, optimum socio-cultural conditions
and educational possibilities require control of popula-
tion growth. Some of the present traditional rural systems
in the High Andes adjust the pressure of population by
migration to urban areas, but this relocates the instability
to the cities where new problems arise.
Nevertheless, the question is whether or not it is
possible to help the people make their own decisions
about their future. In recent years a world-wide increase
REFERENCES
Brush, S. B., 1977: Mountain, Field, and Family: The Economy and
Human Ecology of an Andean Valley. University of Pennsylvania
Press, Philadelphia, PA. 199 pp.
, 1982: The natural and human environment of the
central Andes. Mountain Research and Development, 2(1):
19-38.
Ellenberg, H., 1979: Man's influence on tropical mountain
ecosystems in South America. Journal of Ecology, 67:
401-416.
Garcia Cook, A., 1976: El desarollo cultural en el norte del valle
poblano. Departamento de Monumentos Prehistoricos, Serie:
Arqueologia 1 (INAH), Mexico.
*C
-c
.t
I.V
cIL
s
c)
r
b J
o I
E
in urbanization has occurred, great cities have arisen, and
the system of a division of labor has been introduced to
increase the gross national product of a country or
region. In future, the Andean mountain region will have
to be incorporated into this system. Newjobs for the large
numbers of rural people must be created. It may be
impossible to halt socioeconomic change in rural areas
without an increase in productivity-as would be possible
if there were a "Green Revolution." Therefore, entry into
the modern age by developing countries of Latin America
will be by means of improvements in infrastructure and
technical "know how." The three most important meas-
ures are control of population growth, increase in the
educational level, and improvement of technology. With
these measures must come the protection of the natural
resources of rural mountain ecosystems.
Our research in the Latin American Andes posed quite
a dilemma: on the one hand, we hope that the rural
population will continue their traditions of working
adequately in a less productive, but labor intensive,
subsistence land-use system that will maintain the balance
of ecology and economy; on the other hand, we cannot
deny mountain people the means for improvement of
their standard of living.
Heine, K., 1976: Blockgletscher und Blockzungen-Generationen
am Nevado de Toluca, Mexiko. Die Erde, H. 4: 330--352.
Murra, J. V., 1975: El control vertical de un maximo de pisos
ecolo6gicos en la economia de las sociedades andinas. In
Formaciones econ6micas y politicas del mundo andino. Instituto de
Estudios Peruanos, Lima, 59-115.
Schoop, W., 1982: Giiteraustausch und regionale Mobilitat im
Kallawaya-Tal (Bolivien). Erdkunde, 36, H. 4, 254-266.
Trautmann, W., 1981: Las transformaciones en elpaisaje cultural de
Tlaxcala durante la epoca colonial. Das Mexico-Projekt der
deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft, Bd. 17.

Clim. Past, 5, 375–388, 2009
www.clim-past.net/5/375/2009/
© Author(s) 2009. This work is distributed under
the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land
management context
Climate
of the Past
A. J. Chepstow-Lusty 1,2 , M. R. Frogley 3 , B. S. Bauer 4 , M. J. Leng 5 , K. P. Boessenkool 6 , C. Carcaillet 2,7 , A. A. Ali 2 , and
A. Gioda 8
1 Institut Français d’Etudes Andines (IFEA), Lima, Peru
2 Centre for Bio-Archaeology and Ecology, Université Montpellier 2, Montpellier, France
3 Department of Geography, University of Sussex, Brighton, UK
4 Department of Anthropology, The University of Illinois at Chicago, Illinois, USA
5 NERC Isotope Geoscience Laboratory, Nottingham, UK
6 School of Earth, Ocean and Planetary Sciences, University of Cardiff, Cardiff, UK
7 Paleoenvironments and Chronoecology, Institut de Botanique, Montpellier, France
8 Hydrosciences, IRD, Lima, Peru
Received: 30 January 2009 – Published in Clim. Past Discuss.: 4 March 2009
Revised: 7 July 2009 – Accepted: 11 July 2009 – Published: 22 July 2009
Abstract. The rapid expansion of the Inca from the Cuzco
area of highland Peru (ca. AD 1400–1532) produced the
largest empire in the New World. Although this meteoric
growth may in part be due to the adoption of innovative
societal strategies, supported by a large labour force and a
standing army, we argue that it would not have been possible
without increased crop productivity, which was linked
to more favourable climatic conditions. Here we present a
multi-proxy, high-resolution 1200-year lake sediment record
from Marcacocha, located 12 km north of Ollantaytambo, in
the heartland of the Inca Empire. This record reveals a period
of sustained aridity that began from AD 880, followed by increased
warming from AD 1100 that lasted beyond the arrival
of the Spanish in AD 1532. These increasingly warmer
conditions would have allowed the Inca and their immediate
predecessors the opportunity to exploit higher altitudes
(post-AD 1150) by constructing agricultural terraces that employed
glacial-fed irrigation, in combination with deliberate
agroforestry techniques. There may be some important
lessons to be learnt today from these strategies for sustainable
rural development in the Andes in the light of future
climate uncertainty.
Correspondence to: A. Chepstow-Lusty
(a.lusty@aliceadsl.fr)
1 Introduction
Published by Copernicus Publications on behalf of the European Geosciences Union.
Through the use of regional-scale, multidisciplinary studies
it is becoming increasingly evident that many prehistoric
South American cultures were highly adaptable and
able to ensure food security even under sustained periods
of harsh climatic conditions. For example, immense, state
level coastal societies such as the Moche (ca. AD 200–600)
flourished in arid regions by developing sophisticated irrigation
technologies to cope with extremes of water availability
(Bawden, 1996). Highland cultures, on the other hand, not
only had to deal with seasonal water supplies, but also had to
combat large temperature ranges and steep terrain. A variety
of innovative coping-strategies were therefore developed to
maximise land-use and reduce soil erosion. These included
the use of raised field systems by the Tiwanaku (ca. AD 500–
1100) (Kolata 1996; Erickson 1999, 2000) and constructing
major terracing and irrigation systems by the Wari (AD 500–
1000) (Williams, 2006).
The Inca of the south-central Andes were also able to develop
a range of landscape-scale practices across a range of
agro-ecological zones to support the growing numbers of
individuals subsumed under their political control. Whilst
these practices were in some cases innovative, some were
built on already-proven, sustainable techniques developed by
previous societies (including the Wari). After a prolonged
period of cultural development (ca. AD 1100–1400) the Inca
rapidly expanded beyond their heartland region of the Cuzco

376 A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context
Valley (Bauer, 2004). By the time of European contact in
1532 they had become the largest empire to develop in the
Americas, controlling a region stretching from what is today
northern Ecuador to central Chile and supporting a population
of more than 8 million. While the factors involved
in their sudden collapse under the stress of the Spanish invasion,
including the introduction of new diseases and civil
wars have been well documented (Hemming, 1970), relatively
little scholarly attention has been focused on the rapid
rise of the Inca as a pan-Andean power. Although part of
the reason behind this expansion has been attributed to the
development of new economic institutions and revolutionary
strategies of political integration (e.g. Covey, 2006), these social
advances had to be underpinned by the ability to generate
agricultural surplus that could sustain large populations, including
the standing armies necessary for wide-ranging military
campaigns.
Long before the Inca state developed, much of the central
Andes was occupied by the Ayacucho-based Wari state
(ca. AD 500–1000) and the Lake Titicaca-centred Tiwanauku
state (ca. AD 500–1100). It is widely suggested that their
declines were accelerated by worsening environmental conditions
that decreased opportunities for agrarian intensification
(Kolata, 1996; Williams, 2002, 2006; Bauer and
Kellett, 2009). At around AD 1000, many lower elevation
settlements in this region were abandoned and local
populations became concentrated in newly constructed,
defensibly-positioned sites located along high ridges. This
dramatic settlement shift is generally thought to reflect a
change from reliance on lower valley terrace (Wari) and
raised field systems (Tiwanaku) to more diversified agropastoral
economies. These agro-pastoral economies would
have served as an effective risk-reduction subsistence strategy
in the wake of widespread demographic, settlement and
environmental change (Stanish, 2003; Arkush, 2006, 2008).
In the Cuzco region, the decline of the Wari ushered in a
period of regional development with the initiation of the Inca
state that later culminated in a relatively brief yet significant
period of imperial expansionism (Bauer, 2004). Documenting
in detail the environmental backdrop against which the
Inca expanded their influence and power enhances our understanding
of the social, political and economic challenges that
they faced. One of the difficulties in achieving this, however,
is that the earlier and more substantive part of the rise of the
Inca took place over several centuries; a longer-term environmental
perspective is therefore needed to understand the social
and ecological contexts in which this development took
place. In this study, therefore, we provide a detailed synthesis
of a 1200-year palaeoenvironmental dataset derived from
a climatically-sensitive, sedimentary sequence located in the
Inca heartland. New geochemical (C/N and δ 13 C) and floral
(plant macrofossil, macrocharcoal and Myriophyllum pollen)
proxy data, chosen for their ability to reflect both palaeoclimatic
and anthropogenic change, are combined here for
the first time with existing palynological, faunal and sedi-
Table 1. 210 Pb dates for Marcacocha (adapted from Chepstow-
Lusty et al., 2007). Determinations followed Flynn et al. (1968).
Depth (cm) Calendar date
0–2 AD 1991±0.1
10–12 AD 1958±0.1
18–20 AD 1926±0.4
27–29 AD 1918±0.5
39–41 AD 1907±0.4
47–49 AD 1905±2.9
50–51 AD 1845±8.3
mentological records from the sequence, in order to establish
a palaeoenvironmental framework against which human responses
can be assessed.
2 Site selection
The best continuous, multi-proxy palaeoenvironmental
archive from the Cuzco region is the 4200-year record derived
from the lake site of Marcacocha (Chepstow-Lusty et
al., 1996, 1998, 2003). Located within the Patacancha Valley,
some 12 km north of both the major Inca settlement of Ollantaytambo
and the Urubamba River, Marcacocha (13 ◦ 13 ′ S,
72 ◦ 12 ′ W, 3355 m above sea-level [a.s.l.]) is a small (ca.
40 m diameter) circular, in-filled lake set within a larger
basin (Fig. 1). The surrounding slopes constitute an ancient,
anthropogenically-modified landscape, being extensively
covered with Inca and pre-Inca agricultural terraces
(Fig. 2). The in-filled lake site is separated from the Patacancha
River by the promontory of Huchuy Aya Orqo, which
contains stratified archaeological deposits that range from the
Early Horizon period (ca. 800 BC) to Inca times (Kendall
and Chepstow-Lusty, 2006). Today, the flat area adjacent to
the in-filled lake provides space for minor potato cultivation
and is used for grazing cattle, sheep, goats and horses. In
the past, the site was also important for pasturing camelids,
owing to its location along a former trans-Andean caravan
route that linked the Amazonian selva in the east to the main
western highland trading centres. Because the Patacancha
River is fed partially by melt-water, it flows throughout the
year, which may explain why the basin always remains wet
despite a markedly seasonal climate. The constancy of the
river is likely to have been a significant factor in ensuring
both the long-term occupation of the site and also the exceptional
preservation of the highly organic sediments and the
faunal/floral remains they contain.
In 1993, an 8.25 m stratigraphically continuous sediment
core that spans the last 4200 years was recovered from the
centre of the basin for high-resolution palaeoecological analysis
(Chepstow-Lusty et al., 1996, 1998, 2003). The chronology
for the sequence was derived from seven 210 Pb dates
Clim. Past, 5, 375–388, 2009 www.clim-past.net/5/375/2009/

A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context 377
Table 2. Bulk radiocarbon dates from Marcacocha (adapted from Chepstow-Lusty et al., 2007). Calibration was carried out using the
SHCal04 dataset (McCormac et al., 2004) in conjunction with version 5.0 of the CALIB calibration program (Stuiver and Reimer, 1993) and
are cited as years before present (AD 1950).
Depth
(cm)
Laboratory
Reference
101–102 Beta
190 482
14 C age
(yr BP)
Median
calendar date
400±40 AD 1540 1σ
2σ
115–123 Q-2917 620±50 AD 1360 1σ
2σ
210–218 Q-2918 1460±50 AD 630 1σ
2σ
310–318 Q-2919 1805±50 AD 280 1σ
2σ
478–486 Q-2920 2245±50 BC 240 1σ
2σ
610–618 Q-2921 3650±60 BC 1960 1σ
2σ
(Table 1) and six radiocarbon dates (Table 2). Confirmation
of the sensitivity of the site to palaeoclimatic change comes
from sub-centennial pollen analysis of the sequence, which
documents the lake-level response to regional precipitation
changes and records a series of aridity episodes broadly corresponding
with regional cultural transitions indicated by
an independently-derived archaeological chronology (Fig. 3)
(Chepstow-Lusty et al., 2003; Bauer, 2004). Other previous
work carried out on the sequence includes an assessment
of basic sedimentological characteristics (such as carbonate,
organic and non-organic content) and, from the top 1.9 m, an
analysis of oribatid mite remains, thought to be an indirect
indicator of large domestic herbivore densities in the catchment
over the past ca. 1200 years (Chepstow-Lusty et al.,
2007).
2.1 New proxies
In order to help understand potential links between past environmental
and cultural change in the region, the existing
palaeoenvironmental datasets from Marcacocha were assessed
alongside new, complementary proxy analyses.
Calibrated date
AD 1458–AD 1510 (54%)
AD 1554–AD 1556 (1%)
AD 1574–AD 1621 (45%)
AD 1454–AD 1626 (100%)
AD 1315–AD 1357 (52%)
AD 1381–AD 1419 (48%)
AD 1295–AD 1437 (100%)
AD 568–AD 678 (100%)
AD 440–AD 485 (3%)
AD 537–AD 775 (97%)
AD 138–AD 199 (20%)
AD 206–AD 403 (80%)
AD 30–AD 37 (1%)
AD 51–AD 543 (99%)
BC 384–BC 160 (95%)
BC 133–BC 117 (5%)
BC 479–BC 470 (

378 A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context
E C U A D O R
P A C I F I C O C E A N
3380
terraced
field
to
Machu Picchu
C O L O M B I A
P E R U
Lima
contours
(heights in metres)
0 metres 50
terraced field
with archaeological
excavation
Cuzco
3390
3375
3370
3385
HUCHUY AYA ORQO
Patacancha River
Ollantaytambo
B R A Z I L
Lake Titicaca
Fig. 1. Location maps.
3365
3380
3360
B O L I V I A
3390
3385
3380
3375
3355
Marcacocha
3375
Urubamba
grazing, potatoes
and area of
sedge growth
72˚W
CUZCO
3395
3390
3355
3385
72˚W
3380
3375
‘infilled’
Marcacocha
Calca
pollen
core
3360
0 km 20
3365
Pisac
N
Rio Urubamba
either been washed in by surface run-off or blown in from the
immediate catchment.
The value of palynology in helping to determine environmental
and anthropogenic change across a landscape is well
documented. Pollen from the entire Marcacocha sequence
has been analysed previously (Chepstow-Lusty et al., 1996,
1998, 2003), although the Myriophyllum data have not hitherto
been published. Myriophyllum pollen represents a group
of hardy aquatic plants (the watermilfoils) that favour shallow,
nutrient-rich conditions and are often associated with
human impact and disturbance (e.g. Smith and Barko, 1990).
Organic matter is an important constituent of lake sediments,
the primary source of which is the residue of former
biota (mostly plants) located in and around the lake itself
(Meyers and Teranes, 2001). Although the various processes
of sedimentation and diagenesis (especially degradation)
will both alter the geochemical signature and reduce the
concentration of organic matter ultimately preserved in the
lake deposits, analyses can often still distinguish between allochthonous
and autochthonous sources and determine the
nature of that original material (e.g. Hodell and Schelske,
1998). Carbon/nitrogen ratios (C/N) and δ 13 C data obtained
from organic matter are especially useful in providing an insight
into the amount and source of organic material entering
Lucre
3370
3375
3380
14.5˚S
N
3385
Fig. 2. General view north-eastwards up the Patacancha Valley over
the infilled lake of Marcacocha (defined by the circle of Juncaceae
vegetation), surrounded by Inca and pre-Inca terraces. The promontory
on which the archaeological site of Huchuy Aya Orqo is found
lies behind Marcacocha and projects from the eastern side of the
valley towards the Patacancha River, which flows throughout the
year. Notice the concentration of pasture adjacent to Marcacocha
and the proximity of the Inca road

A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context 379
AD
BC
1500
1000
500
0
500
1000
1500
2000
⊗
⊗
⊗
⊗
⊗
⊗
Inorganics
0 20 40 60 80
%
Cyperaceae
0 2 4 6 8 1012
x10 3
Alnus
0 20 40
x10 2
Chenopodiaceae
0 10 20
Concentration (number of pollen grains per cm 3 )
0 20 40 60 80
x10 2
0 10 20
x10
Post-
Inca
Killke
Qotakalli
F
O
R
M
A
T
I
V
E
Inca
Wari
Cultural stratigraphy
Fig. 3. Inorganic content (percentage) and pollen concentration diagram of selected taxa at Marcacocha plotted against age (adapted from
Chepstow-Lusty et al., 2003). Filled rectangle indicates range of 210 Pb dates (see Table 1); shaded circles indicate calibrated radiocarbon
dates (see Table 2). The independently-derived archaeological chronology for the Cuzco region is also indicated (Bauer, 2004). Shaded
horizontal bands denote periods of aridity as inferred from the Cyperaceae record (Chepstow-Lusty et al., 2003).
The range of δ 13 C values of phytoplankton is generally indistinguishable
from the organic matter produced by terrestrial
C3 plants (−20 to −30‰). However, these values are usually
markedly different from those obtained from material
derived from both aquatic and terrestrial C4 plants (the latter
including maize, some grasses and sedges), which are generally
around −8 to −13‰ (O’Leary, 1981, 1988). Under
certain circumstances, however (such as a limitation of dissolved
CO2 or conditions of high pH), this apparently clear
distinction between C4 and other plant sources breaks down
and δ 13 C values derived from C3 algal material can become
as high as −9‰, comparable with values obtained from C4
plant material (Meyers and Teranes, 2001). In addition, δ 13 C
values derived from algal organic matter can also be unduly
influenced by environmental factors such as soil erosion, the
use of fertilisers or the presence of livestock sewage, all of
which can potentially alter nutrient (principally nitrate and
phosphate) delivery rates to the lake (Meyers and Teranes,
x10 2
Ambrosia
Maize
Early Middle Late
Archaic
1500
1000
500
0
500
1000
1500
2000
2001). Given these potential uncertainties in interpreting the
δ 13 C signal, therefore, it is important to consider these data
alongside other indicators of organic matter origin, such as
C/N ratios and plant macrofossil evidence.
3 Methods
Three sets of 1 cm 3 volumetric sediment sub-samples were
taken every centimetre throughout the top 1.9 m of the Marcacocha
sequence, providing a ca. 6-year temporal resolution
that spans the last 1200 years (assuming constant sedimentation
rates).
3.1 Plant macrofossils
One set of sediment sub-samples was disaggregated in
deionised water and macrofossils, including seeds and
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AD
BC

380 A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context
Age (years AD)
1900
1800
1700
1600
1500
1400
1300
1200
1100
1000
900
800
Marcacocha
u
u
⊗
⊗
Cyperaceae
(×103 cm-3 0 2 4 6 8 10 12
)
M
M
M
M
M
M
Chenopodiaceae
(×10 cm-3 0 10 20 30 40
)
Alnus (×102 cm-3 )
0 20 40
Myriophyllum
(×10 cm-3 0 20 40 60
)
Macrocharcoal
(×10 cm-3 0 10
)
C/N
10 20 30
TOC%
0 20 40
0 20 40 60 80
Juncaceae seeds
(cm -3 )
δ
-28
13 C (‰)
Charophyte
gyrogonites
(×10 cm-3 0 10 20
)
-26
0 1 2 3
0 20 40 60 80
Mites (cm -3 )
Fig. 4. Selected proxies and pollen taxa plotted against depth. Filled diamonds indicate 210 Pb dates (see Table 1); shaded circles indicate
calibrated radiocarbon dates (see Table 2). ‘M’ denotes occurrence of maize pollen; horizontal dashed lines delineate zones discussed in text.
Absence of data in certain proxies between ca. AD 1320 and 1400 reflects where material sampled for radiocarbon dating is now missing
(between 115 and 123 cm depth).
charophyte gyrogonites, were then hand-picked under a lowpower
dissecting microscope (Fig. 4).
3.2 Charcoal analysis
A second set of sediment sub-samples was oxidized with
30% hydrogen peroxide in test tubes placed in a hot water
bath at 60 ◦ C for 2–4 h. The residue was then sieved and
charcoal particles >125 µm counted using a low-power dissecting
microscope. For analytical purposes, the raw charcoal
accumulation rate data (C) were first interpolated to 7year
time-steps, a value that corresponds approximately to
the median temporal resolution of the entire charcoal record
(Higuera et al., 2007, 2008) (Fig. 5a). The resulting interpolated
data (Ci) were then separated into background (Cb)
and peak (Cp) components (Fig. 5b). Low-frequency background
variations in a charcoal record (Cb) represent changes
in charcoal production, sedimentation, mixing and sampling,
and are removed to obtain a residual series of “peak” events
(Cp), i.e. Cp = Ci−Cb (Fig. 5c). It is assumed that Cp itself
comprises two sub-components: Cnoise, representing variability
in sediment mixing, sampling and analytical and naturally
occurring noise; and Cfire, representing charcoal input
from local fire events (likely to be related to the occurrence
of one or more local fires occurring within ca. 1 km of the
site; Higuera et al., 2007). For each sample, a Gaussian mixture
model was used to identify the Cnoise distribution, the
Post-
Inca
99th percentile of which was then used to define a threshold
separating samples into “fire” and “non-fire” events (Higuera
et al., 2008). The Cb component was estimated by means
of a locally-weighted regression using a 500-yr window; in
all cases, the window width used was that which maximized
the signal-to-noise index and the goodness-of-fit between
the empirical and modelled Cp distributions. All numerical
treatments were carried out using the CharAnalysis program
(© Philip Higuera). Fire history was described by quantifying
the variation of fire return intervals (FRI, years between
two consecutive fire events) over time, and smoothed using a
locally-weighted regression with a 1000-yr window (Fig. 5d
and e).
3.3 Organic matter geochemistry
13 C/ 12 C ratios were measured by combustion of the final set
of sub-samples in a Carlo Erba 1500 elemental analyser online
to a VG TripleTrap and Optima dual-inlet mass spectrometer,
with δ 13 C values calculated to the VPDB scale
using a within-run laboratory standard (BROC1) calibrated
against NBS-19 and NBS-22. Replicate analysis of wellmixed
samples indicated an absolute precision of

A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context 381
a.
CHAR
(pieces cm -2 yr -1 )
b.
CHAR
(pieces cm -2 yr -1 )
c.
Peak magnitude
(pieces cm -2 yr -1 )
d.
FRI
(yr fire -1 )
e.
Fire density (x20)
30
20
10
0
20
10
0
600
400
200
0
300
200
100
0
0.3
0.2
0.1
1000
1200
1400
1600
Age (years AD)
mean FRI = 82 yr [41-135]
N FRI = 13
1800
0
0 200 400 600 800
FRI (yr fire -1 )
0
2000
Fire events
Fig. 5. Fire event reconstruction based on the raw charcoal accumulation
rate (CHAR); see text for details. (a) represents the
raw CHAR data interpolated to constant time intervals (Ci) using
a 7-year running mean (black columns), with the background signal
(Cb) also shown (grey line); (b) de-trended CHAR data (red lines
denote threshold window, see text); (c) residual peaks and magnitude
of detected fire events (+); (d) fire return interval (black line),
inferred from time since last34 fire (grey squares), and simulated fire
frequency (red line); (e) distribution of fire density.
15
10
5
Fire frequency
(fires 1000-yr -1 )
levels of inorganic sources from erosion and nutrients arising
from livestock entering the lake. Replicate analysis of wellmixed
samples indicated an absolute precision of

382 A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context
of the shallow water plant taxon Myriophyllum remain initially
low, before undergoing expansion in the later part of
this interval. C/N ratios fall abruptly from their initial peak
of ca. 35, to return to values oscillating around 20 for the
rest of the zone. δ 13 C increases notably in a step-wise fashion
at the beginning of the interval to reach pre-AD 880 levels,
but then decreases once again (to ca. −28‰) just before
the end of the zone, when values once again recover to ca.
−27‰. Macrocharcoal and charophyte gyrogonite levels remain
suppressed for most of the interval, whereas oribatid
mite abundances show a gradual increase.
4.3 AD 1100–1400
High concentrations of Alnus pollen are noted for the first
time from the very beginning of this interval. In addition,
Juncaceae seeds become prominent, reflecting the importance
of this family as a major component of the lakeside
vegetation. Synchronously, charophyte oospores and
macrocharcoal concentrations also increase notably, the latter
providing evidence for three significant fire events during
this interval (Fig. 5c). C/N ratios oscillate at values >20,
whereas δ 13 C experiences a progressively positive trend, increasing
by around 1‰ from initial values of ca. −27‰.
There is a distinct but short-lived decline in %TOC (of
around 30%) at ca. AD 1170 that is also mirrored by a similar
event in the %TN record.
4.4 AD 1400–1540
This interval is notable for the continued rise in Alnus pollen
concentrations to the highest values in the sequence (peaking
ca. AD 1450). This period also contains a significant
decline in δ 13 C which, despite a variable signal, reaches a
value of almost −28‰ before recovering at the very end of
the zone. C/N ratios also decline over this interval, but much
more gradually. At the end of the zone, C/N ratios also undergo
a rapid increase from around 15 to almost 28, (seemingly
leading the increase in δ 13 C slightly), before dropping
back to ca. 20. This pattern is almost exactly the reverse
of the %TN signal. Oribatid mite concentrations undergo a
marked rise in the second half of the interval, only then to
decline suddenly. Macrocharcoal levels are, once again, relatively
suppressed over this period.
4.5 Post AD 1540
Concentrations of Alnus pollen generally decline throughout
this zone, which is generally the converse of Cyperaceae
pollen concentrations, which increase notably from
around AD 1800. Although Juncaceae seed and macrocharcoal
concentrations remain relatively steady throughout, they
both experience marked, short-lived peaks around AD 1780
(Juncaceae seed concentrations also briefly peaking around
AD 1560). C/N ratios almost never dip below 15 throughout
the entire zone, and they also experience a marked peak at
ca. AD 1780. Interestingly, concentrations of charophytes
and oribatid mite remains appear to co-vary inversely, with
the principal mite peak (and minimum charophyte values)
occurring ca. AD 1750. This interval is also characterised
by the highest fire frequency of the entire record, with eight
major fire events being identified (Fig. 5c).
5 Interpretation and discussion
5.1 Prior to AD 880
During much of the first millennium AD, the pollen record
indicates little evidence for sustained agriculture at Marcacocha
(see also Fig. 3). Indeed, Chenopodiaceae pollen,
which probably includes a number of high altitude-favouring
cultivars such as Chenopodium quinoa, is rare (Chepstow-
Lusty et al., 2003), suggesting particularly suppressed, cool
temperatures over this period. Furthermore, the sediments in
this interval are characterised by a lower %TOC than subsequent
periods (colder climate, lower organic productivity),
suggesting greater erosion in the immediate catchment,
bringing in more inorganic material. Although human population
levels would have been meagre, some anthropogenic
disturbance is possible (as suggested by the minor peaks in
charcoal at the top of this interval). More importantly, however,
since plant growth would have been slow and the vegetation
sparse, any natural or human agents would have enhanced
erosion as the topsoil would have been less stable.
An examination of the radiocarbon dates shows that the sedimentation
rate is lower during this interval than the earlier
part of the first millennium AD, so it is not necessarily as
simple as equating higher erosion and greater inorganic input
with a higher sedimentation rate. Values of C/N >15 indicate
that erosion was also bringing in terrestrial organic matter,
which, alongside δ 13 C values of around −27‰, shows the
dominance of C3 plants.
Independent evidence from ice core, archaeological, archaeobotanical
and geomorphological data indicate that
much of this period was characterized by relatively low temperatures,
a factor that would have encouraged concentration
of human populations at lower altitudes (Johannessen
and Hastorf, 1990; Seltzer and Hastorf, 1990; Thompson et
al., 1995; Kendall and Chepstow-Lusty, 2006). A period of
burning close to the upper limit of this interval suggests that
there may latterly have been limited anthropogenic activity
in the basin (Figs. 4 and 5c).
5.2 AD 880–1100
An increase in Cyperaceae pollen concentrations at the beginning
of this period probably reflects sedge colonization
at the lake margin as the lake-level reduced in response to
increasingly arid conditions (Chepstow-Lusty et al., 2003).
This interpretation is supported by a major peak in C/N and a
corresponding minimum in δ 13 C (a combination indicative of
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A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context 383
abundant terrestrial plant material entering the lake from the
catchment) and a short-lived peak in Chenopodiaceae pollen
concentrations. This latter event (associated with the presence
of maize pollen) indicates that increasing temperatures
allowed limited agriculture (see Fig. 3 to compare the relative
magnitude of this “peak” with that seen earlier in the record
to emphasise the former importance of quinoa and related
crops cultivated in this basin).
From around AD 1000, however, chenopods and sedges
decline in importance at the expense of the shallow-water
taxon Myriophyllum, which suggests low lake-levels and increasing
levels of nutrients, possibly associated with greater
livestock using the pasture. This interpretation is supported
by several proxies, including the progressive increase of both
TN% and mite frequencies, and a decrease in δ 13 C values
that, coupled with C/N ratios of ca. 20, suggest a significant
C3 terrestrial input to the lake. Macrocharcoal levels
remain suppressed throughout the zone (Figs. 4 and 5a–d),
further implying that the basin was used for mostly pastoral
purposes.
5.3 AD 1100–1400
The marked increase in Alnus pollen at the beginning of
this interval reflects the rapid expansion into the immediate
catchment (probably from lower altitudes) of Alnus acuminata.
This is a tree species closely associated with the colonization
of degraded soils and, subsequently, with agroforestry,
because of its nitrogen-fixing properties, as well
as its ability to grow fast and straight (Chepstow-Lusty and
Winfield, 2000). This is the first sustained appearance of Alnus
in the entire 4200-year record (Fig. 3), suggesting that
the occasional pollen grains recorded prior to this are likely
to represent long-distance transport. The notable increase in
Juncaceae seeds indicate that lake-levels continued to drop,
an interpretation supported by the rise in charophyte gyrogonites,
a sustained increase in δ 13 C of around +1‰ across
the zone (possibly due to an increase in C4 plants in the
catchment) and C/N values generally in excess of 20. Combined,
these data all point to a significant rise in temperature,
though without any concurrent increase in precipitation
(the hydrological requirements of A. acuminata probably being
met year-round by the adjacent, glacially-fed Patacancha
River).
It is likely that a sustained warmer climate enabled human
populations to return to traditional agricultural use of
the Marcacocha Basin and the surrounding landscape, with
pastoralism being pushed up to higher altitudes. Evidence of
this is provided by the recovery of chenopod pollen concentrations,
the presence of (rare) maize pollen and the decline
in mite frequencies. Furthermore, heightened macrocharcoal
values (Fig. 4) and the recognition of three significant fire
events over this period (Fig. 5c) are likely to reflect increased
burning and agricultural clearance. There is also evidence
indicating the instigation of landscape transformation in the
catchment; a brief yet marked reduction in %TOC at around
AD 1170 suggests destabilization of the landscape (possibly
due to terrace building), causing an increase in inorganic
material being deposited in the lake. Only after this construction
phase was complete, would erosion have been reduced
and the landscape stabilized, after which the lake sediments
became highly organic and experienced very little inorganic
input over the next 650 years or so (Donkin, 1979).
5.4 AD 1400–1540
This interval, which coincides with a period of rapid Inca
expansion outside of the Cuzco heartland, appears to have
been relatively stable from a climatic point of view. Temperatures
seemed to have remained warm, with precipitation
(and corresponding lake-levels) being low. Despite this climatic
stability, significant land-use changes occurred in the
basin. The increasing commercial importance of the Patacancha
Valley caravan route is reflected in the sharp rise
in mite abundances from the mid-1400s, suggesting an increased
density of large herbivores (particularly llamas) in
the catchment (Chepstow-Lusty et al., 2007). This interpretation
is supported by an increase in %TN, possibly related
to higher levels of animal excreta originating from the lake
margin. The influx of nutrients to the lake, coupled with
likely disturbance generated by livestock, appears to have
suppressed charophyte levels, which decline to almost zero
by the end of the period. Low values of both C/N (ca. 15)
and δ 13 C (ca. −28‰) are suggestive of increased aquatic
vegetation; when coupled with the reduced charophyte levels
and higher Juncaceae seed concentrations, boggy marginal
conditions may be inferred. Even though there is limited evidence
for maize (a C4 plant) being grown in the basin, this
crop requires good drainage and so was likely to have been
grown away from the immediate lake catchment (as is the
case today); only crops such as potatoes were/are cultivated
in the areas liable to inundation. Furthermore, there is only
muted evidence for sustained burning of the landscape over
this interval (Figs. 4 and 5), suggesting either that there was
only limited crop production in the basin at that time, and/or
that soil fertility (often maintained by periodic firing after
harvests) was instead sustained by the use of animal fertilizer.
It is also noticeable that Alnus pollen concentrations
reach their highest levels in the entire sequence, suggesting
accelerated agroforestry around the basin; this species was
one of the most economic and symbolically important trees
for the Inca (Chepstow-Lusty and Winfield, 2000).
After about AD 1500, proxy signals at the very end of the
zone witness some sharp shifts, including a marked decline
in %TN and mite frequencies, a recovery in δ 13 C values, a
continuing decline in Alnus pollen and a notable peak in Juncaceae
seeds. These changes are likely to be linked to the
collapse of the Inca Empire and the corresponding abandonment
of the basin and cessation of regular llama caravan activity.
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384 A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context
5.5 Post AD 1540
The marked recovery in charophyte gyrogonite concentrations
at the beginning of this interval suggests a continuation
of low lake-levels but a major decline in pasture usage. These
inferences are supported by initially low mite abundances,
declining C/N values and a recovery in δ 13 C (to ca. −26‰).
A different world was imposed with the arrival of the Spanish.
Against a backdrop of disease and falling population
numbers, communities were often forced to migrate and/or
compelled to work under the encomienda system (Chepstow-
Lusty et al., 2007). Much of the previously cultivated landscape
became rapidly overgrown and irrigation canals and
terraces were no longer maintained, falling into neglect and
disuse. A major part of the charcoal signal following the arrival
of the Spanish (Fig. 4) probably represents the continual
effort of the remaining population to clear agricultural land
from rapidly colonizing shrubs and herbs.
Mite abundances undergo one final increase from around
ca. AD 1600, which probably reflects the introduction of
large domesticated herbivores from the Old World, such as
sheep, cattle, goats and horses, into this part of the Patacancha
Valley. This increased use of the basin for pasturing
animals is supported by macrocharcoal concentrations
(Fig. 5a–d), which show sustained and significant burning
events (presumably for clearance purposes) just prior to, and
throughout, the 17th century. A hiatus in burning activity
during much of the following century coincides with the collapse
and subsequent recovery of mite frequencies and, by inference,
livestock populations. Historical documents report
the arrival in about AD 1719–1720 of an epidemic (probably
smallpox) which wiped out nearly all the indigenous people
in the Patacancha Valley (Glave and Remy, 1983) and,
at one point, is known to have killed 600 people in a single
day in Cuzco (Esquivel y Navia, 1980). This event not
only overlapped with the occurrence of four intense El Niño
events (manifesting as strong droughts) between 1715 and
1736 (Carcelén Reluz, 2007), but also with the coldest conditions
of the Little Ice Age (Thompson et al., 1988).
A resumption of landscape burning accompanies the final
decline in mite populations throughout the 19th and 20th centuries
(Figs. 5a–d). It is interesting to note that several independent
regional reconstructions of biomass burning activity
in South America show a decreasing fire frequency for the
past 500 years and attribute this pattern to a range of climatic
controls (e.g. Bush et al., 2008; Marlon et al., 2008; Nevle
and Bird, 2008). The record at Marcacocha, however, shows
the opposite trend (i.e. that fire frequency increases over this
period; Fig. 5d), suggesting that it is local human activity
influencing the fire history of the basin, and not climatic factors.
In the top part of the record, the decline of mites after
ca. AD 1800 not only reflects a major drought (Tandeter,
1991; Gioda and Prieto, 1999), but also the subsequent infilling
of the lake. The uppermost sediments (younger than ca.
AD 1830) consist of peats composed of wetland vegetation,
dominated by Juncaceae; these no longer provide an environmental
record comparable with the lake sediments below.
6 A broader context
The pattern of change witnessed at Marcacocha in the centuries
that pre-dated the imperial expansion of the Inca can
be summarized as: (1) a period of relative aridity developing
from ca. AD 880, characterised by low lake-levels and a
limited arable-based economy in the valley that gave way to
more mixed agro-pastoralism at the beginning of the second
millennium AD; and (2) an interval of elevated temperatures
from ca. AD 1100 that probably lasted for four centuries
or more (the upper limit is difficult to define). This latter,
warmer period is of particular interest, since it witnessed significant
human presence in the basin in terms of agriculture,
early landscape modification and later trading activity. In
order to properly understand the broader-scale cultural and
climatic conditions over this interval, it is necessary to assess
the extent to which events happening in one Andean valley
may have reflected what was happening regionally. In part,
this can be achieved by comparison of the Marcacocha record
with other, independently derived datasets.
The Quelccaya ice cap, located some 200 km to the southeast
of Marcacocha at 5670 m asl in southern Peru, arguably
provides the best-resolved climatic archive from the region
(Thompson et al., 1984, 1986, 1988). Two overlapping
cores, drilled though the ice to bedrock, provide a composite,
annually-resolved record of the last 1500 years. While the
use of proxies from this record as a yardstick for central Andean
climatic variability is not without controversy (in particular,
the complex relationships between δ 18 O variability
and temperature, and ice accumulation and regional precipitation;
Thompson et al., 1988; Grootes et al., 1989; Ortlieb
and Macharé 1993; Gartner, 1996; Thompson et al., 2000;
Calaway 2005), one unambiguous dataset from the Quelccaya
record is that of dust content. At present, dust layers
form annually on the surface of the glacier during the dry
season, when dominantly southerly to north-westerly winds
pick up material from the bare, recently-harvested agricultural
areas of the Altiplano (Thompson et al., 1984, 1988). It
has been postulated that the two most prominent dust events
from the 1500-year Quelccaya record (centring on AD 600
and AD 920) may have their origin in anthropogenic activity,
since they do not correspond with any marked climatic shifts.
The latter of these two prominent dust events lasts around
130 years and is characterized by a steady accumulation from
AD 830 to a peak at AD 920, followed by a more rapid decline
to about AD 960. It has been suggested that this pattern
may be linked with intensified raised field agriculture
around Lake Titicaca (Thompson et al., 1988) and/or may
be representative of a wider spectrum of human activity in
the region, including terrace construction (Erickson, 2000).
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A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context 385
At Marcacocha, this interval is represented by high concentrations
of Cyperaceae pollen, supported by high C/N and
low δ 13 C values, suggesting reduced lake-levels and a significant
proportion of terrestrial plant matter entering the lake.
Although no significant agricultural palynological indicators
were found in the Quelccaya record to support the notion of
anthropological activity within the landscape over this interval
(Thompson et al., 1988), both chenopod (probably incorporating
quinoa) and maize pollen are notable at Marcacocha,
strongly suggesting agricultural use of the basin at this
time.
It is also worth noting that some authorities have used the
Quelccaya ice core data, as well as sediment records from
Lake Titicaca that are indicative of low lake-levels, to infer a
serious drought at ca. AD 1000–1100 (e.g. Thompson et al.,
1988; Abbott et al., 1997; Binford et al., 1997). Furthermore,
it is argued that this protracted period of aridity may (or may
not) have been influential in hastening the demise of both the
Tiwanaku and Wari cultures, centred on the southern shores
of Titicaca and around Ayacucho, respectively (e.g. Binford
et al., 1997; Erickson, 1999, 2000).
From the perspective of Marcacocha, the record there indicates
that, although dry conditions began at least a century
prior to ca. AD 1000 in the Cuzco region, temperatures
remained suppressed at this time. These cooler conditions
would have restricted the ability of cultures such as the Wari
to exploit melt-water sustained higher altitudes for agricultural
purposes. This contrasts markedly with conditions just
a few hundred years later when, faced with similarly arid
conditions, the Inca were able to take advantage of a warmer
climate to exploit new, higher altitude agro-ecological zones
and adapt their irrigation technologies to harness the yearround
melt-water resources.
The rich archaeological record around Cuzco can also help
in understanding the Marcacocha data over this crucial interval.
It is from ca. AD 1200 (although perhaps as early
as ca. AD 1000) that the Inca people in the Cuzco region
are recognized archaeologically by the occurrence of Killke
pottery (Rowe, 1944; Bauer, 2004). While there is a long
history of human occupation in the Marcacocha area, there
is a marked increase in the frequency of archaeological finds
dated to after ca. AD 1000, such as those from the promontory
of Juchuy Aya Orqo, adjacent to the lake (Kendall and
Chepstow-Lusty, 2006; Kosiba 2006). This is corroborated
by the Marcacocha charcoal record, which also suggests a
notable increase in anthropogenic activity in the valley from
ca. AD 1150. These data all point to a dramatic expansion
and/or migratory influx of populations from lower altitudes
over this interval, possibly accompanied by growth in economic
activities. Such local trends reflect more widespread
movements recorded across the Andean highlands at this
time. Starting around AD 1000, regional settlement patterns
shifted from valley floor and lower valley slopes to higher
altitudinal locations (Arkush, 2006; Covey, 2008; Bauer and
Kellett, 2009). By around AD 1300, however, the Marca-
cocha area was directly incorporated into the growing Inca
state and, by AD 1400, major imperial institutions had been
established in the nearby town of Ollantaytambo. The incorporation
of the area into the Inca state is reflected by the
high oribatid mite concentrations, which suggest an increasing
intensity of llama caravans utilizing the pasture adjacent
to Marcacocha.
From an even broader perspective, the notion that temperatures
were consistently higher than modern values during
the 9th–14th centuries has received increasing attention in
the Northern Hemisphere (Lamb, 1965; Hughes and Diaz,
1994). The prevailing view of this interval, known commonly
as the “Medieval Warm Period” (MWP), is that elevated
temperatures were often only intermittently experienced
and, in some regions, was apparently characterized
instead by climatic anomalies such as prolonged drought,
increased rainfall or a stronger monsoon system (Hughes
and Diaz, 1994; Stine, 1994; Bradley et al., 2003; Zhang
et al., 2008). However, evidence for the MWP being a
global phenomenon is contentious, especially in the Southern
Hemisphere, where there are few continuous, detailed
palaeoclimatic records spanning this interval (Bradley, 2000;
Broecker, 2001). Nevertheless, from the Marcacocha dataset
we can infer that temperatures increased from ca. AD 1100
(after a period of relative aridity in comparison to much of
the first millennium AD) and that conditions remained warm
and stable for several centuries thereafter.
7 Conclusions
This study highlights some of the environmental and cultural
changes that took place in the Cuzco region during the late
period of prehistory. The scale of anthropological manipulation
and transformation of the landscape in the south-central
Andes appears to have increased after ca. AD 1100, probably
in response to a climatic backdrop that was relatively
warm, dry and essentially stable. The development of major
irrigated terracing technology may have been increasingly
necessary in these regions to obviate conditions of seasonal
water stress, thereby allowing efficient agricultural production
at higher altitudes. The outcome of these strategies was
greater long-term food security and the ability to feed large
populations. Such developments were exploited by the Inca
of the Cuzco Valley, who were emerging as the dominant ethnic
group of the region as early as ca. AD 1200. A healthy
agricultural surplus supported their economic and political
potential, enabling them to subjugate other local independent
states and to effectively centralize power in the Cuzco region
by ca. AD 1400 (Bauer, 2004).
Fully understanding the adaptive capacity-building strategies
of the Inca in the face of demanding climatic conditions
is still at an early stage. However, their success has clear
implications for both rural and urban Andean communities
www.clim-past.net/5/375/2009/ Clim. Past, 5, 375–388, 2009

386 A. J. Chepstow-Lusty et al.: Putting the rise of the Inca Empire within a climatic and land management context
facing the environmental challenges currently being posed
by global warming.
Acknowledgements. We would like to thank the Palaeoenvironments
Laboratory and the Centre of Bioarchaeology and Ecology
at Montpellier University 2 for supporting this investigation,
and gratefully acknowledge additional financial support from the
CNRS and the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Associación
Ecosistemas Andinos (ECOAN) in Cuzco also provided invaluable
facilities. We also thank K. Bennett for initiating the work at
Marcacocha, A. Cundy (University of Brighton) for carrying out
the 210 Pb dating, A. Kendall and the Cusichaca Trust for providing
logistical support, and A. Tupayachi Herrera, C. A. Chutas and
S. Echegaray for additional field assistance. Two anonymous
reviewers invested much time and effort to help us improve and
widen the scope of this paper, for which we are grateful.
Edited by: D.-D. Rousseau
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Abstract
Human impacts on headwater fluvial systems in the
northern and central Andes
Carol P. Harden
Department of Geography 304 Burchfiel Geography Building, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN, 37996-0925, USA
Received 25 August 2005; received in revised form 6 June 2006; accepted 6 June 2006
Available online 17 August 2006
South America delivers more freshwater runoff to the ocean per km 2 land area than any other continent, and much of that
water enters the fluvial system from headwaters in the Andes Mountains. This paper reviews ways in which human occupation of
high mountain landscapes in the Andes have affected the delivery of water and sediment to headwater river channels at local to
regional scales for millennia, and provides special focus on the vulnerability of páramo soils to human impact. People have
intentionally altered the fluvial system by damming rivers at a few strategic locations, and more widely by withdrawing surface
water, primarily for irrigation. Unintended changes brought about by human activities are even more widespread and include
forest clearance, agriculture, grazing, road construction, and urbanization, which increase rates of rainfall runoff and accelerate
processes of water erosion. Some excavations deliver more sediment to river channels by destabilizing slopes and triggering
processes of mass-movement.
The northern and central Andes are more affected by human activity than most high mountain regions. The wetter northern
Andes are also unusual for the very high water retention characteristics of páramo (high elevation grass and shrub) soils, which
cover most of the land above 3000 m. Páramo soils are important regulators of headwater hydrology, but human activities that
promote vegetation loss and drying cause them to lose water storage capacity. New data from a case study in southern Ecuador
show very low bulk densities (median 0.26 g cm − 3 ), high organic matter contents (median 43%), and high water-holding capacities
(12% to 86% volumetrically). These data document wetter soils under grass than under tree cover. Effects of human activity on the
fluvial system are evident at local scales, but difficult to discern at broader scales in the regional context of geomorphic adjustment
to tectonic and volcanic processes.
© 2006 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.
Keywords: Human impact; Soil erosion; Fluvial geomorphology; Soil moisture; Andes
1. Introduction
The Andes Mountains are the primary headwater
region of the continent of South America, which
delivers more freshwater runoff to the ocean per km 2
land area than any other continent. Assessments of all
natural freshwater resources indicate that the natural
E-mail address: charden@utk.edu.
Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
0169-555X/$ - see front matter © 2006 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.
doi:10.1016/j.geomorph.2006.06.021
www.elsevier.com/locate/geomorph
internal freshwater resources of South America are
second only to those of Asia (Table 1, FAO, 2003a).
Rivers in the Andes, like rivers in mountain regions
across the globe, respond to gradients, material properties,
and inputs of water and sediment. Unlike most
mountain drainage basins, however, those of the tropical
Andes have been population centers for millennia and
are locations of major cities. The rich history of human
habitation, especially in the northern Andes, and the

250 C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
Table 1
World water resources by continent (FAO, 2003a)
Continent Total water resources
km 3 − 1
yr
Asia 12,461.0 28.5
South America 12,380.0 28.3
North and Central
America
7443.1 17.0
Europe 6619.4 15.2
Africa 3950.2 9.0
Oceania 910.7 2.1
World 43,764.3 100
% of world freshwater
resources
rapid economic development of Andean countries
during the past half-century make this an especially
interesting region in which to examine effects of human
activities on fluvial geomorphology. Although physical
processes by which humans affect runoff, erosion, and
sedimentation are not unique to the Andes, examination
of the intensity and variety of human uses of Andean
landscapes offers a different perspective on human im-
Fig. 1. Map of the northern and central Andes.
pacts on fluvial systems from that obtained in the northern
hemisphere.
Most (85%) of the continent of South America drains to
the Atlantic Ocean. Brazil, the largest country, contains the
most fresh water, but mean annual internal freshwater
resources per area are greater in Colombia (1.85 m/yr),
Ecuador (1.52 m/yr), Peru (1.26 m/yr), and Venezuela
(0.79 m/yr) than in Brazil (0.63 m/yr)(FAO, 2003a).
Focusing on the five tropical countries of Venezuela,
Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia that form the
Andean headwaters of the Amazon (Fig. 1), this paper
reviews deliberate and unintentional impacts of human
activities on headwater rivers in the northern and central
Andes, and highlights human activities that increase
overland rainfall runoff and cause more sediment to
enter river channels. Zooming in from the spatial scales of
a region and countries to the scales of a watershed and
small plots, it investigates the unusual characteristics and
hydrologic importance of páramo soils of the northern
Andes and comments on the relative importance of human
impacts at different spatial scales.

2. Regional setting
2.1. The physical setting
The cordilleras of the Andes divide the Pacific from
Atlantic drainages and capture and regulate the flow of
water for most of the continent of South America. On the
Atlantic side, the Amazon River basin comprises 34% of
the land area of South America. Other major drainage
basins are the Orinoco (Atlantic), Magdelena (Caribbean),
and Paraná (Atlantic). The highest peaks reach to nearly
7000 m above sea level. On the Atlantic and Pacific sides,
relief is dramatic and hillslopes and river gradients are
steep. Westward-flowing rivers from southern Ecuador to
central Chile deliver water to arid lands as they flow from
mountain to ocean. Most of the region is tectonically
active, and sections of it are volcanically active.
Rainfall tends to increase with elevation. Moisture
reaches the mountains primarily from the east, but rainfall
in some InterAndean valleys and on the western flank of
the cordillera is also influenced by weather originating in
the Pacific. ENSO effects are evident, although small
differences in the intensity or penetration of ENSO events
change ENSO influences in the higher mountains (Tarras-
Wahlberg and Lane, 2003). The Magdelena River basin of
Colombia has generally received less rain in El Niño years
and more in the La Niña years (Restrepo and Kjerfve,
2000). Similarly, pulses of deposition from Andean headwaters,
recorded in floodplain sediment cores in the Beni
and Mamore river basins, two Bolivian tributaries of the
Amazon, were associated with La Niña events (Aalto
et al., 2003). On a longer timescale, sediment cores
extracted from one high, Amazon-draining lake on the
western cordillera in Ecuador showed periodic episodes
of high sedimentation rates that correlated well with
Holocene ENSO fluctuations (Rodbelletal.,1999).
The highest peaks are snow-capped. Below the snowline
(ca. 4800–5000 m in Ecuador and Colombia) and
above the upper limits of trees and most cultivated land
(ca. 3000–3500 m), the northern Andes are characterized
by the páramo environment. The páramo ecosystem, and,
in particular, páramo soil, is considered to be the principal
regulator of the terrestrial hydrological system of the
northern Andes (Podwojewski and Poulenard, 2000;
Hofstede, 2001). These soils, in Ecuador, Colombia, and
Venezuela, consist of a very black, highly organic
epipedon (A, Ah, and/or O horizons) discontinuously
overlying an unrelated, inorganic surface (Fig. 2).
Because mineral particles in páramo soils are eolian in
origin, páramo soils near to and downwind from active
volcanoes may be 1–2 m thick, while soils farther from
ash sources or on glaciated surfaces may be only 20–
C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
251
30 cm deep. Páramo vegetation varies, but is most commonly
grass (Calamagrostis sp., Stipa sp., and Agrostis
sp.), with some shrubs in less disturbed sites. Organic
matter decomposes very slowly in the moist, cool
conditions that result from high elevation, frequent
cloudiness, fog interception, and plentiful rainfall (ca.
1000–2000 mm yr −1 ). Typical mean annual temperatures
are 10–12 °C (Medina and Turcotte, 1999). Páramo soils
are classified as Andosols or Histosols, depending on the
organic matter content, which is typically around 30%.
Low bulk-densities make them very sensitive to disturbance
from humans and livestock. As in the páramo, the
scarcity of trees in the drier puna grasslands of the central
Andes is thought to result from anthropogenic burning
and forest removal (Gade, 1999).
Because the Andes are still tectonically active (Norabuena
et al., 1998), the physical setting includes active
volcanism, ongoing uplift, earthquakes, and high magnitude
mass movements. Uplift has caused rivers to incise
(Safran et al., 2005) and denudation rates to be high (Aalto
et al., 2006). From Colombia to Bolivia, ten volcanoes
have erupted since 1964 (Table 2), and six others erupted
earlier in the 20th century. Volcanoes contribute sediment
to fluvial systems by direct input, by producing bare slopes
vulnerable to erosion processes, by blanketing the surrounding
landscape with ash, and by oversteepening
Fig. 2. Exposure of black páramo soil, under tussock grasses and
perched on a fine-textured deposit, much lighter in color, Cajas
National Park, Ecuador.

252 C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
Table 2
Volcanoes active since 1964
Country Volcano name Recent eruption
Bolivia/Chile Irruputuncu 1995
Colombia Galeras 2002
Colombia Nevado del Ruiz 1991
Colombia Purace 1977
Ecuador Guagua Pichincha 2004
Ecuador Reventador 2003
Ecuador Sangay 2004
Ecuador Tungurahua 2004
Peru Sabancaya 2003
Peru Ubinas 1969
Source: Smithsonian Institution (2005).
slopes, thus, making them vulnerable to landsliding. Historical
reports indicate that a 1773 eruption of Tungurahua
Volcano (Ecuador) dammed the Pastaza River, and that the
same river had been dammed three times by eruptions in
1918 (Zevallos, 1996). Ash, ice, and water in combination
create lahars, which fill and alter river channels for long
distances. Lahars produced by the 1985 eruption of
Nevado del Ruiz volcano in Colombia moved a total of
about 9×10 7 m 3 of lahar slurry to areas up to 104 km from
the source (Pierson et al., 1990). In Ecuador, a lahar from
an 1877 eruption of Cotopaxi volcano followed a river
valley to the Pacific Ocean, over 250 km away (Hall,
1977).
Mass movements are important in delivering sediment
to the river channels of the Andes (Table 3). On the
east flanks of the Andes in Bolivia, where anthropogenic
effects on erosion processes appear to have been
minimal (Aalto et al., 2006), landsliding is widespread
(Safran et al., 2005). In this region of steep slopes, mass
movements are readily triggered by wet conditions and
by earthquakes. The rugged topography favors landsliding
and the formation of landslide dams. In an
assessment of mass movements (rock and earth slides,
debris avalanches, debris and mud flows) triggered by
two earthquakes about 25 km north of Reventador Volcano
in northeastern Ecuador, Schuster et al. (1996)
found the greatest amount of property destruction to
have been caused by flood surges of the main rivers,
which had been near flood stage before large volumes of
landslide debris were added to them. The largest flood
surges were caused by the breaching of temporary
landslide debris dams. In the case of the large 1993 slope
failure at La Josefina (southern Ecuador), 30×10 6 m 3 of
debris filled the channel of the Paute River for 1 km of
its length (Plaza-Nieto and Zevallos, 1994). The
engineered but catastrophic release of the landslide
dam 33 days later re-formed the channel downstream,
locally increasing the bed slope and causing rapid incision
through the deposit.
2.2. Population trends
In the northern and central Andes, the cordillera of the
Andes is not a single spine, but a region of multiple ranges
with elevated valleys and plateaus. In the north, changing
patterns of subduction of the Nazca plate under the South
American plate have built parallel ranges, with high
InterAndean valleys between. This pattern is seen in
Colombia, where three parallel north–south-trending
ranges define the landscape, and in much of Ecuador,
where a relatively well-defined InterAndean valley is
flanked by two parallel ranges. Farther south, the highest
peaks lie east of the Altiplano. In this tropical region,
higher elevation valleys and plains have long been favored
for human settlement—daytime temperatures are
pleasant, health-threatening insects and other disease
vectors are rare, and soils support productive agriculture
where moisture is adequate. Today, the InterAndean
valleys contain major towns and cities, including Bogota,
Colombia (2640 m), and Quito, Ecuador (2850 m).
Cusco, Peru is at 3250 m, and La Paz, Bolivia between
3300 and 3600 m. Bogotá had 6.8 million inhabitants in
Table 3
Recent, major mass movements
Year Country Location Comments
1962 Peru Nevados 13×10
Huascaran
6 m 3 , 400–500 persons
killed a
1970 Peru Nevados 30–50×10
Huascaran
6 m 3 , 18,000 killed;
triggered by M 7.7 earthquake a
1974 Peru Mayanmarca
rockslide
1985 Colombia Nevado del
Ruiz lahars
1987 Ecuador Reventador
mass
movements
1993 Ecuador La Josefina
rockslide
1994 Colombia Paez
landslides
a USGS, 2005.
b Martinez et al., 1995.
c Pierson et al., 1990.
d Schuster et al., 1996.
e Plaza-Nieto and Zevallos, 1994.
1.6×10 6 m 3 , created 150-m high
dam on the Mantaro River, 450
persons killed. b
90×10 6 m 3 , killed over 23,000
in Armero;
triggered by volcanic eruption. c
75–110 × 10 6 m 3 , ∼ 1000
persons killed,
earthquake-triggered rock and earth
slides, debris avalanches, and
debris and mud flows; most deaths
from floods. d
30×10 6 m 3 , N35 killed, debris dam
on Paute River. e
Thousands of slides in 250 km 2 area,
earthquake triggered, 270 dead,
1700 missing. a

2003, Quito had 1.3 million (in 2001), Cusco had over
300,000 (in 2002), and La Paz had 789,585 (in 2001)
(Citypopulation, 2006). Many contemporary settlements
occupy sites with long histories of human use.
In spite of significant rates of international emigration,
populations of Andean countries continue to grow
and to become more urbanized (Table 4). Fertility rates
remain high by North American standards, ranging from
2.6 (Colombia and Peru) to 3.9 (Bolivia), compared to
1.9 (children per woman) in the United States (Earthtrends,
2003). Population increased dramatically between
1950 and 2005 in the five countries of Bolivia,
Columbia, Ecuador, Peru, and Venezuela, although not
all of the increase was in the Andean highlands.
3. Deliberate human impacts on the Andean fluvial
system
As populations have grown and economies developed,
countries have deliberately altered fluvial systems
to take advantage of water resources. The two most
significant intentional interventions are dams and water
withdrawls. Major dams have been built for hydroelectric
power generation and to store water for irrigation
(Table 5). Abundant water and dramatic drops in elevation
have allowed the northern Andean countries to
become dependent on hydroelectric power. In Venezuela,
60% of the power is hydroelectrically generated
(Earthtrends, 2003). At least 60% of the electric power
of Ecuador is generated at a single large dam, the Daniel
Palacios Dam on the Paute River (Hofstede, 2005). By
trapping sediment and altering flow, dams profoundly
influence downstream reaches.
Water withdrawls for irrigation are more widespread
than dams. In Bolivia, Ecuador, and Peru, more than 80%
of surface water withdrawls are for agricultural irrigation
Table 4
Population growth and urbanization by country
Country Population 1 Annual
population
growth 1
%
growth
2002 Rural
Areas
Urban
Areas
Population
% increase 1
Percent
urban 2
1950–2002 1965 1989
Bolivia 8,705,000 0.3 3.8 221 40 51
Colombia 43,495,000 0.0 2.7 246 54 69
Ecuador 13,112,000 0.2 4.0 425 37 55
Peru 26,523,000 0.7 2.6 248 52 70
Venezuela 25,093,000 2.0 2.1 392 70 84
Source: 1 Earthtrends, 2003, 2 Valladares and Prates Coelho, 1993.
C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
Table 5
Dams by country, as reported by FAO (1998–2002)
Country Number of dams Reservoir storage
Bolivia 5 large nd
Colombia 26 large (N25×10 6 m 3 ) 9.1 km 3
90 medium and small 3.4 km 3
Ecuador 12 7.5 km 3
Peru N3 2.7 km 3
Venezuela 96 157 km 3
(Table 6). Some irrigation systems, such as those used in
Peru by the Incas and in northern Ecuador by pre-
Hispanic populations (Knapp, 1991), pre-date the
Spanish conquest by at least hundreds of years. The
amount of water withdrawn for irrigation increased
dramatically in the second half of the 20th century as a
result of population growth, land reform, and government
efforts to intensify agriculture. In Colombia, modern
projects for public irrigation were initiated in 1936,
and, in Bolivia, a commission began planning for public
irrigation projects in 1938 (FAO, 1998–2002). Irrigation
withdrawls in the Andean countries expanded following
agrarian reform, which occurred from the 1950s (Bolivia)
through the late 1960s (Peru). Irrigation has
typically been small-scale (micro-irrigation), as landholdings
are small (b5–10 ha) (e.g., White and Maldonado,
1991), and hundreds of irrigation districts
manage the withdrawl and distribution of irrigation
water. Internationally available data on irrigation withdrawls,
which aggregate data by country, reveal major
increases in irrigation over recent decades, but do not
separate Andean data from that of lowland drainages.
Abstraction of water for irrigation reduces in-stream
flows, especially in drier seasons. The extent to which
abstraction affects geomorphically important flow levels
in the Andes remains unexamined. Water added to the
landscape by irrigation can reduce soil erosion by
Table 6
Water withdrawls by country and sector (FAO, 2003a)
Country Internal
renewable
surface
water km 3
Total
annual
withdrawl
as%of
renewable
water
Withdrawls
Agriculture Domestic Industry
Bolivia 277 0.3% 87% 10% 3%
Colombia 2112 0.5% 37% 59% 4%
Ecuador 432 4.3% 82% 12% 6%
Peru 1616 1.2% 86% 7% 7%
Venezuela 700 0.8% 46% 44% 10%
253

254 C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
improving protective vegetative cover, but too much
water added can destabilize slopes and water added
rapidly on steep slopes causes soil erosion.
4. Human activities that increase soil erosion and
sediment in rivers
Sources of sediment in rivers include hillslopes and
river channel erosion. Sediment is added to the fluvial
system by overland flow, mass movement, deliberate
dumping, or anthropogenic reworking of sediment stored
in channel beds. All of these occur in the Andes. Studies
across the globe have linked increases in sediment yields
of rivers with changes in land use (e.g., Ostry, 1982;
Walling, 1983). Forest clearance for cultivation increases
sediment yields by two to three orders of magnitude
(Ongley, 1996). Agriculture can also be a primary source
of eroded sediment (Bennett, 1939).
Irrigation increases river sediment loads, by reducing
the flow and corresponding dilution effect, and also by
conveying water across steep slopes with high erosion
potential. Analysis of air photos from 1976 and 1989 and a
field survey in 1999 of a 900-ha catchment in the southern
Ecuadorian Andes found new gullies, which were attributed
to poor construction and management of irrigation
infrastructure (Vanacker et al., 2003b). Gully formation
was observed to be a consequence of the spillover of water
from open canals and irrigation reservoirs and of mismanagement
of extra irrigation water. In a similar study of
a different Ecuadorian watershed, the proximity of gullies
to the river appeared to control differences in suspended
sediment concentrations between two subcatchments
(Vanacker et al., 2003a).
Mining activities contribute suspended sediment as well
as metal pollutants. Since the Spanish conquest, the Andes
has been known for deposits of gold, silver, and other
valuable metals. Gold mining remains active, and gold
extraction more than doubled in Bolivia, Colombia, and
Venezuela between 1950 and 1985 (United Nations, 1990).
Gold production in the Portovelo–Zaruma mining district
of western Andean Ecuador increased 80% between 1994
and 1999 (Tarras-Wahlberg and Lane, 2003). Copper, iron,
lead, manganese, and zinc are also extracted in large
quantities (United Nations, 1990). In 1991, a database of
geological deposits in the Andes that have already been
mined, are currently being mined, or are under evaluation
for mining contained over 3300 records (BRGM, 2001).
Although effects of mining on fluvial systems in the Andes
have been little studied, mines are typically located in
remote areas and mining regulations not well enforced
(Tarras-Wahlberg and Lane, 2003). Excavations on steep
slopes send debris cascading into streams and also increase
the frequency of landslides. Failures of tailings impoundment
also send debris into rivers. In one study of the effects
of gold mining in the Puyango River basin on the western
flank of the Andes in Ecuador (Tarras-Wahlberg and Lane,
2003), concentrations of suspended sediment derived from
mining were apparent in drier years, but represented only a
small proportion of the estimated sediment yield in wet
years. Restrepo and Kjerfve (2000) cited gold mining in the
Cauca basin of Colombia as an important contributor to
high sediment concentrations in the Magdelena River,
which has one of the highest sediment yields on the
continent.
Another form of mining that has affected fluvial systems
is the in-stream removal of sand, gravel, and river
Fig. 3. Homemade weir catches marketable sand at high flow in a headwater stream.

ocks for construction purposes (Fig. 3). In-stream extraction
was widely practiced in Andean streams in Ecuador
in the early 1990s (Harden, 1993) but has
diminished greatly because of recognition of the environmental
consequences and enactment and enforcement
of new regulations. In-stream mining suspends sediment
at all flow levels rather than only during runoff events. In
mined river systems, then, rainfall is not a good predictor
of suspended sediment loads.
Steep gradients promote fluvial transport of sediments.
Dams and reservoirs trap sediment, calling attention
to the magnitude of sediment loads when
reservoir storage capacity is lost. The Daniel Palacios
dam on the Paute River in Ecuador originally, in 1983,
contained 120 ×10 6 m 3 of storage capacity, but that
capacity had been reduced to 95×10 6 m 3 by 1993
because of sedimentation. The mean annual rate of
sedimentation in the reservoir increased from 2.47×10 6 m 3
to 2.76×10 6 m 3 after May, 1993, when the release of the
large landslide dam on the Paute River at La Josefina
mobilized additional sediment (Zevallos and Jerves, 1996).
An expensive dredging program has been used to maintain
storage because of the important hydroelectric power plant
associated with this dam.
Mass movement hazards are increasing globally as
population pressure and economic development push
people onto steeper lands and natural vegetation is removed
for cultivation and other purposes (Vanacker
et al., 2003c). Although landsliding is a natural adjustment
to the crustal shortening occurring in the Andes, not
all of the major Andean landslides have been completely
natural events. Two of 11 causal factors listed in an
analysis of the 1993 La Josefina rockslide were excavation
at the toe and diversion of drainage for mining
purposes (Plaza-Nieto, 1996). Higher in the Paute River
basin, locals attribute the 2003 reactivation of a former
landslide (Soroche) to alterations in agricultural drainage
above the failure (Fig. 4).
5. Land use effects on rainfall runoff
One of the most widespread human impacts to the
fluvial system in the Andes, and in other mountain regions,
is increasing the proportion of rainfall that reaches rivers as
surface runoff. Changes in the rates of runoff-generation
occur as unintended consequences of nearly all human
activities. Forest cover, agricultural practices, grazing,
urbanization, and road construction have important and
spatially extensive effects on runoff, which then controls
rates of erosion and sediment movement. These effects are
not unique to the Andes, but are especially interesting in
the Andes because of the intensity of human occupation
C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
255
Fig. 4. Soroche landslide in the upper Machángara River tributary of
the Paute River in southern Ecuador.
and the special natural and cultural characteristics of Andean
highland environments.
Forest clearance is part of the legacy of human occupation
of the Andean region. Contemporary deforestation
is occurring primarily in areas, generally on the
external margins of the Andes, where forests remain, or in
dry climates, where tree removal promotes desertification
(Ministerio de Desarrollo Sostenible y Medio Ambiente,
1996). InterAndean valleys appear to have been cleared
even before the Spanish Conquest, although experts disagree
about whether certain areas, which today are
marginally dry or have thin soils, ever supported trees
(Acosta-Solis, 1977; Ellenburg, 1979; White, 1985;
Gade, 1999; Sarmiento and Frolich, 2002). Photos taken
in the late 19th and early 20th centuries in the province of
Tungurahua, Ecuador show far less tree cover than exists
there today (Banco Central, 1984). The introduction of
Eucalyptus trees in the 1860s led to the reforestation of
cleared areas and the present-day dominance of Eucalyptus
throughout the InterAndean region (Dickinson, 1969).
Forest cover continues to be lost, even while reforestation
programs are adding trees. Between 1990 and 2000,
Bolivia lost forest cover at an average rate of 0.3% per
year, Colombia at 0.4%, Ecuador at 1.2%, Peru at 0.4%,
and Venezuela at 0.4% (FAO, 2003b). Much of this

256 C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
change occurred on external flanks of the Andes, and
some occurred in lowlands rather than in Andean regions.
Studies of land-cover change have documented transitions
from native trees to plantations of exotic species,
principally Eucalyptus and Pinus, without changing the
overall extent of tree cover in the study area. Vanacker
et al. (2003a) detected profound changes in land cover
between 1962 and 1995 in the Machángara watershed in
southern Andean Ecuador, which included an overall gain
in total wooded area even though 41% of the secondary
native woodland was cleared during that period. They
attributed the changes to land reform programs and population
growth, and the net gain to reforestation with
Eucalyptus on formerly degraded lands. Gentry and
Lopez-Parodi (1980) linked deforestation in the upper
Amazon watershed in Peru and Ecuador to increased high
water levels in the Amazon River at Iquitos and in
Peruvian tributaries upstream of Iquitos.
The illicit drug trade, specifically of coca in Peru,
Bolivia, and Colombia, has been identified as a contributor
to deforestation in the tropical Andes (U.S. Department of
State, 2001). Illicit coca production has typically involved
a slash-and-burn approach in which fields are abandoned
after two to three growing seasons and new fields cleared
to gain fertility and evade authorities. If growers have
moved onto the land from other environments and are
unfamiliar with local conditions, coca cultivation is more
likely to promote runoff and soil loss. The U.S. State
Department (2001) estimated that a minimum of 2.4 Mha
of forest were cleared for coca production in the Andean
region over the previous 20 yrs.
Globally, research has demonstrated that forest clearance
leads to less rainfall interception, less infiltration, less
evapotranspiration, and more surface runoff (e.g., Bosch
and Hewlett, 1982). Loss of forest cover, thus, increases
storm hydrograph volumes and shortens lag times to peak
discharges. Although forest removal typically increases
runoff, reforestation does not necessarily reverse the trend
and increase rainfall infiltration (Harden and Mathews,
Fig. 5. Increase of cattle in northern and central Andean countries.
2000). Soils are vulnerable to erosion following forest
clearance, so cleared mountain slopes may readily lose soil,
and, thus, the ability to absorb rainwater, between the times
of clearing and reforestation. Many examples of degraded
locations, at which Eucalyptus trees planted for reforestation
out-competed the understory, exist in the region. Such
scenarios result in trunks of trees rising from bare surfaces,
which continue to erode and degrade, and to which little or
no new organic matter is added. Inbar and Llenera (2000)
suggested that the massive reforestation of Eucalyptus in
highland Peru in 1976 was less effective than ancient
terraces in preventing soil erosion. Where efforts have been
made to replace páramo vegetation with pine trees to
increase carbon sequestration, pines have been observed to
reduce water yields and dry the soils (Hofstede, 2001).
Other human activities that have altered rates and
patterns of rainfall infiltration and runoff are those that
cause soil compaction. Among these are the effects of
livestock grazing, increased tractor use in Andean agriculture,
growth of road networks, and urbanization. Grazing
and trampling pressures increased greatly after the
Spanish brought cattle, sheep, and horses to the Andes in
the early 1500s. Compared to the native camelids (llamas,
alpacas, vicuñas), hoofed animals of European origin are
heavier and exert more force per foot (White and
Maldonado, 1991; Gade, 1999). When heavy animals,
e.g., cattle, are confined to a limited area, their weight
compacts the underlying soil, and reduces infiltration
capacity (Hofstede et al., 2002). The absence of a freezing
winter season means that trampled soils do not have an
annual period of recuperation, so infiltration capacities
remain low from year to year. Grazing has been locally
intense during the five centuries since Europeans arrived,
and, where conditions have allowed, cattle numbers have
increased in recent years (Fig. 5, FAO, 2006).
Contemporary agriculture can increase or decrease
rates of soil infiltration and rainfall runoff. Although
clearing forested land for cultivation usually has the
effect of increasing runoff, tilling cleared land increases
infiltration capacities (Harden, 1991). The weight of
tractors compacts the soil, so increased tractor use over
the past half-century (Fig. 6, FAO, 2006) can be expected
to have increased rates of runoff in Andean farmlands.
The preferential generation of runoff on roads and
footpaths accelerates erosion on hillslopes (Harden,
1992). The location of roads near streams allows
increased runoff to discharge quickly from the land to
the fluvial system. Land reform programs in the 1960s
and 1970s in Ecuador led to more land ownership of
steeper hillsides and higher elevation fields. At the same
time, land became more parcelized (Vanacker et al.,
2003a). Because boundaries between parcels interrupt

Fig. 6. Increase in tractor use since 1955, by country.
overland flow, parcelization can reduce soil and water
loss from agricultural plots. The interrelated factors of
plot steepness and length, tillage practices, and the
distribution of croplands on hillsides make the hydrologic
effects of cultivation difficult to generalize.
Cessation of a land use that exacerbates runoff or
sediment production does not necessarily mean return to
a previous state of infiltration and sediment stability. In
the dry central Andes of Peru, where annual rainfall is
only 350 mm, Inbar and Llenera (2000) found that
abandonment of agricultural terraces increases rates of
soil erosion and sediment yields. More than 2 Mha of
highland Peru are estimated to have been terraced, but
91% of terraces in high areas have been abandoned
(Inbar and Llenera, 2000). Plants do not grow naturally
on the terraced slopes in this dry environment. In more
humid Ecuador, where slopes were not terraced,
previously cultivated sites that had been abandoned or
left in long-term fallow generated significantly more
runoff than sites under cultivation (Harden, 1996). Degraded
soil, lack of moisture, and ongoing grazing
stresses cause abandoned Andean farmlands to continue
to be sources of runoff and sediment for many years
(Harden, 2001). An additional factor that has reduced
the ability of the soil to absorb and hold rainwater has
been the wholesale removal of peaty soil. In Bolivian,
turf has been sold as fuel (Godoy, 1990); in the puna of
Peru, peat soil has been mined for fuel and for horticultural
purposes (Llerena, 1987); and, in Ecuador, this
author has observed peat mining for greenhouses that
produce flowers for export.
6. Human impacts on the moisture storage capacity
of páramo soil
Soils play a key role in determining whether rainfall is
absorbed by or shed from a site; they also store and release
water. Human activities that cause soil compaction reduce
the available pore space in the soil and thus reduce the
C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
ability of the soil to store water. Soil moisture storage
capacity is also reduced when soil is lost or the organic
matter content of a soil decreases. The páramo soils,
which cover 35,000 km 2 of the northern Andes (Hofstede,
2005), are especially vulnerable to changes that reduce
pore volume. With low bulk density and high organic
matter content, páramo soils are viewed as enormous
sponges, which feed and regulate flow to the fluvial
system (Luteyn, 2005). Water retention capacity of
undisturbed páramo soils is extremely high, reaching
values of more than 100% at the wilting point, and
strongly correlated with the organic matter content
(Buytaert et al., 2005; Luteyn, 2005). Poulenard et al.
(2003) reported water contents in epipedons of páramo
Hydric Melanudands at 1500 kPa≥1000 g kg −1 and
attributed high porosities to the abundance of organic
colloids.
Loss of vegetative cover promotes drying, which
irreversibly reduces pore space and the water-holding
capacity of the páramo soil (Poulenard et al., 2003).
Studies have shown páramo soils to become crusted and
even hydrophobic following disturbance (Poulenard
et al., 2001). Fire is the principal human disturbance
affecting the hydrology of páramo environments. Today,
páramos are primarily burned to remove old grass and
promote the growth of tender new shoots as food for
cattle. Gade (1999) reported that any grassy site in the
high Andes is probably burned at least once each 5 yrs.
Similarly, Hofstede (2005) suggested that only the most
remote or most protected páramo sites are not affected
by livestock. Páramos are also burned to clear land for
cultivation, improve hunting, or implement local belief
systems (e.g., bring rain, deter evil spirits) (Hofstede,
2001). Grass páramos have been used as grazing lands at
least since the arrival of cattle, sheep and horses with the
Spanish in the 1500s, so widespread burning, coupled
with trampling and vegetation removal by grazing,
would have reduced moisture storage and increased
rates of runoff in páramo environments over the last five
centuries. These practices have been so widespread that
the region lacks control sites for comparative studies.
7. Case study of soil moisture
257
To more closely examine the soil moisture conditions
in the headwater region and to investigate differences in
soil moisture between grass- and tree-covered highland
sites, a study was conducted of surface soil moisture
characteristics in and near the 50 km 2 Llaviucu watershed,
in the western cordillera of the Andes near Cuenca,
Ecuador. The Llaviucu watershed is of special interest
because it yields 20–30% of the water used by the city of

258 C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
Cuenca and because most of it lies within Cajas National
Park (Fig. 7). Elevations in the watershed range from
3000 to 4300 m. Vegetation is predominantly grass
páramo, with occasional small stands of Polylepis trees at
high elevations (Fig. 8), tropical montane forest vegetation
below 3400 m on the steep flanks of the glacial trough
of the lower watershed, and imported pasture grasses on
the trough floor. The national park is managed by the
Municipality of Cuenca through a corporation with major
leadership by ETAPA (Empresa Pública Municipal de
Telecomunicaciones, Agua Potable y Alcantarillado y
Saneamiento de Cuenca), the local utility company. In
addition to the usual goals of protecting the natural environment
and fostering tourism, recreation, and environmental
education, this park is also managed to maximize
water storage and dry season river flow. Cattle grazing in
the park has successfully been reduced from tens of
thousands to a very small number, and the corporation
must now decide whether to continue to burn the páramo
regularly or allow vegetative succession to occur. Evidence
in the region indicates that trees, which presently
occur in isolated islands up to 4300 m (Gade, 1999), may
become dominant in the absence of burning (White and
Maldonado, 1991), but the water resources effects of such
a change are not known.
Fig. 7. Location of Cajas National Park, Ecuador.
For this study, pairs of soil moisture study plots were
established at elevations between 3163 m and 3527 m to
compare the effects of grass and tree cover where other
factors–elevation, location, slope, parent material, soil
development–were the same. A HydroSense (Campbell
Scientific) Time Domain Reflectometer (TDR) was
deployed in 4 m 2 plots at 23 sites to obtain 5–15 replications
of in situ measurements of volumetric moisture
content (VMC) at each site. The 12-cm TDR probes integrated
VMC along their length. In each plot, a 12-cm
deep soil sample was collected between one set of TDR
probe holes for laboratory determination of gravimetric
moisture content (GMC), and a second sample (0–12 cm
deep), taken within 1 m of the first, was extracted for bulk
density determination. The sand replacement method was
used in the field to determine in situ volume for bulk
density calculations. All soil samples were air-dried and
then oven-dried (24 h at 105–110 °C) and weighed. GMC
samples were weighed before drying, so that GMC could
be calculated as the ratio of the mass of water (mwater=wet
soil mass−oven-dried soil mass) to the mass of oven-dried
soil (GMC=mwater/msoil).
Loss-on-Ignition (LOI), interpreted as an approximate
measure of the organic material (% by mass), was
determined as the percentage of the sample mass

emaining after burning the oven-dried sample at 550 °C
for 2 h. All sampling was done in June and July of 2004, a
relatively moist year.
Volumetric moisture content is the ratio of the volume
of water to the volume of soil. As volume is the ratio of
mass to density, VMC may also be expressed as
VMC ¼ðmwater=q waterÞ=ðmsoil=q soilÞ: ð1Þ
Using soil bulk density as ρsoil, and setting the density
of water (ρwater) at1gml − 1 , the three values for VMC,
GMC and bulk density at each site can be related as
GMC ¼ðVMC⁎1 gml 1 Þ=ð bulk densityÞ: ð2Þ
The resulting data show extremely low bulk densities
(median 0.26 g cm − 3 ), high organic matter contents of
surface horizons (median 43%), and high water-holding
capacities (median GMC 1.52 g g − 1 ; VMC ranges from
12% to 86%). In other words, the mass of water in these
soils is typically 1.5 times the dry mass of solid soil
material. Measurements from paired plots showed that
soils under grass cover consistently had higher VMC
than soils under trees (Table 7), and field observations
showed that soils under trees contained more macropores
compared to soils under grass cover. In all pairs,
soil under tree cover was less dense and drier than soil
under grass. A comparison of soil properties at four
páramo soils sites, three that had burned recently and
one that had not, showed little or no difference in bulk
density or VMC between the four (Table 8).
C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
Fig. 8. Páramo grassland in Cajas National Park, Ecuador.
259
Although bulk densities in the Llaviucu watershed
study were very low, generally good agreement (same
order of magnitude, most within 50%) between measured
and calculated values of soil moisture and field
observation provided confidence in the results. This
comparison between grass- and tree-covered soils was
limited by the small size of the database and by the
difficulty of finding sites at which all other factors were
equal, as trees were observed to typically occupy steeper
and rockier sites. These initial results suggest that treecovered
sites store less moisture than grass-covered sites
and raise the question of whether páramo soils only
behave as “sponges” under grass cover, which may, in
turn, be an artifact of anthropogenic fire management.
Lightning-caused fires have not been reported in
páramos, although lightning strikes have occasionally
been observed (Luteyn, 2005).
The lack of difference in soil moisture and soil bulk
density between recently burned páramo sites and an
unburned, but similarly grassy site was not unexpected,
as the longer-term history of all grass páramo sites
appears to include relatively frequent fires. Results from
this study suggest that, not the fire, but the establishment
of woody plants in the absence of fire would increase
evapotranspiration rates and soil drainage (through
macropore formation), causing páramo soil to lose its
capacity as sponge. A small sample can only be illustrative,
however.
A further confounding factor in the moisture storage
capacity of páramo soils is the depth of soil at a given
location. Soil in much of the Llaviucu watershed is thin

260 C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
Table 7
Data from paired plots in Llaviucu watershed, Ecuador
Vegetation Altitude
(m)
Moisture GMC
− 1
0–12 cm g g
Bulk density 0–
− 1
12 cm g cc
Moisture VMC
average 0–12 cm
%
(20–30 cm deep), compared to soils at other high
elevation páramo sites less affected by glaciers.
Although it is presently below the lower limit of
permanent ice, the upper Llaviucu watershed was
under part of a larger ice cap (Rodbell et al., 2002),
and the lower Llaviucu watershed is the trough-shaped
valley of an outlet glacier. Field observations made in the
Llaviucu catchment documented the flashiness of runoff
on thin, quickly saturated soils in this glacially scoured
valley. The flashiness of runoff in the watershed and
relative dryness of its wooded soils, even in a wet time,
can be readily explained, but are contrary to conventional
expectations. This underscores the importance of
localized differences and the need for more such case
studies, which should help management make informed
decisions for this national park in its effort to sustain and
VMC range of
obs values %
VMC ratio
grass:
wooded
improve downstream water resources as well as better
understand the páramo in other areas.
8. Summary and conclusions
− 1
GMC g g
calculated as
VMC/BD
PAIR 1 2.8
Grass 1 3170 1.52 0.20 68 48–76 3.4 0.4
Grass 2 3170 1.80 0.34 65 53–79 1.9 0.9
Wood 1 3175 1.06 0.04 20 8–34 5.0 0.2
Wood 2 3175 nd nd 27 13–34
PAIR 2 2.8
Grass 3 3248 0.49 0.54 35 18–57 0.6 0.8
Grass 4 3248 0.70 0.48 0.7 1.0
Wood 3 3260 0.73 0.09 12 8–24 1.3 0.5
Wood 4 3260 0.89 0.11 1.1 0.8
PAIR 3 4.0
Grass 5 3170 1.45 0.32 71 64–76 2.2 0.7
Wood 5 3176 1.31 0.06 20 6–28 3.3 0.4
Wood 6 3176 2.50 0.05 15 10–27 3.0 0.8
PAIR 4 1.3
Grass 6 3163 1.45 1.08 60 53–65 0.6 2.6
Wood 7 3273 1.10 1.06 47 38–58 0.4 2.5
Table 8
Bulk density, Loss-On-Ignition (LOI), volumetric soil moisture
(VMC) and gravimetric soil moisture (GMC) of páramo soils at four
sites in Cajas National Park, southern Ecuador
Vegetation Elev.
m
Bulk
Density g
− 1
cc
LOI
%
VMC
avg.
%
VMC
min.
%
VMC
max.
%
GMC
− 1
gg
Páramo 3465 0.47 29.3 74 72 76 153
burned 1 32.5
Páramo 3467 0.37 42.2 80 78 82 211
burned 2 48.5
Páramo 3469 0.28 54.5 84 83 85 238
burned 3 58.5
Páramo 3527 0.27 57.6 86 84 88 252
unburned
GMC ratio
of obs/calc
Ways in which Andean people and their activities
affect the flow and sediment loads of mountain rivers
are essentially the same as on other continents. The
tropical location of the northern Andes, belief systems
that motivate certain land-management strategies, and
the dominance of grass páramo distinguish the Andes
from other steep, volcanically active mountain regions
of the world. Beyond deliberately engineered changes
of river impoundments and water withdrawls, human
activities have many more subtle and unintentional
geomorphic effects on the fluvial system. Forest
clearance, grazing, agriculture, roadways, and urbanization
increase the proportion of rainfall that flows to
the channel network during storms, and steep slopes
give overland flow the energy to erode and move fine
sediments. Human interventions that destabilize slopes,
from mining, to tree removal, to problems with
irrigation canals, contribute to triggering mass movements,
the largest of which dam rivers and subsequently
serve as fluvial sediment sources. Páramo soils, which
are hydrologically important in the northern Andes, are
particularly sensitive to drying, which occurs when
vegetation is removed by burning, grazing, or tilling.
The Llaviucu case study verified the low bulk density
and high moisture-holding capacities of páramo and
highland soils and showed that soils under grass cover

hold more moisture in a moist season than soils under
trees.
At the regional scale, natural processes of uplift and
denudation, volcanic activity, steep slopes, and mass
movement create a geomorphically active environment
in the northern and central Andes. Where human settlement
is sparse and relief is high, such as on the external
flanks of the Andes, the impacts of human activities are
negligible compared to the magnitudes of natural processes
and adjustments in the fluvial system. A recent
study in the Upper Beni River basin in the Bolivian
Andes found no significant change in rates of erosion,
determined from 10 Be analysis of quartz grains, over the
last millions of years (Safran et al., 2005). Likewise, a
broader study of rates of erosion from 47 rapidly eroding
drainage basins in the Bolivian Andes concluded that
anthropogenic disturbance was minimal (Aalto et al.,
2006). Given the great distance and the number of
sediment sinks in the Amazon basin between the Andes
and the Atlantic Ocean, it is unlikely that human impacts
in the Andean headwaters are noticed at the mouth of the
Amazon.
On the scale of 10 3 km 2 in human-dominated landscapes
of the InterAndean valleys and on a temporal scale
of years to centuries, unintended human impacts on soil
erosion and runoff are evident, if not well documented.
These are visible as truncated soils, reservoir sedimentation,
stream incision, increased duration of stream turbidity,
and accelerated rates of mass movement where
people have steepened slopes through construction and
mining. At the scale of plots (10 m 2 ) definite differences in
soil properties are associated with differences in land cover
and land use.
Many Andean river valleys are narrow and steep, so
changes in slope stability or changes that cause soil to
erode or rainfall to run off are rapidly transmitted to the
river system. The land uses today follow a legacy, begun
long before the Colonial era, of forest clearance, agriculture,
and urbanization in the Andean region. Land uses
have changed as populations have increased, local and
global economies and technologies have changed, and
land reforms have been implemented. Human impacts in
these mountains may now be more intensive and
extensive, but they are not new.
Acknowledgements
The author completed the case study in Cajas
National Park with the support from the Fulbright
Commission, U.S. Department of State, with collaboration
of faculty and students from the University of
Cuenca, Ecuador, and with permission from Cajas
C.P. Harden / Geomorphology 79 (2006) 249–263
National Park, ETAPA, and the Municipalidad de
Cuenca. Additional thanks go to Alan Moore and
Marisa Ernst for assistance in the field and to Will
Fontanez and David Moore for help with databases and
graphics.
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Developing sustainable tourism through
adaptive resource management: a case
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Lincoln R. Larson a & Neelam C. Poudyal a
a Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources, University of
Georgia, 180 E. Green Street, Athens, GA, USA
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Journal of Sustainable Tourism
Vol. 20, No. 7, September 2012, 917–938
Developing sustainable tourism through adaptive resource
management: a case study of Machu Picchu, Peru
Lincoln R. Larson ∗ and Neelam C. Poudyal
Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources, University of Georgia, 180 E. Green Street,
Athens, GA, USA
(Received 5 August 2011; final version received 6 February 2012)
Machu Picchu, Peru, is recognized as a top international travel destination. Pressure
from the approximately 900,000 tourists who annually visit the ancient Inca city threatens
the ecological integrity, physical substance and cultural authenticity of the World
Heritage Site and surrounding area, including the Inca Trail. Multiple organizations and
agencies currently involved in the management of Machu Picchu have distinct agendas
for the conservation and development of the city, and conflicts regarding public access,
economic growth and cultural preservation are rampant. Attempts to establish carrying
capacities have failed, with proposed daily visitor levels ranging from 800 to 4000. This
paper explores the complex issues surrounding tourism at Machu Picchu and presents a
potential solution: an adaptive management approach based on the UN World Tourism
Organization’s (UNWTO) sustainable tourism framework. This integrative strategy accounts
for multiple perspectives and synthesizes disparate goals embraced by diverse
stakeholders, including the Peruvian government, international conservation organizations,
foreign tourists, private tour operators, regional authorities and indigenous
communities. The focus on Machu Picchu as an adaptive management case study site
outlines key steps leading to implementation, offering planning and policy implications
for sustainability initiatives at numerous developing-world tourism destinations facing
similar political and socio-economic challenges.
Keywords: adaptive management; community development; indicators; Machu Picchu;
sustainability; world heritage site
Introduction
Few places in the world can match the natural beauty and historical significance of Machu
Picchu, Peru. The ecological and cultural allure of the ancient Inca city has earned Machu
Picchu a place on the United Nations Educational, Scientific & Cultural Organization’s
(UNESCO) World Heritage List (UNEP, 2008). Machu Picchu is also formally recognized
as one of the “New Wonders of the World” (World of New7Wonders, 2011), and the image
of Peru’s “Lost City” remains a powerful symbol of Peruvian culture and heritage. With its
dramatic setting and mysterious past, the former Inca citadel has become a popular tourism
destination and the centerpiece of a booming tourism industry (Desforges, 2000).
About 2500 tourists visit Machu Picchu each day, and the remote site is under increasing
pressure from developers and government officials, who want to expand tourism operations
in the area (Leffel, 2005). Threats posed by unregulated use, inadequate planning, deficient
∗ Corresponding author. Email: llarson@uga.edu.
ISSN 0966-9582 print / ISSN 1747-7646 online
C○ 2012 Taylor & Francis
http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09669582.2012.667217
http://www.tandfonline.com

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918 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
monitoring mechanisms and weak policy enforcement have caused Machu Picchu to be
ranked as one of the most rapidly deteriorating World Heritage Sites (Hawkins, Chang, &
Warnes, 2009). Because of these concerns, UNESCO has urged the government of Peru
to revise its Master Plan for managing the Historic Sanctuary to emphasize sustainable
development and prevent Machu Picchu’s possible inscription on the list of World Heritage
Sites in danger (UNESCO, 2009). The state is currently working with UNESCO to construct
a new Master Plan (Vecchio, 2011), but – with many diverse stakeholders and interests to
balance – reaching consensus regarding Machu Picchu’s future has proven to be extremely
difficult.
Machu Picchu’s governing body consists of multiple organizations and agencies – from
local to international – that have very different interests, ranging from preservation to
utilization. Advocates of the mass tourism strategy want to increase access to the site,
generate revenue for regional governments, private operators and local communities, and
promote Inca culture as a marketable commodity. Opponents of mass tourism want to limit
access, preserve ecological, archeological and spiritual assets, and protect existing cultures
and livelihoods in Peru’s Andean highlands. David Ugarte, a former regional director of
Cusco’s National Cultural Institute, summed up the core issue: “The (tour) companies are
thinking of profit. Our task is to give to the next generation the opportunity to continue
seeing this wonder for centuries to come ... In ten years’ time there will no longer be a
Machu Picchu. It’s not only part of our heritage. It’s a part of humanity’s” (Collyns, 2007).
Although research suggests that resource protection and development are not mutually
exclusive in the tourism sector (Weaver, 2011), the successful integration of these principles
will likely require a shift from reactive to proactive management paradigms (Allen,
Fontaine, Pope, & Garmenstani, 2011). In this respect, Machu Picchu presents a compelling
opportunity for case study. Tourism management at the site is a classic example of what
McCool and Moisey (2008) call a “messy situation” – a context where goals conflict,
uncertainty abounds and relationships between stakeholders can be polarizing or hostile.
However, if a sustainable solution were to emerge under these challenging circumstances,
it could be used to resolve tourism problems in similar settings around the world. This
paper explores the general concept of sustainable tourism, analyzes the complex issues surrounding
tourism in Machu Picchu and presents a proactive, systematic, objective-driven,
indicator-based adaptive management framework that may facilitate a progression from the
sustainable rhetoric prevalent in management plans to sustainable solutions and action (Zan
& Lusiani, 2011).
What is sustainable tourism?
The issue of sustainable development is at the core of the debate over Machu Picchu’s
use. To ecologists, sustainable development is concerned with preserving the status and
function of ecosystems (Rees, 1990). From the economic standpoint espoused by the World
Commission on Environment and Development, sustainable development is “development
that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations
to meet their own needs” (Toman, 1992, p. 3). Within tourism, sustainable development
typically refers to tourism that satisfies the needs of present tourists and host regions while
protecting and enhancing opportunities for the future (Vaughan, 2000).
Multiple meanings have been attached to the term “sustainable” in the tourism context
(Bramwell & Lane, 1993). McCool and Moisey (2008) suggest that sustainable tourism can
refer to a business that perseveres and flourishes over a long period of time or an industry that
acknowledges biophysical and social limits and intentionally remains small in scope. Hunter

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 919
(1995) observes that, in its purest form, sustainable tourism is a vital tool that augments
large-scale economic and social development programs. Butler succinctly summarizes the
adaptive paradigm by stating, “sustainable tourism is that which is developed and maintained
in an area in such manner and at such a scale that ...it remains viable over an infinite period
of time and does not degrade or alter the environment (human and physical) in which it
exists” (1999, p. 12). An effective sustainable tourism approach should maximize benefits
and minimize impacts, thereby increasing the likelihood of long-term persistence. Saarinen
(2006) argues that sustainability in tourism accounts for resource-based (e.g. impacts on
natural and cultural capital), activity-based (e.g. growth and development of industry) and
community-based (e.g. involvement of social capital in a local context) traditions. Each
of these perspectives is relevant at Machu Picchu, where tourism threatens the ecological
integrity and cultural authenticity of a cherished resource while bringing the promise of
economic enhancement and community development. To understand how the sustainable
tourism model may function in this context, the specific situational factors and challenges
that make Machu Picchu unique must be considered.
Machu Picchu: an overview
The ancient citadel of Machu Picchu was built as a royal estate for the Inca ruler Pachacuti
between 1460 and 1470 AD. The citadel remained hidden for centuries until 1911, when
American explorer Hiram Bingham became the first non-native Peruvian to discover the
ruins of the mythical “Lost City”. Bingham immediately understood the magnitude of his
find, noting that “Machu Picchu might prove to be the largest and most important ruin
discovered in South America since the days of the Spanish conquest” (Bingham, 1913).
Bingham’s discovery brought international attention to the ancient city and the awe-inspiring
landscape around it. In 1983, UNESCO officially recognized the cultural and natural value
of the area by designating it a World Heritage Site and making the preservation of Machu
Picchu a global priority (ICOMOS, 1983).
To further protect its national treasure, the Peruvian government created a National Historic
Sanctuary in 1981. Today, Machu Picchu continues to provide evidence and artifacts
that help archeologists reconstruct elements of Inca civilization (Gordon & Knopf, 2007).
The spirit of Machu Picchu has also pervaded the public imagination, fueling a nationalist
movement among Peru’s indigenous people (Flores Ochoa, 2004; van den Berghe & Flores
Ochoa, 2000). Throughout Peru’s turbulent past, Machu Picchu has also remained a pillar
of stability and an emblem of cultural fortitude. Overall, this enduring heritage highlights
a powerful cultural landscape that warrants protection (Alberts & Hazen, 2010).
The Machu Picchu ecosystem contains a variety of habitats and incredible biodiversity.
Its elevation ranges from 1850 to 4600 m and includes dry subtropical forest along the
river valleys, humid montane cloud forests on the steep mountain slopes and high-elevation
paramo grassland (Galiano Sanchez, 2000; UNEP, 2008). Machu Picchu provides refuge
for many wildlife species, including the Andean cock-of-the-rock, the ocelot and the endangered
spectacled bear (Young & Leon, 2000), and the discovery of new species in the Machu
Picchu area is not uncommon. These unique ecological features convinced the International
Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) that Machu Picchu should be expanded into
a biological protected zone for the surrounding areas. Machu Picchu is now recognized as a
“managed resource protection area” by the World Conservation Union (International Union
for Conservation of Nature, IUCN), set aside for the sustainable use of natural ecosystems
and the associated cultural resources (IUCN, 1994). The protected zone currently covers
80,535 acres and reaches far beyond the ruins (Flores Ochoa, 2004).

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920 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
Tourism at Machu Picchu
Conservation designations by international organizations underscored Machu Picchu’s universal
appeal, and the tourism industry was quick to respond (Vaughan, 2000). Before
1990, Peru accounted for less than 5% of all tourism in South America (Aguilar, Hinojosa,
Milla, & Nordt, 1992). In the 1990s, with the introduction of improved infrastructure and
reduction in violence and unrest in Peru, its exceptional natural and cultural features became
more appealing to tourists (Casado, 1998; Desforges, 2000). A publicity campaign
with the slogan “El turista es su amigo” (The tourist is your friend) was used to encourage
positive public attitudes toward tourists and promote tourism as the panacea for Peru’s
stagnant economy (Desforges, 2000). These political changes, economic reforms and aggressive
marketing strategies created an international tourist boom in the mid-1990s that
continues today. From 2000 to 2010, international tourist arrivals and expenditures in Peru
doubled (World Economic Forum, 2011) and tourism became the fastest-growing sector of
the Peruvian economy (Mitchell & Eagles, 2001).
Based on the per capita number of tourist bed nights, the Cusco region assumes a dominant
position in Peru’s international tourism hierarchy (O’Hare & Barrett, 1999); Cusco
is the nearest major city to Machu Picchu, with airline and rail connections (Mendoza
Quintana, 1997). In fact, over 90% of all international visits to Peru feature a stop in the
Cusco Department, and nearly half of these trips include a visit to Machu Picchu (Desforges,
2000; Solano, 2005). Cusco hotels and hostels receive an average of 1.5 domestic tourists
to every foreign traveler, much less than the 7:1 domestic to international ratio observed
across Peru (O’Hare & Barrett, 1999). The spatially uneven nature of tourist promotion
in Peru explains a large portion of this discrepancy. Government departments that oversee
the tourism industry are hesitant to endorse travel to outlying areas, preferring instead to
concentrate investments in established hotspots. Although there are 36,000 known archeological
sites in the Cusco region, the potential for tourism in most of these underdeveloped
locations has not been explored (Del-Arroyo, 2005; McGrath, 2004).
Machu Picchu, however, is threatened by its extreme global visibility and a growing
influx of visitors that threatens the limits of sustainability. Between 400 and 3000 people
visit the ancient Inca city every day, and visitor numbers are increasing 6–10% every year
(Emmott, 2003; Leffel, 2005; UNEP, 2008). The record annual high of almost 900,000
visitors was recorded in 2008 and – despite a slight downturn in 2009 and 2010, primarily
due to site closures related to flooding and mudslides (Andean Tour Operator, personal
communication, March 21, 2011) – that number is likely to increase (Vecchio, 2011).
Although projections indicate that international tourist numbers across Peru may begin
to stabilize in the near future (Divino & McAleer, 2010), the intensifying pressure on
Machu Picchu itself will not subside (UNEP, 2008). The UNESCO Chief Irina Boklova
acknowledged this alarming pattern in early 2011, remarking that “Machu Picchu is a victim
of its own success” (Vecchio, 2011). If Peru is going to protect one of its most valuable
resources, then management plans must address multiple challenges.
Management challenges at Machu Picchu
Tourism management within and around Machu Picchu is affected by a variety of environmental,
economic and social factors often associated with World Heritage Sites in
developing countries (Regalado-Pezua & Arias-Valencia, 2006; UNEP, 2008). Mitigating
these factors can be a daunting task, but a successful management framework may be able
to address each of the following concerns.

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 921
Ecosystem fragility
The Machu Picchu ecosystem is extremely fragile. Nearly 90% of South America’s Andean
cloud forests have already been lost, and anthropogenic changes have already damaged
cloud forests on mountain slopes within the Historic Sanctuary (Hamilton, 1995). Scientists
with Peru’s Institute of Natural Resources (INRENA) believe that noise pollution
from helicopters and other vehicular traffic led to the disappearance of Andean condors
in the region (Collyns, 2006). Current expansion of civilization and tourism infrastructure
also threatens the migration corridors and montane habitats of several endangered
species on the World Conservation Union’s Red List (IUCN, 2011; Peyton, 1980). The
ecological viability and resiliency of Machu Picchu is a global concern. With tourist activity
rising, managers need to act swiftly and decisively to protect the area’s biological
diversity.
The unique topography and geological instability of Machu Picchu add another element
to the management equation. Landslides are common along the valley’s steep slopes and
additional construction of visitor facilities atop Machu Picchu could precipitate a disaster
(Hadfield, 2001; Sassa, Fukuoka, Wang, & Wang, 2005). Scientists report that the eastern
portion of the ancient city is sliding downhill at a rate of 0.4 inches per month, and this
movement could be the precursor stage of a rockslide (Sassa et al., 2005). Prominent
Peruvian archeologist Federico Kauffman believes that in Inca times, no more than 500
small, barefooted people occupied Machu Picchu (LaFranchi, 2001), but modern tourists
– whose behavior is generally much more destructive – often exceed 2000 on a single day.
The UNESCO-supported proposed management plan incorporates a satellite monitoring
system that will track earth movements and visitor activity patterns around the historic
ruins, and UNESCO has also urged managers to develop a thorough risk preparedness plan
for the site (UNESCO, 2006). As tourist numbers increase, managers must devise consistent
and reliable strategies for preventing major site degradation.
Site accessibility
Although tourism in Machu Picchu is increasing, growth in the region has been hindered by
the ruins’ remote location. With relatively limited access, Machu Picchu is a prime example
of how inadequate transportation systems have constrained spatial expansion of the tourist
industry in Peru (O’Hare & Barrett, 1999; World Economic Forum, 2011). About 150 km
of rugged Andean highlands separate the Inca citadel from the urban center of Cusco, but
a visit to Machu Picchu is much more than a casual day trip. Most tourists arrive via a
four-hour train ride that carries passengers from Cusco to the town of Aguas Calientes at
the foot of Machu Picchu. From there, buses transport visitors on a 20-minute ride along a
dirt road up to the ruins 350 m above the Urubamba River. The ancient city itself sits on
the saddle (elevation 2430 m), surrounded by the jagged peak of Huayna Picchu (2667 m)
and Machu Picchu Mountain (2795 m).
Efforts have been made to increase the accessibility of Peru’s premier tourist destination.
The Peruvian company Inkaterra was recently cleared to open a helicopter service from
Cusco to Aguas Calientes, but the Peruvian Ministry of Transport and Communications
(MTC) reversed the decision after complaints from archeologists and environmentalists
(Collyns, 2006; Higgins, 2006). Another government plan to increase tourism capacity
– a cable car system that would transport visitors from Aguas Calientes to a proposed
tourist village atop the ridge – was indefinitely suspended following public animosity
regarding potential destruction of primary forests and important archeological remains
(Burger & Salazar, 2004). The newly constructed Carilluchayoc Bridge, inaugurated despite

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922 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
a prohibitory court order, opened a road corridor between Cusco and the small town of
Santa Teresa. This bridge provides alternative road access to Machu Picchu for visitors who
wish to bypass the expensive tourist train (however, road travelers must still be willing to
endure several treacherous days of travel on perilous unpaved roads).
Limited vehicular access encourages travelers and tourist companies to explore alternative
access to the ancient Inca city. A popular option is the Inca Trail, a stone path built by the
Incas to connect important sites throughout their Sacred Urubamba Valley. Tourists hike the
trail from near Cusco, spending 3–4 days traversing scenic and historic mountainous terrain
before descending to Machu Picchu. They experience the physical demands and the spiritual
nature of the Inca’s ancient lifestyle in an authentic, ecologically friendly way (Arellano,
2004). However, many of these “eco-travelers” are contributing to degradation of a historic
path not built to accommodate such frequent use. In 1984, 6000 tourists hiked the Inca Trail;
by 1998, 66,000 hiked the trail, with over 1500 travelers on the Trail any given day (Roach,
2002). Because of severe damage, and based on UNESCO’s recommendations, a daily limit
of 500 travelers (200 tourists, 300 porters) was implemented in 2001. The entry fee for a full
trail hike was also raised from US $17 to $50. Today, only licensed tour operators are allowed
to sell Inca Trail packages (Barcelona Field Studies Centre, 2007). Stringent regulations
have created a three- to six-month waiting list for tourists hoping to hike the Trail, and many
hikers are now seeking cheaper alternative routes (Healy, 2006). To reduce pressure on the
ruins, UNESCO has discouraged the development of new access routes to Machu Picchu
(Flores Ochoa, 2004). Increased access, however, could boost tourist numbers and increase
foreign expenditure in the region. Hence, the debate over access to Machu Picchu continues.
Local development
The promise of huge profits from increased tourist activity around Machu Picchu could
outweigh the problems of increased access and the related costs of potential site degradation
for many local communities. The Peruvian government formally recognizes the value of
tourism in employment creation and endorses the industry as an important development
strategy (Brohman, 1996; Desforges, 2000). The Sierra Highlands of Peru contain half of
the country’s people but produce just 12.5% of its GNP (O’Hare & Barrett, 1999). Many
small Amerindian villages are scattered throughout Andean Peru, and very few of these
communities derive any direct benefits from the tourist boom occurring in the Cusco area.
Aguas Calientes (also known as Machu Picchu Pueblo), the small town at the base of the
ruins, is an exception. The population of Aguas Calientes has grown from 400 to almost
4000 in less than a decade, the fastest rate of population growth in Peru (Emmott, 2003;
UNEP, 2008). This rapid growth is directly related to the international appeal of Machu
Picchu, and Aguas Calientes is earning a reputation as a tourist trap for visitors to the ancient
ruins (Leffel, 2005). Unplanned commercial growth and an overflow of transient settlers
have created other unanticipated problems for the town and its inhabitants. For example,
a lack of adequate water treatment facilities forced the town to pump untreated human
waste into local rivers, polluting the local ecosystem. Seasonal fluctuations in employment,
restricted livelihood choices and a lack of collective identity have also been cited as factors
contributing to social inequities (McGowan, 2010; UNEP, 2008).
The unequal distribution of Machu Picchu tourism profits has done little to help the
plight of most Aguas Calientes residents (Andean Tour Operator, personal communication,
March 21, 2011). PeruRail, owned by the British company Orient Express Hotels, has held
a monopoly on transportation in the Sacred Valley for nearly a decade. The company also
owns the only hotel adjacent to the ruins, the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge. Locals argue

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 923
that the foreign company, which carries 92% of the tourists from Cuzco to Machu Picchu,
takes all the money out of the region (Collyns, 2007). Studies of other tourism destinations
in the Peruvian Andes highlight the devastating effect of leakages; in many cases, over 90%
of gross tourism revenues never reach the local community (Bury, 2008; Mitchell & Eagles,
2001). Although tour operators often promote tourism as a sustainable activity, improving
the welfare of local people, in reality, this is rarely a primary goal (Blamey, 1997). To
combat this, UNESCO has advised management bodies to give 10% of ticket receipts from
Machu Picchu to the town of Aguas Calientes (Barcelona Field Studies Centre, 2007).
This new source of money could help transform local infrastructure, but research shows
that high levels of social integration, communication and trust-building between actors in
the tourism industry are necessary to guarantee enduring socio-economic benefits to host
communities (Cole, 2006). For example, tourism’s social ties to the host community are
increased when the industry creates employment opportunities for local residents to serve
as educators or interpretive guides (Jensen, 2010; McGrath, 2004). Increased ownership
and control has been a vital component of sustainable tourism projects in rural Andean
settings (Mitchell, 2008; Mitchell & Eagles, 2001); comparable approaches could produce
positive results in tourist-busy villages throughout the Machu Picchu area.
Persistence of Peruvian culture
Even if an equitable distribution of tourism revenue in struggling communities can be
achieved, local cultures may still suffer. Many of Peru’s indigenous people, the descendants
of Machu Picchu’s Inca builders, resent the government’s push for more tourist facilities and
greater access to the Cusco region (van den Berghe & Flores Ochoa, 2000). The Andean
people, proud of their cultural heritage, are concerned that international tourism threatens
the sanctity of their sacred sites. A Peruvian movement known as incanismo has responded
to these concerns, sparking new controversy over Machu Picchu’s use. Incanismo extols
the virtues of Inca civilization and vilifies Europeans as the scourge of the Americas (van
den Berghe & Flores Ochoa, 2000). On a local level, incansimo principles advocate the
preservation of historical treasures, such as Machu Picchu, for traditional purposes. For
example, the residents of Aguas Calientes, hoping to regain ownership of Machu Picchu and
repossess treasures hailed as part of their “cultural identity”, recently asked Yale University
to return Inca artifacts taken by explorer Hiram Bingham almost a century ago (Cornwell,
2006). Yale began returning the artifacts in 2011, and they will eventually be displayed at
a museum in Cusco (Regalado, 2011).
On a larger scale, the exploitation of incanismo ideology contributes to a novel form
of cultural degradation – ethnic tourism. Modern tourism packages in the Cusco region are
all linked in some way to the Inca theme, and foreigners embracing the heritage tourism
experience are eager to accept embellishments of Inca culture propagated by their guides
(McGrath, 2004; van den Berghe & Flores Ochoa, 2000). Tour operators, particularly
members of the Cusco urban elite, have therefore been able to capitalize on incanismo as
a marketable tourist commodity. The phenomenon of “staged authenticity”, where native
people adopt a contrived culture to appeal to tourist interests, is slowly pervading the
Peruvian highlands (MacCannell, 1973). The subsequent re-invention of tradition and
cultural change precipitated by the tourism-mediated commercialization of Inca culture has
transformed many aspects of life in the Machu Picchu area (Cohen, 1988).
Rising entrance fees at Machu Picchu represent another obstacle threatening to diminish
the site’s importance to local residents. Entrance fees have been raised several times in the
past 10 years, from US $10 to $45 for international tourists and approximately half that

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924 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
price for Peruvian residents – with occasional free days for locals (Andean Travel Web,
2011; Barcelona Field Studies Centre, 2007). Though the price seems to not discourage
international travelers, Amerindians who wish to visit the site for spiritual or cultural
purposes can rarely afford access and are often displaced by large-scale tourism activities.
Such conflicts between local interests and tourism-associated demands are not unique to
Machu Picchu (e.g. Rugendyke & Son, 2005). The ICOMOS highlights the difficulties in
integrating cultural resource management and tourism in its International Cultural Tourism
Charter, asserting that physical, intellectual and emotive access to cultural heritage sites is
a right that should not be denied (ICOMOS, 1999).
Many locals believe the cultural “existence value” of a place like Machu Picchu cannot
be expressed in economic terms or exchanges (Navrud & Ready, 2002), and some Peruvian
residents that oppose foreign tourism are fighting to preserve their authentic cultural
heritage. In 1999 and 2000, Cusqueños conducted a “March to Machu Picchu” denouncing
government management policies in the Historic Sanctuary (Flores Ochoa, 2004). Yachay
Wasi, a Cusco-based nongovernmental organization that works on cultural issues and sustainable
development to benefit indigenous people, urges the world to critically analyze
the consequences of mass tourism. At a 2006 United Nations forum, Yachay Wasi issued
its Inka Challenge: “Will world governments, scientists, nonprofit sponsors and tourists
respect indigenous people’s spiritual heritage, religion, burial sites, and human remains,
and will the international community respect and allow them to protect their sacred sites”
(Yachay Wasi, 2006). Concerns of indigenous people are now an integral part of UN agendas,
and efforts to support local pride and regional identity must become an important part
of management plans in places like Machu Picchu.
Institutional complexity
To compound the problems already facing the site, the Management Unit of Machu Picchu
– the entity charged with carrying out Machu Picchu’s Master Plan – is composed of
many different agencies. A recent restructuring of the Peruvian government has further
complicated matters. Each of the disparate bodies that govern Machu Picchu has a distinct
agenda, and each considers management options that balance public access, economic
opportunity, and cultural and biological preservation in the region to different degrees.
Thus, Peru’s National Institute of Culture (INC, now the Ministry of Culture) is charged
with preserving the country’s national heritage and manages the cultural and historic aspects
of the site, including the actual ruins. The INRENA (now the National Service of Protected
Areas – or SERNANP - in the Ministry of the Environment) is responsible for the flora
and fauna in the Historic Sanctuary. The Ministry of Industry, Tourism, Integration and
International Trade Negotiations (MITINCI, now the Ministry of Foreign Commerce and
Tourism – or MINCETUR) regulates tourism and development in the area, and the state’s
Tourism Promotion Commission (PromPeru) actively markets the site to potential visitors.
All activity in and around Machu Picchu is also overseen and monitored by two international
organizations, UNESCO and IUCN. A heavy emphasis on centralized decision-making
orchestrated by powerful government elites, not governance that involves a full range
of invested individuals and organizations, has been a major constraint for developing
countries trying to promote community participation in the tourism industry (Plummer
& Fennell, 2009; Tosun, 2000). At Machu Picchu, regional and local authorities have a
small but growing voice in management decisions, and efforts are underway to expand
a management committee that incorporates public and private stakeholders not currently
represented (PromPeru, personal communication, July 22, 2011). Although Machu Picchu’s

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 925
managers agree on the general goal of sustainable development, the current Master Plan
does not adequately describe how this philosophy should dictate management strategies
or who should be responsible for implementing them (UNESCO, 2011). The absence
of an effective autonomous collaborative committee to create and implement directives
and dictate the future course of Machu Picchu represents a major management problem
(Regalado-Pezua & Arias-Valencia, 2006).
Sustainable tourism priorities at Machu Picchu
To maintain the value of the site and to mollify some of the challenges described above,
most management-oriented documents at Machu Picchu have focused on a central question
– the establishment and regulation of an appropriate carrying capacity. The concept of
carrying capacity has been applied in a variety of settings and generally describes the level
of visitor use that can be appropriately accommodated in a site without altering the physical
environment or the overall visitor experience (Manning, 1999; McCool & Lime, 2001). At
Machu Picchu, tourism is pushing the limits on both fronts. Excessive use has destroyed
important archeological remains and overcrowding has negatively affected the aesthetic
enjoyment, historical immersion, imagination and solitude that appeal to many visitors
(Emmott, 2003). Larger crowds may impact the international public’s perception of Machu
Picchu as a must-see tourist attraction and detract from its value as a World Heritage Site.
Although Machu Picchu’s managers and operators acknowledge the importance of
carrying capacity studies for the preservation of their site, they cannot agree on specific
numbers. UNESCO, a conservation-minded organization, suggests that tourist numbers
should be cut to 800 per day and visitors should wear soft shoes to reduce pressure on the
ruins (Barcelona Field Studies Centre, 2007). Agencies hoping to increase tourism revenue
in the region believe that the estimate is far too conservative. Peru’s INC, which oversees
day-to-day running of Machu Picchu, claims that the site can cope with 3000 tourists per day
(Emmott, 2003). Orient Express Hotels, the private British company that runs the Machu
Picchu Sanctuary Lodge and the PeruRail tourist train from Cuzco, believes that the site
can easily sustain more than 4000 daily visitors (Collyns, 2007). Seeking a compromise,
Peru’s Regional Office of Culture tentatively accepted a management plan (effective 15 July
2011) created with input from UNESCO that capped daily entries to Machu Picchu at 2500
visitors, with further restrictions for specific locations within the Sanctuary (PromPeru,
personal communication, July 22, 2011). However, enduring consensus in Machu Picchu’s
carrying capacity debate is unlikely given the conflicting priorities of the site’s complex
management conglomerate. In fact, research in multiple tourism settings has shown that
attempts to define optimal carrying capacity in complex real-world situations are generally
futile (McCool & Lime, 2001). In many cases, the failure of management plans is due
in part to an unbalanced emphasis on overall carrying capacity and a lack of specificity
regarding management goals and objectives (UNEP, 2008).
The first step toward a sustainable future for tourism at Machu Picchu therefore involves
the identification of appropriate management priorities. Regional authorities generally place
a premium on tourism promotion and economic expansion, while international agencies
often focus on conservation and preservation. Integration of these concepts is central to
successful management in parks where multiple issues influence management decisions
(McCool & Moisey, 2008). Therefore, all parties with a vested interest in tourism need
to come together and engage in participatory planning focused on unified goals (Mitchell
& Eagles, 2001; Regalado-Pezua & Arias-Valencia, 2006). At Machu Picchu, these goals
can be expressed in a pyramid of priorities (Figure 1). Site management should begin with

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926 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
Sustainable Tourism:
A Pyramid of Priorities
Sustainable Use
(Maintain resource value)
Social Viability
(Stakeholder satisfaction, collaborative planning)
Resource Utility
(Support local development, increase economic benefits)
Resource Integrity
(Protect biological diversity, prevent site degradation, preserve cultural heritage)
Figure 1. Pyramid of priorities to guide sustainable tourism management.
foundational efforts to preserve resource integrity, capturing the fundamental essence of
the site and its unique “spirit of place” (Shackley, 2006). Once the protection of basic assets
is secured, resource utility leading to social viability becomes the primary focus. This
synergistic, hierarchical network of factors results in sustainable resource use, generating
a positive feedback loop that theoretically persists in perpetuity. Although the pyramid
of priorities concept may serve as a valuable point of origin for planning efforts, actual
management requires far more explicit goals and actions. Successful growth of tourism in
Machu Picchu and other World Heritage Sites may ultimately depend on an objective-driven,
indicator-based adaptive management framework.
Sustainable tourism: an adaptive resource management framework
Defining management objectives and actions
A major criticism of Machu Picchu’s existing Master Plan, as well as management guidelines
for international tourist destinations in other developing countries, has been the ambiguity
of goals and strategies and a conspicuous absence of detail for possible actions (Schianetz
& Kavanagh, 2008; UNEP, 2004; Zan & Lusiani, 2011). This criticism could be resolved
using an adaptive resource management (ARM) framework, which applies knowledge from
related disciplines to address contemporary tourism issues (Farrell & Twining-Ward, 2004).
Variations of the ARM approach to informed decision-making have been applied in
a variety of settings. Early iterations still in use today include the Limits of Acceptable
Change (LAC; Stankey, Cole, Lucas, Peterson, & Frissell, 1985) and the Visitor Impact
Management Model (VIM; Graefe, Kuss, & Vaske, 1990), both of which aim to set limits
and minimize negative impacts from recreation and tourism on public lands in the United
States. Newer strategies such as the Tourism Optimization Management Model (TOMM;
Miller & Twining-Ward, 2005; Twining-Ward & Butler, 2002) and the Integrated Monitoring
and Adaptive Management System (iMAMS; QStation, 2009) have been used by
Australian tourism operators to assess, monitor and successfully achieve sustainable outcomes.
Although research has identified several distinct decision-making methods used
in the adaptive management process, many similarities exist (McFadden, Hiller, & Tyre,
2011). Each framework relies on specific objectives or standards, associated indicators

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 927
that facilitate monitoring of these objectives and corresponding actions that help to reduce
uncertainty associated with decision outcomes and ensure that desired objectives are being
met (Allen et al., 2011; McCool & Lime, 2001).
An effective ARM approach consists of several basic steps (Knutson et al. 2011; Miller
& Twining-Ward, 2005). First, managers must define the problem and a corresponding key
objective that represents a desired outcome. At Machu Picchu, the fundamental objective
might be to maintain the site’s value as a unique natural, cultural and economic resource.
Next, managers must identify a set of means objectives that support the fundamental
objective. At Machu Picchu, these objectives might include simultaneously minimizing
the impacts and maximizing the benefits of tourism. Other targets or means subobjectives
could then be constructed, creating a transparent network structure to help guide the
decision-making process. For example, means subobjectives under the broader category of
“minimizing the impacts of tourism” might address the challenge of ecosystem fragility,
whereas means subobjectives under the “maximizing the benefits of tourism” could focus
on issues such as site accessibility and community development. Each means subobjective
is associated with a corresponding set of management actions necessary to achieve the
desired goal (Figure 2). In this proposed framework, objectives are designed to integrate
stakeholder concerns and specifically address the major challenges facing Machu Picchu
from a social–ecological perspective that incorporates human, natural and support systems
(Schianetz & Kavanagh, 2008). The traditionally narrow focus of previous efforts
to define tourism goals has restricted progress in other protected areas. By incorporating
noneconomic factors and simultaneously balancing costs and benefits, the ARM objectives
outlined here provide a solid foundation for long-term success (Moscardo, 2011).
The input of all groups, including local residents, tourists, tour operators and site managers,
is a critical component of objective and action specification (Plummer & Fennell,
2009; Stronza, 2001). A meta-analysis of international adaptive management supported this
assertion, revealing that decision-theoretic approaches emphasizing stakeholder communication
early in the process typically resulted in less complex models with greater efficacy
addressing specific decision problems (McFadden et al., 2011). Adaptive management attempts
that experience only limited success are often generic top-down systems focused
around expert opinion, not place-based frameworks guided by local knowledge and concerns
(Miller & Twining-Ward, 2006; Schianetz & Kavanagh, 2008). For example, a study
of a rural Bolivian ecotourism destination demonstrated the importance of context-specific
outcomes and the invaluable role of local contributions in the accomplishment of long-term
goals (Jamal & Stronza, 2009). For ARM to function properly at Machu Picchu, local
stakeholders should be involved throughout the constantly evolving planning process. This
intentional inclusion of local input could help to resolve two of the major challenges facing
Machu Picchu: local development and the persistence of Peruvian culture.
Selecting appropriate indicators
Although the identification of explicit management outcomes is important, goals and objectives
alone are insufficient. A set of measured attributes must also be included to monitor
progress and ensure that action goals are met. Recognizing the value of this approach,
the UN World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) has created a guide for the selection of
performance indicators that measure the effects of tourism on the environment and poverty
alleviation in the developing world (Miller & Twining-Ward, 2005; WTO, 2004). The nature
of these sustainability indicators varies from site to site, but core indicators in the
UNWTO framework generally focus on aspects including critical ecosystems, maintenance

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928 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
Figure 2. Proposed adaptive management framework for Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu.

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 929
of natural capital stock, long-term use intensity, local involvement, well-developed plans,
resident/customer satisfaction and tourism’s contribution to the economy (Miller, 2001;
WTO, 1996). Research indicates that tourism experts around the world believe both objective
(quantitative) and subjective (qualitative) metrics can provide important information
(Choi & Sirakaya, 2006; Miller, 2001). Quantitative indicators often include raw data, ratios
and percentages; qualitative indicators might incorporate categorical indices, and normative
or nominal information associated with a resource (WTO, 2004). For indicators to function
properly, they should be condensed into a concise set carefully selected by integrated, multidisciplinary
advisory panels composed of expert and nonexpert stakeholders (Schianetz &
Kavanagh, 2008). The indicators should also be subjected to a systematic screening process
to identify limitations and methodological challenges (Miller & Twining-Ward, 2005).
Overall, effective indicators are relevant, reliable, feasible and stable over an extended
period of time (QStation, 2009; Twining-Ward & Butler, 2002).
At Machu Picchu, a diverse suite of quantitative and qualitative indicators based on
the UNWTO’s framework could measure and monitor progress and direct actions related
to target objectives (Table 1). Some of these indicators include information that is already
available through standard surveillance monitoring; others require additional research and
data collection. For example, the role of tourism in community development could be
tracked through quantitative evaluations of tourism integration (e.g. percentage of guides
that are locals or percentage of hotels operated by locals) or qualitative assessments of
community involvement (e.g. stakeholder ratings of perceived collaboration in the tourism
planning process). Similarly, the economic benefits of tourism could be assessed by quantitative
methods (e.g. daily tourism revenues) or qualitative approaches (e.g. stakeholder
ratings of the distributional equity of tourism profits). Machu Picchu’s Management
Committee has already identified many potential indicators in the site’s comprehensive
234-page Master Plan (INC, 2005). However, the Committee has yet to devise a consistent
strategy for implementing and monitoring these performance indicators (UNESCO, 2011;
Zan & Lusiani, 2011). This stage of adaptive management – the monitoring phase – is
where many sustainable tourism projects break down (Twining-Ward & Butler, 2002).
Monitoring progress
Monitoring is more than a stand-alone activity used to detect trends. In the ARM framework,
monitoring can help managers determine which management practices meet specified
objectives and develop flexible strategies for resolving recurring problems (Knutson et
al., 2011; Plummer & Fennell, 2009). In practice, the major limitation of the UNWTO’s
approach to indicators has been a heavy focus on the development of indicators with little
emphasis on their actual implementation (Miller & Twining-Ward, 2006).
For monitoring in ARM to be beneficial, it must be an iterative component of
management-based science (Nichols & Williams, 2006). Managers should initiate a particular
management option, evaluate its impact and learn from the results – adjusting management
strategies as understanding improves (Williams, 2011a; Figure 3). This learning can
occur “actively” through the deliberate reduction of uncertainty associated with particular
outcomes, often using an experimental approach involving different actions on multiple
units simultaneously. Alternatively, the learning can occur “passively” as a byproduct of
systems that focus on changes in resource conditions with respect to desired objectives
using one model at a time (Williams, 2011b). The passive approach is probably more feasible
in the nascent stages of ARM at Machu Picchu, where managers are under pressure
to implement actions that generate an immediate response (e.g. temporary site closures,

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930 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
Table 1. Suggested indicators for specified objectives in adaptive management framework at Machu
Picchu a .
Objectives (with corresponding
actions) Potential objective indicators b Potential subjective indicators b
Protect biological diversity
Maximize amount of protected
habitat
Increase populations of T&E
species
Minimize land use change and
fragmentation in Urubamba
Valley
Prevent physical degradation
Minimize erosion and
landslide potential
Minimize and properly
dispose off waste
Preserve cultural heritage
Minimize damage to historic
Inca structures
Increase site accessibility for
spiritual purposes
Minimize exploitation of
ethnic tourism
Minimize socio-cultural
impacts of tourism-related
activities
Support local development
Increase local involvement in
tourism industry
Improve access and local
infrastructure
Increase educational
opportunities
No. of local species
downgraded on IUCN Red
List/yr
Amount of habitat restored
for T&E species
Size/viability of threatened
populations
Percent change in interior
forest area and edge/yr.
Population density within 10
km of site
No. of people and visitor
density across
spatial/temporal scales
Soil loss in valley and in
ruins/yr
Total weight of waste
generated/month
Percent wastewater treated
before disposal
No. of historic structures
damaged/yr
Percent revenue spent on
structural renovation/yr
No. of people attending
cultural events at site/yr
No. of interpretive signs
highlighting Inca heritage
No. of locals visiting site/yr
No. of crimes committed in
region/yr
Site protection priority ratings
(IUCN conventions)
Site resiliency and habitat
integrity ratings (experts)
Site susceptibility to climate
change ratings (experts)
Landslide potential ratings
(experts)
Ratings of waste management
procedures
Perceived impacts of waste in
local communities
General appearance of site
ratings
Perceived authenticity of
interpretive efforts
Tour guide knowledge and
performance ratings
Ratings of perceived cultural
degradation among locals
Opinions toward current tourism
practices
Percentage of guides at site Perceived collaboration in
that are locals
planning process
Percentage of hotels operated Rankings for levels of planned
by locals
development control
No. of locals employed in Regulatory framework efficacy
tourism industry
ratings
Ratio of foreign tourists to Business environment and
local residents
infrastructure ratings (locals
No. of visitors/week reaching and managers)
site from various access Perceivedcontributionof
points (road, train, etc.) tourism to local development
No. of social services
(including education
programs) available to
locals
projects
(Continued on next page)

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 931
Table 1. Suggested indicators for specified objectives in adaptive management framework at Machu
Picchu a . (Continued)
Objectives (with corresponding
actions) Potential objective indicators b Potential subjective indicators b
Increase economic benefits
Increase amount of foreign No. of tourists visiting site per Prioritization of tourism
expenditures
day, week, etc.
rankings on multiple scales
Increase flow of tourism Tourism revenue per day, Tourism marketing materials
profits to local communities week,etc.(+ leakage) efficacy ratings
(reduce leakage)
No. of agencies/operators Distributional efficiency of
Enhance marketing/promotion using site
tourism profit ratings
of tourism
No. of jobs added by tourism Perceived impact of imported
Ensure stakeholder satisfaction
sector
Percent economy based on
tourism (local, regional,
national)
Indirect/direct economic
impacts of tourism in the
area
tourism goods and services
Maximize visitors’ satisfaction No. of conflicts/confrontations Satisfaction level ratings for
Maximize locals’ satisfaction between tourists and locals, visitors and managers
Maximize managers’
locals/yr.
Visitor perceptions of trip value
satisfaction
No. of protests/complaints given investment
filed against
Perceived crowding
management/yr.
Sustainability ratings for
No. of repeat visitors/yr. operations
a Full adaptive management framework is depicted in Figure 2.
b Potential indicators are based on previous research and guidelines specified by the World Tourism Organization
(WTO, 2004). The Machu Picchu Management Committee could adapt this framework to provide more specific,
measurable and verifiable indicators.
regulating visitor numbers, altered pricing schemes, restorations, education campaigns). As
information is gathered, comparisons of desired outcomes and observed responses of the
selected indicators facilitate a movement toward more promising management alternatives
(Miller & Twining-Ward, 2005). Tourism managers at North Head Quarantine Station in
New South Wales have already put these principles into practice (QStation, 2009). Using
their iMAMS integrated monitoring approach, the QStation team developed a sustainability
index to determine the percentage of environmental, cultural, social and economic indicators
performing within their accepted range. Adaptive management responses are initiated
when index scores are unsatisfactory.
Although proposed solutions to complex management problems can be difficult to
identify, ARM is specifically designed to deal with complicated circumstances. The ARM
approach functions best in situations where controllability is high (i.e. management has the
ability to affect resources) and uncertainty abounds (i.e. responses to management actions
may vary), making it an ideal fit for remote World Heritage Sites like Machu Picchu (Allen
et al., 2011). In summary, the constantly evolving implementation of ARM involves goals
and objectives that are used to specify desired outcomes, indicators that serve as metrics
for measuring the success of these outcomes, and monitoring that provides a mechanism to
determine if these outcomes are being met. These interrelationships highlight the iterative,

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932 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
Continue
monitoring
Set objectives/
Define community values
Develop appropriate indicators
Develop a monitoring program/
Inventory conditions
Collect information/
Are objectives being met?
Yes No
Initiate a management
response
Monitor
response
Figure 3. Schematic management diagram demonstrating adaptive management monitoring principles
(adapted from Hammitt & Cole, 1998; Miller & Twining-Ward, 2005). Adapted version reprinted
with permission of the authors and John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
cyclical nature of an effectively flexible implementation of ARM and help explain why
adoption of ARM may be critical to promoting sustainable tourism at Machu Picchu.
Implementing ARM at Machu Picchu
The Historic Sanctuary of Machu Picchu already has many of the essential ingredients for
ARM in place. The site’s Master Plan, backed by UNESCO, encompasses a comprehensive
resource assessment and outlines management recommendations (INC, 2005). The Plan
would provide a valuable starting point for conversations among stakeholders focused
on objectives, potential actions and corresponding indicators (Miller & Twining-Ward,
2005). The Machu Picchu Management Committee, composed of local to international
agencies, has already expressed a desire to expand and incorporate a broader range of
actors in the public and private sectors (PromPeru, personal communication, July 22,
2011). If open lines of communication are established and the ARM process is initiated,
Machu Picchu’s managers may finally be able to successfully overcome the obstacle of
institutional complexity with a long-term management framework that is flexible and open
to participatory decision-making (Williams, 2011a). Presumably, this cooperative approach
would generate greater social and financial support across multiple scales.

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Journal of Sustainable Tourism 933
Other challenges remain, however. The Management Committee must determine which
agencies and entities are responsible for implementing specified actions and monitoring
progress. These agencies must be individually accountable for certain aspects of the site
(e.g. protected habitat, historic structures, tourism profits, visitor satisfaction), and they
must be collectively devoted to the fundamental objective of resource protection. Managers
must simultaneously recognize the local value and global importance of Machu Picchu,
balancing conservation-oriented edicts from organizations such as UNESCO with regional
economic growth (Saarinen, 2006). A stakeholder meeting would set the ARM process in
motion (Miller & Twining-Ward, 2005), extending the framework described here to create
a more explicit action plan guided by site-specific knowledge of management objectives
and measurable indicators of immediate, mid-term and long-term utility. Ultimately, a
collaborative ARM approach should help to systematically resolve some of the challenges
that impede the development of sustainable tourism at Machu Picchu, helping Peru to
ensure that its “Lost City” is preserved in perpetuity.
Conclusion
Sustainable tourism resource management is an elusive goal in most developing countries,
where ecological and cultural heritage is often sacrificed in pursuit of economic wellbeing
(Keatinge, 1982). Peru’s economic growth and aggressive promotion of tourism have placed
severe demographic pressure on its most valuable tourism asset, Machu Picchu, creating
divergent opinions over management priorities. This conflict of interest is magnified by the
site’s unparalleled combination of biological and archeological resources, fragility, remote
location, extreme local poverty, emerging cultural tensions and institutional complexity. Existing
management plans have provided few answers, generally exacerbating disagreement
among stakeholders and pushing the groups charged with protecting Machu Picchu to the
breaking point (Regalado-Pezua & Arias-Valencia, 2006; Zan & Lusiani, 2011). The future
of the ancient Inca city depends on a delicate balance between preservation, utilization and
sustainable growth.
This paper suggests that an adaptive resource management approach may help planners
and managers guide Machu Picchu’s growth. The ARM tourism framework would
help to identify management priorities, facilitating the creation of cohesive goals and objectives
among the various agencies responsible for conservation and development in the
Historic Sanctuary. By individually monitoring specific indicators of quality across various
spatial and temporal scales, managers could potentially address multiple management considerations
that affect local residents, foreign tourists, private tour operators and regional
governments. Furthermore, managers could foster resilience and flexibility by learning
from inevitable mistakes and surprising responses, adjusting actions to better meet specified
goals (Allen et al., 2011; QStation, 2009). Implementation of ARM would likely
require substantial international investment, but a global commitment may be necessary
for long-term conservation and appreciation of Machu Picchu and other premier World
Heritage Sites (Saarinen, 2006). As more unique places around the world begin to feel
the impending pressure of increased visitation (Weaver, 2011), the ARM approach may
be necessary to support sustainable development that addresses environmental, economic
and social challenges. If ARM is adopted successfully at Machu Picchu, then lessons
learned from this sustainability framework could inform tourism practices at other heritage
destinations surrounded by complex political circumstances and socioeconomic contexts.

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934 L.R. Larson and N.C. Poudyal
Acknowledgements
The authors wish to thank the anonymous Andean tour operators who supplied first-hand accounts of
the current tourism situation at Machu Picchu. The authors also wish to thank PromPeru (La Comisión
de Promoción del Perú para la Exportación y el Turismo) for providing updated information about
the current state of management efforts within the Historic Sanctuary.
Notes on contributors
Lincoln R. Larson is a graduate student in the Natural Resource Recreation and Tourism program at the
University of Georgia’s Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources, USA. His interdisciplinary
research focuses on a range of topics, including outdoor recreation, environmental education and
human dimensions of conservation. Lincoln’s interest in sustainable tourism stems from his work on
ecotourism projects in Peru.
Neelam C. Poudyal is an Assistant Professor of Natural Resource Recreation and Tourism at the
Warnell School of Forestry and Natural Resources, University of Georgia, USA. He teaches courses
on Ecotourism and Sustainable Development and Recreation Resource Management, and the main
themes of his research program include the human dimensions and economic analysis of natural
resource recreation and tourism in the United States and beyond.
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ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE IN THE
TROPICAL HIGHLANDS OF WESTERN SOUTH AMERICA
KENNETH R. YOUNG and JENNIFER K. LIPTON
Department of Geography and the Environment, University of Texas at Austin,
Austin, TX 78712, U.S.A
E-mail: kryoung@mail.utexas.edu
Abstract. Climate changes occurring during the past several decades in the high elevations of the
tropical Andes Mountains have implications for the native plant and animal species, for the ecological
integrity of the affected land cover, and for the human-biophysical systems involved. Consequences are
also probable for rural inhabitants and their livelihoods, especially for farmers and pastoralists. Biophysical
factors have always changed in these mountainous zones; the extent and degree of alteration
acting on native and agricultural biodiversity is the concern. Addressing these climate changes is probably
within the adaptive capacity of many local land-use systems, unless external socioeconomic or
political forces are unsupportive or antagonistic. Suitable programs to provide information, subsidies,
or alternatives could be designed. We highlight some of the inherent resiliencies of natural and cultural
systems in the Andes and suggest that these systems contain lessons that could be useful elsewhere, in
terms of the traits that allow for the sustainable utilization of dynamic and heterogeneous landscapes.
1. Introduction
Indications of dramatic and accelerating changes in the high elevations of the Andes
Mountains come from scientific observers who commented on retreating valley
glaciers and ice cap margins above 5000 m elevation (Hastenrath and Ames, 1995;
Kaser and Georges, 1999; Francou et al., 2003). One example is from the Quelccaya
ice cap in southern Peru where 37 years of observations document an increased
rate of retreat during the 1990s (Thompson et al., 2003). While loss of glacial ice
signals climatic changes at higher elevations, at lower elevations the signs are more
subtle, influencing landscapes and their human-biophysical systems. A human imprint
in the Andes is near ubiquitous: agricultural fields reach to above 4000 m
and livestock, especially cattle and sheep, graze to snowline. Local people interact
with landscapes as they grow crops, extract natural resources such as firewood, and
graze livestock (Gade, 1999; Mayer, 2002). Additionally, the rural inhabitants of the
Andes are immersed in formal and informal institutions concerned with governing
resources. To some extent, their decisions in relation to changing environmental
controls must themselves be regulated by economic, cultural, political, and legal
concerns. Their livelihoods and local landscape perspectives are important to consider
when studying climate change and integrating its effects into large-scale policy
considerations.
Climatic Change (2006) 78: 63–102
DOI: 10.1007/s10584-006-9091-9 c○ Springer 2006

64 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
The consequences of changing climatic processes on these areas are more subtle
than solely the loss of glacial ice upslope. They will be complicated for both natural
and cultural systems: shifts in plant species dominances, alterations in primary
productivity, and changes in the kind and tempo of disturbance regimes. Human
responses to the effects of climate change will likely be complex and variable.
Individuals living within kilometers of mountain glaciers are directly affected by
environmental perturbations. Implications for them might be alterations in the cover
of spontaneously occurring and cultivated plants, in water resources, in exposure
to natural hazards, and in household or community decisions on when and where
to farm. Those shifts will affect the native biological diversity of the Andes, which
is notable in its richness and uniqueness. In particular, the tropical latitudes of the
Andes were recently ranked as one of the world’s most important and threatened
biodiversity hotspots by Manne et al. (1999), Myers et al. (2000), and Brooks
et al. (2002). This biodiversity is often adjacent to landscapes with high cultural
diversity, as measured by ethnic or linguistic differences (Fjeldsä et al., 1999). There
are numerous species with limited ranges (Young, 1995), leading to high placeto-place
differences in species composition, for example, for birds (Poulsen and
Krabbe, 1998; Ruggiero, 2001), plants (Young et al., 1997; Luteyn, 1999; Young and
León, 1999; Keating et al., 2002; Young et al., 2002; Leimbeck et al., 2004), insects
(Brehm et al., 2003), and aquatic organisms (González and Watling, 2003; Koínek
and Villalobos, 2003). Biodiversity concerns are mediated through institutions,
including community and household decisions on extraction and management of
species considered useful.
In this paper, we evaluate the likely consequences of ongoing and future climate
changes for land-use systems of rural parts of the tropical Andes, for the
various institutions that make land management decisions for the respective countries
and landscapes, for the native plants and animals, and for the institutions
involved in their conservation or utilization. Most of our experiences and examples
are drawn from fieldwork in the Peruvian Andes, but many of our conclusions
appear to be valid regionally. We obtained additional insights from participation
in formal and informal projects examining the state of conservation and rural development
programs in Peru. These included national-level reviews (Rodríguez
and Young, 2000), and regional assessments (León and Young, 1996; Young and
León, 1999, 2001). Our eventual goal is to provide sufficient information so that
the climate-related changes in the tropical Andes can be compared and contrasted
with fluxes in other places worldwide. We suspect that some of the inherent resiliencies
of natural and cultural systems in the Andes contain lessons for use
elsewhere.
We begin with a case study from an area in and around Huascaran National Park,
containing the world’s largest protected tropical mountain landscape. We then place
those findings in the context of the general features of Andean rural livelihoods,
stressing the aspects that seem most relevant to climate change. Finally, we evaluate
the likely resilience of those coupled human-biophysical systems, especially as

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 65
viewed through the lens of governance and decision making by the people and
institutions involved.
2. Case Study: Huascaran National Park and Surroundings
in North-Central Peru
Huascaran National Park (HNP), located at approximately 9 ◦ 30 ′ S and 77 ◦ 49 ′ Win
the Department of Ancash, north-central Peru, protects tropical alpine vegetation
communities along the highest mountain chain in the tropical Andes, the Cordillera
Blanca (Figures 1 and 2). The information in this case study serves as an example of
the interlinkages that exist among different institutional frameworks all operating
within one defined study area. Our goal is to reveal some of the challenges and
benefits facing decision-makers concerned with biodiversity and climate change in
tropical mountain environments.
The Cordillera Blanca is one of the world’s youngest exposed granitic batholithic
intrusions (Atherton and Petford, 1996; McNulty and Farber, 2002). Extending approximately
180 km parallel to the Peruvian coast with over 200 peaks that surpass
5000 m elevation, HNP encompasses most of the mountain range. It covers 340,000
ha and includes Mt. Huascarán (6768 m) as the highest point (Figure 2). Given the
tropical location, annual seasonal temperature variability is minimal staying at
approximately 15 ◦ C at mid-elevations. However, in the upper elevations diurnal
temperatures may fluctuate dramatically, resulting in daily freeze-thaw events. The
Cordillera Blanca glaciers rarely extend below about 4700 m and as evidence suggests,
this limit has been moving upwards as glaciers retreat, increasing the size and
number of proglacial lakes, which can be dangerous if they become destabilized
(Ames et al., 1989; Lliboutry et al., 1977; Kaser and Osmoston, 2002). Glacial
runoff, 296 glacial lakes, and seasonal rainfall (October to March) provide not only
water for drinking, agriculture, and industry for the park’s peripheral communities
and cities, but also hydroelectricity for distant urban centers on the Peruvian
coast. Amidst the numerous glacial valleys that intersect the eastern and western
flanks of the Cordillera Blanca, with steep elevation gradients ranging from 1900
m to upwards of 6000 m, is an heterogeneous mosaic of vegetation and land-cover
types. High Andean woodlands of Polylepis, Buddleia, and Gynoxis and stands
of Puya raimondii, form isolated patches throughout the national park (Smith,
1988). Cushion-plant communities, wetlands, and natural grasslands are also considered
a top priority by the park managers for flora and fauna habitat conservation.
Vicuña (Vicugna vicugna), the Andean bear (Tremarctos ornatus), Andean
huemul deer (Hippocamelus antisensis), and the Andean condor (Vultur gryphus)
are species under protection and conservation priorities within the national park
(INRENA, 2003).
Approximately 337,520 inhabitants, mainly bilingual Quechua-Spanish speakers,
live on both sides of the mountain range and are engaged in livelihood strategies

66 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
Figure 1. National protected area system in Peru, with the general location of the case study indicated
by arrows.
of subsistence and market-based agro-pastoralism, mining, and tourism. Population
in urban centers, such as the departmental capital of Huaraz, has increased
over the past few decades due to migration from rural areas and has been driven
by job opportunities in commercial centers. Situated just to the west and parallel to
the Cordillera Blanca is the intensively cultivated Santa River Valley, where urban
development, infrastructure, and services are more pronounced than on the eastern
side of the mountains (Figure 2). On the eastern flank of the mountain range
are smaller populated centers and more isolated valleys, including the Mosna and
Pomabamba River Valleys, which flow to the Marañon River system and eventually
drain to the Amazon basin. Private property owners and peasant communities

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 67
Figure 2. Location of the case study in north-central Peru of Huascaran National Park (which includes
much of the Cordillera Blanca), the Cordillera Huayhuash Reserved Zone, and major urban centers.
(comunidades campesinas) have lands or perceived property rights that extend into
the national park. Agricultural production of alfalfa, corn, wheat, barley, and beans
occurs predominantly at elevations between 2000–3200 m. Within intermontane
basins and valleys, potatoes, ulluco, oca, broad beans, and quinoa are frequently
cultivated from 2500–4000 m. Communities in the study area also often utilize

68 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
upper elevations (3900 to more than 5000 m), dominated by grasslands, woodland
patches, shrublands, and wetland plants, for seasonal rotational grazing of mostly
cattle, horses, and sheep and, less frequently, alpacas and llamas.
The delimiting boundary for the national park was established at roughly the
4000 m elevation line in 1975. Prior to the creation of the park, the highland
area was under the jurisdiction of large farms (haciendas), private ownership, or
mining concessions. Peruvian agrarian reform took place between the years of
1969–1975 and was coincident with regional rebuilding and restructuring following
a destructive 1970 earthquake and subsequent ice and rock avalanche that took the
lives of over 18,000 people in the immediate area (Lliboutry et al., 1977; Kaser
and Osmoston, 2002). The park was established for the conservation of the unique
flora and fauna and as a tourist destination for Peruvians and foreigners alike.
Local people, who often self-identify as campesinos (peasants), are involved in
seasonal adventure- and ecotourism-based economies as guides or porters and in
commercial services, in addition to traditional agropastoral and mining livelihoods
(Bartle, 1993). In many zones of the park, conflicts exist between local interests
and park directives regarding access to and use of what is legally considered park
territory.
Located approximately 120 km to the southeast of HNP is another range, the
Cordillera Huayhuash (Figures 1 and 2). This mountain range extends for 26 km
between 10 ◦ 12 ′ and 10 ◦ 27 ′ S and about 76 ◦ 55 ′ N and has over 117 glaciers with
a majority draining to the Pacific (Ames et al., 1989). Long-term agro-pastoral use
has facilitated culturally created biological diversity while areas of Polylepis forest
patches harbor distinct avifauna habitat (Cerrate, 1979; Oxford University, 1996).
The area surrounding the Cordillera Huayhuash was officially integrated in 2002
into the Peruvian national protected-area system and is categorized as a Reserved
Zone (Resolucion Ministerial, 2002), while it awaits formal categorization and
delimitation.
In-residence during 2002 and 2003, the second author conducted fieldwork in
core and periphery communities of HNP and the Cordillera Huayhuash. As part
of a study on landscape change and national park management, the research included
collecting ground truth data for different land cover types. Semi-structured
interviews were carried out with 117 individuals (89 men, 28 women). All interviewees
lived in the park periphery and had a vested interest in the resources of
the region; they were, therefore, defined as stakeholders. Key informants interviewed
were engaged in park management, glacial research, peasant community
groups, and/or individuals with private interests. Interviews were conducted in
homes, fields, and offices in Spanish and Quechua with the help of field assistants.
Interviews and discussions with household, community, and regional-level
officials provided qualitative data for the analysis of perspectives on landscape
change and potential responses to climate change. During the semi-structured interviews,
the informants were asked open-ended questions covering the following
areas: household and community land use and land-cover change, perceptions of

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 69
climatic changes, glacial ice limit differences, agro-pastoral production rates and
changes, institutional participation, and interactions with the park. Fieldwork also
included community mapping to obtain Quechua toponyms, land-cover categories,
and historical land-use and land-cover descriptions. To obtain the interviewees’
perspectives and discourse on park management and landscape change, data were
sought at various levels of institutional hierarchy. The institutional interactions and
forms of adaptive governance that occurred within this one region help illustrate
the complex levels and issues involved in resiliency of land-use systems and biodiversity
conservation.
We became sensitized to the perceptions of climate change on future landscape
scenarios by conversations with local residents. A typical example is Felix Valverde,
who lives in the park periphery. We visited his lands in July 2002 and 2003. Born and
raised in the same locale, he lives with his family at 4290 m. They are members of the
peasant community of Aquia, located 18 km to the southwest of his dwellings. Their
livelihood is dependent upon livestock, subsistence agriculture, and occasional
wage-work. The Valverdes personally own over 100 head of livestock, mostly sheep,
horses and burros. In addition, in exchange for goods, they serve as guardians for
other animals that are owned by Aquia community members who live closer to
town. The Valverde family has agricultural lands at lower elevations closer to the
town where they grow crops such as wheat, beans and maize, plus Andean tubers:
mashua, oca, potatoes, and ulluco. With a newly paved road, they are able to travel
to their fields and to town more frequently than in the past.
Señor Valverde’s concerns about glacial retreat and the impact that it has made
in his life—and would make in the future—were striking. Over the years he has
watched as the glaciers have receded, and he knows that fairly soon they might be
gone; some small glacial caps in the valley where he lives have already disappeared.
As he identified different (de)glaciated mountain peaks, with elevations ranging
from approximately 5095–5250 meters around his homestead, his recall of where
the glacial margins used to be was often associated with personal events in his life.
For example, in the 1960s he worked for a Peruvian-owned silver mine and on his
way up to work over the pass, he used to cut off pieces of the glacial ice. Today
there is a layer of talus to demarcate this past glacial lobe boundary. Thinking
about this kind of change provoked him to comment upon how the mountains will
soon be “desnudo” (naked) and only rock will remain. He is certain that this will
happen within his lifetime and that it will affect his livelihood. He further noted that
the immediate environmental changes were not only related to the disappearance
of the glaciers, but also to a difference in water drainage patterns and a drop in
precipitation. As glaciers have receded, some drainage and runoff channels that
were accessed by the Valverde family diminished in flow and were now either
intermittent or dry. As a result of this change, he needed to obtain water from
sources further away where runoff and glacial melt had increased. Also, he related
how, in some valley bottoms, lakes and wetland areas increased in size, so they had
changed the sites where they took their sheep for pasturing.

70 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
According to more than half (56%) of informants, glacial land cover is undergoing
the most evident rate of change throughout the area. This is corroborated
by glacial inventories and long term studies of glacial recession completed in
the study area (Ames et al., 1989; Hastenrath and Ames, 1995a, 1995b; Kaser et
al., 1996; Kaser and Georges, 1997; Morales, 2000; Thompson, 2002; Kaser and
Osmoston, 2002; Thompson et al., 2003; Francou et al., 2003; Silverio and Jaquet,
2005). Georges (2004) reported that glacial cover has decreased from an estimated
extent of 800–850 km 2 in the 1930s to only 619 km 2 by the beginning of the 1990s.
We observed that people from different communities in our study area have, with
a sense of humor, renamed the recently deglaciated mountains. Local toponyms
that once described a shape of an ice cap, now refer to the loss of that glacier. For
example, a mountain that was called “sleeping lion” for the shape of the glacier is
now called “lion has left” (that is, león dormido has become león se ha ido). Or in
the local dialect a mountain that once had a glacier is now called simply “mountain
without glacier.”
Quechua households and communities within the study area had environmental
perceptions that were informal indicators of seasonal climate variability and
change. Approximately two thirds (68%) of informants, including Sr. Valverde,
when questioned commented on how precipitation has decreased compared to the
past. Many local residents noted a decline in hail and sleet, which seasonally blanketed
landscapes with overnight accumulations of more than a few centimeters.
Sleet seemed to serve as an important environmental predictor for the likelihood of
damaging frosts, affecting seasonal agricultural patterns. These traditional signals
provided farmers with an ecological agricultural decision-making toolset that in
many cases might be relied upon more firmly than technological or scientificallyvalidated
signals. As another example, in a couple of communities, the presence of
an Andean swift circling and flying in low to mid-elevation zones indicated that the
rains were going to arrive early. Conversely, a relatively low population of firefly
beetles indicated that it would be a dry season.
Woodland and grassland cover were two other land cover categories that informants
claimed to have changed over time. Data from Byers (2000), who used
repeat photography of specific valleys within HNP from the years of 1936 and 1998,
clarifies that native forest cover of Polylepis stayed the same or increased, while
nonnative forest cover of Eucalyptus and Pinus increased. Contrarily, our informants
claimed that native forest cover had reduced. Reasons stated for the change
in forest cover were that tourists utilized wood for campfires, mining camps used
it for fire and construction, people from communities removed wood for cooking
and construction, and that natural fires destroyed woodland patches. According to
34% of informants interviewed, grassland cover had reduced in terms of quality of
production for livestock. Grasslands were described by informants as overgrazed,
insufficient for cattle or with a low quality of native grasses. An indicator of reduced
forage value is said to be the presence of a high-elevation cactus, Opuntia flocossa,
which becomes more common with overgrazing. Both of these land cover changes

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 71
were identified by local rural residents as a change in spatial extent and quality
of the land cover itself. When discussing changes in climate, people often directly
correlated the change in climate to a change or potential change in agro-pastoral
productivity.
For highland families, livelihood modifications and adaptations are imminent in
the ongoing landscape change associated with glacial retreat and climate change.
As in the case of the Valverdes, decisions on grazing, herd size, dealing with
disease, and agricultural patterns are ongoing. An example of the complexity of
these interactions is in regards to grazing conditions. Cattle are considered an
investment for many rural families; a source of livelihood and wealth. Informants
commented that reduced fodder has led to inadequate milk production. One possible
household-level response to these perceptions would be to adjust herd size or, more
commonly, to diversify livelihoods and seek supplementary income sources, such
as wage labor, to compensate for declining production. Another response might be
to acquire usage rights for grazing at higher elevations.
Informants indicated that livelihoods based solely on agriculture were currently
insufficient given the amount and rising costs of inputs, labor, resulting yield, and
market prices. In fact, of 67 men interviewed in Ancash in 2002 and 2003, 52
(78%) participated in part-time wage labor in other farms, jobs, or regions of Peru.
The majority of jobs sought within Ancash included tourism, mining, and labor on
other farmsteads, as well as short-term employment in governmental programs for
forestry, roads, housing, and other construction infrastructure projects. In addition,
young men from agricultural communities frequently out-migrated to urban areas
seeking wage-labor and opportunities. In one sector of a community in Ancash,
87% of the young men between the ages of 27 and 33 had left the community. This
type of demographic change will have an impact on the future of community level
decisions and will reduce the experiential traditional knowledge that is required to
sustain culturally maintained agricultural biodiversity (e.g., Stobart and Howard,
2002). Women are involved in almost all of the agro-pastoral functions and are in
charge while husbands and sons migrate seasonally. However, they are frequently
marginalized from direct positions in community social organizations, assemblies,
or training classes.
Informants indicated that current market returns for subsistence crops do not
compensate for their cost of agricultural inputs. This economic stress was emphasized
on a regional level: in July 2002, campesinos participated in three days of
marches and strikes to voice these and other concerns, effectively shutting down
urban areas and principal transportation routes. In addition to these acts of resistance,
farmers responding to market-driven forces adapt to new management
practices and build institutional connections with technical agro-pastoral programs.
National and international nongovernmental (NGO) networks that promote agricultural
production along economic corridors spread information about new techniques
and varieties. For example, on the eastern periphery of HNP, in response to a
regional development program, farmers are integrating different varieties of maize,

72 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
primarily from southern Peru, which are known to be in demand and can be cultivated
at slightly higher elevations. Community institutions may seek out respected
NGOs that offer technical assistance, because of a keen interest in enhancing commercial
production and bettering local skill-sets and knowledge. NGO and other
institutional technical programs will need to update and modify their advice, skills,
and techniques to respond to potential changes in pests or other management and
production issues associated with climate change. These transnational networks
simultaneously link producers to potential international export markets.
Many individuals in the study area had serious concerns about running water
and were aware that, although now they might have water, as the glaciers recede
irrigation canals would possibly have less flow and some highland crops would be
in jeopardy. A fear generally expressed was that the glaciated mountains someday
would resemble the semiarid, rain-shadow mountains visible on the horizon towards
the dry Pacific slopes; thus, this fear raised their concerns about possible loss
of water-availability, increased fire-prone areas, and shifts in agricultural zonation.
In one northern valley where water was being diverted for hydroelectric purposes,
informants discussed their concerns about the lack of sufficient water for household
use and for irrigation of mid-elevation crops. In other areas, freshwater primarily
from glacial melt was channeled for mining and industrial needs that would otherwise
be used by the rural populations for agriculture and consumption. A subsidiary
concern is that with glacial retreat, increased destabilization of slopes might occur,
causing natural hazards, such as landslides and mudflows, as has occurred in
the past (Lliboutry et al., 1977; Kaser and Osmoston, 2002). Local communities
are vulnerable to these conditions. Regional and national institutions will need to
respond to damage when it occurs and to plan for increased risks in the future.
Regional institutions stabilize and drain glacial lakes, as well as reinforce dams.
However, what are lacking are appropriate social mechanisms, such as regional and
community-based warning systems, logistical emergency plans, infrastructure, and
financial support.
Although current research efforts can monitor runoff from the glaciers of the
Cordillera Blanca for local needs (Kaser et al., 2001; Mark and Seltzer, 2003), a
scale-related disjuncture exists between the scientific-technical studies that examine
hydrologic resources of the Cordillera Blanca, the national institutions involved
in water use and planning, and the demands and needs of local populations. Private,
transnational corporate institutions with political and economic clout have
access to water resources and are assured of compliance from national and regional
institutions that manage HNP’s natural resources and protect its biodiversity. Communities
have protested and petitioned to regional officials for better safeguards of
community water rights. Informants commented in interviews and in public meetings
that, given the private, regional, and national interests associated with water
usage, the local communities will be the first affected by water scarcity and imposed
restrictions, while potentially the last to have their needs addressed. Due to previous
political situations, there is a legacy of mistrust and apprehension that many

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 73
of the campesinos have toward the national and corporate interests involved with
water resources. What remains to be seen is how these multiple institutions will
collectively negotiate the potential impacts of hydrologic resource scarcity with
impending (and continuing) climate change.
Differences in perspectives, by individual and community institutions, for tenure
and rights to highland resources of the “protected” mountain landscape are critical
factors in the conservation of biodiversity in the Cordillera Blanca. Although the
boundary of the national park has been established for 30 years, from a local livelihood
perspective, individual and community needs take precedence when it comes
to resource use. Individuals and representative community institutions surrounding
HNP consider a number of the regional and national institutions affiliated with
conservation as “hypocritical,” “corrupt,” and “paternalistic,” as striving to satisfy
the centralized Lima economy and political needs before they address local conditions.
Despite a norm of some internal disharmony amongst peasant community
members, they share an overriding bond of collective action, trust, and community
cohesion that supercedes the external authority imposed by regional and national
conservation institutions. Elements of trust and collective action are what facilitate
adaptive capacity and governance in social ecological systems. In one of the sites
where interviews were carried out, informants were asked to state the organizations
and institutions that they were directly involved with: 82% participated in at least
seven different committees or groups. The predominant committees that had membership
were concerned with agricultural lands, pastures, forests, irrigation, sports,
health, and the community kitchen. Community institutions are viewed as having
served as reliable social scaffolding to provide support, information, and expertise
to members and affiliates when other external institutions have been unreliable,
self-interested, or unavailable. Based on these and other observations, our conclusion
is that the community level of adaptability and resiliency, aided by clever
land-use decisions by households, will allow many rural Andean residents to cope
with climate change.
Regional, national, and international institutions interested in preserving biodiversity
conservation in the face of climate change, for example by establishing conservation
corridors and additional protected areas, will need to address and surmount
embedded negative perspectives to achieve long term goals and plans. Piecemeal
approaches, historical legacies, and improper management of conservation areas in
Andean areas have been the result of centralization and lack of funding for projects,
despite ample local technical expertise and knowledge. For example, local community
actors are in the position of deciding the status of the Cordillera Huayhuash
as a potential protected area and are involved in asserting local level agendas into
future national conservation planning and institutional structures. However, there
is a divergence of interests and agendas among different sociopolitical actors in the
Cordillera Huayhuash. Fujimori-era neoliberal economic reforms attracted foreign
mining investors to the region, and while the mines offered jobs and opened up new
roads, communities also perceived a state-mandated loss of access to the land from

74 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
national or external interests. Local institutions organized by charismatic community
leaders are in the process of facilitating demands to maintain autonomy over
the landscape and natural resources of the Cordillera Huayhuash, whether it is for
conservation or tourism purposes or for the extraction of mineral resources. Vocal,
self-motivated familial networks organize to actively declare their positions while
other networks seek to develop bridges and coordinate activities between multiple
communities and exogenous institutions. The role of trusted external sympathetic
actors to assist in the adjudication, translation of policy, and technological expertise
is important to the adaptive capacity of the institutional structures involved in
conservation and resource governance in the Cordillera Huayhuash.
With local, regional, national, and international institutions and actors establishing
coordination and information networks, the future of the Cordillera Huayhuash
might be developed as part of both a horizontal and vertical conservation corridor,
connecting to HNP (and potentially to other protected areas), and providing an
altitudinal range within the protected area that would allow for internal ecological
shifts. Local communities however are positioned as the ultimate decision-makers
for the governance of this area as a conservation zone. This highland area facilitates
an interconnection of the high Andean environment while directing management
towards culturally selected agro-biodiversity and native endemic flora and fauna
diversity along the altitudinal and ecological gradients. However, more research on
land cover needs to be completed to obtain a better perspective of how variables of
climate and biodiversity are changing in the tropical alpine environment. Highland
areas that will be more available to tourism, road development, and disturbances
are also susceptible to dynamic changes pending climate change. Therefore, better
inventories and studies on the feedbacks between community decisions and
land cover should be undertaken. Conservation mechanisms, such as offered by
the designation of the Cordillera Huayhuash as a protected area, and the promotion
of transparent, innovative formal and informal institutional linkages provide a
supportive framework that could attend to climate change implications.
3. Andean Land Use and Climate Change
As noted in the case study, spatial heterogeneity characterizes the biophysical realm
of mountainous environments (Troll, 1968; Gerrard, 1990; Körner, 1999). The tropical
Andes have particularly long, complex environmental gradients associated with
elevation because mountaintops can exceed 6000 m with adjacent valley bottoms
3000–4000 m below. The outer flanks of the Andes connect contiguously to Pacificand
Atlantic-drainage basins and descend to or near sea level. Intermontane valleys
often have drier environments due to rain shadow effects, thus juxtapositioning varied
humidity zones within steep elevational gradients. Underlying this topographic
variation are substantial intraregional differences in bedrock, from limestones or
andesites to a great variety of metamorphic rocks. The resulting soil differences can

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 75
at times create local-to-regional variations in the color and physical and chemical
characteristics of surface soils.
The steep elevational gradients of the Andes create zonal changes in ecological
conditions related to altitude. It is possible to distinguish plant formations (ie. grasslands,
shrublands, forests) and vegetation types along these gradients. Grasslands
and other low herbaceous plant communities are found above about 3600 m. A
broad ecotonal area from that elevation down to as low as 1000 m alternates between
forests and shrublands as predominant land cover types. The shrublands are
found in semi-arid to seasonally dry areas, while forests are found in wetter areas
or are restricted to protected ravines in drier places (Young and León, 2001). The
distribution of biological diversity follows these trends (Gentry, 1995).
Young (1998) evaluated some of the biogeographical consequences of the inherently
complex environmental mosaics of Andean landscapes that are further
subdivided and pushed toward coverage by nonforest vegetation due to long-term
human influences. Andean forests are often small, surrounded by nonforest vegetation,
exposed to altered physical conditions along forest margins (ie. edge effects),
and isolated from similar forest tracts. This habitat fragmentation would exclude
most forest interior species, for example certain kinds of raptors (Thiollay, 1996)
and frogs (Toral et al., 2002). The forests and their biota may be exposed to chronic
anthropogenic disturbances from fires, firewood harvesting, grazing, and cutting to
establish agricultural plots. The plants and animals in the most heavily altered landscapes
would seemingly need to be a robust subset of the original flora and fauna.
Young (1998; also Young and Keating, 2001) listed some of the characteristics
expected for the plants, including shade intolerance, ability to resprout following
mechanical damage, and seed dispersal by small birds or wind. The animal types
expected to be successful would be small-bodied birds that are granivores or frugivores,
and inconspicuous, small mammals. Larger native animals either are more
common in forest edge or shrub habitats, such as the white-tailed deer (Odocoileus
virginianus), or are currently restricted to high mountain environments (Andean
huemul deer, vicuña), isolated shrublands (guanaco, Lama guanicoe), or distant
forests (Andean bear).
Given these difficulties, what can currently be said about likely climate change
consequences? Warmer temperatures (Vuille and Bradley, 2000) would tend to
shift plants, animals, and ecosystems upslope (e.g., Inouye et al., 2000; Enquist,
2002), except when other environmental controls, such as local edaphic conditions
(soil depth or drainage) or aspect-related differences (e.g., south-facing slopes,
windward-facing slopes, etc.) prevent those shifts from occurring. Increased carbon
dioxide levels may promote primary productivity of some ecosystems (Woodward,
2002), but the effect appears likely to be dampened due to other limiting factors
such as the availability of soil nutrients and the downward adjustment of number
of stomata per unit area in developing leaves exposed to higher ambient carbon
dioxide levels (Körner, 2000; Brownlee, 2001). In some cases, aquatic and wetland
habitats may be expected to increase in size, particularly in the lakes and high

76 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
elevations of retreating glaciers. However, with a potential for increased sediment
load, these environments might undergo other permutations having a direct and
generally negative impact on aquatic life.
A valuable component of Andean biodiversity was actually created by the domestication
of native plants and animals during the evolution of land-use systems
(Piperno and Pearsall, 1998). Most of this additional diversity is genetic in nature,
with new gene complexes maintained in domesticated varieties that are distinct
from their wild relatives growing nearby in habitats adjacent to the agricultural
fields. Farmers have developed different varieties with particular desired properties.
This process appears to have reached its zenith in the potato cultivation of the
central Andes. One field may have 40–60 potato variants—each with a common
name and often each with a unique use, because of taste or texture, or because of
the growth conditions required (Brush et al., 1995; Zimmerer, 1996; Ochoa, 1999;
Hijmans and Spooner, 2001). This type of biodiversity can be kept intact through
interventions such as cold storage gene banks, although at great expense. In situ
approaches to maintaining genetic diversity are dependent on farmers who keep
planting and utilizing their full range of crop varieties (e.g., Perales et al., 2003).
This practice allows for further evolution and cultural selection of the genotypes. It
requires either intact traditional systems of seed/tuber interchanges or some kind of
subsidy. Some genetic biodiversity programs are beginning to contemplate climate
change implications. All such efforts are useful because a wider base of genetic
diversity is kept available for future generations.
Yet another aspect involving climate change is the adaptive nature of many of
the Andean land-use systems. As we reveal in the case study above, farmers in
the Andes are attuned to biophysical patterns, processes, and the resulting spatial
heterogeneity. Agro-pastoral livelihoods are realized in patchy, complex environments
that in some land-poor communities may be sub-optimal for various kinds
of production (Denevan, 2001; Zimmerer, 2003). Andean farmers lower risks and
accommodate ecological variability by having diversified household economies,
utilizing multiple fields, and selecting numerous seed and crop types. One household
might graze livestock in upper-elevation communal land, grow potatoes in their
fields at the highest elevations, maize and wheat at intermediate levels, and cassava
in valley bottoms (Gade, 1975; Brush, 1976; Young, 1993). Still other fields are
created out of wetlands that are modified with drainage canals and raised seedbeds
(Zimmerer, 1991).
Knowledge of how to manage useful plants and animals is embedded within the
agricultural practices and traditions that are passed on to children in households
(Young, 2002). The social networks established in youth are often the same that are
implemented later in life to organize collective harvesting or tillage, to maintain
irrigation systems, and to allocate land-use rights. Often these systems nestle hierarchically
within municipal, district, and provincial governing frameworks. But
this need not be the case if, for example, the people living in towns do not consider
land-use decisions in outlying rural areas to be worthy of attention. Or there may

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 77
be ethnic or age differences between rural inhabitants and those wielding political
power that negate tendencies to collaborate. Also, as was noted in and around HNP,
increased out-migration of young people seeking job opportunities and experience
in urban centers can lead to younger generations not participating in household or
community decision-making institutions and local political networks. This might
be one of the inevitable consequences of urban areas having better opportunities
for education, health care, and jobs.
As was the situation in the case study, probably the biggest ongoing concern in
much of the rural Andes is access to irrigation water. Often elaborate local systems
are in place to assure some sort of equitable distribution of water in relation to need
(Mitchell and Guillet, 1993; Gelles, 1999). For example, time allocation of waterflow
to individual farm plots within an irrigation network, known as mitas de agua,
can be controlled through community-based institutions responding to household
demands and personal interests. This kind of social capital is also critical for extending
planting seasons beyond the two to eight months a year when the rains fall and
for good development of particular water-demanding crops. Farmers avoiding risk
might determine which fields to cultivate depending upon household water rights,
thereby providing a type of insurance in dry years. The retreat of Andean glaciers
signals a negative glacial mass balance, which may be waning due to less precipitation,
less snow accumulation in the form of glacial firn, more melt due to higher
temperatures, more ablation, or a combination of these factors. Vuille et al. (2003)
concluded, from an admittedly sparse regional data set, that glacial retreat in the
tropical Andes is most likely due to warmer temperatures at high elevations and possibly
higher relative humidity. This regional conclusion, however, does not exclude
other changes from being important in particular areas: Kaser and colleagues (Kaser
et al., 1990; Kaser, 1999; Kaser and Osmaston, 2002) have stressed the likelihood
of slight decreases in precipitation being important for tropical snowline retreat.
Over the next few decades, increased demand for water from growing population
centers and industry will affect farmers in rural areas, adding to the complexity
of making predictions. It is not yet clear how urbanization and globalization will
affect land-use strategies and rural natural resource management. While larger and
more accessible markets provide potential incentives to intensify agriculture and
increase Andean production of commodities, those same national and transnational
socioeconomic forces connect to other producers, perhaps in other countries, who
may be able to produce the same product more economically or efficiently (e.g.,
Bebbington, 2001).
The community-based systems that regulate or control access to water also function
in regards to other natural resources, including the use of lands for grazing or
planting (Flores Ochoa, 1977; Guillet, 1981). Community formal and informal institutions
are built upon pre-European and Spanish-derived land-use practices. The
governance of community lands entails making decisions about the type of agricultural
production, for example, whether it is for local consumption or for larger
markets. Roads, particularly if paved, dramatically change options by transforming

78 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
accessibility and cost-effort assessments by rural inhabitants selling excess production
or even growing items specifically for urban markets, as seen in the example
of Sr. Valverde’s land use decisions. In some cases, this transformation has
shifted tenure to more privately owned lands. This shift was especially pervasive
in the 1990s when neoliberal reforms became an international mode and expectation
(Inter-American Development Bank, 1997; Thorp, 1998; Bury, 2004), with
governments allowing for direct purchase of lands in places where once such transactions
would not have occurred. Another new socioeconomic phenomenon is the
increased importance of remittances from family members living in cities or other
countries (e.g., Jokisch, 2002). This change can alter the intensity and nature of
land use, especially if valuable lands are controlled by absentee owners.
Andean lands have supported millions of people and vigorous societies throughout
millennia. Local observations and perceptions of climate phenomenon are embedded
in familial and community traditions and are an important aspect of technical
knowledge. The farmers near Lake Titicaca are able to forecast ENSO (El Niño
Southern Oscillation) events based on the visibility in the night sky of certain constellations
(Orlove et al., 2000). Those events affect the high elevation lake basin
with prolonged droughts, so several months warning helped local people make decisions
on when and where to plant. Understanding these and other traditional and
folk-based indicators of these climate variations and landscape-change perceptions,
such as documented in the case study, will be important for studies of both Andean
land-use management and climate. Responses of greater exploitation would
be expected from people who are observant of the rapidity of recovery of vegetation
following a disturbance or the swiftness of repopulation of an area by some
animal species affected by harvesting or other population alteration. This feedback
could result in the masking of biotic responses to climate change. It might require
field experiments or studies in natural areas kept free of land use to distinguish
climate-caused responses from those same responses as mediated, lessened, or increased
by concurrent human exploitation or manipulation. An important question
is, Are the progressive or more extreme changes to be expected in the next several
decades in the Andes within the adaptive capacity of these people and their
land-use systems?
4. Andean Rural Decision Making and Multi-Scale Governance
A critical aspect for the analysis of adaptive capacity for environmental decision
making is the assessment of the institutions that people are engaged in, with
consideration to the historical, familial, and community contexts from which they
operate (Blaikie and Brookfield, 1987; Robbins, 1998; Ostrom et al., 1999). As
we showed in the case study and as reported from throughout the tropical Andes,
many of the agro-pastoral activities and decisions are made and implemented on a
household, extended family, and community level (Brush and Guillet, 1985; Mayer,

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 79
2002). Transnational linkages and market forces are increasingly integrating once
geographically and socially marginalized Andean communities into larger networks
of formal and informal institutions (Price, 1994; Bebbington, 2001; Miles, 2004),
thereby having an impact on household decisions regarding resource management.
In an Andean household, distinct activities and livelihoods are dependent upon
labor and priorities, evaluated in relation to season, access to different ecological
zones, and the ease or cost of connections between rural and urban centers. This
level of decision making in turn influences the types of participation in various
institutions operating on other scales. Thus, all these scales must be considered
when assessing the potential consequences of climate change to livelihoods and
biodiversity.
4.1. HOUSEHOLDS
Many highland families engage in multiple livelihood strategies in order to satisfy
and sustain basic needs. A household might be involved in field agriculture,
raising livestock, or wage labor all at the same time. Kin associations, reciprocity,
community duties and responsibilities all factor into one household’s daily and
seasonal functions (e.g., Allen, 1988; Mayer, 2002). Scheduling tasks, measuring
inputs, trade-offs, assessing risks and other opportunities are a few of the agricultural
factors that concern households (Browman, 1987; Netting, 1993; Zimmerer,
1996). Concurrently, agricultural decisions within a household can be based
upon internal domestic factors such as age and gender, labor availability, priorities,
and acceptance or avoidance of risk (Valdivia et al., 1996). Likewise external
factors, including political stability, can be influential. Also a large degree of individuality
exists, with some households specializing in certain tasks or products
due to the experiences of household members. Individualism in communities can
lead to increased pressure on agricultural land as people shorten fallow periods
for maximum production and gradually depart from communal controls (Mayer,
2002; Zimmerer, 2002). Economic choices required for agricultural intensification
and the production of off-season crops can also compete with the labor demands
necessary to maintain crop diversity and selection meant for subsistence.
Under the influence of changing biophysical and environmental conditions, the
information available to households about type and quantity of inputs will be a
limiting factor.
Pastoral work often involves multi-tasking and is frequently carried out by either
gender depending upon labor availability (Brush, 1987). In a number of situations,
women and children combine pastoralism with other responsibilities of child rearing,
plant collection, knitting, and food preparation for home or market. For the
agro-pastoralists living within the study area multi-tasking and livelihood diversification
are important aspects of adaptive capacity because of the risk of dependency
on any one resource. Livelihood diversification contributes to the resiliency of

80 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
Andean households by creating access to potential subsidiary channels of income.
Combining market oriented and subsistence agriculture, the export of meat and
wool, renting of communal lands, economic assistance through familial bonds, or
engaging in wage labor can be essential for household self-sufficiency. Diversifying
can buffer financial shortfalls when unpredictable events or disturbances occur
(Valdivia et al., 1996). Frequently, men will seek supplemental wages, working for
larger farmsteads, on construction activities, or on corporate farms, and tend to their
own family plots with available time.
The ongoing transnational influences that are progressively integrating rural people
into market-based economies will have a direct effect upon household resource
management and technologies for agricultural production (Bebbington, 2001). Culturally
created biological diversity, such as the numerous potato varieties, will likely
only be maintained through households and other local social institutions that mediate
and implement agricultural and pastoral land-use decisions. Farmers consciously
select traditional crops, such as tubers and maize, to ensure a diverse and vigorous
seed-pool that does not require the high inputs that commercial production
of wheat, barley, oats, and potato varieties need (Zimmerer, 1996; Mayer, 2002).
Thus, the question in reference to climate change is, Does the capacity for invention
and adaptation still exist among these informal and local institutions? The stressors
on household resource management certainly include educational and other attractions
that pull youth away from pursuing rural livelihoods, plus the availability of
imported food products, which compete with the sales of extra produce from Andean
households. We have talked with farmers who consciously maintain high crop
diversity, partly out of tradition, partly from a sense of cultural or local pride. They
mentioned neighbors that had switched to cash crops, such as alfalfa to be sold for
fodder and barley for beer-making companies. Farmers also contrasted the dozens
of potato varieties they may maintain on their lands with the actions of others who
have converted to the much more limited set of improved varieties promoted by
governmental offices.
4.2. COMMUNITIES
Community and inter-community relationships create and then retain agricultural
biodiversity. However, these institutions are experiencing stresses and undergoing
transformations. Although, in general, urbanization and globalization lessen agricultural
biodiversity, several countervailing processes do occur. A resurgence of
ethnic or regional pride in the Andes often includes assertions that native plants
and animals should receive special attention. In areas of Peru and elsewhere, rural
communities show great interest in participating in community seed exchanges
and agricultural fairs, some of which is promoted by regional and international
NGOs concerned with agro-biodiversity. Increased access in the difficult terrain
of the Andes by an improved transportation network means that there is more

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 81
potential for peoples of similar environments, separated by high mountain barriers,
to come into personal contact. Improved roads and transportation networks allow
for capital-intensive agricultural production in more competitive and interlinked
markets (e.g., Sierra et al., 2003). Even extremely remote areas receive radio programs
or satellite television broadcasts. Frequently, early morning programming
includes information meant for agriculturalists.
In an Andean community, social networks built upon familiarity, close contact,
and trust, are indispensable and create social capital (Ostrom, 1990; Bebbington,
1996, 1997). Networks of reciprocity and shared goals regarding resources are an
integral aspect of Andean society (Mayer, 2002). Households that participate in
informal or formal resource-based institutions may express their obligations to the
entire community by helping to look after community resources. Of course, participation
might not always be the case. Individuals and households may have personal
and competing interests, such that personal or familial agendas can circumvent
community directives (Orlove, 1977). The obligations intrinsic in informal institutions
and peer groups may demand commitments away from the habitual tasks
of the household. Disharmony or competition amongst members of the same community
can occur and may affect communal land-use management or result in the
disrespect of communal norms. Or other changes may erode traditional claims on
individual actions.
Participation in communal institutions governing land use, social activities, or
labor needs is invaluable not only for the community, but also for the individual
household (Mayer, 2002). In the tropical Andes, many informal institutions operating
within a community consist of the personal arrangements and bonds that
are formed through reciprocity, where unspoken agreements and contracts between
people are fulfilled through mutual assistance. This was demonstrated in the case
study by the high number of community organizations that individuals participated
in. Collective action as mediated through community institutions may have
in place mutual coercion mechanisms to assist with compliance (Robbins, 1998).
In the Andes, commitment to communal activities, often in the form of labor exchanges
known as minkas, collectively guarantees access to resources, participation
in fiestas, and can be considered a form of social insurance (Mayer, 2002). Spending
a day or two working in a communal labor effort known as a faena can ensure that
access to water rights, land, or help with a harvest will be available to a household
or extended family.
Throughout the world, common property resources are frequently governed
and managed by institutions, which increasingly are subject to extra-local
dynamics (McCay and Acheson, 1987; Guillet, 1992; Robbins, 1998; Mayer, 2002;
Zimmerer, 2002; Adams et al., 2003; Dietz et al., 2003; Giordano, 2003). Important
Andean pastoral production zones, consisting of tropical alpine grasslands and
grass-shrub communities, are often governed as communal grazing areas through
multi- or intra-community-based management (Orlove and Godoy, 1986; Knapp,
1991; Zimmerer, 2002). Many upper elevation communities that are land poor or

82 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
do not have access to other ecological zones rely upon income-generating resource
management strategies of essential products, such as meat, wool, and the sale of
milk for cheese production. Formalized community institutions, such as resourceuser
groups, act together in order to manage and coordinate resources within one
community. Conducting inventories; making assessments; compiling complaints or
concerns from other households; handling allotment, disbursement, and management
of resources are some of the responsibilities involved in communal resource
management.
Participation by at least one member from each sector of a community in the
resource-user group is important for facilitating the transfer of information and for
maintaining access by that sector to resources in different ecological zones, provided
the community has such access. For example, a pasture committee might include
at least one individual from each community sector to assist with management of
communal lands located in upper elevations. As many community institutions function
out of a commitment to shared goals and values, they also are shaped by the
cultural norms, information exchanges, and perceptions of the participating members
(de Janvry et al., 1993; Adger, 2000). Through these community institutions,
the knowledge of landscape change and placement of new rules for governance of
resources could be encouraged and adapted if it is deemed important by community
members. As we found in our case study, adaptive governance is strengthened by
the ability to maintain a checks-and-balance system or transparency among local
networks.
Community social networks often operate to transmit news. They are usually
the first informal institutions to disseminate information about market prices, opportunities
or district-wide agendas (Rodríguez and Pascual, 2004). They are also
the first to be contacted by district and regional governmental institutions for proposed
work or resource-based projects. Increasingly, community organizations are
actively seeking and negotiating relationships with other institutions at other scales
for economic and technical advantages (Bebbington, 1997). This aspect of community
governance is especially important in projects that involve a regionally
oriented approach for addressing climate change issues. However, there may be a
great deal of skepticism directed toward extra-local institutions, particularly if the
extra-local interests are going to impinge upon current resources or livelihoods, as
was exemplified for the lands within Huascaran National Park. In some situations
where community institutions are opposed to regional or national projects, organized
activism occurs, instigating strikes and general resistance (e.g. Healy, 1991).
4.3. REGIONAL, NATIONAL, AND INTERNATIONAL
Regional formalized institutions, both governmental and nongovernmental, that are
focused on resources in the Andes must typically have community contacts and access
to networks in order to successfully carry out projects and policies. Establishing

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 83
linkages with community institutions and making strategic alliances are political
processes that can strengthen the goals of a broad-based project (Agrawal, 1997;
Healy, 2001). Depending upon their particular agendas, regional formalized institutions
may sponsor educational and technical training for the betterment of
production or for alternative forms of production. This training is often sought
out by communities, as was the case for farmers seeking access to improved crop
varieties in northern Peru. Some community institutions have intentionally positioned
themselves to access national or international technical or financial resources
(Bebbington and Perreault, 1999).
An important part of the relationship between extra-local institutions and communities
is the ability to maintain and follow through on commitments made. As
regional programs seek to work on a larger scale, they tend to overextend resources,
personnel, and time commitments. Unfortunately, our informants have commented
on how this propensity for over-extension can lead to a lack of follow-through on
proposals and a resultant waning of trust and interest in projects at the community
level. These efforts can also be hampered when neighboring communities compete
for limited project resources. In particular, during the 1990s, many governmental
institutions, typically under funded and short-staffed, were besieged by neoliberal
reforms that sought policies of privatization and natural resource extraction
(Escobar, 1995; Stiglitz, 2002; Zimmerer, 2002). These reforms resulted in offices
and personnel with inadequate resources and technologies for maintaining or
carrying out projects.
With the global phenomenon of climate change forcing local and regional
changes, institutions of the tropical Andes would have advantages in becoming
globally networked. Nested institutional relationships at the local, regional, national
and international level will be necessary for creating, implementing, and monitoring
climate change policies and projects. For example, regional institutions have
benefited from connections with international institutions. Recently, committed individuals
working in the upper and middle tiers of governmental programs have
taken a more proactive approach to solidify international and national networks
to achieve goals for both research and policy-making regarding climate change.
In some cases in Peru, administrators have sought out linkages with foreign researchers
and NGOs to bring foreign funding, skills, and global media attention
to the condition of Andean glaciers with the intent of reinforcing and enhancing
existing national institutional structures and infrastructure. One goal for these connections
is to promote better coordination and directives regarding research and
planning for global climate change in an international context. These new linkages
could position local, regional, and national institutions to adequately prepare
for water conservation, and hydroelectric demands and respond to natural hazard
situations. Combined with grassroots support, flexibility will add to the decision
making process.
With democracy, national governmental institutions receive their mandates from
the voting patterns of large urban populations, with elected and career administrators

84 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
serving as mediators. The rights and needs of minorities, consisting of ethnic and
often marginalized, dispersed rural inhabitants, have been historically neglected in
Latin America (Maybury-Lewis, 2002). Policies and programs for climate change
will need to rely upon the nested institutional information networks. However,
these are often bureaucratically dominated by corporate or political interests. For
example, in the study area and many other locales, resources such as minerals,
water, and/or timber are often extracted by exogenous transnational institutions
with powerful political connections. As a result, a spatial and socioeconomic disconnect
from landscape changes occurring in the rural highlands may take place.
The institutional governance that accompanies climate change phenomenon necessitates
ongoing flows of information, institutional transparency, and cooperation
between the many entities involved. Possibly, rural development banks could provide
short-term loans and agricultural extension agents could facilitate suggestions
for adaptations; neither system however, is well developed in the tropical Andean
countries.
Less clear is how regional, national, and international institutions interface with
processes affecting sustainability concerns. This lack of clarity is not only due to
a paucity of relevant research, but is also a result of significant region-to-region
differences in predominant biophysical and land-use systems. The people near
Sajama National Park in northwest Bolivia utilize lands above 4200 m, so their
needs must be met from livestock raising and trading for other staples. The farmers
near Otavalo, Ecuador not only raise a wide variety of crops for sale in Quito,
but are tied to international economic forces through commodity production of
handicrafts and remittances from other countries (Korovkin, 1998; Bebbington,
2000). The national institutions involved with farming systems embed regional
disparities in their structures, and cohesive national priorities seldom endure as
they are prone to reversals when new political parties take office. Even wellmeant
international efforts may be carried out in ways that act to reduce local
adaptive capacity.
In addition to rural livelihoods, the institutions involved with the conservation
of biological diversity need to be evaluated. These institutions include the protected
areas systems of the Andean countries. They are especially weak in implementing
policy and programs, not at the national and international levels, but at the local and
regional levels (Young and Rodríguez, in press). There may be compelling global
and national reasons to protect a particular place or species, but convincing local
people to accept the risks or costs to do so is fraught with contradictions (Young,
1997; Young and Zimmerer, 1998; Zerner, 2000; Terborgh et al., 2002). Sometimes
the success or failure of a particular national park or nature reserve to conserve
native ecosystems is due to the managerial, technical, and social capacity of the
on-site park administration. If personnel are charismatic, local communities can be
convinced to merge their goals with park objectives for mutual benefit. But past bad
experiences, incompetent personnel, or some other historical or personal legacy can
make this impossible.

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 85
The dilemma for national and international institutions involved in biodiversity
conservation in the Andean highlands is complicated by the fact that no
protected area has been evaluated rigorously for climate change consequences.
Thus, little scientific basis exists for taking a particular action, except for extrapolations
of approaches from more general concerns (e.g., conservation corridors)
or other geographical regions (Western and Wright, 1994; Soulé and Terborgh,
1999). For example, most organized park-people programs in the tropical Andes
are premised on possibilities of sustainable extraction of natural resources.
Difficulties are numerous, mainly because sustainable extraction rates may be
fundamentally unknowable if carrying capacities are not set by equilibrial ecological
processes and if there are stochastic and/or progressive changes in physical
environmental conditions (Reynolds et al., 2001). Philosophically, these conservation
efforts do not include protection and management goals that cover the
other non-economic values of biodiversity (Perlman and Adelson, 1997). One
such value connects directly to climate change and is part of the founding legislation
of all the nationally protected area systems of the Andes: those areas
are to be used for scientific research to better understand the functioning of
natural environments.
Although conservation corridors that can connect together the parks and reserves
of national and regional protected-area systems have been amply discussed from
both theoretical and practical viewpoints (Soulé and Terborgh, 1999), their applications
for climate change are less well developed. Many of the conservation corridor
studies concentrate on the species level, focusing on an indicator species that would
benefit from habitat conservation (Gutzwiller, 2002). We suggest that conservation
corridors could potentially serve two different goals: connecting together similar
environments across relatively large distances and providing conservation protection
along steep environmental gradients, such as those associated with altitudinal
change.
The former are herein called horizontal conservation corridors and would potentially
lessen the isolation of organisms and permit interchange of individuals and
genes, both key conservation concerns (Frankham et al., 2002). The effective area of
protected habitat is increased, although there are many real-world concerns of how
wide these corridors could or should be, how restrictive their land use or tenure can or
must be, if the terrain between protected areas is such that environmental conditions
do not change enough to create pre-existing biogeographical barriers, and if species
of concern will even move through them. Vertical conservation corridors, on the
other hand, are already contained within many of the large national parks of the Andean
countries. As an example, Table 1 shows that all but two of Peru’s national parks
include elevational gradients of more than 3500 m, effectively connecting together
in one conservation unit the lowlands to the highlands. This is an ideal way to buffer
for unpredictable climate change consequences. In mountainous environments,
such as in the Andes, it is likely that environmental conditions will shift upslope,
for example with warmer environments replacing those now found near snowline.

86 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
High elevation ecosystems and species restricted to them may be lost from mountain
ranges (Peters and Lovejoy, 1992). This would especially be the case for the
nonglaciated cordilleras.
Our suggested solution is to combine vertical and horizontal conservation corridors
in national, regional, and continental planning. Currently, the national protected
area system in Peru consists mostly of unconnected parks and reserves (Figure 1).
The vertical corridors would connect disparate elevations and the horizontal corridors
would provide additional habitat and connectivity among protected areas.
As seen in the case of Peru (Table I), some of the other types of protected areas,
for example the national reserves, are designed to feature one major environmental
zone and so do not include much elevational or other variation (Rodríguez and
Young, 2000). These areas would require both horizontal and vertical corridors to
function effectively in the future.
There are a number of international NGOs that are working to promote conservation
corridors with the involvement of regional and national institutions. In one
instance, Conservation International is organizing a series of activities in lands adjacent
to formally protected areas in a plan meant to create the “Vilcabamba-Amboró
Conservation Corridor” from southern Peru to central Bolivia on the eastern flanks
of the Andes. For our case study, the Cordillera Huayhuash reserve would in effect
form a conservation corridor with Huascaran National Park. In addition, corridortype
areas might be implemented by enforcing pre-existing wildlife laws within
their length and extent. For example, there are laws on the books in Peru that
restrict hunting of deer and fishing of trout to certain seasons of the year, or that
completely outlaw the killing of rare species. However, such laws are not effectively
enforced. If they were to be applied in the long, but narrow areas that connect one
conservation area to another, some conservation-corridor benefits would be gained
without the need to create new legal mechanisms.
We believe that the criteria suggested above for conservation corridors and
for protected areas would build in enough connectivity and redundancy for most
species. That said, we reiterate that the necessary research to classify the thousands
of restricted-species of the Andes for their conservation risks is just beginning
(Stattersfield et al., 1998; Valencia et al., 2000). In none of the recent studies was
exposure to future climate change used as an evaluation criterion. We also feel that
local perspectives and multi-scale institutional adaptations need to be incorporated
into long term planning for the human and biophysical systems that will be affected
by environmental shifts.
5. An Andean Climate Research Agenda
Much of the scientific research needed to address these concerns has yet to be done
for the tropical Andes, although inspiration could be drawn from advances elsewhere
(Mount, 1994; Jackson and Weng, 1999; Kappelle et al., 1999; Foster, 2001;

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 87
TABLE I
Nationally protected conservation areas of Peru, including national parks, reserves, and sanctuaries.
Those areas with relatively large sizes (>100,000 ha) and large elevational ranges (>3000 m) already
act as vertical conservation corridors, in the sense proposed here.
Name Category Year Established Area (has) Elevational Range (m)
Cutervo National Park 1961 2,500 2,350–3,350
Tingo Maria National Park 1965 18,000 680
Huascaran National Park 1975 340,000 2,400–6,768
Cerros de Amotape National Park 1975 91,300 75–1550
Rio Abiseo National Park 1983 274,520 350–4,350
Yanachaga-Chemillen National Park 1986 122,000 250–3,700
Bahuaja-Sonene National Park 2000 1,091,416 200–2450
Cordillera Azul National Park 2001 1,353,190 150–2,320
Manu National Park 1973 1,692,137 250–4,050
Otishi National Park 2003 305,973 700–4,150
Pampa Galeras National Reserve 1967 6,500 3,850–4,150
Junin National Reserve 1974 53,000 4,008–4,125
Paracas National Reserve 1975 335,000 9–786
Lachay National Reserve 1977 5,070 100–750
Titicaca National Reserve 1978 36,180 3810
Salinas y Aguada Blanca National Reserve 1979 366,963 2,800–6,050
Calipuy National Reserve 1981 64,000 400–4,000
Pacaya Samiria National Reserve 1982 2,080,000 83–160
Tambopata National Reserve 2000 274,690 200–400
Allpahuayo-Mishana National Reserve 2004 58,070 104–185
Huayllay National Sanctuary 1974 6,815 4,100–4,600
Calipuy National Sanctuary 1981 4,500 400–4,000
Lagunas de Mejia National Sanctuary 1984 690 0–50
Ampay National Sanctuary 1987 3,635 2,780–5,235
Manglares de Tumbes National Sanctuary 1988 2,972 0
Tabaconas-Namballe National Sanctuary 1988 29,500 1,500–3,200
Chacamarca Historical Sanctuary 1974 2500 4,112–4,438
Pampa de Ayacucho Historical Sanctuary 1980 300 0
Machupicchu Historical Sanctuary 1981 32592 1,800–6,250
Bosque de Pomac Historical Sanctuary 2001 5887 100–150
Laquipampa Reserved Zone 1982 11,347 200–2,550
Pantanos de Villa Reserved Zone 1989 263 0–5
Tumbes Reserved Zone 1994 75,102 0–900
Algarrobal el Moro Reserved Zone 1995 321 20–50
Chancaybanos Reserved Zone 1996 2,628 1,300–2,400
Aymara Lupaca Reserved Zone 1996 300,000 3,825–4,500
Gueppi Reserved Zone 1997 625,971 200–250
Rio Rimac Reserved Zone 1998 28 km 220–1,000
Santiago-Comaina Reserved Zone 2000 1,642,567 200–2,700
Alto Purus Reserved Zone 2002 2,724,264 200–650
Codillera de Colan Reserved Zone 2002 64,115 750–3,600
Huayhuash Reserved Zone 2002 67,590 3,650–6,600

88 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
Guisan and Theurillat, 2001; Walther et al., 2002; Malhi and Phillips, 2004; Thomas
et al., 2004; Dockerty et al., 2005). For example, Walker and colleagues (Walker,
2003; Walker et al., 2004) recently provided insights from household-level research
in the Amazon that could also be adapted towards the Andean examples explored in
this paper. They found that a behavioral model of the consequences of numerous individual
household decisions in regard to land use could successfully reproduce the
landscape transformations occurring during colonization and frontier expansion.
Andean rural residents are making decisions in relation to shifting environmental
conditions, to the lands and social capital available through community-level decisions,
and to constraints imposed by market forces and governmental decisions
(e.g., Swinton et al., 2003; Rodríguez and Pascual, 2004). Each household evaluates
their vulnerability with respect to their goals and needs. While it is important to
develop computerized models that can relate these factors to shifting land use and
land cover, it is just as important for more empirical field work to be carried out to
better characterize the range of adaptive practices and responses found along and
across the Andean highlands (e.g., Vanacker et al., 2003).
Murra (1975) and others (e.g., Stanish, 1992) pointed out that long-distance
interchanges of products and information have anciently characterized how the
Andes Mountains were used by people, thus permitting existence in areas otherwise
inhospitable for the production of certain necessities. Globalization now
adds to those spatial linkages while accelerating rates of socioeconomic change,
with implications for vulnerability to climate change (Adger, 1999; Metz, 2000;
Griffin, 2003; Tanner, 2003; O’Brien et al., 2004; Young and Rodríguez, in press).
Although the basics of how households are nested within increasingly complex
networks from community to global levels are understood, the practical benefits
of nurturing linkages that could add to resiliency have been little explored either
conceptually or in terms of the place-to-place heterogeneity of Andean landscapes
and livelihood modes. Comparisons with how change occurs in other mountainous
regions would also provide insights (e.g., Bartlein et al., 1997; Boggs and
Murphy, 1997; Still et al., 1999; Beniston, 2003; Dirnböck et al., 2003; Fagre
et al., 2003; Halloy and Mark, 2003; Konvicka et al., 2003; Storch et al., 2003;
Whitlock et al., 2003). In addition, the higher levels of social capital, such as
traditionally found in the Andean land use systems and as still exists in rural
Ancash, Peru, are known to promote climate resiliency elsewhere (Adger, 2003;
Fraser et al., 2003).
The Andes have experienced much climate change in the past (e.g., Clapperton,
1993; Marchant et al., 2002; Abbott et al., 2003; Hansen et al., 2003), with current
climatic envelopes only established in the last 3000 years, a long time for human
societies, but very brief compared to the evolutionary trajectories that establish
species adaptations (Davis and Shaw, 2001). Thus, many native species will have
experienced past climate fluxes similar or greater than what will occur in the coming
decades. It is human alteration of land-cover types and population densities of
biota that will differ into the foreseeable future, creating novel stresses and land

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 89
cover configurations never seen before (e.g., Pyke, 2004). Combining land-use and
land-cover change studies with insights from rural livelihood research will help
in further evaluations, including more integrated assessments (e.g., Hannah et al.,
2002; Pielke et al., 2002). In fact, we predict that the land-use systems of the Andes
will be found to contain redundancy and an ability to predict and accommodate
changes in seasonality and climatic variables.
Miles et al. (2004) recently used biogeographic simulations of 69 Amazonian
plant species to predict dramatic future declines in population viability of almost
half of the species. The tropical Andes cover a smaller geographical region than the
Amazon, but have a similar amount of plant (Henderson et al., 1991) and mammal
diversity (Mares, 1992). The modeling of potential future species distributions for
the Andes would need to accommodate the much finer ecological mosaic found in
the mountains, with biocomplexity augmented by the barriers to dispersal formed
by high elevations and deep river valleys. Lindberg and Olesen (2001) showed
that habitat loss would affect both a wild passion plant species and its specialized
pollinating hummingbird. Davis et al. (1998) demonstrated in general the need to
include the effect of climate change on species interactions and there are numerous
ongoing attempts to model the likely distributions of species in relation to climatic
envelopes (e.g., Peterson et al., 2001; Erasmus et al., 2002; Kadmon et al., 2003;
Oberhauser and Peterson, 2003). Some aspects of ecosystem function may also be
predicted based not on the occurrence of individual species, but on the relationship
of physical environmental factors to vegetation height, biomass, and trophic organization
(Chapin et al., 2000, 2001). The predicting of shifts in distributions will
need to take these considerations into account (e.g., Bush, 2002; Téllez-Valdés and
Dávila-Aranda, 2003; Cabeza et al., 2004; Mayle et al., 2004; Opdam and Wascher,
2004), as will the assessments of biodiversity conservation areas (e.g., Harrison and
Bruna, 1999; Scott et al., 2002; Aremteras et al., 2003; Cabeza and Moilanen, 2003;
Araújo et al., 2004; Meir et al., 2004; Saxon et al., 2005). In the meanwhile, the
establishment of vertical and horizontal conservation corridors provides a means
to proceed that could yield other practical benefits, for example for the livelihoods
of rural Andean people, if done appropriately. This land-use planning might permit
climate change researchers to build in “degree of human usage” of landscapes
as one of the variables they examine or control for, to compare more isolated
sites with others that are more utilized. Field experiments of the sort that manipulate
atmospheric composition and soil temperature also would be useful (e.g., de
Valpine and Harte, 2001; Morgan et al., 2004), but do not appear to be ongoing in
the study area.
Research finding correlations between climate change and the fates of Andean
societies (e.g., Binford et al., 1997) sends a cautionary message ameliorated by
long-term evidence of persistence despite climatic stresses (Dillehay and Kolata,
2004; Janusek and Kolata, 2004). What are called “traditions” are in fact ways that
information is culturally passed to future generations, sometimes with insights that
can be applied elsewhere (e.g., Cash et al., 2003; Altieri, 2004; Stoorvogel et al.,

90 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
2004). The means by which households utilize Andean landscapes, through environmental
knowledge and social networks of hierarchical linkages and obligations,
may embody transferable lessons.
6. Conclusion
Glaciers store water that fell as rain and snow years earlier. As such, they serve as
buffers for this natural resource’s availability: melt water can be used for domestic,
agricultural, or industrial purposes, even in times when rainfall is low or missing
(Barry and Seimon, 2000). The people of the rural Andes who live below glaciated
peaks are aware of the dangers and risks posed by steep slopes, tectonic movements,
and possible catastrophic mass movements. If questioned, they will also likely
indicate that they are aware that there are compensations, because the water can be
used during dry periods for irrigation. Burger (1992) noted that the archaeological
record from three to four thousand years ago indicates that the need for control and
access to water was already apparent in settlement and architectural designs. Those
highland slopes that are not overtopped by glaciers or which are too far for canals
to be made are limited to rain-fed agriculture.
Many of our field observations reported in the case study come from the
Cordillera Blanca of Ancash, Peru, where the climate change phenomena of concern
include reduced permanent ice and hence more erratic water supplies and possibly
more hazardous conditions downhill and downstream. However, the Cordillera
Negra lies just to the west (Figure 2) and has probably not had permanent ice since
the last glacial period. The agricultural landscapes there are dry for more than half
the year, rural populations are less dense, and it seems clear that decreased water
availability will impact local people directly. This contrast is likely to be a crucial
planning difference to include in institutional analyses: the relative buffering of the
physical environment utilized by the social group of concern.
Traditional ways of carrying out land use presumably include wisdom acquired
from trial and error in the past. In practice, Andean land use is an agglomeration
of traditions begun thousands of years ago, leavened by adaptations to new
plants, animals, and agricultural products introduced from overseas, and then implemented
by individuals drawing upon knowledge and influenced by needs from
their households and communities. For example, total land-use options diversified
with the introduction of additional plant and animal species from the Old World,
with wheat, oats, and alfalfa integrated into systems based on tuber crops, maize,
beans, and other Andean species (Gade, 1992). Most traditional Andean households
raise native domesticated animals such as guinea pigs (Morales, 1999), and
the camelids, llama and alpaca, are used especially in Peru and Bolivia for wool,
meat, and cargo transport (Wheeler, 1995). The Old World contribution of useful
animals has been extensive: most Andean landscapes are utilized in conjunction
with pigs and poultry near households, and goats, sheep, cattle, and horses out

KENNETH R. YOUNG AND JENNIFER K. LIPTON 91
across the landscape, using the shrublands, wetlands, and grasslands for grazing.
We have been struck by the multiplicity of land-use strategies in our study area, as
expressed by spatial and compositional differences within and among agricultural
fields, and by the complex integration that goes on with the raising of a variety
of domesticated animals. In many parts of the tropical Andes, adaptation to fairly
dramatic shifts in the location of ecological zones for planting and grazing appears
to work by switching the species used or at least their relative proportions.
Programs to alleviate stresses originating from climate change should start from
this premise and look for ways to maintain, encourage, or even spread through
example local adaptations to other locales with similar biophysical parameters. It
is not clear that this strategy is within the present-day capacity of most national
agricultural and rural development institutions. Perhaps as important, there appear
to be fundamental limitations on how responsive those national entities can be to
local concerns. For that matter, there are aspects of Andean belief systems that
are quite different in origin and orientation from those of many western cultures
(Greenway, 1998).
Native biodiversity in the spatially and temporally dynamic Andean landscapes
also represent an object lesson for evaluating climate change adaptiveness. These
plants and animals have been through past climate fluctuations and have survived.
Current limitations on their distributions often appear to originate only in part from
climatic or other biophysical controls; the other limitations originate with past and
present human-caused and land-use-related alterations. Many Andean landscapes
appear to be the result of ancient human settlements and land uses (Lumbreras,
1974; Bruhns, 1994; Gade, 1999; Young and Keating, 2001), making them similar
to those described in continental Europe (Ellenberg, 1979; Birks et al., 1988;
Young, 1997). The biodiversity conservation institutions have not yet assimilated
this distinction into practice in the Andes: most efforts have gone into naming
large areas as national parks or reserves, while ignoring opportunities for ecological
restoration in the remainder of the countries involved. Even more intractable
has been the conservation of biodiversity that originates and is maintained by cultural
practices associated with land use. Programs focused on species of concern,
on landscapes with significant native vegetation, and on agricultural land races
and breeds are all needed; climate change concerns should be part of the decision
matrices used for setting goals and priorities (e.g., Balmford et al., 2005). Institutional
support needs to be strengthened at local, national, and international levels
(e.g., Strigl, 2003). The largest difficulty will be the need to proceed without clear
scientific precedents or guidelines. However, this uncertainty is a part of all governance
faced by climate change (e.g., O’Hare, 2000; Reilly et al., 2001; Lynch
et al., 2003; Pearson and Dawson, 2003; Johnson and Gillingham, 2004; Mastrandrea
and Schneider, 2004) and some solutions likely already exist among the
responses of native plants and animals and within the dynamism of local land-use
systems.

92 ADAPTIVE GOVERNANCE AND CLIMATE CHANGE
Acknowledgments
We are grateful to Paul Robbins and the Adaptive Research and Governance in
Climate Change program of the Ohio State University for the invitation to participate
in the conference that led to the presentation of this paper. Blanca León
and Carol Squires cheerfully helped with the manuscript. K. Young most recently
received travel and research assistance from a Mellon Foundation faculty grant for
research through the University of Texas at Austin’s Population Research Center. J.
Lipton’s fieldwork in Peru was made possible through a University of Texas at
Austin Thematic Fellowship, a David Boren fellowship, a National Science Foundation
Dissertation Improvement Grant (NSF #0117806), and a Mellon Foundation
Summer Research Award. Sincere gratitude is extended to people of the communities
of Ancash who participated in this study. In addition, a profound thank you
to the many individuals who assisted, encouraged, and informed throughout the
duration of the project, including: Hector Abignal, Roberto Arevalo, Alton Byers,
Pedro Camacho, Asunción Cano, Juan Carlos Castro, Jose Carrasco, Lorenzo
Champa, Maria Victoria Chavez, Doña Coti, Hildegardo Cordova, Brandie Fariss,
Jesus Gomez, Oswaldo Gonzáles de Paz, Blanca León, Carlos Meza, Nelson Santillain,
Karen Price, Jorge Recharte, Hugo Romero, Vidal Rondan, Pablo Tadeo,
Willy Tamayo, Mirriam Torres, Felix Valverde, Selwyn Valverde, Mario Villanueva,
Marco Zapata.
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(Received 25 May 2004; accepted in final form 9 November 2005)

2
Adaptive Management for Biodiversity Conservation
under Climate Change – a Tropical Andean
Perspective
David G. Hole, Kenneth R. Young, Anton Seimon, Carla Gomez
Wichtendahl, Dirk Hoffmann, Klaus Schutze Paez, Silvia Sanchez,
Douglas Muchoney, H. Ricardo Grau, and Edson Ramirez
The tropical Andes are a globally significant region for biodiversity (Mittermeier et al. 2004).
Dramatic environmental heterogeneity across the region including steep gradients in elevation
and humidity, and complex mosaics of bedrocks and soils (Young, Chapter 8, this volume),
together with the wide range of historical variability in Andean climates (Chapter 5, this
volume), have helped shape this remarkable biological diversity (e.g., Trenel et al. 2008;
Antonelli et al. 2009; Guarnizo et al. 2009). These same processes have also shaped the human
context and provided natural resources that now sustain the wellbeing of millions of people,
including lands for farming and grazing, water for households, irrigation and industries, and
space for settlements. The region is one of the key places in the world for the development of
early human societies, from organized settlements, to irrigated agriculture and the domestication
of plant and animal species (Denevan 2001). Hence, it now contains large expanses of humandominated
landscapes, from highly urbanized centers to more rural areas, where native forests
have been replaced by agriculture and non-native tree plantations. Even the dry environments
and high elevation sites are often used for extensive grazing of livestock. This leaves relatively
few areas without a human presence, principal exceptions being the cool, moist cloud forests and
the very humid paramos on the high mountains of the northern Andes. As a result of these
historical and contemporary land-use patterns, there have long been tensions among the needs for
conservation and protection of natural biodiversity, versus those for economic development and
the reduction of social inequalities (Terborgh 1999). These tensions substantially increase the
complexities of conservation planning in the region.
Historically, the rate of change in the land cover of tropical landscapes is unlikely to have
occurred as rapidly as it has in the last 50 years (Young 2007). Deforestation and conversion of
land has led to an unprecedented loss of natural habitats in recent decades, with profound
ramifications for the continued functioning of entire ecosystems (MEA 2005). Ongoing and
projected climate change adds a substantial new component to this mix. Dramatic changes to
19

oth biotic and abiotic systems and processes are already being seen across the tropical Andes,
with glacial ice diminishing and upward biotic range extensions occuring even into high alpine
areas (Seimon et al. 2007), with local people already altering their land uses in response (Postigo
et al. 2008; Young 2008). Such changes are having profound impacts on species’ phenologies,
distributions and abundance (Parmesan 2006) that will increase in magnitude in the future. Of
particular conservation concern are the likely changes in representation and abundance of species
within existing protected areas and across networks (Araujo et al. 2004; Hole et al. 2009), as well
as the high likelihood of profound changes in the location and continued functioning of many
Andean ecosystems (Anderson et al. Chapter 1, this volume). Indeed, such changes are likely to
result in the formation of ‘no-analog’ communities (i.e. species assemblages for which there are
no present-day examples) (Williams and Jackson 2007). Given the projected pace and likely
consequences of climate change, magnified as they are in regions such as the high Andes
(Bradley et al. 2006; IPCC 2007), it is critical that we adapt conservation management strategies
in an effort to maintain their effectiveness under climate change. Without such effort, the region
risks losing substantial components of its biodiversity (Larsen et al. Chapter 3, this volume), loss
of key ecological processes (Aguirre et al. Chapter 4, this volume) and disruption of its
ecosystems and consequent reduction or loss of the services they provide (Anderson et al.
Chapter 1, this volume).
In this chapter, we will focus on the conservation spotlight on adaptive management. It is
not intended to be exhaustive in its coverage - the topics included are broad and need
consideration in greater detail. Instead, we begin the process of identifying the range of risks and
opportunities for biodiversity conservation and adaptive management presented by climate
change within the unique context of the tropical Andean region. We highlight some of the
principal tools available for assessing the vulnerability of biodiversity and ecosystems, and
describe a range of conservation and management options that might be selected, based on the
degree of manipulation and use required in order to maintain human wellbeing. In some cases,
strict protection of very fragile ecosystems and endangered wild species is likely to be needed. In
other cases, a mix of conservation through protected area systems and integrated planning for
sustainable land use will likely be more appropriate. We then look briefly at options for
monitoring climate change impacts and the effectiveness of management actions, before
highlighting the opportunities (however limited) that climate change may bring for conservation.
Finally, we identify critical institutional capacity needs within the region that are urgently
required in order to effectively, efficiently, and equitably enable adaptation to the profound
challenges posed by climate change.
Current Status of Andean Biodiversity Conservation
Protected areas are the single most important tool for biodiversity conservation in the tropical
Andes region and have seen a substantial increase in number and area covered over the past 15
years (Hoffmann et al. Chapter 22, this volume). Currently, around 15% of the four Andean
nations' land area is under national protected area status. While designation of protected areas
has generally been based on biodiversity targets, it has not necessarily resulted in the
representation of the most biologically pristine or valuable areas within priority ecosystems.
More recently, protected areas have in many cases been created simply on the basis of sociopolitical
opportunity.
20

Even though robust assessments of the representativeness of the different protected area systems
have not been carried out in a systematic manner, around 70-80% of species are likely to be
represented within national protected areas (excluding municipal and departmental level
protected areas, indigenous and community conservation areas, and indigenous communal
lands). However, representation is biased towards lowlands and foothills, and little attention has
been paid to ecological processes, especially in western regions.
Capacity and data limitations mean that potential gaps in the network under climate
change are largely unknown. However, there is now a push to integrate the large number of
additional conservation areas managed at local and regional levels, into the National Protected
Area Systems (Hoffmann 2009; Hoffmann et al. Chapter 22, this volume), in some cases led by
municipal governments, and in others by native peoples, which could play a vital role in adapting
national biodiversity conservation efforts to the challenges of climate change. There are also
efforts under way to define national and regional conservation corridors that serve to link
protected areas (e.g., Vilcanota-Amboró Corridor in Bolivia and Peru; three altitudinal corridors
on the Eastern slopes in Colombia). Only in Colombia, however, has climate change recently
been incorporated as an explicit component of the conservation planning process behind these
efforts (see Appendix 2.1 and Hoffmann et al. Chapter 22, this volume, for further details).
Hence, substantial basic research, including gathering of baseline data, as well as modelling of
potential future shifts in species distributions and consequent changes in the provision of
ecosystem services, is a critical priority for the tropical Andes region.
Adaptive Management and the Identification of Future Vulnerabilities and
Opportunities
If we are to be proactive in addressing climate change, the identification of likely vulnerabilities
and evaluation of possible adaptation responses, as well as the identification of potential
opportunities, is paramount. Proactive strategies are likely to prove both more cost-effective
(Hannah et al. 2007) and ethically responsible - in terms of preventing or ameliorating some of
the worst potential impacts of climate change (Adger et al. 2009). However, given the magnitude
of uncertainty in projections of climate change and in species, ecosystems and human responses,
conservation planning must be set in the context of a range of potential future scenarios. Such an
approach is not an excuse for inaction, but a call for adaptive management.
Adaptive management is an iterative process of optimal decision making in the face of
uncertainty, that attempts to reduce that uncertainty over time by system-level monitoring (see
Sutherland 2006 for more details). Broadly speaking, such an approach has five stages (Figure
2.1): 1) define plausible future scenarios and set conservation targets within this plausible range;
2) perform conservation actions; 3) actions will lead to new behaviour within the system; 4)
monitor to detect changes in the system; 5) analyze impacts of conservation actions and adjust
initial targets accordingly. The cycle is then repeated.
However, the high degree of historical and contemporary variability in Andean climate
presents a substantial challenge to the identification of future scenario’s (Figure 2.1, Stage 1) in
relation to climate change impacts on species, processes and ecosystems. For example, for much
of the high Andean region above 3000 m, climatological data indicates that inter-annual thermal
variability is regionally synchronous and largely controlled by the phases of the El Niño
Southern Oscillation (ENSO), whereas the precipitation pattern varies spatially. At Cusco in
21

Figure 2.1. Simple schematic of the five stages of the adaptive management process: 1) Define plausible future
scenarios based on modelling and/or expert opinion and set conservation targets within this plausible range; 2)
Perform conservation actions; 3) Actions will lead to new behaviour within the system, which will also be subject to
influence by multiple external factors; 4) Monitor to detect changes in the behaviour of the system, as well as the
influence of external factors, including measurement of the direct and indirect costs of management actions, both
positive (e.g. rehabilitation of ecosystem services) and negative (e.g. opportunity cost of foregone agricultural
production); 5) Feed these data into an analysis of the impacts of the conservation actions, and adjust the initial
models/scenario’s and targets accordingly. This cycle is then repeated at appropriate time intervals.
southern Peru, the inter-annual range of variation in daily maximum temperature over the
summer growing season has been as much as 3.8 0 C (from +2.5 0 C accompanying a strong El
Niño event in 1983, to -1.3 0 C under La Niña conditions in 1984). Historically, such a range of
variability is likely the norm, although glaciological evidence suggests downward shifts in
22

aseline mean temperature followed by a rebound to present levels probably occurred during the
Little Ice Age (1500-1900 AD).
Such natural climatic variability creates two challenges. Firstly, it translates into greater
uncertainty in projections of future climatic change in the region, particularly at the relatively
fine scales required for most spatial planning needs (Vuille et al. 2008). Secondly, it has shaped
the evolutionary environment of regional biodiversity, potentially enhancing the resilience of
species and ecosystems to sequential climatic extremes. Moreover, the amplitude of change of
such short term climatic shocks (i.e. 3.8 0 C) exceeds the expected net thermal increase projected
for the end of the 21st century under all but the most extreme emissions scenarios depicted by
climate models for the Andes. Hence, there is a risk that some assessments could overestimate
the impacts of climate change, projecting extinction in regions where a species or component
populations are, at least potentially, pre-adapted. Perhaps more pertinent, however, is the
capacity of individual species and ecological systems to adapt to a shifting thermal baseline that
increasingly biases the distribution towards higher temperatures likely to surpass historical
experience. Hence, the Andean context highlights a key issue in the development of scenarios of
potential climate change impacts: what is the level of acceptable uncertainty? Practically
however, when considering biodiversity targets, such uncertainty necessitates the use of multiple,
but necessarily limited data sources, and therefore a judicious assessment of vulnerability.
Assessing Vulnerability
Direct Impacts
Broadly speaking, the vulnerability of a species to climate change is a product of its
susceptibility (defined by its intrinsic biological traits), its exposure (does it occur in a region of
high climatic change?) and its adaptive capacity (can it adapt to climatic change?) (Figure 2.2).
The vulnerability of an ecosystem can then be defined by the likely complex interactions and
synergies between the relative vulnerabilities of its component species and proximate abiotic
processes (see Chapter 4 for a discussion of the complexity of the interactions).
Figure 2.2. Schematic representation of a species vulnerability to climate change, where each component varies
from ‘low’ to ‘high’ according to the colour gradient, such that ‘X’ represents greatest vulnerability (i.e., the
intersection of the three components – high susceptibility, high exposure and low adaptive capacity)
23

These three components can be estimated using a variety of data sources and
methodologies requiring varying degrees of technical capacity, input data quality and quantity,
ability to provide robust future projections, definition of operational scale, and – critically – the
associated uncertainties (Table 2.1). The simplest approach is to identify those biological traits of
individual species (or across a taxon) that, based on expert opinion, are likely to predispose a
species to being susceptible to climate change (Foden et al. 2009). Such traits might include a
narrow altitudinal range at a high elevation, a high degree of habitat specialization, or a
dependency on only a few prey or host species. Similarly, a species’ adaptive capacity might be
deemed limited if it is a poor disperser, or if its genetic diversity is low. Exposure can then be
estimated based on, for example, its thermal tolerance (Jiguet et al. 2006) in comparison to
projected climatic anomalies across its area of occupancy. Such an approach has many
advantages – for example, it relates directly to a specie's ecology; it avoids the need to develop a
more complex model of the relationship between climate and species distribution; and it is data
‘light’ in that it can be applied to a wide range of species and taxa. Disadvantages are that it
provides limited information on the likely future spatial distribution of biodiversity that is critical
for conservation planning and interactions between components of vulnerability may be missed.
Table 2.1. Examples of the methods currently available for assessing vulnerability and
identifying future scenarios of biodiversity pattern.
Method Description Identifies Example Reference
Trait-based Expert derived identification of Susceptibility; Adaptive (Foden et al. 2009)
assessments broad life-history characteristics
that predispose susceptibility
capacity
Shifts in climatic Spatial representation of shifts Exposure; Refugia (Ohlemuller et al. 2006;
parameters in climatic parameters derived
from GCM or RCM outputs
Williams et al. 2007)
Species distribution Modelled statistical association Susceptibility via e.g. present (Pearson and Dawson
models (SDMs) between a species present-day and future range overlap or 2003; Hole et al. 2009)
distribution and current climate change in future range extent;
– can then project relationship Exposure; Spatially explicit
onto future climates (e.g.
Maxent; Generalized Additive
Models; Boosted-Regression
Trees)
projections
Dynamic [global] Process based models that Susceptibility of individual (Scott et al. 2002;
vegetation models simulate shifts in, and dynamics modelled plant species; Hannah et al. 2008)
(D[G]VMs) of, vegetation, in response to Susceptibility of other species
climate and other drivers (e.g. via spatially explicit
LPJ; VECODE; BIOME) projections of future presence
of suitable habitat
Population viability Data-intensive, species-specific Vulnerability (Brito and Figueiredo
analysis (PVA) model that determines viability
of one or more populations over
time, based on internal and
external drivers of population
dynamics
2003; Vargas et al. 2007)
24

Towards the other extreme of the data requirement spectrum is species distribution
modelling (SDM) (Graham et al. Chapter 21, this volume; Pearson and Dawson 2003). Given
adequate and robust gridded data on the presence and absence of a species across its entire range,
or sufficient accurate and fine-scale presence localities across an environmentally representative
sample of its range, together with technical capacity in statistical analysis and GIS, it is now
relatively easy to generate present and future projections of individual species distributions at
local, regional or continental scales (although interpretation of model outputs still requires
ecological expertise). Advantages include quantified estimates of sensitivity (e.g.,
reduction/increase in future range extent), and spatially explicit projections of species’ potential
future distributions – a product that is unavailable by any other means. Disadvantages include the
wide-range of assumptions that such models rely on (see Graham et al. Chapter 21, this volume)
and the consequent requirement for judicious interpretation. Recent advances in the development
of the next generation of SDMs seek to overcome many of these disadvantages and assumptions
(e.g., Keith et al. 2008), by incorporating habitat requirements, population dynamics and
dispersal into the bioclimatic modelling framework. On the downside, such models will require a
vastly improved understanding of a specie's ecology. The pros and cons inherent across these
methodologies should therefore be carefully considered when applying analyses to inform the
adaptive management process.
Indirect Impacts
An understanding of the direct impacts of climate change on biodiversity is beginning to emerge
in the Andean region, as is an awareness of the diversity and magnitude of the responses by
people whose lives and livelihoods are altered by climate change (Young and Lipton 2006).
However almost no attention has been paid to the impacts that human responses to climate
change will have upon biodiversity. Yet these ‘indirect’ impacts have the potential to be of a
magnitude and scope that will rival or exceed the direct impacts. Here we identify several areas
in which the interactions between people, biodiversity and climate change in the tropical Andes
have the potential to be critical and which urgently warrant further research and consideration in
the adaptive management process.
Food: Climate change will have profound impacts on our ability to grow food. Regions currently
suitable for a particular crop may become unsuitable, as climate change pushes local
microclimates beyond the crop's temperature or water tolerance (Lobell et al. 2008). Unless new
varietals can be developed, cropping practices adapted, or alternative crops identified, farmers
may be forced to migrate to new areas (Warner et al. 2009), putting increased pressure on natural
habitats or urban zones. Of course the converse may also be true, with changes in climate
generating increases in yield and allowing some crops to be grown in areas that were previously
unsuitable. In Peru’s Cordillera Vilcanota for example, cultivation practices on highland slopes
have moved progressively higher in recent decades as moderating temperatures have expanded
the domain of a viable growing season upward. Studies at Nunoa performed in 1964-65
identified a relatively frost-free 5-month period representing a suitable growing season at
4,236m, close to the highest tilled fields at that time. A nearby climate station meanwhile, at
4,543m, recorded frosts throughout the year (Winterhalder and Thomas 1978). By 2003,
however, potato cultivation in the nearby Pitumarca valley had moved to 4,550m around several
25

communities. The warming regional climate has thus been accompanied by a rise in the limit of
cultivation by as much as 300m over the 38 year period (Halloy et al. 2005; Figure 2.3). Further
upward shifts in cultivation may put still largely pristine high elevation habitats under pressure.
In the Cordillera Apolobamba in Bolivia, the upward shift in agricultural activities has displaced
livestock (camélidos) to even greater elevations, with consequent impacts on high altitude
ecosystems in the region (Schulte 1996). Where higher elevations have limited area, the same
number of animals is often packed into a smaller area resulting in increased erosion. Yields of
cash-crops crucial to livelihoods in the region, such as coffee, will also respond to changes in
temperature, as projected for other regions of the America’s (e.g., Mexico; Schroth et al. 2009).
Increased pressures on upslope protected areas, as cost-effective yields of Coffea arabica
become increasingly limited to higher elevations, are a likely consequence.
Water: Deglaciation caused by climate change over the past several decades, has led to a
significant reduction in dry season flows in glacier-fed rivers (Francou et al. 2005; Vergara et al.
2007). This has necessitated the creation of upstream reservoir capacity to provide a buffer to
ensure sufficient flow for hydropower generation and agricultural needs downstream. For
example, the largest high-alpine lake in the Andes, Peru’s 32 km 2 Laguna Sibinacocha at 4,900
m, which provides habitat for thousands of flamingos and other waterfowl, was artificially
enlarged by a dam in the mid-1990s to augment diminishing dry season flow far downstream at
the Machu Picchu hydroelectric generation plant on the Vilcanota-Urubamba river (Seimon
2001). Anecdotal evidence suggests that avian diversity and abundance on the lake may have
decreased as a result, due to inundation of traditional nesting areas (see Anderson et al. Chapter
1, this volume for further examples).
Health: A major potential impact of climate change on human health is the change in the
incidence and geographic range of vector-borne diseases (Martens 1998; Patz et al. 2002).
Changes in ambient temperatures and rainfall have affected the seasonality, duration of
outbreaks and morbidity profiles of both malaria and dengue fever, diseases whose transmission,
distribution and seasonality are linked to climatic conditions (Poveda et al. 2001; Ruiz et al.
2006). Projected increases in temperature under climate change may now drive these diseases
into formerly mosquito-free territories. As in the past, communities may choose to seek out
malarial-free areas (Gade 1999) beyond the expanding disease front, putting further pressure on
natural habitats within these regions.
Energy: Biofuels have been proposed as one method for mitigating greenhouse gas emissions.
Whether or not biofuels actually offer carbon savings depends on how they are produced. In
many regions the production of food crop-based biofuels is leading to the conversion of
rainforests, savannas, peatlands, grasslands and other natural ecosystems to agriculture,
generating a substantial “carbon debt” (Fargione et al. 2008), while simultaneously causing
widespread degradation of natural ecosystems. In the Andean region, it is unclear as yet whether
the increase in biofuel demand will have substantial negative impacts on Andean biodiversity as
a result of deforestation and other legal, illegal or politically motivated land use changes.
Although laws have been passed recently in Bolivia for example, encouraging biofuel production
for national consumption, the government has so far opposed producing biofuels for exports,
because of the potentially negative impacts on food security and on small farmers.
26

Hydroelectric power generation meanwhile is affected by changes in climate and stream
flows. In Peru, the prospect of decreasing dry season flows from glacier-fed rivers has motivated
an adaptive electricity generation strategy shifting away from hydropower, which formerly
contributed 90% of the country’s power supply, to greenhouse gas producing gas/thermoelectric
power generation facilities (Vergara et al. 2007).
Cordillera Vilcanota, Peru
Frost frequency vs. elevation(1964-65)
monthly percentage of days < 0°C
4,236m 4,543m
season
---------- ~4,550 m
Pitumarca valley,
2003
Figure 2.3. Rising altitudinal limit to cultivation in the Andes associated with regional warming.
Photograph © Anton Seimon 2003
27

Human migration: Large-scale displacements of people resulting from climate change is already
a reality, with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in 2008 arguing for the first
time that the increase in displaced people globally was at least partly attributable to climate
change-related conflict. However, even in the absence of conflict, this trend is likely to increase
substantially in synergy with many of the drivers outlined above, generating new, or modifying
existing patterns. Rural-urban migration is already significant in the Andes, and will be further
enhanced by the increased unpredictability of agricultural production. While this process may
result in socioeconomic improvements, as well as more efficient use of natural resources, it is
also likely to result in increased human pressure in urban areas, local increases in water demand
and water diversion, with consequent impacts on freshwater and terrestrial ecosystems.
Conversely, the reduction in the human footprint in rural areas could lead to a beneficial indirect
impact on biodiversity (Grau et al. 2003; Grau and Aide, 2007), assuming the land has not been
badly degraded and is allowed, or actively encouraged to revert to a natural state.
Adaptive Management Responses
Mitigating identified vulnerabilities to climate change in the tropical Andean region will be
challenging, given the complex patterns and associated interactions of biodiversity and human
land use. Here we highlight key adaptive management responses (see Heller and Zavaleta 2009
for a more comprehensive review), noting that these responses require coordination and
integration at local, national and regional levels (Figure 2.4) if they are to be effective. Although
here we break these responses down into species-, site- and landscape-level approaches, such
distinctions must become necessarily blurred when developing a holistic adaptation strategy
under climate change.
Regional planning process
A systematic conservation planning process (Margules and Pressey 2000) for the region is a
critical research and policy requirement for the near term. While the potential foundations for
such a process exist (e.g., the Estrategia Regional de Biodiversidad para los Paises del Tropico
Andino), climate change is at best a marginal component in such plans. Any process must also be
cognizant of the specific national and local contexts in which biodiversity conservation will be
carried out.
Species-level approaches
Removing current stresses and threats to a vulnerable species or ecosystem (e.g., hunting
pressure, habitat fragmentation) requires minimal knowledge of potential climate change
impacts, yet it is a practical way to increase resilience since a system facing multiple stressors is
less able to cope with additional pressures from climate change. The Andean bear (Tremarctos
ornatus) is one example that would likely benefit from such an approach, given its large homerange
and lack therefore of site-specific conservation options. Individual species action plans
such as the Biodiversity Action Plans (BAPs) in Europe, or the US Endangered Species Program
that are backed up by legal enforcement, also reduce the vulnerability of a species to climate
change. A limited number of such plans already exist in the Andean region, e.g., for Polylepis in
the Callejon de Conchucos in Ancash, Peru; and Southern Horned Curassow Pauxi unicornis in
28

Bolivia. Identification of further species for which alternative adaption options are unlikely to be
sufficient to maintain viable populations should be a priority.
Figure 2.4. Adaptive management options for increasing resilience to biodiversity, across spatial scales.
Where a species is imminently at risk of extinction, its translocation (or assisted migration) to
suitable but inaccessible habitat (perhaps due to distance from the species’ current range) and ex
situ conservation have to be seriously considered, despite acknowledged costs, difficulties and
risks (e.g., Hoegh-Guldberg et al. 2008). For example, following precipitous population declines
caused principally by Chytridiomycosis (Pounds et al. 2006), many Andean amphibians now
require an ex situ approach, namely bringing the most threatened species into captive breeding
until release back into the wild becomes feasible. In other situations, this may be done in situ,
translocating plants and animals to sites that will be buffered from the effects of climate change
(see ‘refugia’ below) or at sites that can be managed such that the negative effects of climate
change are mitigated. Crucially, translocation will also likely have to include long-lived elements
of critical habitat types, such as seedlings of trees that upon maturity will provide food, shelter
and other resources, for the range of species and taxa that will be shifting their distributions into
these newly climatically suitable sites/regions.
Site-level approaches
Protected areas (PAs) and PA networks remain the optimal strategy for conserving global
biodiversity (Bruner et al. 2001). Increasing the coverage of the global PA network in order to
fill ‘gaps’ (i.e., species whose ranges are not included in the current network (Rodrigues et al.
2004)) is an urgent conservation priority. However, under climate change simply trying to
achieve adequate representation of current biodiversity pattern when choosing new sites is likely
29

to be insufficient. Instead, other considerations, particularly potential shifts in both biodiversity
pattern and process, must be explicitly considered.
Relict forest patches above the mean closed timberline are a common feature on many steep
mountain slopes up to 5,400 m, especially along the eastern Andes. Composed primarily of
Polylepis and Gynoxys (Fjeldså and Kessler 1996; Coblentz and Keating 2008), these forest
islands harbour assemblages of other species including endemic fauna and flora such as the
critically endangered bird, the Royal Cinclodes (Cinclodes aricomae). Indeed, these patches have
likely functioned as biological refugia through climatically stressful epochs in the past,
including most recently the Little Ice Age. Their apparent stability therefore suggests resilience
in the face of climate change. It has therefore been argued that they should be considered high
priority targets for conservation, both for their current ecological function and for their potential
to serve as refugia under the changed climatic conditions of the future. However, some caution is
needed since these relict patches could simply represent remnants of much more extensive
forests fragmented by humans over centuries or millennia (Fjeldså and Kessler 1996; Fjeldså
2002; Kessler 2002), raising doubt over their ability to act as future refugia. Other putative
refugia have also been identified in the Andean region, including areas with stable mist
formation on the Pacific slope and the intermontane basins (Fjeldså et al. 1999). Clearly, the
robust identification of functional refugia in the tropical Andes must be a research priority.
Environmental gradients containing sufficient natural habitat to create land-use mosaics that
will maintain functional habitat connectivity, should be incorporated into conservation units
wherever possible (e.g. sites, corridors, watersheds). Both short, sharp, and broad, diffuse
gradients should be considered where relevant, because of the different options they provide for
rapid dispersal of species or adaptation through genetic plasticity (Killeen and Solorzano 2008).
Gradients of particular relevance to the Andes include elevational, edaphic, and humidity
gradients. This strategy is already being utilized in Peru, where three large national parks have
been created that include entire elevational gradients (Rio Abiseo, Yanachaga-Chemillen, and
Manu National Parks) (Young and Lipton 2006), in Bolivia (Madidi, Carrasco, and Amboró
National Parks), in Ecuador (La Reserva Cofanes-Chingual), and in Colombia.
The tracking of ecotones (the transition between two ecosystems or biomes) offers a further
adaptive management option. An important example in the Andean context is the treeline, the
dynamics of which are sensitive to both climatic and human impacts (Bader et al. 2007; Young
and Leon 2007). Given the relatively high environmental and climatic variability at ecotones,
populations in or near these areas are likely to be pre-adapted to a relatively high level of
physiological stress and may possess adaptive genetic traits that are absent from core populations
(Killeen and Solorzano 2008). Monitoring and tracking of ecotones is now feasible thanks to
recent advances in remote sensing (see Monitoring section).
Riverine forest corridors have served as pathways or refugia for many forest taxa (e.g., in
Madagascar; Wilme et al. 2006) and are likely to continue to do so under climate change. By
connecting higher elevation watersheds to the lowlands, they incorporate many of the
environmental gradients already highlighted as key targets in the Andean region. Examples
include the Topo and Palora rivers in Ecuador, whose watersheds are protected by the Llangantes
and Sangay National Parks, thereby covering an elevational gradient of almost 3000 m.
30

Maintaining riverine forest can reduce the build up of sediment and/or chemicals leaching into
the water from the surrounding landscape, preserving water quality for aquatic species. The
rivers themselves are also critical for both freshwater and biodiversity.
In order to reduce or remove threats to a vulnerable species or ecosystems, strict protection of
some localities within PAs, or of entire PAs, will be required. Most tropical Andean national
protected area systems include strict protection as a management option, typically defining
specific vulnerable zones as “no impact” or “no visit”. Use of this management option is likely to
become even more crucial under climate change and sensitivity will need to be shown in
deriving the correct balance between sustainable use of an area by local communities and the
preservation of species and key habitats.
SDM projections provide a means of identifying regions or even sites that could represent
concentrations of future species richness and/or regions projected to experience large numbers
of species moving through them, as species’ ranges shift. As a result, they have begun to be
incorporated into adaptive management planning, e.g. for the Cape Proteaceae in South Africa
(Williams et al. 2005); for the African IBA network (Hole et al. in press). If the assumptions and
uncertainties in such modelling exercises are fully acknowledged, these techniques currently
provide the only method of proactively identifying future regions of potentially high
conservation value that may not be included in current conservation plans.
Similarly, use of SDM and dynamic vegetation models (DVM) projections provide a means of
informing future site-based management strategies by identifying and targeting broad
management strategies across networks of conservation sites, that reflect potential changes in the
species composition of those sites. Broad strategies can be characterized from SDM derived
projections of inter-site differences in the number of immigrant, emigrant and persistent species
across a network of sites (e.g., for the African IBA network; Hole et al. in press), or based on
DVM projections of future vegetation patterns within sites (e.g., the Canadian Parks system;
Scott et al. 2002).
Landscape-level approaches – corridors and landscape permeability
Large protected areas may include sufficient environmental gradients such that they can be
managed as a single landscape unit (Figure 2.5 A). Within such sites, species range shifts will
likely leave relict distributions in addition to forming new species assemblages along elevation
and humidity gradients. A variety of approaches may then be viable for preservation,
translocation, and restoration. Most Andean landscapes, however, include a wide variety of
human land uses, creating mosaics within which conservation strategies are more constrained
(Figure 2.5 B). Given the potential speed and magnitude of species range shifts in response to
climate change, and the very high likelihood of substantial species turnover within conservation
areas (Hole et al. 2009), most site-based conservation strategies will continue to fulfil their role
only if the landscapes within which they are embedded (i.e., the matrix) allow species to move
through them across ecologically relevant temporal and spatial scales (Gascon et al. 1999).
Corridors are landscape scale conservation and management units (Soule and Terborgh 1999)
that have already been defined across parts of the Andean region. Within such landscape units,
promotion of land use efficiency may prove to be key. Encouraging the concentration of
agricultural production within restricted, but high yield areas, may favour de-intensification in
31

Figure 2.5. Andean landscapes have strong environmental gradients, with dramatic changes in elevation joined by
shifts in humidity, mediated through rainfall amounts, degree of seasonality, and soil moisture.
XA, represents a protected landscape, wherein the goals of biodiversity conservation take priority. Climate change
can force species shifts along the elevational gradient (b), along the humidity gradient (c), or in some cases may not
cause species shifts or may not affect a particular site (a). Strategies within this protected area may include special
attention to a, given it serves as a conservation refugia, while facilitated transformation of important habitat
elements (e.g., tree plantings) and translocation of species of concern to places predicted to be important for
altitudinal shifts (b) and range shifts to wetter or drier sites (c).
XB, represents an inhabited landscape, utilized by people and with multiple land owners and land tenures. Here
there could also be refugia (a), elevational shifts (b) and shifts with changing humidity regimes (c), but the
conservation strategies may be more constrained in deference to competing needs for land use. Instead management
strategies or conservation incentives could be used to lessen the landscape matrix’s resistance to species movements,
through formal conservation corridors or through land uses such as agroforestry or shade coffee. The refugia (a)
could be particularly important conservation targets, requiring active management interventions including strict
protection and habitat management.
32

less productive and more vulnerable areas (e.g., on slopes and at higher elevations) and reduce
encroachment on natural habitats (Green et al. 2005; Grau and Aide 2007), although the
effectiveness of such ‘land sparing’ remains questionable (Ewers et al. 2009).
Monitoring
Monitoring is a critical component of the adaptive management process (Figure 2.1, Stage 4). It
provides baseline assessments of biodiversity and environmental parameters of interest (e.g.,
climate) from which to interpret current and potential future changes; a means to validate model
outputs (e.g. is a species range shifting in the manner projected by its SDM?); an early-warning
mechanism of unexpected climate change impacts; and a measure of the effectiveness of a
conservation action, that must then be fed back into adaptive management. Choosing the correct
indicators to monitor can be challenging given limited resources, and they will depend on the
goal of the monitoring. Suitable indicators can be individual species (e.g., amphibians with a
recognized sensitivity to climatic conditions); assemblages (repeat censusing of floral
assemblages is already underway through the GLORIA initiative but is otherwise lacking in the
Andes); ecosystems (e.g., paramos are a crucial ecosystem to monitor since there is nowhere
‘upwards’ for constituent species to go (Anderson et al. Chapter 1, this volume)); processes or
interactions (e.g., the well documented relationship between fig trees (Ficus spp.) and their figwasp
pollinators (Agaoninae) represents a powerful indicator since its disruption through climate
change would resonate across communities or even entire ecosystems); composites of these (e.g.,
GLORIA http://www.gloria.ac.at/?a=20 and TEAM http://www.teamnetwork.org/en/ networks);
or derived products from remote sensing (e.g., NDVI to assess seasonal ‘greening’). Utilizing a
broad range of indicators increases our ability to detect climate change signals and rapidly adapt
management responses accordingly. Long-term data series are also vital for understanding the
natural range of variability of systems, yet standardized long-term monitoring records are lacking
throughout the majority of the tropical Andes.
The utility of remote sensing data for monitoring purposes has increased rapidly over the
past decade and merits closer inspection, given its potential for relatively cheap, standardized
monitoring over much of the globe, including the tropical Andes. There is now a wide array of
current and/or planned Earth observing systems (satellite, aerial, and in situ) at local, national
and regional scales, that collect and disseminate monitoring data. The Global Earth Observing
System of Systems (GEOSS) is coordinating the collection, distribution and use of these data
across multiple themes of importance to society: climate, weather, energy, health, agriculture,
water, disasters, biodiversity, and ecosystems. Recent changes in data policy have made remote
sensing data available at little or no cost. Table 2.2 provides an overview of current satellite and
associated sensors most relevant to monitoring climate change effects on biodiversity and
ecosystems in the tropical Andes. As an example of the utility of such data, satellite and aerial
photography, together with radar and LIDAR data, when coupled with field-based calibration
and validation, now provide an operational means of defining and monitoring ecotones,
including changes in treelines, through estimation of tree height, basal area and stem volume
(Holmgren 2004), treeline structure (Rees 2007), species composition (Holmgren and Persson
2004), tree migration (Næsset and Nelson 2007), and changes in treeline over time (Zhang et al.
2009). The number of satellite-borne sensors has increased dramatically and many hyperspectral,
radar, and LIDAR missions are on-going or planned. Yet access to this high data volume, to
33

usable, derived products, and to technical capacity for interpretation remain limiting factors for
monitoring climate change impacts on biodiversity.
Table 2.2. An overview of principal current remote sensing data, of relevance to biodiversity and
ecosystem monitoring in the tropical Andes . * = commercial system; Pan = panchromatic; XS =
multispectral.
Satellite / Sensor Temporal
Resolution
(days)
Moderate-resolution (250-8000m)
Spatial
Resolution
(m)
Spectral
Resolution /
Band
Program
Life
Derivative
Products
AVHRR 1 1000-8000 XS, thermal 1982- IGBP Land Cover,
GIMMS NDVI
SeaWIFS 1 1000 XS 1998- Ocean Color
SPOT-Vegetation (VGT) 2 1000 XS 1998- GLC 2000, GIMMS
MODIS 1 250-1000 36 channels in
visible - thermal
MERIS 1 300 36 channels in
visible -
thermal
Medium-resolution optical (10-250m)
NDVI
2000- MODIS LAI/fPAR, VI,
NPP, Land Cover, Fire.
Land Surface
Temperature
2000- GLC 2005
Landsat 1-3 MSS 16 80 XS 1973-87 Global Land Survey
1970
Landsat 4-5 TM 16 28.5 XS, thermal 1984- Global Land Survey
1970, 1990, 2000,
2005
Landsat 7 ETM 16 15-28.5m XS, thermal. 1999- Global Land Survey
pan
2000, 2005
SPOT 1-5 2 10-20 Green, red, 1990-
near-IR
ASTER 16 15, 30, 90 XS, thermal 1999- ASTER Global Digital
Elevation Model
IRS Variable 2.5, 20, 30 Pan, XS 1988-
CBERS 1-3 5 20 XS, Pan 2003-
ALOS 46 10 XS 2006-
Medium-resolution radar(10-250m)
ERS 1-2 35 25 C-band SAR 1996-
JERS-1 44 10 L-band 1992-98
Radarsat 1-2 24 8, 20, 50 C-band 1995-
PALSAR 46 10, 100 L-band 2006-
SRTM short-lived 30,90, 1000 Interferometric 2002 SRTM30, SRTM90
radar
DEMS
ENVISAT ASAR 35 C-band 2002-
High-resolution (

Opportunities – Demonstrating the Value of Maintaining Functional
Ecosystems
Climate change is already having negative repercussions for both biodiversity and people and
poses a multitude of future risks. If there is any positive side to this, it may be that climate
change has helped push biodiversity, ecosystems and the services they provide, to finally being
recognized and valued as critical components of the Earth system, rather than as a global
commons to be used and abused without concern for the consequences. Attaching a ‘value’ to
nature is seen as anathema by some and care must be taken to ensure that the value of an
ecosystem reflects not just its direct commercial or marketable value (e.g., provision of
hydrological services), but also those goods and services that are extremely difficult to quantify
and value (e.g., cultural services such as spiritual value). Nevertheless, the lack of any sort of
valuation is an underlying cause of the degradation of ecosystems and the loss of biodiversity
that we see today (TEEB 2008). Such a valuation becomes even more critical given that the
maintenance of functional ecosystem services is likely to represent the most cost-effective way
to avoid and/or adapt to many of the projected impacts of climate change on human wellbeing.
So-called ‘ecosystem based adaptation’ (an adaptation strategy now defined and endorsed by
IUCN, the World Bank and many other international organizations) is likely to be of particular
relevance in much of the developing world, where ‘technical’ adaptation options, such as the
building of a large-scale water treatment plant in response to diminished freshwater quality, may
be a far less pertinent adaptation option than, for example, maintaining or restoring forest-cover
throughout a key watershed. In light of these developments, including a valuation (even a “backof-the-envelope”
calculation) of the ecosystem services preserved or restored as part of any
adaptive management strategy, represents a key tool to leverage biodiversity-favourable policy
across stakeholders.
Payment for Ecosystem Services (PES)
Paying individuals or communities for the services provided by natural ecosystems on their land
is still rare in the Andean region. However, successful PES schemes do exist. For example, in the
Los Negros river watershed in Bolivia, Fundación Natura has initiated a project that seeks to
reduce or prevent reductions in water quality and quantity for downstream users (principally
farmers relying on irrigation) caused by upstream deforestation. Through the scheme, these
downstream irrigators agree to compensate upstream farmers to protect certain forests and
restore others, thereby ensuring the quality of their water supply. In Ecuador meanwhile, the
Pimampiro initiative places a specific fee for watershed forest protection onto the water bills of
nearly 1300 families; 20% of these funds are then used to pay 19 upstream farmers to conserve
their forests (390 ha of forest and 163 ha of paramo) (Camacho 2008). Major cities such as
Bogotá in Colombia and Santa Cruz in Bolivia are now also beginning to utilize water-based
PES schemes through small additions to water or electricity fees to pay for watershed
conservation. In Quito, Ecuador, which receives its water supply from the high plateaus of the
surrounding Andean range, a Water Conservation Fund (FONAG) was set up in 2000 to manage
and direct revenue generated by a water consumption fee, to fund conservation and restoration
projects in surrounding watershed. These projects include, for example, improving sheep and
cattle production practices in order to reduce negative impacts on land cover and water quality.
35

On a potentially far greater scale, the introduction of REDD (Reduced Emissions from
Deforestation and Degradation) as a climate change mitigation strategy, could provide a
potentially massive increase in the funds available for forest conservation through their role in
carbon sequestration and storage. The benefits to biodiversity could be increased further still if
policymakers could agree to prioritize forests with high biodiversity for REDD funding. The
potential for REDD to contribute to biodiversity conservation in the tropical Andean region is
substantial and numerous pilot studies are being carried out. For example, a recent study in
Peru’s Cordillera Azul National Park, has demonstrated that management activities over the past
six years have decreased deforestation rates in its buffer zone and prevented further deforestation
in the park. However, without a continuous source of revenue, such as REDD could provide,
continued management will be impossible and the park will likely succumb to threats from
logging, oil extraction and the expansion of the agricultural frontier that have impacted the park
in the past.
Incorporating Biodiversity Conservation into Development Planning
There is a growing awareness, from local NGOs to the large multilateral organizations, that
poverty and biodiversity are intimately linked. The poor, especially in rural areas, depend on
biodiversity for food, fuel, shelter, medicines and a wealth of other ecosystem services.
Biodiversity loss therefore exacerbates poverty, while poverty in turn is a major threat to
biodiversity, through unsustainable land use. The conservation and sustainable use of
biodiversity also plays a critical role in the economic survival of a variety of production sectors
such as fisheries, agriculture, and tourism. Consideration of biodiversity must therefore be
integrated into the development process. This ‘mainstreaming’ of biodiversity into production
sectors, poverty reduction plans and national sustainable development plans has been an
internationally acknowledged goal for some time. For instance, goal 3.3 of the Strategic Plan of
the Convention on Biodiversity (CBD), developed in 2002, requires that “biodiversity concerns
are being integrated into relevant national sectoral and cross-sectoral plans, programmes and
policies”. Yet progress on achieving this goal in the Andean region, as elsewhere, has been
limited. It must now become a priority, both in terms of collating the scientific and socioeconomic
evidence to support it, and the development of the policy initiatives to make it happen.
Obstacles – Institutional Capacity
Perhaps the single greatest limitation to robustly addressing the combination of the direct and
indirect effects of climate change, together with the impacts of other global change (e.g.,
deforestation, species invasion) on biodiversity in the Andean Region, is the lack of institutional
capacity. This lack is principally a result of competing and overlapping responsibilities,
compounded by lack of interconnections between and among institutions, authorities and other
stakeholders in the region. Although skilled and technically adept scientists and policy makers
exist across the region, they are in profoundly short supply. In order to improve capacity
therefore, there is a clear need to: 1) Develop interdisciplinary higher education programs, to
train qualified local researchers in the processing and analysis of ever increasing quantities of
data (e.g., by promoting international programmes for students to study in leading institutions in
36

Europe, Asia and North America). 2) Promote training opportunities for local leaders to facilitate
their understanding and interpretation of complex analyses. 3) Involve the social, behavioral, and
economic sciences in the necessary planning, implementation, and monitoring; advances are
being made in the areas of environmental economics and common pool resource theory, used for
understanding decisions relating to natural resource use and valuation. 4) Establish and promote
social networks, for example, through the internet, to coordinate and facilitate information
dissemination to decision makers and other stakeholders.
At the scale of the tropical Andes, institutions like the Comunidad Andina (CAN) could
play a leading role in promoting and facilitating integration and adaptive practices among
signatory countries. Ideally, this would result in a regional planning process at least every five
years, timed to coincide with the availability of new assessments resulting from the IPCC
process. The planning process may also need to expand to include the Venezuelan Andes, northwest
Argentina and north-east Chile, given the extension of tropical Andean ecosystems across
these country’s borders. At the national level, there are existing planning initiatives in both the
private and public sectors that could be expanded and replicated elsewhere. Not only should this
involve the scientific community, but also social communicators. At the local level,
municipalities and local communities will need access to results to allow them to assess and plan
for locally-led initiatives. It will therefore be important to promote the provision of training to
meet identified needs, so that local concerns are accounted for. In some regions, municipalities
coordinate with protected area systems and should also be partners when setting climate change
goals. Throughout the regional planning process, it will be crucial to facilitate public
dissemination in order to ensure that the process is transparent and accountable.
Conclusions
Given the global importance of the tropical Andes for biodiversity, and the considerable risks
posed by climate change, it is critical that both a regional and an international response be
oriented to provide the necessary information and resources at the appropriate regional, national,
and local scales, in order to inform robust adaptive management responses. Given current social
inequalities which will likely be further exacerbated by climate change, the implementation of
strategies that incorporate the use of economic, policy, and legal instruments for biodiversity
conservation across the tropical Andean region will need to consider equity, fairness and
distributional issues. How are these policies impacting stakeholders? Are they imposing burdens
on the poorest sectors? These and other similar questions must be considered when designing
and implementing integrated conservation and development policies. We highlight nine critical
needs:
• Convene a region-wide systematic conservation planning process, that explicitly
incorporates the impacts of climate change, and that reconvenes every five years, in order
to coincide with the availability of new knowledge from the IPCC and other assessments.
• Continue to develop a comprehensive understanding of Andean climatology of the
present and recent past to provide a baseline for detecting change and for assessing
species and ecosystem capacities for resilience to climate stresses.
• Implement standardized monitoring protocols to provide baseline evaluations of species
distributions, population status, and ecosystem integrity, drawing from taxonomy, field
37

ecology, and remote sensing. It is critical that data transparency and sharing is widely
promoted.
• Continue to develop and test the next generation of SDMs for projecting species and
ecosystem (or proxy) spatial responses to climate change, since these provide the only
way of assessing potential synergies and conflicts with people in an uncertain future.
• Improve the understanding of the indirect impacts of climate change, resulting from
planned and unplanned human adaptation and mitigation responses, on biodiversity and
the provision of ecosystem services.
• Demonstrate the direct and indirect benefits of ecosystem based adaptation as a key tool
for making lives and livelihoods more resilient to climate change.
• Build institutional capacity to design and implement robust adaptive management
strategies, at regional, national and local scales, including all stakeholders.
• Incorporate consideration of biodiversity into local, national and regional development
planning, across all economic and societal sectors. Biodiversity and the ecosystem
services it underpins must be front and center with economic and other considerations.
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43

Appendix 2.1. Summary information on the current PA systems in three of the four tropical
Andean countries
1. What is the focus of the current PA system – i.e., is it selected on biodiversity targets or
just the cheapest/unusable land?
Bolivia
In general, on biodiversity targets, but not necessarily in the best portions of the priority
ecosystems in terms of conservation status and threat levels. Most recent PAs were created on
the basis of socio-political opportunities (political will). Gap analysis at national level requires
downscaling in order to better prioritize where future PAs need to be created.
Peru
At present what is being used are “marxan” type approximations, which are looking for sectors
with maximum protection at minimum cost.
Ecuador
Apparently the design of PA systems is changing, not only looking for the opportunity to create
spaces that might contain representative samples of biodiversity, but also to include concrete
targets, such as a certain key or endangered species, certain natural monuments or specific
ecosystem services. “Using the cheapest lands” has not been a common criteria for selection it
seems.
2. How well does the current PA system likely represent current biodiversity pattern and
process?
Bolivia
At species level, about 70-80% covered by national PAs (without considering municipal and
departmental level PAs or indigenous and community conservation areas or indigenous
communal lands (TCOs). There is a bias on representation of lowlands (and Andean foothills).
Peru
It seems that there is a lack of representation of ecological processes in the western part.
Ecuador
There is no definition (base line) about what to understand as “biodiversity pattern and process”.
Both GAP analysis in Ecuador (marine and terrestrial) consider maintaining representative
samples of all ecosystems – vegetation formations of the country as main criteria (rather than
processes).
3. What are the likely key gaps under climate change?
Bolivia
Altitudinal ranges and intersections between ecosystems (e.g. bosque seco chiquitano –
pantanal).
44

Peru
Difficult to say, as there are not many climate change scenarios available for analysis of
representativness in mountainous conditions. It seems the problem is more serious on the western
side, because of the lower rate of PA coverage and the high number of population, especially in
the valleys. This population generates a high demand of hydrological resources, that are being
extracted from the high parts of the (Eastern slope?) watersheds.
Ecuador
Lack of information (e.g., a base line of how biodiversity would be affected by climate change).
Existing climate models are not detailed enough, especially for the Andean region, and are not an
adequate basis to define strategies.
What would be needed is a balance between practical mitigation actions and local adaptation
measures, combining the following: biodiversity management, management of hydrological
resources, risk management, agro-ecology, food security, poverty reduction strategies, conflict
management, capacity development, territorial approach, among others.
45

Appendix 2.2. Definitions of key terms
Biological diversity: Variability among living organisms from all sources including, inter alia,
terrestrial, marine and other aquatic ecosystems and the ecological complexes of which they are
part; this includes diversity within species, between species and of ecosystems. (CBD,Art.2)
Planning: Refers to a set of activities which leads to identifying i) issues, and goals; and to ii)
formulating strategies and plans to be followed for the achievement of concrete goals.
Conservation: Protection and management of natural resources. The CBD identifies 2
biodiversity conservation options: i)"In-situ conservation" (in their natural habitats), ii)"Ex-situ
conservation" (outside their natural habitats.) (CBD, Art. 2)
Natural resources management: Set of activities and actions or inactions carried out to either:
exploit, use, conserve or preserve natural resources. These set of actions or inactions can lead to
either positive or negative impacts on biodiversity.
Question: * whether conservation is a component of management/ or whether management is a
component of conservation.
Climate change: A change of climate which is attributed directly or indirectly to human activity
that alters the composition of the global atmosphere and which is in addition to natural climate
variability observed over comparable time periods. (UNFCCC, Art.1)
46

Global Change Biology (2007) 13, 288–299, doi: 10.1111/j.1365-2486.2006.01278.x
Upward range extension of Andean anurans and
chytridiomycosis to extreme elevations in response
to tropical deglaciation
TRACIE A. SEIMON* 1 , ANTON SEIMONw 1 , PETER DASZAKz, STEPHAN R.P. HALLOY§,
LISA M. SCHLOEGELz, CÉSAR A. AGUILAR} , PRESTON SOWELLk, ALEX D. HYATT**,
BRONWEN KONECKYww and J O H N E . S I M M O N S zz
*Columbia University, 630 W 168th Street, New York, NY 10032, USA, wThe Earth Institute, Columbia University, 61 Rt. 9W,
Palisades, NY 10964, USA, zConsortium for Conservation Medicine, 460 West 34th Street, New York, NY 10001, USA, §Instituto
de Ecología, Universidad Mayor de San Andrés, La Paz, Bolivia, }Departamento de Herpetología, Museo de Historia Natural
Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Av. Arenales 1256, Jesús María, Apdo 14-0434, Lima 14, Perú, kStratus Consulting,
1881 9th Street Suite 201, Boulder, CO, USA, **CSIRO, Livestock Industries, Australian Animal Health Laboratory, 5
Portarlington Road, Private Bag 24, Geelong, Vic. 3220, Australia, wwBarnard College, Columbia University, 3001 Broadway, New
York, NY 10027, USA, zzNatural History Museum and Biodiversity Research Center, 1345 Jayhawk Blvd, University of Kansas,
Lawrence, KS 66045, USA
Introduction
Abstract
High-alpine life forms and ecosystems exist at the limits of habitable environments, and
thus, are especially sensitive to environmental change. Here we report a recent increase
in the elevational limit of anurans following glacial retreat in the tropical Peruvian
Andes. Three species have colonized ponds in recently deglaciated terrain at new record
elevations for amphibians worldwide (5244–5400 m). Two of these species were also
found to be infected with Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis (Bd), an emerging fungal
pathogen causally associated with global amphibian declines, including the disappearance
of several Latin American species. The presence of this pathogen was associated
with elevated mortality rates of at least one species. These results represent the first
evidence of upward expansion of anurans to newly available habitat brought about by
recent deglaciation. Furthermore, the large increase in the upper limit of known Bd
infections, previously reported as 4112 m in Ecuador, to 5348 m in this study, also expands
the spatial domain of potential Bd pathogenicity to encompass virtually all high
elevation anuran habitats in the tropical Andes.
Keywords: alpine biodiversity, amphibians, amphibian decline, chytridiomycosis, climate change,
deglaciation, ecological succession, Pleurodema, Telmatobius, tropical andes
Received 18 April 2006; revised version received 27 July 2006 and accepted 14 June 2006
Global environmental changes such as climatic warming
and emerging infectious diseases are impacting
animal biodiversity in the Neotropics, and are having
particularly adverse consequences for amphibian
populations. Climate warming has been shown to influence
species distribution and abundance, and cause
upward migration of species in tropical mountains
Correspondence: Tracie A. Seimon, tel. 1 1845 596 6883,
e-mail: tad2105@columbia.edu
1 Contributed equally to this work.
(Parmesan, 1996; Pounds et al., 1999). Investigators in
Costa Rica have demonstrated upward migration of a
range of bird populations in response to an elevational
increase in the adiabatically produced cloud base (and
resulting cloud forest fauna), a phenomenon that is also
associated with declines in anuran and lizard populations
(Pounds et al., 1999). Infectious diseases have
increasingly been reported to be associated with population
declines of amphibian species (Daszak et al.,
2000), and climate-induced ecological changes can alter
host–parasite dynamics so that infectious diseases exert
a greater impact on certain species (Pounds et al., 1999).
Chytridiomycosis, an emerging fungal disease of
r 2006 The Authors
288 Journal compilation r 2006 Blackwell Publishing Ltd

amphibians caused by Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis
(Bd), is causally linked to a loss of amphibian biodiversity
in tropical montane amphibian species (Lips et al.,
2006). Recently, Pounds et al. (2006) introduced the
chytrid-thermal-optimum hypothesis and proposed
that large-scale warming is likely a key factor in driving
epidemic disease and the disappearance of anuran
species in Central and South America. Their data show
that extinctions in the Neotropics occur where climatic
conditions may be more favorable for disease development,
and that elevations below 1000 m, and above
3500 m, would likely fall outside of the optimum thermal
growth conditions to support disease outbreaks.
As most amphibian surveys have been conducted at
elevations below 4000 m, relatively little is known about
survival of amphibians above this elevation, the impact
that climatic warming is having upon these populations,
or whether chytridiomycosis may also be affecting
these communities. Climatic warming is also
implicated in ongoing tropical deglaciation (i.e. the
reduction in high-altitude glacial ice volume over recent
decades in low latitude mountains), the impact of
which has yet to be ascertained for anurans inhabiting
high alpine zones.
The principal goal of this study was to investigate if
anurans in high Andean environments are being impacted
by recent environmental changes. Our field
study site is in the Cordillera Vilcanota, a heavily
glacierized range in southern Peru within a region of
the tropical Andes where significant changes in temperature
and environmental responses have been recorded
in recent decades. Documented changes include
significant tropospheric warming, averaging 0.33 1C per
decade (Vuille et al., 2003), a corresponding rise in
freezing level (Diaz & Graham, 1996), and a rapid
melting of glaciers since the Little Ice Age (LIA:
ca. 1520–1880; Thompson, 1992; Francou et al., 2003).
We conducted eight multidisciplinary field investigations
in the Cordillera Vilcanota between 2000 and 2005,
including surveys of anuran populations at six sites
from 2003–2005, to study rapid ecological successions
by high-Andean flora and fauna as ice retreats. Our
study area offers an unusual opportunity to evaluate
ecological observations in contexts of 75 years of landscape
change. The upper reaches of the watershed are
heavily glacierized, but over recent decades have experienced
marked retreat of its ice margins concurrent
with region wide climatic warming. An air photo series
from 1931 and subsequent aerial and satellite imagery
from 1962, 1980, and 2005 provide a temporally resolved
portrayal of ice margins during this period of
glacial retreat, and when combined with field surveys,
allows for the monitoring of species migration into
newly available habitat exposed by deglaciation.
Materials and methods
Geographic referencing
Topographic map quads 28t-I-SE and 28t-II-NE
[1 : 25 000 scale, 25 m elevation contour interval; Instituto
Geográfico Militar (IGM), Lima, 1972] served as the
reference base for this study. All GPS field measurements
were made with a Garmin XL12 set to the
Provisional South America 1956 datum for consistency
with the topographic map series. Elevation observations
specified in the text are from GPS and are consistent,
though slightly more elevated, than interpolated
values indicated on the topographic maps (mean difference
124.7 m, standard deviation 7.95 m, N 5 18
points); only points from within areas that were unglaciated
in 1962, when data for topographic mapping
was originally obtained, were compared to eliminate
elevation differences related to changes in ice thickness.
Ice recession analysis
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FROG MIGRATION AND DEGLACIATION 289
The temporal evolution of glacial recession was examined
by pairing ground-based observations with aerial
photography (available since 1931) and satellite
imagery (since 1966). Only images exhibiting clearly
defined glacial margins (unobscured by recent snowfall)
were considered for analysis. Due to the variety of
image types, view angles and resolutions, the isoline
placements may have positional errors of up to 50 m.
The exception is the 1962 isoline, which was precisionmapped
by the IGM, and therefore, considered an
accurate representation of glacial extent.
LIA. The position of the LIA ice extent maximum was
inferred by the visual discontinuity in substrate tone
related to the abrupt change in abundance of lichens
across this former glacial trimline. This ecotone is
clearly evident in all imagery in the vicinity of site D,
where its position was locally confirmed with multiple
GPS ground measurements.
1931. The 1931 isoline was determined by analysis of
oblique aerial photographs taken during an overflight
of the Cordillera Vilcanota by the Shippee–Johnson
expedition on approximately 1 June 1931 (date inferred
from Shippee, 1933). Examination of the series identified
11 large-format (17 23 cm 2 ) glass plate negatives (nos.
O86–O93 and O101–O103) displaying the pass region
containing Sites D–F. These negatives were scanned by
personnel at the American Museum of Natural History
(AMNH) and then photogrammetrically analyzed to
determine aircraft position and altitude for each
image. Ice margin positions were then established

290 T. A. SEIMON et al.
through photogrammetric referencing of image content
to the topographic base map.
1962. The 1962 glacial margin isoline is reproduced
from the 1 : 25 000 topographic maps. We confirmed
the absence of seasonal snow by examining vertical
image stereopairs used by the IGM to generate the
maps.
1980. A declassified CORONA satellite black and white
positive transparency (R0744 232 009) taken on August 3,
1980 was used to derive the 1980 isoline. The Sibinacocha
watershed is located in the far upper left corner of the
scene, and thus contains some geometric distortion of
landscape features owing to the obliquity of the view
angle. The image was cropped, scanned into Photoshop s
and rescaled to the base map projection. The brightness
gradient of the ice margin was then used as a first-guess
for the isoline location. Manual corrections were then
applied where geometric distortion required local
realignment of image content with geo-referenced
landscape features.
2005. Numerous aerial images, including repeated
scenes from the 1931 Shippee–Johnson series, were
taken during an overflight of the Cordillera Vilcanota
on March 15, 2005. This image series was utilized to
locate the 2005 ice margin position; ground-truth GPS
measurements made during fieldwork on March 20,
2005 were used to refine ice margin positions near
sampling sites in the pass region.
Field surveys
Multiday field surveys of amphibian populations in the
Cordillera Vilcanota were conducted during two dry
seasons (August 6–17, 2003; July 13–25, 2004) and two
wet seasons (March 3–7, 2003; March 14–21, 2005).
Visual encounter surveys by two to four researchers
identified habitats supporting anuran populations.
Researchers surveyed each site for 1–5 h, overturning
rocks and sifting ponds with nets to locate hidden
specimens, and collecting environmental data [water
temperature, pH, vegetation types (aquatic and terrestrial),
GPS coordinates and elevation, and photographs].
Soil temperatures were measured by Hobo
data loggers (Onset Computer Corporation, Bourne,
MA, USA). Water temperature was measured using a
digital thermometer (Oregon Scientific, Tualatin, OR,
USA). As a proxy for population density we recorded
the number of specimens observed and express these
as the number of individuals/the number of surveyors
the number of hours of survey (survey hours). Captured
specimens were photographed and measured for
snout-vent length (SVL), then released. Voucher specimens
were collected in July 2002, August 2003, and
March 2005 for species identification and Bd analysis.
All voucher specimens are housed at the Museo de
Historia Natural de la Universidad Nacional San Antonio
Abad de Cusco.
Botanical diversity was assessed to characterize
habitat occupied by amphibians and other fauna. Plant
species and richness are based on observations during
two expeditions, July 2002 and August 2003, in which
plants, reptiles, amphibians, and some invertebrates
were collected. The main sampling area is 300 m from
site D at a monitoring site for the Global Research
Initiative in Alpine Areas (GLORIA), but also includes
general area sampling outside the LIA boundary.
Although these months are mid-winter (dry season)
there was considerable snow cover most of the time in
2002 and over parts of the area (particularly south
slopes) in 2003. Many plants are dormant at this time
of the year but some were flowering. Five days in 2002
and 8 days in 2003 were spent in the Sibinacocha
watershed above 4880 m. In 2004, two days were spent
sampling the GLORIA site at 5250 m, while 3 days were
spent there in 2003 (GLORIA methodology is described
in Pauli et al., 2004). Further sampling in 2005 has not
been analyzed for this account. The detailed description
of this GLORIA site will be made available on the
GLORIA website (http://www.gloria.ac.at/res/gloria_
home/) once it is completed.
Plants were identified to the highest level possible
in the field. Vouchers collected were deposited at the
Herbario Vargas of the Universidad Nacional San
Antonio Abad del Cusco.
Tissue preservation, histology, and polymerase chain
reaction (PCR) analysis
Live frogs were collected from the above referenced
sites A–D, quickly euthanized and preserved in a 70%
ethanol solution. Larger dead frogs were subsequently
injected with 5 cm 3 of 70% ethanol. Ventral hind limb
skin was excised, stored in 70% ethanol, and transferred
to neutral-buffered 10% formalin before embedding in
paraffin. Tissues were then sectioned at 6 mm thickness
for histological staining with hematoxylin and eosin (H
and E), and imaged using an Olympus IX-70 inverted
light microscope (New Jersey Scientific, Middlebush,
NJ, USA) equipped with an Olympus LCPlanF1
20 objective, Imaging software (Roper Scientific, Tucson,
AZ, USA), and a Cool Snap CCD camera (RS
Photometrics, Tucson, AZ, USA). Ten fields of view
( 20) were examined on two slides from different
planes of section for each individual. Presence of a
single Bd sporangium denoted a positive individual.
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(a)
(b)
(c)
Site D
LIA margin
Site E
deglaciated corridor
Site F
1931
2005
2005
Infectivity was scored by averaging the highest observed
number of cell layers of Bd per field, for 10
fields. All specimens in 2005 were analyzed for chytridiomycosis
using dry skin swabs (MW100–100, Medical
Wire and Equipment Co. (UK), Wiltshire, UK) of collected
frogs in the field. Collected frogs were swabbed
on the dorsal and ventral surface 20 times, and five
times between the webbing of the limbs, and then
released. The swab was then placed in a sterile plastic
vial and stored in a backpack for the duration of the
trip. Swabs were then stored at 20 1C until analysis.
The swabs were analyzed in triplicate by Taqman realtime
PCR assay (Boyle et al., 2004), CSIRO Livestock
Industries, Australian Animal Health Laboratory,
Australia. All specimens were collected under
the authority of Universidad Nacional San Antonio
Abad de Cusco.
N
(d)
Results
0273 0274 0275 0276
Fig. 1 Glacial recession since the Little Ice Age. (a) Aerial perspective from the north at 6600 m from June 1931 showing a 5400 m pass at
upper-center of image completely icebound (red arrow). (b) Repeat image of the same scene on March 15, 2005, revealing significant
glacial recession and development of an ice-free corridor (red arrow) across the pass. (c) Aerial perspective on March 15, 2005 looking SW
from 6600 m across the recently deglaciated corridor atop the pass. Annotations identify LIA margin and anuran sampling sites within
deglaciated terrain; arrow on lower right points N. (d) Topographic map section (100 m contour interval) of the pass region showing
glacial margin positions at the ca. 1850–1900 LIA maximum (blue), 1931 (cyan), 1962 (green), 1980 (gold) and 2005 (red). Glacial coverage
in 2005 is shaded light blue. 1-km UTM grid is overlaid for reference [Photo credit for (a): Negative No. O-103 Photo: Shippee–Johnson
Collection. Department of Library Services, American Museum Natural History (AMNH)].
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FROG MIGRATION AND DEGLACIATION 291
8480
8479
8478
8477
8476
8475
Landscape and biotic changes are both strongly evident
in the watershed of Laguna Sibinacocha (13.851S,
71.051W; 4900 m m.s.l., 33 km 2 ), the largest high-alpine
lake in the Andes, and a principal source to the
Urubamba tributary of the Amazon River. A 5400 m
pass 5 km NNW of Lake Sibinacocha was thickly icebound
when first photographed in 1931, but by 2005,
deglaciation had exposed much of the rock substrate
leading to the pass summit (Fig. 1a and b). The glacier
change analysis reveals an ice-free corridor across the
pass became established around 1980, and by 2005 had
expanded to 238 m wide (measured in the field by
Global Positioning System, GPS), an average rate of
9.52 m yr 1 (Fig. 1c and d). Thus, an ecological corridor
exists today between watershed habitats previously

292 T. A. SEIMON et al.
N
Ausangate, 6372 m
Chillca
0260
A1
Rio Chillcamayo
A2
Rio Jampamayo
km
0 4
0264
Uyuni, 4422 m
5960 m
0268
Quebrada Killita
6093 m
segregated by an ice barrier for centuries, perhaps
millennia.
We studied anuran populations at six locations (sites
A–F) above 4400 m within and close to the Sibinacocha
watershed, including three (sites D–F) within the recently
deglaciated terrain above 5244 m north of Lake
Sibinacocha (Fig. 1c and d, and Fig. 2). Three species of
three genera were identified: Pleurodema marmorata, Bufo
spinulosus, and Telmatobius marmoratus. Site D, a cluster
of tarns at 5244 m within the LIA moraine harbored all
three species, but in adjacent water bodies there was a
considerable variation in relative species abundance.
Each species had 100% representation in one of the five
ponds surveyed, while the other two ponds showed
cohabitation by P. marmorata and T. marmoratus (Fig. 3a
and b). The LIA moraine abruptly delimits sparsely
vegetated terrain on its uphill side from more biodiverse
alpine habitat just meters away. The area containing the
ponds exhibits scattered lichen cover on rocks (o5%)
B
Condor Pass, 5027m
Rio Chuamayu
F
GLORIA
5812 m
5348 m
5360–5400 m
E
Quebrada Puca Orjo
D
5244 m
C
4900 m
Laguna Sibinacocha
Fig. 2 Location of anuran sampling sites A–F in the Cordillera Vilcanota of southern Peru. Glaciers are shown in light grey with
mountain summits marked by triangles. Sites A–F are circled. The Global Research Initiative in Alpine Areas (GLORIA) site and villages
of Uyuni and Chillca are shown. The dashed box indicates the domain of Fig. 1d.
0272
0276
0280
8480
8476
8472
8468
8464
and patchy vascular plant growth ( 12 species). Outside
the LIA boundary, over 39 species of lichens and bryophytes
cover 75–90% of available rock surfaces, and over
54 species of vascular plants have been recorded (see
‘Materials and methods’) (Halloy et al., 2005). The ponds
at site D are evident below the retreating ice margin in
1931 aerial photographs, so presumably formed relatively
soon after the onset of ice recession, estimated
between 1850 and 1900 (Fig. 3c). The ponds are perennial,
being sustained by snowfall and glacial melt
throughout the year, and appear to exist today in a
near-pristine natural state. Ponds and their margins
have been colonized by Distichia muscoides (cushion
bogs) and aquatic Myriophyllum and Potamogeton.
Higher still than site D are much more recently
developed ponds at sites E and F (Fig. 4a). The ice
recession analysis shown in Fig. 1d indicate that deglaciation
of sites E1–5 (5369–5376 m) occurred between
1931 and 1962, and sites E6 and E7 (5381–5400 m) within
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Journal compilation r 2006 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 13, 288–299

N
(a) (b)
(c)
Pond 6
n = 45
Pond 5
n = 16
Pond 3
n = 45
Pond 2
n = 20
Pond 1
n = 50
the last 10 years. Site F (5348 m) developed within the
past 35–40 years (Fig. 4b and c). In March 2005, Pleurodema
tadpoles and adults were found in both seasonal
and permanent ponds surveyed within the pass corridor
at sites E and F (Fig. 4d–f). Diurnal warming had
melted nocturnal ice cover by the time of observation
(1200–1300 local time). Tadpoles were observed in
dense clusters of up to 950 50 individuals, mostly in
1
3
2
5
6
2005 Survey at Site D
0% 20% 40% 60% 80% 100%
Bufo Telmatobius Pleurodema
Fig. 3 Three species of anurans inhabiting permanent ponds in deglaciated terrain (5244 m). (a) Aerial view on 15 March 2005 of high
ponds at site D identified by number. Dotted line represents 42.2 m. (b) Relative abundances of tadpole species within individual ponds
at site D during the wet season of 2005. Percentages are derived from the number of tadpoles observed/survey hour (n 5 individuals
counted). (c) Cropped section of 1931 air photo showing ponds at site D (5244 m, solid arrow) below receding ice margin. Margin of the
LIA maximum is indicated (dotted arrow); view is looking N. [Negative No. O-86 Photo: Shippee–Johnson Collection. Department of
Library Services, AMNH].
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FROG MIGRATION AND DEGLACIATION 293
1931
water of 1–2 cm depth, where temperatures ranged
from 18.2 1C in E4, to 22.2 1C in E2 (Fig. 4e and f). These
findings of recently established anuran populations are
consistent with our surveys on the vigorous colonization
by plants such as Senecio graveolens, Calamagrostis
spp., Ephedra rupestris, and Valeriana cf. nivalis, recorded
at elevations of 5400–5513 m within areas of recent
glacial recession (data not shown).

294 T. A. SEIMON et al.
(a) (d)
(b)
(c)
E 1-5, 5369 m
1970
2003
E 6, 5381 m
E 7, 5400 m
F , 5348 m
Repeated population surveys at Sites A2 and D1
revealed a significant reduction in T. marmoratus tadpoles
from August 2003 to July 2004 at both sites (Fig.
5a). Adult Telmatobius were present at A2 in July 2002,
but were not found on subsequent visits (not shown).
At site D1, a 90% decrease in the number of live postmetamorphic
Telmatobius was observed from August
2003 to July 2004 (Fig. 5b). No tadpoles were recorded
(e)
(f)
Fig. 4 Sites within recently deglaciated terrain above 5300 m with the highest anuran communities. (a) Near-vertical aerial perspective
of high pass in March 2005. The locations of the seasonal ponds (sites E1–7) and perennial pond (site F) are circled. Minimum width of
the ice-free corridor is 238 m. (b) Pond at site F (circled) in 1970 emerging from disintegrating ice field [photo by J. Ricker]. (c) Repeat of
1970 image from August 14, 2003 showing site F (circled), marked glacial recession, and upward advance of vegetation. (d) Seasonal
pond (site E7) on the pass summit at 5400 m, the highest site where Pleurodema tadpoles were found (inset) Photos: March 20, 2005.
Receding glacier in the background is 45 m from the pond; Senecio graveolens is also pictured (lower right). (e) Pleurodema tadpole cluster
(black area, 950 50 individuals) observed in a 1m 2 area of site E1 (5369 m). (f) Enlargement of area indicated by small rectangle in (e)
showing tadpoles clustering in 1–2 cm of water.
in 2004 when 24 dead adult frogs were found within
4 survey hours (6 h 1 ), indicating a recent die-off, and
consistent with the observed absence of breeding.
Reports from local highland inhabitants suggested
that anuran populations had been disappearing rapidly.
As Bd has been linked to the rapid decline of amphibian
populations worldwide and catastrophic loss of amphibian
biodiversity (Daszak et al., 1999, 2003; La Marca
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(a)
4
3.5
3
2.5
2
1.5
1
0.5
0
Tadpoles / survey hour
(c)
Telmatobius
Pleurodema
A1/A2
2002: 3/4
2003: 2/7
B
_
2003: 1/4
Site A2
Site D1
August -2003 July-2004 August-2003 July-2004
C
2003: 1/2
Year:# individuals positive / # individuals tested
(d) (e)
(f)
s
s
Sp
E
z
FROG MIGRATION AND DEGLACIATION 295
_
(b)
Individuals / survey hour
7.0
6.0
5.0
4.0
3.0
2.0
1.0
0.0
D
2003: 1/11
(g)
Live postmetamorphosis
Dead postmetamorphosis
Live tadpoles
_
E
_
_
F
_
2005: 1/2
Fig. 5 Pathogenic Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis (Bd) afflicting high-Andean Telmatobius and Pleurodema communities. (a) Comparison of
Telmatobius tadpole populations recorded during the dry seasons of 2003 and 2004 at sites A2 and D1. (b) Numbers of postmetamorphic live
Telmatobius, post-metamorphic dead Telmatobius, andTelmatobius tadpoles are compared between dry seasons 2003 vs. 2004 at site D1. (c)
Summary of the Bd results for sites A–F of Pleurodema and Telmatobius. Specimens that tested positive from sites A–F are scored for infectivity
in Table 1. (d) Histological hematoxylin and eosin stained section from the ventral hindlimb skin of Telmatobius marmoratus (2003 site D1). The
majority of the sporangia (s) within the stratum corneum are empty. Significant hyperkeratosis (three to five cell layers) is evident in the
epithelial layer, E. Scale bar represents 25 mm.(e)PhotographofhealthyadultfrogofthespeciesT. marmoratus collected at site D1 in 2003. (f)
Histological hematoxylin and eosin stained section from the ventral hindlimb skin of Pleurodema marmorata (2003 site B). Lesion displays light
hyperkeratosis (1–2 cell layers) and is focal. Zoospores (z) are evident in the majority of sporangia identifiable as small dark basophilic
masses, some divided by a septum (sp). Scale bar represents 25 mm. (g) Adult P. marmorata that tested positive for Bd shown in (f).
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296 T. A. SEIMON et al.
Table 1 Results for Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis positive specimens collected at sites A–F
Year and location Species Infectivity Signs of illness
2003 Site A1 Pleurodema marmorata 2.5 Healthy and active
2003 Site A1 P. marmorata 0.6 Healthy and active
2002 Site A2 Telmatobius marmoratus 2.4 Lethargic
2002 Site A2 T. marmoratus Not determined Dead
2002 Site A2 T. marmoratus Not determined Active
2003 Site B P. marmorata 0.2 Healthy and active
2003 Site C T. marmoratus 0.8 Irregular spotting
2003 Site D T. marmoratus 1.3 Signs of Red-leg/blood in hindlimbs under skin
2005 Site F P. marmorata Not determined Healthy and active
Increased severity of infection between individuals is indicated by the higher infectivity score (see ‘Materials and methods’).
Samples labelled ‘not determined’ could not be scored due to poor tissue preservation, insufficient material for microscopic
examination, or samples were analyzed by polymerase chain reaction analysis.
et al., 2005; Lips et al., 2005, 2006), we tested for the
presence of this fungus at our six study sites. We
analyzed skin samples from specimens collected in
2002 (Seimon et al., 2005) and 2003 at sites A–D, and
skin swabs from uncollected specimens at sites E and F
in July 2005; results are summarized in Fig. 5c. Dead
specimens found in July of 2004 were not tested for Bd
as these specimens had been decomposing for at least
several days, and perhaps weeks, before collection. Two
species tested positive for Bd: P. marmorata and
T. marmoratus (Fig. 5d–g). We did not find any evidence
of Bd in B. spinulosus (N 5 2). The fungus was found to
be present at five sites, including sites D and F within
recently deglaciated terrain. No anurans tested positive
at the highest site, site E, in 2005. All Pleurodema specimens
collected were energetic and did not exhibit signs
of sloughing skin, a clinical sign of chytridiomycosis. In
contrast, Telmatobius specimens collected exhibited
characteristics consistent with clinical and pathological
signs of fatal chytridiomycosis in captive and wild
caught amphibians (Pessier et al., 1999; Nichols et al.,
2001), including: lethargy upon handling; had more
marked hyperplasia of the keratinaceous layer (Fig. 5d
and f) and more intense infection (i.e. greater numbers
of fungal sporangia scored for infectivity). A single
specimen was found dead. These results are summarized
in Table 1.
Discussion
Rapid deglaciation over recent decades associated with
strong regional warming has exposed new terrain that
is now suitable for anurans, whereas before the 20th
century the ice advances of the LIA had depressed the
elevational limit of potential habitat. Our findings on
anuran distributions are consistent with a broader
pattern of ecological succession in the Andean region
and worldwide, where species’ ranges have expanded
vertically in response to warmer temperatures in highalpine
zones (Parmesan & Yohe, 2003; Halloy et al.,
2005). At lower elevations in Ecuador, recent observations
of anuran communities have also identified new
records in elevational range of Eleutherodactylus and
Hyla species (Bustamante et al., 2005). Our observations
provide the first direct evidence that anurans are now
colonizing terrain exposed by recent deglaciation at the
upper limits of the biome. Furthermore, glacial recession
in the Cordillera Vilcanota has opened a direct
ecological corridor within the past 25 years between
watershed habitats previously segregated by ice. The
opening of this corridor may have long-term ecological
consequences, such as distributional overlap of species,
which may have genetically diverged, or facilitation of
the spread of chytridiomycosis through host-species
colonization, and is the subject of our future studies.
Our observations represent a new elevation record for
amphibian species, exceeding the unsubstantiated account
of 5200 m purported for Scutiger alticola in Tibet
(Swan, 1990). In Latin America, records of up to 4800 m
have been found recently in Atelopus species (La Marca
et al., 2005); up to 5000 m for Pleurodema, up to 4500 m
for Bufo, and up to 5000 m, for Telmatobius (Pefaur &
Duellman, 1980; Diaz-Páez & Ortiz, 2003).
Our observations indicate that Pleurodema, Bufo, and
Telmatobius have colonized ponds at 5244 m within the
deglaciated area, while Pleurodema has colonized newly
formed ponds at even higher elevations, to 5400 m
within the last 10 years. To survive at such elevations
these species must possess adaptations to extreme environmental
conditions, which include the hypoxic lowpressure
of the mid-troposphere ( 52% of mean sea
level pressure at 5400 m), intense solar radiation
(1000 W m 2 ; Hastenrath, 1978), low absolute humidity,
diurnal freeze–thaw cycles, and occasional deep snow
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cover that can persist for several weeks. Although direct
measurements for atmospheric temperatures are not
available from our field sites, during 2002 soil surface
temperatures recorded at 5200 m at a site 160 m south of
site D showed minima as low as 13.5 1C, and diurnal
variability of up to 30 1C (data not shown). These results
suggest that these anurans have capabilities for surviving
frost. In line with these observations, B. spinulosus
has been shown to survive body temperatures as low as
5 1C with no noticeable impact on vitality (Halloy &
Gonzalez, 1993). This adaptation has also been documented
in lizards such as Liolaemus huacahuasicus in
Argentina (Halloy & Gonzalez, 1993), of a genus we
have observed to 5450 m in the Sibinacocha area. The
low-pressure environment at high-altitudes appears to
enhance the freezing tolerance of these animals (Halloy
& Gonzalez, 1993).
The upward range extension of amphibians parallels
the upward shifts of other organisms. We have documented
upward expansion of plants, which serve as
anuran habitats and food sources, and insects, which act
as pollinators for plants and food for amphibians.
Glacial recession and snow melt also provide water
sources for the development of year-round and seasonal
ponds, terrestrial and aquatic vegetative growth, aquatic
microorganisms, amphipods, diptera, butterflies,
bivalves, and insect larvae, and a drinking source for
mammals such as vicuña (Vicugna vicugna), viscacha
(Lagidium spp.), fox (Dusicyon spp.), puma (Felis
concolor), and other cats (Oncifelis spp. or Oreailurus
spp.).
We show chytridiomycosis in anuran communities at
much higher elevations in the Neotropics than previously
recognized. The existence of severe Bd infections
in amphibians at site D1 in August 2003 correlates
with the subsequent die-off observed there in July 2004,
and the apparent disappearance of both post-metamorphic
and pre-metamorphic populations of T. marmoratus
by March 2005. As our quantitative surveys
span less than 2 years we cannot rule out the possibility
that the disappearance of Telmatobius at sites D1 and A2
are part of an interannual fluctuation within these
populations. However, given the high degree of infectivity
observed in histological sections, the abundance
of dead and sick specimens collected within the last 2
years, of which several were Bd positive, and that
Telmatobius species are disappearing in Ecuador (Merino-Viteri
et al., 2005) and Bolivia (Ergueta & Morales,
1996), we believe it likely that T. marmoratus is in decline
due to chytridiomycosis. In contrast to Telmatobius,
Pleurodema populations appear to be relatively robust
at the highest elevations, and the Bd-positive specimens
examined did not appear sick. Furthermore, Pleurodema
also tested positive on the more isolated north side of
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FROG MIGRATION AND DEGLACIATION 297
the pass at site F, which deglaciated 35–40 years ago,
raising important questions on how Bd arrived at this
remote location that should be addressed in future
research. The Sibinacocha watershed is home to several
species of waterfowl, mammals (described above), and
domesticated animals such as alpaca and llama that
travel through the area, and thus could potentially
facilitate the spread of Bd. Further studies will also be
needed to ascertain whether Pleurodema exhibits an
innate capacity to survive chytridiomycosis, and is
therefore a potential vector for this disease.
The discovery of chytridiomycosis in a high alpine
setting in the Andes is at odds with elevational (much
higher) and climatic (much colder) characteristics of
environments where chytridiomycosis have been reported
elsewhere in the Neotropics. Niche modeling
analysis based on observations from 44 localities predicts
the most likely occurrence of Bd in the Andes is
above 1000 m, with a median elevation for pathogenic
Bd found at 1714 m and maximum at 4112 m (Ron,
2005). Our observations demonstrate that Bd is occupying
an area of the biome that was previously unstudied.
By confirming the presence of chytridiomycosis 1236 m
above the previously reported maximum, our findings
also significantly increase the spatial domain of potential
pathogenicity because much of the central Andean
region, which includes the vast Altiplano plateau, lies
within this elevational range. Using linear regression
analysis, Pounds et al. (2006) predicted that above
3500 m in the Neotropics, daily minimum and maximum
temperatures would fall well below the optimal
temperature range of 17–25 1C for Bd growth, and
become increasingly inhospitable at higher elevations.
However, our results clearly indicate that neither temperatures
far below freezing nor large diurnal variations
are limiting factors for Bd pathogenicity. Although
atmospheric temperature means in tropical alpine
zones fall well below the window of optimal Bd growth,
our observations suggest that intense solar heating
during midday hours temporarily raises water temperatures
in shallow ponds to within this range, even
at extreme elevations around glacial margins above
5300 m. Thus, solar heating may provide a thermal
opportunity to allow Bd to survive and grow in these
environments: this conjecture could be investigated in a
controlled laboratory setting. The infectivity of the Bd
within these extreme environments suggests that frogs
responding to climatic warming are unlikely to escape
this pathogen by moving to higher, colder, and more
pristine areas. Thus, it is likely that Bd may drive
changes in species assemblages in the high Andes by
promoting susceptible species loss – as already seen
with the disappearance of three species of Telmatobius in
Ecuador (Merino-Viteri et al., 2005) – or by promoting

298 T. A. SEIMON et al.
the expansion of resistant species. There are 55 known
species of Telmatobius (De la Riva et al., 2005), yet given
the efficiency of pathogenic Bd to propagate, our results
suggest an ominous future for the sustainability of this
genus. Furthermore, this study offers an example of
how the expansion of biota into previously unsuitable
habitat can bring with it the introduction of new diseases.
In this case it is chytridiomycosis, however, with
other fauna it may encompass other pathogens of
unknown host ranges and impacts.
Acknowledgements
We gratefully acknowledge the contributions of our teams of
local arrieros, Aleyda Curo, Julia Rosen, and Karina Yager for
field support, Alfredo Tupayachi for help with plant identifications,
Edgar Lehr and Laszlo Nagy for comments on the manuscript,
the Department of Library Services at the AMNH, New
York, for assistance with the Shippee–Johnson image collection,
Carsten Peter and National Geographic Magazine, and John
Ricker for 1970 images. This study was supported by a Columbia
University-Lamont Climate Center grant, a NASA-ESS Fellowship
to A.S., a National Science Foundation IRCEB grant (DEB-
02133851) to P.D., and by core funding to the Consortium
for Conservation Medicine from the V. Kann Rasmussen
Foundation.
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NEAR-SURFACE FACETED CRYSTALS AND AVALANCHE DYNAMICS IN HIGH-ELEVATION,
TROPICAL MOUNTAINS OF BOLIVIA
Douglas Hardy 1 , Mark W. Williams 2 , and Carlos Escobar 3
1 Climate Systems Research Center and Department of Geosciences, University of Massachusetts, Amherst MA
2 Department of Geography and Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research, University of Colorado, Boulder CO
3 Bolivian Association of Mountain Guides, La Paz, Bolivia
ABSTRACT: The importance of near-surface faceted crystals in forming weak layers associated with snow
avalanches has recently received greater attention. However, there is still much to be learned concerning the
formation and growth of these crystal types, their geographical extent, and related avalanche activity. Here we report
on a spatially extensive avalanche cycle that occurred during late September 1999 at high-elevations in the Bolivian
Andes, claiming two lives. Climbers released one slide at about 5,300 m in the Cordillera Apolobamba (on El
Presidente), and four days later snow scientists servicing a high-elevation meteorological site triggered another at
6,300 m near the summit of Illimani (Cordillera Real). Both slab avalanches followed lateral fracture propagation
through 25-50 cm of relatively new snow; deeper pockets existed due to wind redistribution. Analysis of a snowpit
on Illimani, from a nearby and safe location, showed that the avalanche ran on a thick layer of near-surface faceted
crystals overlying the austral winter dry-season snow surface. Average size of the crystals was 5-7 mm, and
individual crystals exceeded 10 mm in diameter. We evaluate local and regional meteorological information in an
effort to understand what caused the growth of these large crystals and the resultant snowpack instability. Insights
are offered regarding the avalanche hazard due to near-surface faceted crystal growth in high-elevation areas of the
Tropics, where avalanches are not generally recognized as a significant hazard during the climbing season.
KEYWORDS: avalanches, avalanche formation, snow, snow stratigraphy, mountains
1. INTRODUCTION
In late September 1999, climbers at high-elevations
in the Bolivian Andes released at least two slab
avalanches, as snowfall and wind loading onto the dryseason
snow surface led to instability over a large
region. Avalanches are not among the widely
recognized hazards of climbing in Bolivia, because the
climbing season is heavily concentrated in the dry
southern (austral) winter months of May through
September. In the most recent publication on climbing
in Bolivia, Brain (1999) states that “serious accidents
are rare in part because of the consistently stable and
good weather during the climbing season". Avalanches
receive no mention in this climbing guide, consistent
with the opinion of a guide-in-training recently that
“[avalanches] don’t happen in Bolivia” (Arrington,
1999).
On 25 September 1999, two climbers triggered a
slab avalanche at an elevation of 5,200 m on Cerro
Presidente, Cordillera Apolobamba, Bolivia (Table 1).
Two members of the party witnessed the slide but were
not involved. There was one partial burial and one
complete burial, killing both climbers including the
aforementioned Yossi Brain. Four days after the
avalanche on Cerro Presidente, we triggered a slab
release at 6,300 m near the summit of Illimani
(Cordillera Real), while servicing a high-elevation
-----------------------------------------
* Corresponding author address: Douglas R. Hardy,
Dept. of Geosciences, University of Massachusetts,
Amherst MA 01003-5820; tel: 802-649-1829; fax:
413-545-1200; email: dhardy@geo.umass.edu
meteorological station. Both slab avalanches followed
lateral fracture propagation through 25-75 cm of
relatively new snow, with deeper pockets due to wind
redistribution (Table 1). Meteorological, weather, and
snow conditions were similar between Illimani and the
Apolobamba Range where the fatalities occurred.
Table 1. Characteristics of two avalanches in the
Bolivian Andes, September 1999
Cerro
Presidente a
Nevado
Illimani
Date 9-25-99 9-30-99
Time 0830 1700
Elevation (m) 5,200 6,300
Incline (°) 30-40 30-40
Type Slab Slab
Width (m) 100 100
Avalanche Trigger climbers snow scientists
Activity Climbing Climbing
Party size 2 3
Partial Burials 1 0
Complete Burials 1 0
Fatalities 2 0
a For further details see: http://www.csac.org/Incidents/
1999-00/19990925-Bolivia.html

Analysis of a snowpit on Illimani, from a nearby
and safe location, showed that the avalanche ran on
well-developed faceted crystals located just below the
new snow. We evaluate snowpit observations, along
with local and regional meteorological information, in
an effort to understand what caused the growth of these
large crystals and the resultant snowpack instability.
Insights are offered regarding the potential avalanche
hazard in high-elevation areas of the Tropics, where
avalanches are not generally recognized as a significant
hazard during the climbing season.
The growth of near-surface faceted crystals, and
their role in the formation of weak layers within the
snowpack, has recently received attention by Birkeland
et al. (1996, 1998). Furthermore, Birkeland (1998)
proposed a terminology and identified the predominant
processes associated with the formation of weak layers
in mountain snowpacks caused by near-surface faceted
crystals. This work has built upon considerable work
investigation the growth of faceted snow crystals in
response to vapor pressure gradients resulting from
temperature gradients, primarily in basal snowpack
layers (e.g., Akitaya, 1974; Marbouty, 1980; Colbeck,
1982; Sturm and Benson, 1997). Research focusing
upon the growth of faceted crystals close to the surface
has also demonstrated the importance of these
gradients. Armstrong (1985) for example, determined
that faceted crystal growth is initiated when the vapor
pressure gradient exceeds 5 hPa m -1 . Birkeland et al.
(1998) document bi-directional gradients five times
larger, resulting in very rapid growth of near-surface
faceted crystals. In the latter case study, a significant
weak layer formed in less than 48 hours. Of great
importance to the understanding of near-surface faceted
crystal growth at high elevations is the mathematical
treatment of the issue by Colbeck (1989), who
determined that formation could occur due to either
temperature cycling or solar radiation input – but that
“…solar input definitely increases the sub-surface
growth rate”.
2. SITE DESCRIPTION
The University of Massachusetts maintains two
high-elevation meteorological stations near the summits
of Illimani and Sajama in Bolivia (Figure 1), as part of
a project to better understand the climatic signal
recorded by tropical ice cores (Hardy et al., 1998). The
meteorological station on Illimani was not fully
functional in September; we were there to service the
station and collect snow samples. Meteorological
records from Sajama are used in our analysis of the
September avalanche cycle to supplement the Illimani
observations.
Nevado Illimani (6458 m) is the highest peak in the
Cordillera Real (Figure 2). The meteorological station
on Illimani is located approximately 200 m below the
80° W
Illimani
Sajama
Chacaltaya
a
60° W 40° W
10° N
0°
10° S
20° S
Figure 1: Map showing the location of Bolivia,
Nevados Illimani and Sajama, and Chacaltaya. The
University of Massachusetts maintains high-elevation
meteorological stations near the summit of both
mountains.
summit (16°39’ S; 67°47’ W at 6,265 m (20,555 ft)), in
a large bowl oriented to the southwest.
Nevado Sajama is within the Cordillera Occidental,
on the eastern side of the Altiplano (Figure 1). The
meteorological station on Sajama is located about 27 m
below the summit (18°06’ S; 68°53’ W at 6,515 m
(21,376 ft)).
Figure 2: Nevado Illimani as seen from a commercial
airline flight between La Paz, the capital of Bolivia, and
Santa Cruz. An oval on the image, east of the summit,
indicates the 14-day old avalanche path. Illimani (6,458
m) is the highest peak in the Cordillera Real, a massive
mountain with three summits over 20,000 feet, visible
from hundreds of miles out on the Altiplano to the west
and from far out into the Amazon Basin on the east.

The Bolivian Andes experience a marked
seasonality in precipitation, with an extended summer
wet season and a dry winter. The 30-year record
fromChacaltaya, just west of Illimani (Figure 1),
illustrates the pronounced dry period June-August,
when less than 5% of the annual precipitation is
delivered (Figure 3). Precipitation over the entire
Bolivian Altiplano (including Sajama) originates almost
exclusively from the east, and annual totals decrease to
the west of the Cordillera Real.
Monthly Precipitation (mm)
250
200
150
100
50
0
oct nov dec jan feb mar apr may jun jul aug sep
Figure 3: Monthly precipitation at Chacaltaya, Bolivia
(5,220 m), 1967 – 1997. Whisker plot boxes illustrate
the median (line) and enclose the 25 th and 75 th
percentiles. Error bars enclose the 10th and 90th
percentiles, with extremes indicated by circles. Annual
precipitation averaged 560 mm during this period.
Mean annual temperature (MAT) near the Illimani
weather station is –7.6°C, as indicated by the borehole
temperature at 10 m (Zweifel, personal
communication). MAT on Sajama is 3.0°C lower by
our station measurements and by the 10m borehole
temperature (Zagoradnov, personal communication).
3. METHODS
On 30 September 1999 a snowpit was dug and
analyzed in a location adjacent to the avalanche we
initiated on 29 September 1999. We measured snow
properties using standard protocols (e.g., Williams et
al., 1999). We used a 100 cc stainless steel Taylor-
LaChapelle cutter and an electronic scale (± 1g) to
measure snow density. Snowpack temperatures were
measured with 20-cm long dial stem thermometers.
Grain type, size, and snowpack stratigraphy were also
recorded, following the protocols in Colbeck et al.
(1990). The chemical and dust content of individual
strata in the snowpack were also analyzed, providing
additional information on the snowpack history (Hardy
et al., submitted).
Here we analyze the climatological and snow
conditions that led to the avalanche cycle using
information from the high-elevation meteorological
stations on Nevado Illimani and Sajama. For this report,
we emphasize measurements of air temperature and
snow accumulation.
4. RESULTS and DISCUSSION
4.1 Avalanche on Nevado Illimani
We released a slab avalanche near the summit of
Nevado Illimani on 29 September 2000, similar to the
slab release on Cerro Presidente 4 days earlier (Table
1). We were at about 6,300 m on the afternoon of 29
September en route to a weather station on Nevado
Illimani in the Cordillera Real. Snow was well-sintered
and supported steps and front-pointing on the 45-50°
west-facing approach to a saddle below the summit of
Illimani Sur. We began descending from the saddle
below the summit of Illimani Sur to the weather station,
on a very gentle slope of perhaps 10 degrees. As the
slope began to steepen the walking became more
difficult in deepening snow. We started to post-hole
with every step. Twice the snow whoomphed on the
very gradual slope, a phenomena one of us (CE) had
experienced only five times in 13 years of climbing in
Bolivia. We were in a dense white-out at the time,
proceeding toward the meteorological station by
reckoning. Suddenly a larger whoomph (or “firn
quake”) occurred, obviously representing a widespread
collapse of the snowpack. Simultaneously, we actually
heard a fracture propagate to our left, followed by a dull
roar. Visibility was minimal, but a fresh fracture line
was visible in the snowpack underneath our feet and
extending to our left, where we had heard what we
thought was an avalanche release. We retreated back to
the saddle and set up camp, as in the whiteout it was
impossible to assess the danger of additional slides.
Shortly thereafter the clouds thinned and the
avalanche we released became visible (Figure 2) about
200 meters to our left. The slab originated from a
distinct fracture, 1-2 m thick. We estimate the slide path
at 100-200 m in both width and length, although we did
not have time to inspect it more closely. The runout
zone of the avalanche was within 100 m of our
meteorological station and snowpit.
4.2 Snow Accumulation and Snowpit Stratigraphy
Negative sea-surface temperature anomalies in the
central equatorial Pacific (i.e., La Niña) are known to
enhance wet-season precipitation on the Altiplano
(Vuille et al., 2000), and a large La Niña event peaked
during the 1998-99 wet season. At the Illimani weather
station, 240 cm of snow accumulated by early April of
1999, which buried the snow depth sensor. Visits to the
station on 7 April and 17 June revealed no change in
surface height, although without the sensor we have no
record of variability between those dates. The snow
surface on 29 September was 25-30 cm above that of 17
June, representing 270 cm of accumulation since the
previous November.
A 180-cm deep snowpit was dug on 30 September
1999, the day after the avalanche, on a slope angle of

about 10 degrees. Stratigraphic analysis and sample
collection were conducted from about 1300 to 1600 hrs
on that day. Weather was clear, bright, and brisk, with
the sun almost directly overhead. Snow temperatures
were about 0°C in the first 9 cm, then about -3.0°C for
the remainder of the snowpack (Figure 4). Density
generally increased with depth, from about 210 kg m -3
at the snow surface to 410 kg m -3 at a depth of 180 cm,
with the exception of several ice lenses.
9wc
6cl
9sc
6cl
6cl
8il
6cl
4sf
4sf
Density (kg m-3 180
0 300 600 900 -3 0 1 2 3 4 5
) ° C Grain size (mm)
0
20
40
60
80
100
120
140
160
Figure 4: Snowpit profile sampled at 6,300 m on 30
September 1999, near the summit of Nevado Illimani,
Bolivia. Note the presence of near-surface faceted
crystals from 27-64 cm.
The stratigraphy of the snowpit contained some
interesting surprises. Snow grains in the first 19 cm
were rounded, suggesting the presence of some liquid
water and wet snow metamorphism (e.g. Colbeck,
1979). The small grain size of 0.3 mm along with the
absence of polycrystalline grains suggests that
conditions consisted of snow with low water content
and little if any percolation. A thin ice layer at 19-20
cm was consistent with either subsurface melting and
refreezing (e.g., Liston, 1999), or refreezing of draining
meltwater. Snow grains from 20-27 cm were similar to
grains at 0-19 cm, though slightly larger at 0.5 mm in
diameter.
Depth (cm)
Below a depth of 27 cm, the stratigraphy suggested
a different snow environment. Snow grains at a depth of
27-37 cm were heavily faceted. Many of the grains
showed well-developed cups and scroll patterns similar
to kinetic growth or depth hoar grains that develop at or
near the bottom of the snowpack (Colbeck, 1983).
Average grain size was 3-5 mm, with several grains
larger than 10 mm. Dust was visible throughout this
layer, with much higher concentrations in the upper 3
cm of this layer. Sintering was particularly poor in this
layer. The layer from 37-64 cm was similar to the
above layer, with the exception that faceting was
evident but not as well-developed. Grain sizes of 2-4
mm were smaller than in the layer above. There was no
visible dust in this layer. A well-bonded ice lens was at
65-73 cm, composed of melt-freeze grains frozen
together.
The avalanche that we triggered appeared to run on
the faceted grains located at a depth of 27-37 cm in our
snowpit. We believe that the faceted grains we report
for layers from 27-64 cm are near-surface faceted
crystals, formed by the process Birkeland (1998) terms
diurnal re-crystalization. To our knowledge, these nearsurface
faceted grains are the largest ever reported,
either in the avalanche literature or informally among
avalanche professionals. Their presence suggests
unique meteorological conditions at high elevations in
the tropical Andes.
4.3 Meteorological Conditions
4.3.1 Precipitation
Direct measurements of precipitation on Illimani
are not available through the 1999 dry season. From
observations, we know that 25-30 cm of snow
accumulated sometime between 17 June and 29
September, and snowpit evidence indicates that this
increment fell within days to weeks prior to 29
September. Such winter precipitation events have been
recorded in prior years on Illimani, including two
snowfalls in August 1997 (19 and 12 cm), 15 cm in
September of that year, and one 10 cm event during
June of 1998.
Bolivian station data show that a widespread
regional event occurred on 17 September 1999 (7.4 to
7.9 mm at La Paz, Cochabamba, and Oruro). On
Sajama, after a prolonged period without precipitation,
19 cm of accumulation was recorded on 18-19
September and 23 cm on 28-30 September. These are
relatively large events for the more arid Sajama, and the
accumulation was not blown away as typically occurs
with winter precipitation events on Sajama.
One additional piece of indirect evidence for the
timing of precipitation comes from Illimani. During the
dry (low humidity) evening of 22-23 September, snow
was evidently drifting in response to wind speeds of 4-7

Table 2. Mean monthly temperatures and incoming solar radiation (K-down) on Sajama, June - September 1999.
Minimum Maximum Daily Maximum
Aspirated Daily Aspirated Daily Temperature Daily
T
T
Range
K-down
Month (deg. C) (deg. C) (deg. C) (W m -2 )
June 1999 -16.6 -9.6 7.0 817
July 1999 -16.6 -10.4 6.3 763
August 1999 -15.9 -8.1 7.8 861
September 1999 -15.2 -6.9 8.3 950
m s -1 , because the reflected solar radiometer was buried
beneath the snow surface on 23 September. Indeed, for
the two week period prior to the Illimani avalanche,
winds were consistently from the northwest (blowing
downslope) at speeds varying between 2 and 8 m s -1 . In
summary, considerable snowfall apparently occurred
within the period 8-12 days prior to avalanches in the
Cordilleras Apolobamba and Real, accompanied by
sufficient wind to cause redistribution of the new snow.
4.3.2 Solar radiation and air temperature
Solar radiation receipt remains high during the
austral winter at high elevations in the Andes, with
daily irradiance maxima typically greater than 800 W
m -2 (Hardy et al., 1998). However, the mean
temperature on Sajama during the winter is only –
12.8°C (1996-99), due to the low air density at high
elevation. In contrast to mid-latitude mountain
environments, the average diurnal temperature range of
7.8°C is larger than the annual temperature range.
Monthly measurements on Sajama from June through
September 1999 show increasing solar radiation, and
increases in both mean air temperature and the daily
temperature range (Table 2). Illimani temperatures are
generally slightly higher, due to the 250 m elevation
difference and higher humidity, but unavailable for this
time period.
5. SUMMARY
The near-surface faceted crystals observed on
Illimani in September 1999 appear to be both better
developed (i.e., large) and form a thicker layer than any
reported previously. While the best-developed grains
were in a layer 10 cm thick, those in the 27 cm thick
layer below were also faceted. This thicker layer may
have been briefly exposed to the surface prior to the
additional 10 cm of accumulation, however, the lack of
dust in this layer suggests that the faceting occurred
after the layer was buried (i.e., 10 – 37 cm deep).
Conditions unique to high-elevation tropical mountains
favoring the growth of near-surface faceted crystals
include: (1) higher input of incoming solar radiation,
due to less atmosphere; (2) greater absorption of solar
radiation at the snow surface during the austral winter,
due to the relatively high dust concentration (enhancing
the temperature gradient); and (3) greater longwave
radiation loss due to rapid cooling of the dry, thin
atmosphere in the evening.
Development of near-surface faceted crystals
during the dry season, at high elevations in the Bolivian
Andes, may present a greater avalanche hazard than is
generally recognized. Two documented incidents in
September 1999 occurred when ‘early season’ snow
was redistributed onto leeward slopes, burying a thick,
well-developed layer of near-surface faceted crystals.
This layer probably formed through the process
Birkeland (1998) termed diurnal recrystallization. In
this region of the Andes, our results suggest that ideal
meteorological conditions for faceted crystal growth
persist through the entire climbing season of June-
August, and probably occur most years in highelevation
areas. Indeed, we have observed buried nearsurface
faceted crystals within a previous years
snowpack on Sajama. Regional precipitation decidedly
increases during September, and relatively large
snowfall events are not uncommon in our short record
from Illimani. Avalanches may occur when synoptic
weather conditions result in dry-season snow events
and high wind speeds that produce a slab over this weak
layer. La Nina conditions, such as during 1998-99, may
favor this situation. Although the resulting instability
should be relatively easy to recognize due to audible
collapse upon loading (whoomphing), climbers must be
alert to the potential threat. Currently, climbers and
other users of the Bolivian high-mountain environment
are not expecting to encounter avalanche hazards
during the climbing season, and many have little
experience in evaluating avalanche dangers.
6. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Funding was provided by a NOAA Global
Programs Office grant to the University of
Massachusetts, a Fulbright Fellowship and Faculty
Fellowship from the University of Colorado-Boulder
(MW), as well as NSF Hydrology and International
Programs. Thanks to Karl Birkeland for initially

stimulating our interest in near-surface faceted crystals
at high elevations. We are grateful for excellent
logistical support from Nuevo Horizontes in La Paz.
This work has also benefited greatly from the on-going
involvement of Carsten Braun and Mathias Vuille at the
University of Massachusetts.
7. REFERENCES
Akitaya, E., 1974: Studies on depth hoar. Contr. Inst.
Low Temp. Sci., A-26, 1-67.
Armstrong, R.L., 1985: Metamorphism in a
subfreezing, seasonal snow cover: The role of
thermal and vapor pressure conditions. Ph.D
dissertation, Dept. Geogr., University of Colorado,
Boulder, CO.
Arrington, V., 1999: Tragedy strikes in the
Apolobamba. Bolivian Times, 7 October 1999, see
also: http://www.latinwide.com/boltimes/
edit9940/tapa.htm
Birkeland, K.W., R.F. Johnson, and D.S. Schmidt,
1996: Near-surface faceted crystals: Conditions
necessary for growth and contribution to avalanche
formation, southwest Montana, U.S.A. Proc. 1996
Int. Snow Sci. Wksp., Banff, Alberta, Canada, 75-
79.
Birkeland, K.W., R.F. Johnson, and D.S. Schmidt,
1998: Near-surface faceted crystals formed by
diurnal recrystallization: A case study of weak
layer formation in the mountain snowpack and its
contribution to snow avalanches. Arctic Alpine
Res., 30, 200-204.
Birkeland, K.W., 1998: Terminology and predominant
processes associated with the formation of weak
layers of near-surface faceted crystals in the
mountain snowpack. Arctic Alpine Res., 30, 193-
199.
Brain, Y., 1999: Bolivia: A Climbing Guide. The
Mountaineers, Seattle, 224p.
Colbeck, S.C., 1979: Grain clusters in wet snow. J.
Colloid Interface Sci., 72, 371-384.
Colbeck, S.C., 1982: Growth of faceted crystals in a
snow cover. CRREL Rep. 82-29, U.S. Army Cold
Regions Res. Eng. Lab., Hanover, NH.
Colbeck, S.C., 1983: Theory of metamorphism of dry
snow. J. Geophys. Res., 88, 5475-5482.
Colbeck, S.C., 1989: Snow-crystal growth with
varying surface temperatures and radiation
penetration. J. Glaciol., v. 35, 23-29.
Colbeck, S. C., E. Akitaya, R. Armstrong, H. Gubler, J.
Lafeuille, K. Lied, D. McClung, and E. Morris,
1990: The international classification for seasonal
snow on the ground, pp. 1-23, National Snow and
Ice Data Center, Boulder,CO.
Hardy, D.R., M. Vuille, C. Braun, F. Keimig, and R.S.
Bradley, 1998: Annual and daily meteorological
cycles at high altitude on a tropical mountain. Bull.
Amer. Meteorol. Soc., 79, 1899-1913.
Hardy, D.R., M.W. Williams, and C. Escobar: Nearsurface
faceted crystals, avalanche dynamics and
climate in high-elevation tropical mountains of
Bolivia. submitted to Cold Regions Sci. and Tech.,
Oct. 2000.
Liston, G.E., J. -G. Winther, O. Bruland, H. Elvehøy,
and K. Sand, 1999: Below-surface ice melt on the
coastal Antarctic ice sheet. J. Glaciol, 45, 273-
285.
Marbouty, D., 1980: An experimental study of
temperature-gradient metamorphism. J. Glaciol.,
26, 303-312.
Sturm, M. and C.S. Benson, 1997: Vapor transport,
grain growth, and depth-hoar development in the
subarctic snow. J. Glaciol., 43, 42-59.
Vuille, M., R.S. Bradley, and F. Keimig, F., 2000:
Interannual climate variability in the Central Andes
and its relation to tropical Pacific and Atlantic
forcing. J. Geophys. Res., 105, 12,447-12,460.
Williams, M.W., D. Cline, M. Hartman, and T.
Bardsley, 1999: Data for snowmelt model
development, calibration, and verification at an
alpine site, Colorado Front Range. Water Resour.
Res., 35, 3205-3209.

Global Change Biology (2010) 16, 3223–3232, doi: 10.1111/j.1365-2486.2010.02203.x
Nonlinear climate change and Andean feedbacks: an
imminent turning point?
M. B. BUSH, J. A. HANSELMAN 1 and W. D . G O S L I N G 2
Department of Biological Sciences, Florida Institute of Technology, 150 W. University Blvd., Melbourne, FL 32901, USA
Abstract
A 370 000-year paleoecological record from Lake Titicaca provides a detailed record of past climate change in which
interglacial periods are seen to have some elements of commonality, but also some key differences. We advance a
conceptual feedback model to account for the observed changes that includes previously ignored lake effects. Today
Lake Titicaca serves to warm the local environment by about 4–5 1C and also to increase rainfall. We observe that as
water levels in the lake are drawn down due to warm, dry, interglacial conditions, there is a possible regional cooling
as the lake effect on local microclimates diminishes. Positive feedback mechanisms promote drying until much of the
lake basin is reduced to salt marsh. Consequently, the usual concept of upslope migration of species with warming
would not be applicable in the Altiplano. If, as projected, the next century brings warmer and drier conditions than
those of today, a tipping point appears to exist within ca. 1–2 1C of current temperatures, where the relatively benign
agricultural conditions of the northern Altiplano would be replaced by inhospitable arid climates. Such a change
would have profound implications for the citizens of the Bolivian capital, La Paz.
Keywords: aridity, charcoal, conservation, fossil pollen, grayscale, Lake Titicaca, positive feedback, warming
Received 21 October 2009; revised version received 16 December 2009 and accepted 17 December 2009
Introduction
For the last 5000 years, inhabitants of the Bolivian
Altiplano have taken advantage of the relatively mild,
moist climate adjacent to Lake Titicaca (Erickson, 1988).
Lying at 3810 m elevation, Lake Titicaca is the world’s
highest great lake and produces a local microclimate or
lake effect that allows cultivation of crops, such as
maize, at unusually high elevations. However, paleoecological
data show that the size of this and other vast
paleolakes of the Altiplano have been volatile, exhibiting
rapid changes in lake level with presumed concomitant
changes in microclimate. The 370 thousand year
(ka)-long dataset from Lake Titicaca (Peru/Bolivia)
(Hanselman et al., 2005, in press), reveals that environmental
changes associated with the warming of marine
isotope stage (MIS) 9 and 5e are more extreme than of
the Holocene. The trajectory of Andean warming (ca.
1 1C in the last 30 years) Andes suggests a minimum
warming of 1–2 1C by mid century (Christensen et al.,
2007) producing temperatures probably equivalent to
1
Present address: J. A. Hanselman, Department of Biology, Westfield
State College, Westfield, MA, USA.
2 Present address: W. D. Gosling, Department of Earth and Environmental
Sciences, CEPSAR, The Open University, Milton Keynes,
UK.
Correspondence: M. B. Bush, tel. 1 1 321 674 7166, e-mail:
mbush@fit.edu
those of MIS 9 and 5e (Van der Hammen & Hooghiemstra,
2003) by ca. 2050.
A common expectation has developed among biologists
that, as the world warms, species will migrate
upslope and poleward (Parmesan & Yohe, 2003). Such
changes are already documented on tropical mountains
particularly where ecotones are strong and range shifts
readily detectable, such as the lower limit of cloud
forest (Pounds et al., 1999; Pounds, 2001). Assumptions
that species will continue to migrate upslope have
raised concerns that as the bioclimatic envelopes defining
the potential range of a species lift off the top of
mountains, these upper-elevation species will go extinct
(Peters & Darling, 1985; Thomas et al., 2004; Malcolm
et al., 2006). Although such extinction may be the case in
some settings, an alternative scenario is one in which,
rather than marching steadily upslope in response to
linear climate change, the system flips to a new state.
Nonlinear changes in climate have been suggested to
underlie millennial-scale climate pulses such as Dansgaard-Oeschger
cycles and Heinrich events (Broecker &
Denton, 1989; Stocker, 2000; Bond et al., 2001), and are
clearly capable of causing rapid and profound switches
of climatic direction. Such changes would require an
entirely different societal response to conserve livelihoods,
agricultural production, and biota, compared
with that of incremental linear changes.
Thus, estimates of future climate change need to take
into consideration phenomena operating from global to
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd 3223

3224 M. B. BUSH et al.
local scales, as their interaction, through feedback mechanisms,
could result in abrupt tipping points that lead
to nonlinear responses in temperature or precipitation.
The paleoecological record becomes our best resource
for studying such complex responses, and attention
needs to focus on times when climate changed rapidly,
and temperatures were warmer-than-modern.
Here we describe, climatic events and feedbacks
associated with past interglacials that were probably
about 1–3 1C warmer-than-present in the Andes. Twice,
a tipping point was reached that led to a profound
alteration of regional ecosystems.
The present and past climates of Lake Titicaca
Lake Titicaca (Bolivia/Peru, 15.5–171S, 68.5–701W) lies at
3810 m above sea level in the Altiplano (Fig. 1) and has a
modern climate that is cool and dry. Cloudiness is much
greater during the wet season than the dry season, with
just 6 h of bright sunlight in January compared with
9.6 h in July (http://waterwiki.net/index.php/Lake_Titicaca-Poopo).
A lake effect is evident in local temperatures
with averages at Titicaca about 5 1C higher than
areas remote from the lake. Roche et al. (1992) mapped
temperatures around Titicaca and concluded that the
lake warming effect extended for tens of kilometers
around the lake. Similarly, the lake influences precipitation
patterns. Average annual rainfall within the Altiplano
ranges from ca. 200 mm yr 1 in the south to
400 mm yr 1 in the north, with ca. 890 mm yr 1 over
the main basin of Titicaca. About 80% of the precipitation
falls during the period of the South American
summer monsoon (SASM) (December–March) when
the winds are dominated by an easterly flow bringing
Amazonian moisture to the Altiplano (Roche et al., 1992).
Over Lake Titicaca itself, precipitation is supplemented
by night-time convective rains in the wet season.
Climatic oscillations between glacial and interglacial
landscapes were evident in the 370 ka paleoecological
record from Lake Titicaca (Hanselman et al., 2005, in
press). During glacials, cold temperatures resulted in
very little pollen production as the shoreline of Lake
Titicaca became a glacial foreland. The ice masses lay
within 100 m vertically of the lake, but never reached
the shore (Seltzer, 1990; Seltzer et al., 2002). During the
glacial periods, combinations of meltwater and changes
in the precipitation : evaporation (P : E) ratio of open
water bodies resulted in both higher and lower lake
levels than those of today. During highstand events, the
increased overflow of Lake Titicaca into the Rio Desaguadero
contributed to the flooding of the southern
Altiplano (Ybert, 1992; Clapperton, 1993; Placzek et al.,
2006). Considerable debate surrounds the timing of
highstands that resulted in a series (temporally) of
paleolakes with shorelines as much as 120 m above
the modern level of the Salar de Uyuni (e.g. Hastenrath
& Kutzbach, 1985; Baker et al., 2001a; Placzek et al., 2006;
Gosling et al., 2008). At the dry extreme, during each of
the four interglacials heightened concentrations of carbonate
were deposited in the sediments of Lake Titicaca
relative to modern values. Carbonate was deposited as
the level of Titicaca fell below its outlet and the P : E
ratio declined causing salts in the lake to become more
concentrated (Baker et al., 2005). In the Holocene, the
peak calcium carbonate (CaCO3) concentration in sediments
was about 54%, but during prior interglacials it
was as high as 100%, perhaps suggesting longer or more
intense periods of evaporative dominance. These long
oscillations appeared to have followed the pattern of
orbital precession, a finding that was consistent between
Andean and Amazonian lakes and regional
speleothem records (Hooghiemstra et al., 1993; Baker
et al., 2001a; Bush et al., 2002; Fritz et al., 2004; Wang
et al., 2004; Cruz et al., 2005).
Although long-term precessional variability underlay
the lowstand of the mid-Holocene (Baker et al., 2001a),
shorter-term events, ranging from annual to millennial,
were superimposed on this basic pattern (Ekdahl et al.,
2008; Hillyer et al., 2009). Understanding the mid-Holocene
dry event provides insights into changes associated
with MIS 9 and 5e. The mid-Holocene dry
event has been a consistent feature of paleoecological
records from western Amazonia and the Andes. As
knowledge of the event deepened it became apparent
that it should be described as a period of increased
drought probability, rather than a single drought
(Hillyer et al., 2009). Between 9 and 4.4 ka, the net effect
was a drier climate that lowered lake level, but this was
not a time of uniform aridity. Rather, the climate had
shifted toward a drier tendency, marked in the paleoecological
record by sediment chemistry and fossil diatoms
associated with shallow, ephemeral, or saline
lakes. However, the same proxies indicate brief but
frequent wetter periods in which lake levels rose
(Hillyer et al., 2009).
The mid-Holocene drying lowered lake level at Titicaca
by ca. 85 m (Seltzer et al., 1998; Baker et al., 2001b).
Once the lake level had dropped below the outflow to
the southern basin of Huinaimarca (a 25 m lowering),
further loss of water from the system was due to
evaporation. A hydrological model of this event suggested
that P : E ratios could account for the observed
lowering of lake level if windspeed was held constant,
temperature increased by 1 1C and precipitation fell by
40%. Tweaking of the parameters in the hydrological
simulations demonstrated that lake level was not
strongly responsive to variations in temperature (Cross
et al., 2000).
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232

Fig. 1 Sketch map of the Altiplano in Peru/Bolivia showing the modern lakes (gray shading) and salars (hashing). Also shown on the
main diagram is the highstand associated with paleolake Tauca (short dashed line, after Placzek et al., 2006), and, on the inset, the
lowstands of the Holocene (dashed and dotted line) and MIS 5e (long dashed line, after Baker et al., 2005). Location of core site LT01-2B
marked with star on inset.
Whatever had caused the compound dry events
comprising the mid-Holocene drought ended ca.
5.2 ka, when lake levels started to rebound (Baker
et al., 2001b; Paduano et al., 2003). Most lakes in the
Andes and Amazon were filled close to modern levels
by 4.4 ka (Seltzer et al., 2000; Abbott et al., 2003). This
wet event was apparently due to increased precipitation
that corresponded both to the increased intensity of El
Niño/southern oscillation (ENSO) events and reduced
summer insolation to the northern tropical Atlantic
Ocean (Moy et al., 2002; Riedinger et al., 2002; Rein,
2007).
Thus, the long-term pattern provided by precessional
change was overlain by regional and local factors that
produced sharply defined changes in lake level. Similar
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232
interactions of factors operating on a range of spatial
and temporal scales would be expected to influence
past and future climate.
Methods
ANDEAN TIPPING POINTS 3225
Analysis of the fossil pollen data from core LT01-2B followed
standard protocols and has been described in detail elsewhere
(Hanselman et al., 2005). The chronology of the core was
established via a combination of isotopic dating using 14 C
A.M.S and U/Th, and wiggle matching to the Vostok ice core
record (Petit et al., 1999) and is described in Fritz et al. (2007,
2008).
Grayscale analysis, in which the relative darkness (blackest
5 0, whitest 5 255) of sediment bands was recorded. This

3226 M. B. BUSH et al.
technique was applied to the MIS 5e section of the core based
on high-resolution images collected on a Geotek core-logger at
the LacCore facility, and analyzed using IMAGEJ (Rasband,
2005).
Results
The most striking features of the Lake Titicaca paleoecological
record are the differences between glacial
and interglacial conditions (Fig. 2). During glacials very
little pollen was deposited and there was an almost
complete absence of fire from the system (Hanselman
et al., in press). However, during each of the interglacials
a progression from Polylepis woodland to Puna
vegetation is apparent and fire becomes a regular
feature of the landscape. Changing lake levels are
indicated by the presence of aquatic taxa such as
Myriophyllum and Isöetes. In general, Isöetes could not
withstand the cold peaks of glacials nor the warm
peaks of the interglacials, and therefore is at peak
abundance at the transition between stages. Similarly,
Polylepis occurs primarily in the transitional period
(Gosling et al., 2009) and declines as charcoal concentrations,
i.e. fire events, increase in abundance and
frequency.
Another marked pattern is the difference in the pollen
signatures between interglacials. In MIS 9 and 5e,
following peaks of aquatic taxa and Polylepis, Amaranthaceae
(cf. Chenopodium) dominate the interglacial
flora. In contrast to this pattern, MIS 7 and 1 the glacial
termination and inception stages are similar to those of
MIS 9 and 5e, but there is no Amaranthaceae-dominated
stage in the middle of the interglacial.
The grayscale analysis of sediments ascribed to MIS
5e revealed increasing contrast as the matrix of the
sediment changed from gray to black with sharply
defined white laminae composed of CaCO3 (Fig. 3).
Discussion
During the early phases of both MIS 9 and 5e the lack of
charcoal in sediments, the upslope migration of Andean
taxa, and occupation of the Altiplano by fire-sensitive
trees such as Polylepis, indicate warm, moist conditions
(Gosling et al., 2009). A simple model of warming
would predict that the vertical migration of trees would
continue until they fully occupied the lake basin (Fig. 4).
However, long before the peak of the interglacial, a
sudden transition was evident in which trees were
replaced by Amaranthaceae and the 280 m modern
water depth of Lake Titicaca fell so much that large
beds of Myriophyllum formed in shallow water (or on
exposed mudflats). As the lake became more saline this
genus was replaced by Amaranthaceae (Hanselman
et al., in press).
The lake sediment deposited at the inferred peak of
MIS 5e was an almost pure precipitate of CaCO3. The
mid-Holocene warming, which resulted in a 85 m lowering
of lake level was sufficient to deposit some carbonate,
but the change in conditions was insufficient to
generate a comparable change in vegetation (Paduano
et al., 2003). Cross et al. (2000) estimated that a 40%
reduction in precipitation for about 4000 years was sufficient
to achieve the Holocene drawdown. Here we add to
those insights with a conceptual feedback model that
highlights the importance of local effects in this system.
A few other pieces of information are important for
our model. First, following the transition to an Amaranthaceae-dominated
system, climate was not constant
and wetter events punctuated the dry state. Evidence
for the wet episodes comes from peaks of Asteraceae
pollen percentages and concentrations rising and falling
in counterpoint to Amaranthaceae. We interpret the
Amaranthaceae to indicate dry times and low lake level,
with Asteraceae representing wetter cycles. Indeed, the
sediment throughout this section of the core is finely
Fig. 2 The fossil record of selected pollen and spores from Lake Titicaca core LT01-2B. Note the peak of Myriophyllum in MIS 9 was
truncated, actual peak was 6000% of dry land pollen (after Hanselman et al. in press).
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232

Fig. 3 Grayscale analysis of sediments attributed to MIS 5e in the Lake Titicaca LT01-2B core. An image of the sediment is shown
directly beneath the grayscale values for that section.
laminated (Fig. 3). Dark organic material alternating
with carbonate-rich layers, indicate a lake oscillating
between states and rather rapid and strong climate
change.
These data suggest that more than a simple precessional
pattern is represented. ENSO is thought to have
been operating in a broadly similar temporal pattern
to today during much of MIS 5e (Tudhope et al., 2001),
and so it is possible that when the lake is at very
low levels the influence of long ENSO-like cycles on
Andean precipitation become evident. Alternatively,
and perhaps more likely, the oscillations could reflect
thermal changes in the Atlantic Ocean. Baker et al.
(2005) suggested that Bond Cycles were evident in the
Holocene portion of the Lake Titicaca record with cold
conditions in the North Atlantic corresponding to wet
conditions on the Altiplano, and warm conditions corresponding
to dry times. This suggestion is complimentary
to the hypothesis that weakened trade winds
resulting from warming of the subtropical North Atlantic
would weaken the transport mechanism that pumps
Atlantic moisture into Amazonia, the South American
low level jet (SALLJ), and induce aridity in Amazonia
and the Andes (Marengo et al., 2008; Zeng et al., 2008).
This mechanism probably caused the Amazon drought
of AD 2005, and here we suggest that it may also have
been important at longer timescales in response to
persistent thermal dipoles in the Atlantic Ocean (Bond
et al., 2001; Baker et al., 2005).
Conceptual models of nonlinear climate change in the
Altiplano
Our conceptual model starts with precessional forcing
that promotes warm conditions in western Amazonia
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232
and the Andes. The large-scale presence of ice changes
the feedbacks, and so glacial and interglacial versions
are presented.
Interglacial
ANDEAN TIPPING POINTS 3227
Warming during the deglacial period increased convection
and exported moisture from Amazonia via SASM
to the Altiplano. A combination of increased precipitation
and runoff from meltwater facilitated formation of
a paleolake. Hence the largest paleolakes would be
predicted to occur within the deglacial period. Periodically,
late Pleistocene paleolakes occupied much of the
Altiplano, with paleolake Tauca (Fig. 1) forming during
the last deglaciation. Lake Tauca occupied 450 000 km 2
(i.e. ca. 6 the area of modern Titicaca) and would have
exerted a considerable lake effect on the climate of the
southern Altiplano. However, this warm wet interval
was cut short by an ‘oceanic forcing’ (Fig. 5a), which
could have been due to warming of either the eastern
equatorial Pacific (EEP) inducing El Niño, a warming in
the subtropical Atlantic weakening the SALLJ, or some
combination of these phenomena. If the SASM weakened
(December–March) and skies were less cloudy,
i.e. more direct sunlight than the present average
6 h day 1 , evaporation would increase. As drought
gripped the Altiplano a positive feedback mechanism
could have exacerbated this effect.
The paleolake would have begun to contract and as it
did so the warm, moist, lake effect would have been
reduced. A decreased lake area would lead to reduced
humidity and thereby increased evaporation, which
would have reinforced reduction of lake area. Although
humidity provokes convective rains over Titicaca, in
general nights over the adjacent land are cloudless. If

3228 M. B. BUSH et al.
(a)
(b)
(c)
Fig. 4 Schematic diagram showing (a) the modern system of
Titicaca, (b) a hypothetical migration response due to warming
assuming that species would migrate upslope, and (c) the outcome
of warming in prior interglacials (MIS 5e and 9) in which
forest did not migrate to fill the basin, but the ecosystem dried
out to become a salt marsh.
nightly low temperatures over the land warmed, the
temperature differential between the lake and the land
would have lessened (currently 4 1C with the lake being
warmer than the land at night). One consequence of
reducing that differential would have been to weaken
the lake breeze (2–4 m s 1 as an average modern flow)
that promotes night-time convective rain over the lake,
further reducing inputs of water and thereby accentuating
the drawdown of the lake.
The lowstand phase would be reversed by external
forcing such as a change in the dominant phase of
ENSO or in the temperature regime of the subtropical
Atlantic.
Glacial
The cool conditions of the glacial probably reduced the
importance of convective activity (Fig. 5b). As the ice
mass grew so the influence of katabatic winds coming
from the ice would have increased their microclimatic
influence. The cold descending air would have encountered
a relatively warm lake and created fog in the base
of the valleys. Thus, the system would have been wet,
cold, and light-limited for much of the year. Fog over
the lake surface and generally cold air would combine
to reduce evaporation. Warmer oscillations would have
added meltwater to accentuate highstands. The feedback
loop that linked precession to height of lake can
serve to draw down the lake in the absence of ice (i.e. in
an interglacial), but it requires the meltwater component
to boost lake level from this forcing to create a
highstand. Thus once the ice mass was established
precessional patterns became evident, but as the ice
mass melted, there was a much weaker precessional
signature of wetting.
Lake level effects and climate change
It is an important realization that the modern conditions
of the Altiplano are part of a cycle from high to low lake
level change and that modern conditions are not a
‘norm.’ The cycle does not follow a regular rhythm as
it is subject to multiple forcings, some of which are, at
best, quasiperiodic, i.e. Bond Cycles. Nor are the cycles
of lake level variability of equal amplitude, i.e. they
produce high or lowstands of different magnitudes.
Thus during MIS 5e, the cycle was strong taking the
Altiplano to a drier extreme. In looking for an approximate
analog for MIS 5e conditions in Lake Titicaca,
some similarities might exist with Lake Poopó, which is
a shallow saline lake that receives about 390 mm of
precipitation annually. As the lake receives some input
from Titicaca via the Rio Desaguadero, 390 mm becomes
a minimum amount of precipitation that can sustain an
open body of water on the Altiplano. For Lake Titicaca
to flip to a saline lake, such as Lake Poopó, a reduction
of 450% precipitation might be needed.
We hypothesize that as evaporation increased and
lake level dropped, it triggered the positive feedback of
aridification, in which temperatures dropped due to
loss of lake effect, and reduced lake surface area resulted
in less convective rain falling basinwide. Just a
25 m lowering of lake level ceases drainage into the
Huinaimarca sub-basin. That sub-basin would dry out
(this is known from paleoecological data; Gosling et al.,
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232

Fig. 5 Conceptual model of feedbacks that result in nonlinear responses in climate change in the Altiplano of Peru/Bolivia. (a)
Interglacial feedbacks, note that deglacial feedbacks are grayed and (b) glacial feedbacks.
2008), the overflow into the Desaguadero River would
have stopped and the downstream system of Lake
Poopó would have dried up. Consequently, a warmer
interglacial instead of stimulating local temperature
increase, and increased convective precipitation, might
at its peak have induced falling temperatures and
aridity in this basin.
Some quantification of when this tipping point
occurred can be made based on moist air adiabatic
lapse rates and observations of tree line. In the absence
of anthropogenic clearance, modern tree-line in the
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232
ANDEAN TIPPING POINTS 3229
Andes would probably lie between 3300 and 3700 m
elevation (Wille et al., 2002; Di Pasquale et al., 2008), i.e.
300–500 m below Lake Titicaca. Moist air adiabatic lapse
rates in this section of the Andes are ca. 5.2 1C per
1000 m of vertical ascent. As the trees never fully
invaded the shoreline, the tip to drier conditions must
have occurred within 1–2 1C of modern temperatures.
Thus, anthropogenic climate change could drive
this system past that the tipping point, which judging
from the abrupt rise in Amaranthaceae pollen in MIS 9
and 5e, comes with very little warning.

3230 M. B. BUSH et al.
This pattern of aridity was observed in both MIS 9
and 5e. MIS 7 does not appear to have been quite so
extreme and its cycle toward aridity was curtailed
before the most extreme lake draw down was reached.
This observation is entirely consistent with marine and
ice core records that show MIS 7 to have been a
protracted, multipeak interglacial, but with less extreme
conditions than MIS 9 and 5e. If, as is projected, climates
warm by 3–6 1C this century, the positive feedback
toward aridity might be renewed. Although the last
1000 years have probably been the wettest of the
Holocene in the Andes, warming of the subtropical
north Atlantic may have already begun, and has been
suggested to have induced the AD 2005 Amazonian
drought (Marengo et al., 2008; Zeng et al., 2008). Indeed,
aerosols, e.g. SO2 and fine particulate carbon, may have
mitigated subtropical Atlantic warming, and as the
loading of these pollutants is reduced, warming may
accelerate (Cox et al., 2008). If that trend becomes
persistent it would probably increase fire frequency,
decrease forest cover, and result in reduced moisture
transport into the Andes (da Silva et al., 2008; Cochrane
& Barber, 2009). Similarly, if the sea surface temperature
(SST) changes predicted by the HADCM3LC happen,
then a warmer EEP would probably result in Andean
drought. Of these two processes ENSO variation appears
to be dominant, as effects of subtropical Atlantic
temperature are clearest when ENSO is weak (Zeng
et al., 2008). However, the systems are not mutually
exclusive and perhaps the fluctuating pulses of wet and
dry conditions within the overall dry interglacial conditions
reflect a synergy between these systems.
One factor that will differ substantially between past
lowstands on the Altiplano and the modern state is that
it will occur in a landscape containing a capital city (La
Paz, Bolivia) and approximately 2 200 000 human inhabitants.
Ecosystem and societal adaptation
The predictable ecosystem response to a lowering of
Lake Titicaca and desiccation of the Altiplano would be
a stalling of the anticipated upslope migration of forest
and the expansion of xerophytic species. Erickson
(1988) has argued that humans overcome climate
change in the Andes through cultural adaptation and
landscape manipulation. While this appears to be true
of the relatively subtle changes in climate of the last
3000 years, the response of humans to the millennial
scale mid-Holocene droughts in the Altiplano was to
abandon the region (Núñez et al., 2002). Speculating
about how humans could maintain crop productivity
and water supply is beyond the scope of this paper,
though the twin obstacles of increasingly concentrated
salts in surface waters and decreased water availability
(both from reduced precipitation and loss of ice caps)
would be substantial hurdles to overcome.
In the seminatural systems of the Andes, populations
of species that were stressed by the drier conditions
would be predicted to go locally extinct, survive in
moist microrefugia, or undergo selection to genotypes
that could withstand drought. Emphasizing the conservation
of potential microrefugia and ecosystem connectivity
may become an important component of
strategies to safeguard some at-risk species.
Biomass and fuel load are inextricably linked in the
high Andes, and fire is a landscape transformer. Plantations
of trees that trap moisture could mitigate some
drought effects, as shading helps to retain soil moisture
and organic material, plus the structure of the plants
serves to intercept moisture from ground-level cloud.
Thus such stands, while increasing biomass, could
reduce fire risk. However, Eucalyptus, which is the most
widely planted tree in the high Andes, wicks prodigious
quantities of moisture out of the soil, effectively
drying the landscape, and is highly combustible (Luzar,
2007). Eucalyptus plantations increase the probability
that the wettest locations would become fire-prone
and unsuitable for many of the indigenous elements
that might otherwise occupy these settings. A more
desirable candidate for afforestation is Polylepis, but
control of fire would be essential for their ability to
mature (Cierjacks et al., 2008).
Conclusion
Cycles of lake level have characterized at least the last
370 ka on the Peru/Bolivian Altiplano. Orbital forcing
has been a basic pacemaker of events, but superimposed
on this pattern are changes in moisture availability
driven by oceanic processes, which are themselves partially
controlled by orbital patterns. Nonlinear feedbacks
appear to have induced rapid landscape change.
Changes in lake area have significant climatic effects on
the Altiplano and positive feedbacks are envisaged that
lead both to high and low lake stands.
In MIS 9 and 5e, a trend toward warm wet conditions
was initiated by changes in precession, but suddenly
altered by a change in the moisture balance. We hypothesize
that oceanic forcing induced droughts that
were then accentuated through positive feedback mechanisms,
leading to a profound change in local ecosystems.
Eventually, outside forcing broke the feedback
cycle and once again reversed these trends.
On the Altiplano, contracting lake area during interglacial
warm periods may have initiated feedback effects
so strong that they reversed the thermal trend of
the progression toward warming. A similar turning
r 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd, Global Change Biology, 16, 3223–3232

point where the dominant signature shifting from
warming to aridity may occur again as regional temperatures
rise 1–2 1C. Despite this turning point potentially
reducing local temperatures, it offers no solace to
conservation of natural resources as the accompanying
droughts would cause major dislocations of natural and
human communities.
A key lesson to learn from this study is that although
species have already started to expand their ranges
upslope on tropical mountains this pattern could be
abruptly halted, even reversed, as a result of nonlinear,
local, responses to ongoing global warming. A critical
difference between MIS 9 and 5e in South America
relative to the Holocene is the presence of a human
population. Our prognoses of climate change are of
direct relevance to the livelihoods of more than 2
million people living in the Peruvian and Bolivian
Andes, as they will influence their choice of land use,
occupancy of marginal lands, and which kind of lands
become marginal.
The modern relevance of this study is emphasized by
the recent push to use the Andes for carbon sequestration.
The need to understand the future capability of the
land to support forest or maintain soil moisture vital for
carbon sequestration is critical to the long-term success
of such ventures. In addition to its global benefits,
agroforestry may play a role in delaying or alleviating
the fullest local effects of these droughts. However,
choice of species to be planted and control of fire are
as important as the area that becomes forested.
Acknowledgements
This work was supported by Grant NSF-ATM 0317539. Andy
Lloyd of the Open University is thanked for preparing Fig. 1.
This work is a product of the Andes Biodiversity and Ecosystem
Research Group (ABERG) and is publication #6 of the Florida
Institute for Technology, Institute for Research on Global Climate
Change.
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