High above the equator, where ice has no right to exist yet has endured for centuries, the last glaciers of Papua's Sudirman Range are entering their final years. What was once nearly 1,900 hectares of permanent snow atop Puncak Jaya has been reduced to a fragile 16, carrying with it irreplaceable climate records and the spiritual foundations of Indigenous peoples for whom the mountain is not a landmark but a moral compass. The forces that have brought the world's industrial age to its current temperature have reached even this improbable place, and what is being lost — scientific archive, sac
Papua's 'eternal snow' vanishing as climate change erases tropical glaciers
Indigenous Papuan communities face profound spiritual and cultural loss as sacred mountains lose their defining glaciers, alongside historical displacement from ancestral lands due to mining expansion.
eternal snow is disappearing, and with it, a people's spiritual foundation
Mark
So these glaciers in Papua—they're tropical, which seems almost contradictory. How is that even possible?
Mimi
They exist at such high altitude that temperature stays below freezing year-round, even near the equator. But that narrow window of survival is closing fast.
Luke
How confident are we in that timeline—the "one to two years" before complete disappearance? Is that one researcher's projection or consensus?
Mimi
It's what the source material indicates, but you're right to flag it. The exact timing depends on factors like cloud cover and snowfall patterns that can shift.
Mark
And the ice cores—what exactly do they tell us that we can't get elsewhere?
Mimi
They preserve a record of tropical Pacific climate conditions going back centuries. There's no other archive like it between the Andes and Himalayas.
Luke
But the source says scientists haven't fully studied them yet. So we're losing data we don't even fully understand the value of?
Mimi
Exactly. It's a double loss—the physical archive and the knowledge it could have contained.
Mark
The spiritual dimension seems as important as the scientific one to the people living there. How do those two losses connect?
Mimi
For the Amungme, the mountain isn't separate from their identity. Its disappearance is cultural erasure, not just environmental change.
Luke
The mining context complicates this, though. The source mentions both job creation and displacement. Are we clear on the net impact for communities?
Mimi
The source shows the tension—people acknowledge both benefits and harm. It's not a simple story of exploitation or progress.
Mark
What happens next? Is there any effort to preserve the ice cores or document the remaining glacier?
Mimi
Researchers are using drones and 3D mapping to record what's left, but it's a race against time. The documentation itself is becoming the archive.
El Pulso
- Scientists estimate the last 16 hectares of Puncak Jaya's glacier could vanish entirely within one to two years, closing a window of climate data that has never been fully studied.
- Ice cores from these slopes hold the only tropical Pacific climate record between the Andes and the Himalayas, and the archive is dissolving faster than researchers can read it.
- For the Amungme and at least four other Indigenous Papuan groups, the glacier's disappearance is not an environmental statistic but a spiritual catastrophe — the destruction of Nemangkawi, the White Arrow, a symbol of moral purity and ancestral identity.
- Decades of copper and gold mining have already reshaped the surrounding landscape, displaced communities from ancestral lands, and layered material loss onto cultural grief, leaving Papuans to navigate both extraction and erasure simultaneously.
- Researchers are now racing to document what remains through drone surveys and 3D mapping, preserving at least a digital memory of ice that once defined a mountain and a people.
High above the equator, where ice has no right to exist yet has endured for centuries, the last glaciers of Papua's Sudirman Range are entering their final years. What was once nearly 1,900 hectares of permanent snow atop Puncak Jaya has been reduced to a fragile 16, carrying with it irreplaceable climate records and the spiritual foundations of Indigenous peoples for whom the mountain is not a landmark but a moral compass. The forces that have brought the world's industrial age to its current temperature have reached even this improbable place, and what is being lost — scientific archive, sacred identity, ancestral continuity — cannot be recovered once it is gone.
In the Sudirman Range of Indonesian Papua, just south of the equator, snow has persisted for centuries in a place where the climate should not allow it. A century ago, glaciers around Puncak Jaya — also known as Carstensz Pyramid — covered nearly 1,900 hectares. Today, roughly 16 remain. Scientists expect those final patches to disappear within a year or two, ending a glacial presence that outlasted empires.
The scientific loss is profound. These tropical glaciers are the last of their kind between the Andes and the Himalayas, isolated by thousands of kilometers from any comparable ice system. Ice cores extracted from their slopes preserve a detailed record of the tropical Pacific's climate history — atmospheric conditions, ocean behavior, centuries of environmental data. That archive is vanishing before it has been fully read. The mechanism is familiar: a warming atmosphere, driven by fossil fuel combustion, has pushed the freezing point higher up the mountain until rain falls where snow once did.
For Indigenous Papuans, the loss reaches deeper than science. The Amungme people call the peak Nemangkawi — the White Arrow — and have long prayed that their children would carry hearts as true as the mountain itself. It is a symbol of honesty, purity, and moral direction. Activist Adolfina Kum described the destruction of Nemangkawi as equivalent to the demolition of Mecca or the Vatican — a wound not merely to landscape but to the soul of a people. Young Amungme woman Elfrida Natkime captured the emotional contradiction plainly: awe and grief arriving together every time she looks toward the peaks.
This spiritual loss does not exist in isolation. The 20th century brought the discovery of vast copper and gold deposits to the region, and with them came mining operations that excavated entire mountain faces, displaced communities from ancestral lands, and transformed surrounding valleys beyond recognition. The development offered jobs and infrastructure, but also environmental damage and decades of social conflict. Natkime acknowledged the complexity — exploitation and livelihood arriving in the same hand. For Kum, the sacred and the material cannot be separated: disturbing the mountain's landscape, she said, is like pulling the roots from a tree.
Researchers are now working to preserve what they can. Danish explorer Klaus Thymann and his team have deployed drones and three-dimensional mapping to document the remaining ice, recording a 95 percent retreat in glaciated area between the early 2000s and 2025. "There's almost no ice left," Thymann said. "Those are the facts." What those facts mean — to climate science, to Indigenous identity, to the long human story of this improbable mountain — is a question that will outlast the ice itself.
In the mountains of Papua, just south of the equator on the world's second-largest island, snow has persisted for centuries in a place where snow should not exist. The Sudirman Range, a 300-kilometer stretch of peaks in this Indonesian region, once held permanent ice across all four of its major summits. That permanence is now almost entirely gone.
A century ago, glacier cover around Puncak Jaya—also called Carstensz Pyramid—stretched across nearly 1,900 hectares. Today it covers about 16 hectares. Within a year or two, scientists expect even those remaining patches to vanish completely. The retreat has been so rapid that entire glaciers have disappeared within a single human lifetime. When Marie Šabacká, a Czech glacier ecologist, traveled to Puncak Jaya last March, she went partly to be among the last researchers able to study what Papuans have long called eternal snow. "There is a profound unfairness in this," she said of the loss.
The scientific stakes are substantial. These tropical glaciers are unique—separated from other ice systems by thousands of kilometers, they represent the last remaining tropical ice between the Andes and the Himalayas. Ice cores extracted from Puncak Jaya's slopes contain a detailed record of the region's climate history, preserving information about atmospheric conditions and the behavior of the tropical Pacific and Western Pacific Warm Pool, the planet's warmest ocean waters. But this archive is disappearing before scientists have fully documented it. The warming that drives the retreat is the same force affecting glaciers worldwide: a warming atmosphere caused by human activity, particularly the burning of fossil fuels. As temperatures rise, the freezing point moves higher up mountains, so rain falls where snow once did. At these equatorial altitudes, where permanent ice can survive only within a narrow band of climatic conditions, even a small temperature increase can determine whether a glacier survives at all.
For at least five groups of Indigenous Papuans, the loss carries a weight that extends far beyond climate science. The Amungme people call Puncak Jaya by the name Nemangkawi—the White Arrow. In their tradition, parents and grandparents prayed that their children would have hearts like the White Arrow, never straying from the proper path. The mountain symbolizes honesty, purity, and moral integrity, a spiritual anchor that has guided their people for generations. Elfrida Natkime, a young Amungme woman, described the emotional collision of witnessing this loss: "Every time I see the mountains, I feel amazed, but I also feel sadness." Adolfina Kum, an Amungme environmental activist, framed the cultural catastrophe in terms others might understand: "How would Muslims feel if Mecca were destroyed? How would Catholics feel if Rome or the Vatican were destroyed? For the Amungme people, that is what it feels like when Nemangkawi is destroyed."
The disappearance of the glacier does not stand alone in the experience of Papuan communities. During the 20th century, the discovery of vast copper and gold deposits transformed the region. Mining operations have reshaped the landscape—entire mountain faces have been excavated, and roads, industrial infrastructure, and settlements have transformed surrounding valleys. The development has brought jobs, roads, education, and economic opportunities, but also environmental degradation and decades of social conflict. Some Indigenous Papuans have lost access to their ancestral lands as mining expanded. Natkime acknowledged this complexity: "Since the company came, I have seen the exploitation. But the development has also provided a livelihood for many people." For Kum, the spiritual dimension of the loss is inseparable from the material one. She described the disturbance of sacred landscapes as pulling out the roots of a tree—once removed, the tree loses its foundation.
Scientists and explorers are now racing to document what remains. Danish researcher Klaus Thymann and his team have used drones and three-dimensional mapping to create detailed models of the remaining ice. From the early 2000s to 2025, the glaciated area receded by 95 percent. "There's almost no ice left," Thymann said. "Those are the facts." He notes that glaciers function as powerful indicators of climate change, and that when people learn something described as eternal is disappearing, it triggers a reaction. For Indigenous Papuans, that reaction carries the weight of spiritual loss, cultural displacement, and the erasure of a landscape that has anchored their identity for generations.
Citas Notables
There is a profound unfairness in this.— Marie Šabacká, glacier ecologist
How would Muslims feel if Mecca were destroyed? For the Amungme people, that is what it feels like when Nemangkawi is destroyed.— Adolfina Kum, Amungme environmental activist
Quieres la nota completa?
Lee el original en BBC News ↗