‘Leave No Trace’ ethics feel obvious. So why do we still struggle with them?

On more than one trip to Argentina in the past, I’ve heard my Argentine friends make cynical jokes about the national bird of Argentina: a plastic bag stuck in a tree, flapping in the wind. It’s an unfortunately widespread sight. Trash—and trash that gets away—is a problem all over the world, in urban and wild places. But considering Argentina’s vast expanses of natural open spaces, lakes and mountains with a population increasingly discovering the wonders in their own backyard, pollution is abundant. While traveling in Bariloche, I met one person who has dedicated over a decade of their life to solving the problem.

Admittedly, he wasn’t always an expert on conservation practices. 

When Diego Allolio first began climbing mountains in San Carlos de Bariloche, Argentina, no-one had taught him how to, erm, poop outside. “This was about 30 years ago, in the late 1990s and there just weren’t that many people out in the mountains then,” he says. “We were out camping, and shitting in the woods, leaving the toilet paper, not digging holes, just putting a rock on it—and we thought we were good!”

The more time he spent outdoors, the more Allolio wanted a career as a mountain guide, and to share the natural treasures of Argentina with others. He began to look into guiding courses and accreditation abroad. “I came across the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS), and so I went to Wyoming to take a course. There, I learned about the Leave No Trace ethic and became a NOLS instructor. And at that time in Argentina, it was especially clear to me we really needed messaging and techniques to protect the environment as we use it for recreation.”

Leave No Trace (LNT) is both an organization and an ethic that began to gain traction in the United States in the post-WWII era as recreation in the outdoors became more popular. In 1987, the US Forest Service, National Park Service and Bureau of Land Management jointly issued the first official pamphlet on the ethic for American public lands stewardship. A few years later, the National Outdoor Leadership School took over the promotion of these ethics.

The ideas espoused aren’t new: Leave No Trace is composed of seven principles: Plan ahead and prepare; travel and camp on durable surfaces; dispose of waste properly; leave what you find; be careful with fire; respect wildlife; and be considerate of other visitors.

“The idea that public land belongs to all of us and so we need to take care of it together, this is still a vague concept here in Argentina.”

- Diego Allolio

These rules used to be common sense for most of humanity, even sacred ways of being to many Indigenous tribes around the world. Today, the formal practice of Leave No Trace has spread around the world, thanks to people who are passionate about conservation, protecting land, and wildlife and for a richer, more rewarding outdoor experience. In South America, much of the credit lies with Allolio, who is still a passionate outdoorsman and now an entrepreneur and certified Argentine mountain guide. 

For Allolio, who runs the guide service Magellenica Guides, it was a no-brainer to start the LNT program from his home base in Bariloche. A small city on Lago Nahuel Huapi, Bariloche borders some of Argentina’s most developed and easily accessible areas for outdoor sports—from hiking and camping to climbing, skiing, sailing and mountain biking.

For over 12 years, Allolio has been working to bring more advanced, organized education and certification to Argentina—such as wilderness first responder courses and avalanche training. During that time he has continued to spread LNT education. Yet, the obstacles have been notable: although Argentina has a long history of conservation, promoting responsible, managed human recreation in preserved areas had never been part of the conversation.

“We don’t have a Wilderness Act, and though we have a conservation tradition dating back to the around the 1900s, the tradition has just been about setting aside untouched land, not guidance on how to recreate,” Allolio says. “But for a long time, it wasn’t really needed. There were just a few of us Argentines in the mountains, and we’d only see Americans or Europeans heading into the mountains anywhere south of Bariloche, nobody else went there.”

In addition, the cultural message of a shared resource wasn’t strong yet. “The idea that public land belongs to all of us and so we need to take care of it together, this is still a vague concept here in Argentina.” 

Allolio turned to his source of inspiration: The NOLS program itself. With the help of other NOLS professionals and a grant from the Hewlett Foundation (a private charitable foundation based in the US), Allolio and colleague Juan Carlos Queirolo prepared a program to educate park rangers in Argentina and develop  LNT materials for distribution in Argentina, Chile and Mexico. Named No Deje Rastro, the new campaign was launched. But even with funding from North America, it’s been a colossal task to start from zero and try to spread a message among diffuse users of public lands, from picnicking families to new climbers heading to the Andes.

Like many places, the outdoor recreation that had been growing slowly among residents in Argentina and neighboring Chile during the last 30 years exploded during the pandemic. Education around responsible recreation has become more urgent.  

“Americans and Canadians had dealt with a big expansion of recreation [long before the pandemic surge], but they have all these dedicated teams and biologists to study how to protect the land while allowing recreation,” says Allolio. “The economy in Argentina doesn’t allow most people or organizations to put resources and careers towards conservation. And I used to think the economy also made it hard for individuals to learn and care about No Deje Rastro when they are struggling just to make ends meet, but I don’t think so anymore.”

Even though Argentina has such vast tracts of protected land, finding consistent sources of funding for education and enforcing proper use remains a big problem.

“We can see that wealthier people, who are boating, backcountry skiing, climbing, and hiring guides still aren’t learning and have no idea about the ethic,” he continues. “And yes, if your life is better off, you have more bandwidth to think about it and take action, but everyone across the world, from rich to poor, can agree our impact is a problem.”

Chile has been able to implement No Deje Rastro education more quickly and broadly than its neighbor. “Chile is a little more disciplined; they have created a master tourism document for conservation and guide certifications. That document says that guides must be trained in LNT,” says Allolio. “Here in Argentina, we are still working on a unified message.”

After more than a decade of working on No Deje Rastro, it’s clear that Chile has proven to be receptive to Diego’s efforts in implementing No Deje Rastro. Courses for the public, for guides, and conversations with the Chilean tourism industry and CONAF (the national Chilean public lands agency) have gained traction. Chile’s interest is an important piece of the effort: It shares a 3,300-mile-long border with Argentina along the Andes, from the high peaks in the north to Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego at the southern end.

Even though Argentina has such vast tracts of protected land, finding consistent sources of funding for education and enforcing proper use remains a big problem. “The national parks still don’t have a requirement for guides to be certified for anything,” he says. That’s a crucial void: Guides can educate clients and other users of public lands through example and explicit instructions. 

“What I’d like to see happen in Argentina is for any kind of guide, and any level of guide to have a requirement of two days of LNT training,” he says. “It’s not just to make another rule, but to empower the guides to be out there, in a position to educate clients and people. Signs aren’t enough yet.”

Allolio believes that lasting changes in behavior come from understanding personal impacts, and the knowledge of how to mitigate them. It’s nearly full circle to the days when he was just beginning to explore the mountains but wasn’t aware of his own impact. The ideal spread of No Deje Rastro will begin with more education on human waste, via lessons from guides, word of mouth and workshops at popular trailheads.

“It’s personal, it’s intimate,” says Allolio. “If you know how to shit in the woods, the rest of your understanding will come into place from that. As a human being, it is a simple and profound concept: I am where pollution and impact starts.”