From Bali to Bogotá, social media is one of the leading lenses for destination decision-making. Thanks to platforms like Instagram and TikTok, social media tourism is transforming the way we experience nature, from the memories we capture to the places we choose to chill out. But if you’ve ever been caught in an hour-long queue for a mountain summit or missed the perfect sunrise photo opportunity because someone walked in front of your shot, then you may have fallen victim to social media’s web of wanderlust.
While inconvenient for our personal feeds, nowhere bears the brunt of social media's popularity quite like our natural spaces. Social media coverage is driving overtourism in many spots that were once famed for being incognito – something which is now increasingly hard to achieve.
According to Statista, 75% of us choose our holidays based on inspiration from other people's social media accounts.
Of course, there's a lot of beauty out there and countless natural gems, even if many are slightly less hidden than they used to be. But with overtourism playing a part in negative impacts such as habitat erosion, destruction of rare vegetation and wildlife disruption, what's the cost of a glamourised getaway?
More of the world is now on social media than not. 64.7% of the Earth's population currently uses social media and is consuming 14 billion hours of content every single day.[1](That's right, every day.) And 7.6 new user profiles join them each second.
It makes social media platforms a rich investment for businesses and individuals looking to share products and stories. Just 5.8% of all internet users avoid platforms like Instagram, Facebook, TikTok and WhatsApp.
When used well, algorithms deliver targeted content to the right user profiles within fractions of time. Your followers, location and previously consumed content are all factors in determining what you will see next. So, if you're outdoorsy or spend time online with people that are, you'll likely have seen some 'must-see' spots from all corners of the globe.
And let's not beat around the bush, word of mouth has always existed – whether in the form of a guidebook or a recommendation from a friend. The layer that social media adds is the sheer quantity of people exposed to the content. Where a printed travel book may only land in the hands of a few thousand people, 5.31 billion social media user profiles existed in April 2025 and #Travel had more than 600 million associated posts.[2]
Geotagging – assigning a location to your social media content – is a popular way of sharing information with others and facilitating a feed that works much like a digital scrapbook. Initially a harmless tool, geotagging is largely to blame for hordes of visitors tumbling through well-shared sites in search of a snap or two to share on their own accounts, in turn exposing vulnerable flora and fauna.
Social media's captive audience is clear.
Whether 'the shot' is captured or not – and many will give it a good few goes – social media in and of itself is not the bad guy. It makes the world accessible. And no one is out there specifically asking small cities to jettison their populations onto natural sites of significance. That said, there is definitely some onus for social media creators to be responsible with their content.
However, when the inevitable does happen, nature notices above all. We must remember that our natural spaces are that: natural. Some are protected and some are reinforced but the demand of overtourism still causes a strain.
Transport emissions and litter are usually among the first offenders of overtourism, creating microfractures in the fragility of our natural spots of interest. And while more bins and parking spaces could prevent hazardous waste and congestion, there are more issues joining the picnic.
Mam Tor in the UK is an idyllic beauty spot offering hilltop views across the Peak District. It recently rose in popularity after it went viral online for its breathtaking sunrises and sunsets. Since then, the area has seen pre-dawn queues by car and on foot with visitors parking on verges to guarantee they get their spot at the summit. The extra footfall and panicked exodus at the end of the show, has recently caused rapid soil erosion. Works are now beginning on Mam Tor to restore the vegetation surface which involves labour intensive efforts flying topsoil by helicopter to the affected areas.[3]
Parking has always been a British irk and overtourism is only increasing traffic volumes burdening our roads. This, alongside heightened pedestrian traffic, is paving the way for disrespect.
While the popularity of a natural hotspot is somewhat unpredictable, disobeying signage and poor outdoor etiquette are quite different. Is it worth harming and, in worst cases, reversing hard conservation efforts for online popularity? Many would probably think twice if they knew their impact.
The European Outdoor Conservation Association (EOCA) has recently been supporting the RSPB in a campaign to resolve soil erosion, habitat and rare vegetation destruction as well as disruption to breeding wildlife. The project 'Tread Carefully' is focused on the Cairngorms National Park in Scotland and aims to restore five kilometres of pathway to improve accessibility for hikers. By preventing off-path walking and off-lead dogs, these conservation works will alleviate the human pressure on these vulnerable landscapes.
To the untrained eye, soil erosion is simply unsightly. But digging below the surface, it's causing significant problems for local biodiversity and for us as humans. Many of the issues stem from decreased soil fertility through nutrient loss and increased risk of flooding, as well as extra sediment filling our waters which directly contributes to a decline in local fish species. Upland soils are particularly susceptible to erosion from increased pedestrian traffic, namely because the soil is naturally more vulnerable. Restoring these upland soils is vital for water quality regulation and, essentially, carbon capture.
Let's talk about peat, a word which is trickling into more of our modern day, climate-aware vocabulary. The Cairngorms National Park is an ideal spot for peat which is made of water-logged soil harbouring dead and decaying plants. This slow-forming natural habitat, which grows at a rate of one metre per thousand years, is fed by rain and snow melt as opposed to ground water. It's a precious resource that, when left untouched, is one of our most hopeful carbon sequestration devices.
Despite covering just 3% of land on earth, peat bogs store 30% off all the world's soil carbon, which equates to 3.2 billion tonnes of carbon in the UK alone. Not only this, but it's responsible for the filtration of our drinking water, 70% of which comes from upland peat-covered areas in the UK.
As a result of increased tourism in such areas, we are unlocking hundreds and potentially thousands of years of stored carbon and releasing it back into the atmosphere.
While there is something unnerving about the effects of promoting undisturbed natural beauty on social media, the cinematographic wonder of it all is also what's so captivating. Nature exists for all of our enjoyment, and we have a duty to ensure that it continues to thrive for generations past our own.
Content creators have a responsibility around the intention of their posts.
Co-opting nature's beauty and misplacing its vulnerability in favour of 'likes' is not a respectable use of content, or nature. Rather, creators with a desire to inspire time in the outdoors should encourage connection with nature that's mindful of off-peak travel times, leading by example in terms of stewardship and sharing a meaningful message, rather than pure aesthetic.
As consumers and creators, it also falls on us to do social media tourism responsibly, namely by cultivating a 'leave no trace' culture. That means not geotagging vulnerable locations, avoiding posting images of prohibited activities and not using drones where they are banned.
Outside of this, reading up on a countryside code and following courteous conduct helps individuals to be considerate of those on location at the same time or those who come after. This includes respecting local customs and ways of life. The tools now exist to create itineraries based around off-peak times to retain the sense of magic that overtourism often disillusions us from. Again, interrogating our purpose can help too. Are we visiting because we really want to bask in the beauty or are we driving our decisions based on others' experiences? If a place really isn't inspiring to you, you have no obligation to visit.
Whoever you are, respect should always apply. Collect your rubbish (and anyone else's too, if you can), stick to path signage and consider donating to organisations working to protect these locations, like EOCA.
[1] www.datareportal.com. Accessed: 30 April 2025.
[3] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cx2yj41jp1go
