Massive wildfire threatens Colombia's Villa de Leyva as El Niño fuels record blazes

No direct casualties or displacement reported, but threat to 1 million annual tourists and local residents in Villa de Leyva.
A landscape so dry that even history cannot protect it
Colombia's colonial heritage town faces wildfire as El Niño and climate change create unprecedented drought conditions.
Mark

Why does a fire in one Colombian town warrant this level of national attention? Is it just about tourism?

Mimi

It's partly that—a million visitors a year is significant economically. But Villa de Leyva is also a colonial heritage site. The architecture, the history, the identity. When the president calls it a national jewel, he's not exaggerating for effect.

Luke

Fair, but let's be precise: we don't know yet if the fire will actually reach the town itself. The smoke is visible from the square, yes, but the flames are on the hillside above it. The threat is real, but it's not the same as saying the town is burning.

Mark

So what's the actual danger? How close is 40 hectares to the town?

Mimi

The source doesn't specify the exact distance, which is a gap. But the fact that they've mobilized two aircraft, a military helicopter, and firefighting teams from the capital suggests officials believe the risk is serious enough to warrant that level of response.

Luke

Right. And that's worth reporting—the scale of the response tells you something about how officials assess the threat. But we should be honest that we don't have precise measurements of proximity or projected spread.

Mark

What about the broader context? Is this just bad luck with El Niño, or is something structural changing?

Mimi

That's where the climate piece matters. El Niño happens naturally, but this one is unfolding on a warmer planet. Scientists are saying the combination is pushing conditions beyond historical precedent.

Luke

The WWF scientist's quote is important there, but it's also worth noting: that's one expert's assessment. It's credible and well-reasoned, but it's not a consensus statement from a scientific body. It's one voice in what is clearly a broader conversation.

Mark

So we're in new territory, but we can't quite say how new?

Mimi

Exactly. We know Colombia has 18 active wildfires right now. We know temperatures are record-breaking and rainfall is severely reduced. We know this is being driven by El Niño plus climate change. What we don't know yet is whether this becomes the new normal or whether conditions ease when El Niño passes.

Luke

And that uncertainty is itself part of the story. The threat isn't just the immediate fire—it's the question of what comes next.

  • Smoke thick enough to taste has been drifting into Villa de Leyva's central square for days, turning a destination that welcomes over a million visitors annually into a town under siege from its own hillside.
  • The fire on San Marcos hill has already consumed 40 hectares of native forest with no sign of slowing, while 17 other wildfires burn simultaneously across Colombia, signaling a crisis far beyond any single town.
  • President de la Espriella mobilized aircraft, military helicopters, and firefighting teams from Bogota and beyond in a coordinated national response aimed at protecting what he called a historical jewel of the country.
  • The conditions driving the fire — record temperatures, vanished rainfall, and critically low water basins — remain fully intact, meaning the firefighting effort is racing against a landscape that has been stripped of its natural defenses.
  • Climate scientists warn that this is not simply a bad El Niño year but a new category of disaster, where a natural weather cycle is being amplified by global warming to push heat and drought beyond anything regional ecosystems have historically survived.

Above the cobblestone streets of Villa de Leyva, a colonial town that has stood as a symbol of Colombian heritage for centuries, wildfire now writes its own history across 40 hectares of hillside forest. The blaze is one of 18 burning simultaneously across Colombia, each one fed by the convergence of El Niño's ancient rhythms and the accelerating warmth of a human-altered planet. What was once a predictable dry season has become something without precedent, a reminder that even places we designate as irreplaceable are not exempt from the forces reshaping the natural world.

Smoke has been rolling into Villa de Leyva's central square for days, thick enough that visitors can taste it. The colonial town — its cobblestone streets and whitewashed facades drawing more than a million tourists each year — sits beneath the San Marcos hillside, where a wildfire has consumed 40 hectares of native forest and shows no sign of relenting. Local officials are watching with the attention reserved for threats to something irreplaceable.

The national response has been swift. President Abelardo de la Espriella pledged that Villa de Leyva would not face the crisis alone, mobilizing two departmental aircraft, a military helicopter, and firefighting teams dispatched from Bogota by Mayor Carlos Fernando Galan. The effort is as much about protecting the town's urban center as it is about stopping the flames from climbing further up the hillside.

But Villa de Leyva is not alone in another sense. Eighteen wildfires are burning simultaneously across Colombia, the product of conditions that have turned the Andean landscape into kindling. A severe El Niño pattern — which in Colombia's northern latitude brings drought rather than the flooding it delivers to Argentina and Chile — has combined with the longer-term warming of the planet to produce something beyond historical norms: record temperatures, absent rainfall, and vegetation so dry it ignites readily.

Climate scientist Stephanie Roe of the World Wildlife Fund put the danger plainly: El Niño alone can be devastating, but it is now unfolding on a planet already warmer than any point in recorded history. That combination is pushing fires, floods, and heat to levels that ecosystems and communities have never had to endure. The smoke visible from Villa de Leyva's central square is a daily reminder that even places of deep cultural significance are no longer sheltered from the extremes that are quietly rewriting the region's future.

Smoke has been rolling into Villa de Leyva's central square for days now, thick enough that visitors can taste it. The colonial town, with its cobblestone streets and whitewashed architecture that draws more than a million tourists each year, sits in the shadow of the San Marcos hillside—where a wildfire has already consumed 40 hectares of native forest and shows no sign of stopping. The blaze erupted in central Colombia's Boyaca department, and local officials are watching it with the kind of attention reserved for threats to something irreplaceable.

On Saturday night, President Abelardo de la Espriella took to social media to declare that Villa de Leyva would not face this alone. He promised to mobilize every resource the state could muster to contain the fire and protect what he called a historical jewel and source of national pride. The response has been swift: two aircraft from the Boyaca department government, a military helicopter, and firefighting teams from Bogota—including a contingent sent personally by the capital's mayor, Carlos Fernando Galan—have been dispatched to join local crews from Tunja and Boyaca. The effort is as much about protecting the town's urban center as it is about stopping the flames from advancing further up the hillside.

But Villa de Leyva's crisis is not isolated. Across Colombia, 18 active wildfires are burning simultaneously, according to the National Unit for Disaster Risk Management. The country is in the grip of conditions that have turned the Andean landscape into kindling. Normally, forest fires peak during the dry season in the equatorial Andes—a predictable rhythm that communities have learned to manage. This year is different. A severe El Niño weather pattern, supercharged by the warming effects of climate change, has created something more extreme: record-breaking temperatures paired with a dramatic absence of rain. The ground has been stripped of moisture. Water basins have dropped to critical levels. The vegetation that should be green is brittle and ready to burn.

El Niño itself is a natural phenomenon, a warming of the Pacific Ocean that reshapes weather patterns across the globe. But its effects are not uniform. In the southern cone of South America—Argentina, Chile, Uruguay—it brings torrential rains and flooding. In the north, where Colombia sits, it does the opposite. Rainfall plummets. Clouds fail to form. The normal patterns that have sustained the region for centuries are displaced, and temperatures climb well above what the landscape has known. The heat accelerates evaporation from soil and reservoirs, deepening the drought with each passing week.

What makes this year particularly alarming to climate scientists is the interaction between El Niño and the longer-term warming of the planet. Stephanie Roe, lead climate scientist with the World Wildlife Fund, framed it plainly: El Niño alone can be devastating. But it is unfolding now on a planet that is already warmer than it has been in recorded history. That combination—a natural weather pattern amplified by human-caused climate change—is pushing heat, drought, floods, and fires to levels that ecosystems and communities have never had to endure. Peru and Ecuador have already experienced catastrophic flash floods and landslides. Colombia is experiencing the opposite extreme: a landscape so dry that a hillside above a town of immense cultural and economic importance can become a furnace.

The firefighting effort continues, but the underlying conditions—the heat, the lack of rain, the dry vegetation—remain. Villa de Leyva's smoke is visible from the central square, a daily reminder that even places of historical significance are not immune to the climate extremes that are reshaping the region.

El Niño can bring devastating climate extremes on its own, but it's unfolding today on a much warmer planet, increasing the likelihood that heat, drought, floods and fires will push communities and ecosystems beyond anything they have experienced before.
— Stephanie Roe, lead climate scientist, World Wildlife Fund
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