‘Humans are designed to connect outdoors’: community hiking in Slovakia’s High Tatras

The summit of Slovakia’s Kôprovský štít, a formidable sentinel at 2,367 metres (7,765ft) above sea level, had played a Kafkaesque game of mountain mirage with us for several arduous hours. It was always just over the next ridge which, once conquered, frustratingly revealed a string of further, seemingly endless ridges. The cumulative toll of the ascent, both physical and mental, was palpable. Eight hours and approximately 23 kilometres after we had set off on our ambitious hike through the Vysoké Tatry mountain range, an eddy of smiles, some radiant, others admittedly of the more clenched-teeth variety, rippled from person to person as the final, exhilarating push gave way to flat stone. "Yes, team! We did it!" Roman, our high-spirited Slovakian mountain guide, a man whose enthusiasm was as boundless as the views, stood atop the tip, his face beaming with pride. He clasped each of our hands in a gesture of profound congratulation as we crested the peak, a ritual that sealed not just our individual achievements but our collective triumph.

Just 24 hours earlier, we had been a ragtag group of 11 strangers, making the most perfunctory small talk in the sterile environment of London’s Luton airport. Each of us, an individual embarking on an adventure, perhaps with a touch of apprehension about the unknown company. But here, on this vertiginous mountain top, far removed from the urban sprawl, something fundamental had shifted. Friendships were visibly budding, the polite veneers of initial acquaintance rapidly falling away under the crucible of shared effort and breathtaking beauty. This, we collectively realised, was it: the unspoken reason each of us had embarked on an expedition to the remote wilderness of the Tatras with a bunch of people we didn’t know. It was the irresistible allure of connections forged during the shared toil of the climb, the sheer wonder at making it to this pristine place where rock meets sky, and human spirits, for a brief, glorious moment, feel equally expansive.

The phenomenon of community hiking is currently experiencing an unprecedented surge in popularity, evolving from a niche pursuit to a mainstream movement. In the past few years alone, countless groups have sprung up across the globe, uniting tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people for outdoor adventures. This trend reflects a broader societal shift, a yearning for authentic connection and digital detox in an increasingly fragmented and screen-dominated world. The diversity of these groups is remarkable, catering to every demographic and preference: there are women-only groups fostering solidarity and safety, LGBTQ+ collectives providing inclusive spaces, Black, Indigenous and people of colour (BIPOC) initiatives celebrating diverse experiences in nature, and those specifically catering to slow walkers, "soft girls" seeking aesthetically pleasing outdoor experiences, parents balancing family life with adventure, and even dog owners, ensuring no furry friend is left behind.

Our particular four-day journey to Slovakia was meticulously organised by hiked.up, a dynamic community platform, in partnership with the specialist Slovakian tour operator Tatra Escapes. Hiked.up itself began during the restrictive days of the Covid-19 pandemic, when childhood friends Matt and Adam, seeking an escape from lockdown stasis, found solace and connection on walks around their native Essex. What started as a local initiative has since blossomed into a thousands-strong community, curating and leading expeditions not only across the UK but also throughout Europe, tapping into this growing desire for shared outdoor experiences.

"The demographic is so vast," Matt explained, his voice carrying easily as we carefully picked our way across a challenging boulder field, the sound of our boots crunching on loose scree. "Young people, older people, some super-fit athletes, others entirely new to hiking. Most come alone, seeking something specific." He elaborated on the motivations: "People join for mental health reasons, seeking the therapeutic benefits of nature and physical activity. Others simply want to get out and have fun, to meet new people in a low-pressure, engaging environment. What’s truly special is that you connect with people you might not typically expect to talk to in your day-to-day life at our events."

Indeed, our group was a motley crew, a vibrant tapestry of individuals varying significantly in ability, age, and disposition, hailing from all corners of the United Kingdom. The roll call of professions painted a picture of urban and professional diversity: a tennis coach, a landscape architect, a maths teacher, a physiotherapist, an art adviser, and a construction site manager. Yet, despite these outward differences, the stories I was told during our hours of trekking tracked remarkably similar contours. There was a pervasive sense of ennui at the relentless digitisation of modern life and the confining limits of city living. A deep-seated yearning for nature, for the raw, unmediated experience of the outdoors, and crucially, for the chance to connect with like-minded individuals beyond the often superficial and booze-soaked social settings that dominate urban life.

Louis, a thoughtful 24-year-old physiotherapist from Manchester, articulated a profound belief that community hiking taps into something fundamental about human nature. "Humans are designed to connect outdoors," he posited, as we paused to refill our water bottles, gazing out at a panorama of verdant valleys. "This is what we did thousands of years ago – our ancestors forged bonds and built communities while navigating the natural world. It’s an innate need being met." Emma, a 32-year-old teacher from Bristol, echoed this sentiment, viewing hiking groups as a powerful and necessary response to the growing urban loneliness and atomisation prevalent in contemporary society. "People want to come together in a more conscious way," she explained, "without it being solely centred on drinking or going out to noisy bars. They seek genuine connection, shared purpose, and experiences that enrich rather than just entertain."

I must admit to a degree of trepidation on the first evening. Sitting outside our charming wooden lodge nestled within the stunning Slovak Paradise National Park, the setting sun splashed the sky with an extravagant palette of gold and purple, a breathtaking spectacle. Yet, a jangle of nerves and the cumulative fatigue of travel had created a somewhat jarring group dynamic. The quieter members, perhaps overwhelmed, were practically tongue-tied, while the more extroverted personalities bellowed across plates of creamy bryndzové halušky – the national dish of Slovakia, a hearty and delicious concoction of potato dumplings with creamy sheep’s cheese and crispy bacon – their voices echoing a little too loudly in the otherwise serene evening. A question hung heavy in the air, a silent apprehension: was this disparate collection of strangers truly going to find a rhythm, let alone forge a genuine sense of camaraderie, over the next few days?

The following morning, however, brought a fresh start and a renewed sense of purpose. We tumbled out of the minibus, boots hitting the gravel of the Štrba turistika trail. The sun beat down benignly, a gentle warmth promising a beautiful day as we began to follow a winding path along the mountainside, a valley of deep green pine fanning out majestically below us. Our other guide, Uri, a gentle giant of a man with a wonderfully calm demeanour and a seemingly bottomless supply of small, sweet cherries, suggested we let silence settle among us for a while. "Better to hear the birds," he murmured softly, "the wind whispering through the pines, the mountain’s own song." And indeed, as the chatter subsided, the sounds of nature enveloped us, drawing us further into the wilderness and, subtly, into a shared state of mindfulness.

The High Tatras – a magnificent string of snow-dusted peaks straddling the Slovak-Polish border – are not merely the highest range in the Carpathians but also among the most dramatic and distinctive in Europe. They are singular in their compact yet lofty nature, with numerous peaks cresting well over 2,600 metres, compressing an extraordinary diversity of terrain into a relatively narrow alpine arc. Geologically, these mountains are primarily granite, carved and sculpted by ancient glaciers, leaving behind the U-shaped valleys, sharp ridges, and moraine-dammed lakes that characterise their dramatic appearance. Their unique ecosystem supports a rich biodiversity, including chamois, marmots, and various bird species, making them a vital natural habitat.

Long shrouded in mysticism and local lore, for centuries few dared to truly explore their rugged and imposing expanses. They were believed to be the domain of formidable dragons, fearsome ogres, and other mythical creatures, guarding their secrets jealously. However, over the past 250 years, mountaineering has transcended mere exploration and become firmly embedded in Slovakian national identity, a source of profound pride and inspiration. The Tatras are not just a geographical feature; they are etched on the national coat of arms and eulogised in the stirring verses of the national anthem, symbolising resilience, strength, and the enduring spirit of the Slovak people.

The establishment of Tatranský národný park (TANAP) in Slovakia in 1949 and Tatrzański park narodowy in Poland in 1954 marked a landmark achievement in conservation. Together, these form one of the world’s first successful cross-border protected regions, a testament to international cooperation in preserving natural heritage. This foresight has been instrumental in keeping the land pristine and wild, safeguarding its unique flora and fauna for future generations. Strict regulations are in place: camping and swimming are not permitted in the alpine lakes or streams. While I longed at times to cool off in the crystalline alpine waters, I was ultimately thankful for this foresight, understanding that such measures are crucial for the preservation of this fragile ecosystem. The Tatras welcome visitors, but on their own terms, demanding respect for their untamed beauty.

Before long, our path had broken free of the sheltering pine and fertile earth, and we were met with a startling, breathtaking expanse of raw rock and boundless sky. The sun-dappled forest and wildflower-strewn meadows of the lower slopes were gradually replaced by hardy clutches of dwarf pine, tenacious and gnarled, and obstinate patches of ice clinging to the shaded crevices, even in late summer. We ascended into a chaotic tumble of granite outcrops that jut from the earth like crooked shark’s teeth, a landscape that felt ancient, primordial, and utterly unforgiving. In this stark, magnificent environment, the petty concerns of urban life, the demands of work, and the digital hum of modern existence receded imperceptibly into the distance. There was nothing left but the immediate, visceral reality: the careful placement of each foot on stone, the invigorating kiss of the cool mountain breeze on sun-warmed skin, the deafening gallop of my own heartbeat echoing the effort of the climb. It was a profound, almost meditative, state of being.

There is an undeniable magic in the combination of sustained physical exertion and shared adventure, an alchemy that peels back the layers in which we instinctively shroud ourselves. It was not long before our group discussions had moved beyond polite pleasantries, delving into the surprisingly candid and often hilarious territory of bowel movements, disappointing orgasms, and the bewildering world of dating apps. The barriers that initially separated us dissolved with each shared step, each grunt of effort, each burst of laughter.

We spent the second day weaving our way along a fairytale trail, a truly unique experience involving wooden ladders bolted into sheer rock faces, steep staircases carved into the earth, and precarious bridges fashioned from fallen logs. We navigated this challenging route through a deep, narrow valley, enclosed by steep earthen banks, with mysterious caves winking from the ancient limestone faces. Emerging into the bright sunshine of a high-altitude meadow, we found a welcoming mountain refuge, its sturdy wooden walls a beacon of hospitality against the sprawling, viridescent expanse. Here, we nursed refreshing, well-earned pints of Zlatý Bažant, a popular Slovakian beer, the comfortable silence that settled among us speaking volumes – a silence akin to that shared by old friends, requiring no words to fill.

It didn’t all go smoothly, of course. No true adventure ever does. Tensions flared when an organisational miscommunication regrettably left the entire group without lunch on a particularly gruelling nine-hour hike. The gnawing hunger, combined with the physical demands, tested our collective patience. But, ultimately, that unforeseen trial, rather than fracturing us, bound us closer together. When water was scarce, tummies grumbling, and boots beginning to bite, it was kindness and generosity that miraculously ruled the day. Last sips of water were meted out equitably, faster walkers willingly hung back for blister-addled hobblers, and emergency tampons and pee-buddies were offered in abundance, a testament to the rapid formation of trust and mutual support.

Steeling ourselves for yet another ascent of about 2,000 metres on the third day, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of pine, one member of the group suddenly erupted in a burst of pure, unadulterated jubilation. "I’ve got fig rolls!" she exclaimed, holding up a packet like a sacred relic. A collective cheer, primal and heartfelt, rose up from our perch on the mountainside, echoing across the valley, a testament to the simple joys that become profound in the wilderness.

The climbs were undeniably gruelling, the physical demands significant, and the views, as promised, spectacularly rewarding, offering panoramas that imprinted themselves onto our memories. But, as many of us secretly knew, we had come in search of something a little harder to find than just scenic vistas or a physical challenge. Listening to the chorus of gleeful voices echo across the valley, each one a testament to newfound connection and shared triumph, I thought to myself, we might just have found it. We had found camaraderie, resilience, and a deeper connection to both nature and ourselves.

Trip Details: The four-day expedition to Slovakia, a truly transformative experience, was expertly provided by hiked.up and Tatra Escapes. The trip cost £650 per person, with a slightly reduced rate of £600 for those opting for a shared room, making it an accessible adventure. This comprehensive package included convenient Košice airport transfers, three comfortable nights at Ranč Podlesok Relax – a charming base nestled within the national park – on a bed & breakfast basis, ensuring we were well-rested and fuelled for our daily adventures, and the invaluable guidance of experienced local mountain guides, Roman and Uri, whose expertise and spirit greatly enhanced the journey. For details on future expeditions and to join their growing community of outdoor enthusiasts, follow @hiked.up on Instagram.