Reaching the Summit: How Community Hiking in Slovakia’s High Tatras Forged Unforgettable Bonds

The air at 2,367 metres on Slovakia’s Kôprovský štít crackled with a potent mix of exhaustion and euphoria. As we crested the final ridge, a wave of giddy, childlike joy washed over our group, banishing the breathlessness that had been our constant companion for hours. In every direction, the majestic, jagged peaks of Slovakia’s High Tatras stretched into an endless panorama, like colossal spines of the earth, their rocky, ice-streaked slopes giving way to glittering alpine lakes embedded far below, resembling shards of polished glass. An eagle, a solitary master of these high altitudes, wheeled gracefully above, its silent vigil a testament to the untamed wilderness. From somewhere within the seemingly lunar landscape, the distinct, high-pitched squeak of a marmot cut through the crisp air, a reminder of the vibrant life thriving even in this stark environment. Easy laughs, born of shared struggle and triumph, ricocheted around our small group, punctuated by the rapid clicks of camera shutters, hearty back-thumping, and words of genuine encouragement offered to those among us still battling a touch of vertigo.

The summit of Kôprovský štít had played a relentless, almost Kafkaesque game of mountain mirage with us for what felt like an eternity. For several hours, it had always been just over the ‘next ridge,’ a promise that, once conquered, revealed only a string of further, seemingly endless crests stretching into the horizon. Eight arduous hours and approximately 23 kilometres after we had set off on our ambitious hike through the Vysoké Tatry mountain range, a ripple of smiles, some undeniably of the clenched-teeth variety, spread from person to person. "Yes, team! We did it!" exclaimed Roman, our high-spirited Slovakian mountain guide, his voice echoing with pride as he stood atop the peak, clasping each of our hands in congratulation as we, one by one, reached the pinnacle.

Just 24 hours prior, we had been a disparate group of 11 strangers, making polite, somewhat awkward small talk in the bustling confines of London’s Luton airport. Now, perched on this vertiginous mountaintop, 2,367 metres (7,765ft) above sea level, something profound had shifted. Friendships, nascent and raw, were already budding, and the carefully constructed veneers of urban life were beginning to fall away. This, we realised, was the essence of why each of us had embarked on an expedition to the remote wilderness of the Tatras with a collection of people we barely knew. It was about the connections forged in the crucible of shared toil and mutual support during the climb; the sheer, unadulterated wonder of making it to this pristine place where rock meets sky, where the concerns of the everyday world felt impossibly distant.

Community hiking, once a niche activity, is currently experiencing a remarkable surge in popularity, evolving into a significant social phenomenon. Over the past few years, countless groups have sprung up globally, uniting tens of thousands of people in a shared pursuit of outdoor adventure and genuine connection. This resurgence is multifaceted, driven by a post-pandemic yearning for nature, a growing awareness of mental well-being, and a desire to escape the pervasive digitisation of modern life. These groups are incredibly diverse, catering to specific demographics and interests: there are women-only groups fostering safe and empowering spaces, LGBTQ+ collectives promoting inclusivity in outdoor recreation, Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour (BIPOC) collectives celebrating diverse experiences, and even groups tailored for slow walkers, "soft girls" seeking gentle adventures, parents with young children, and dog owners. This democratisation of hiking is broadening access and challenging traditional perceptions of who belongs in the wilderness.

Our particular four-day journey to Slovakia was meticulously organised by hiked.up, a thriving community platform, in partnership with the specialist Slovakian tour operator Tatra Escapes. Hiked.up’s origin story is typical of many pandemic-era initiatives: it began during the early days of Covid-19, when childhood friends Matt and Adam sought an escape from lockdown stasis by embarking on walks around their native Essex. What started as a personal coping mechanism quickly blossomed into a vision for a broader community, and it has since evolved into a thousands-strong network offering expeditions not only across the UK but also throughout Europe.

"The demographic is so vast," Matt shared with me as we carefully picked our way across a challenging boulder field, his words echoing the inclusive spirit of their venture. "Young people, older people, some super-fit, others completely new to hiking. Most come alone, seeking something more. People join for mental health reasons, or simply to get out and have fun, to meet new people in a meaningful way. You connect with people you might not expect to talk to day-to-day at our events, and that’s the beauty of it."

Indeed, our group was a truly motley crew in terms of ability, age, and disposition, hailing from various corners of the UK, reflecting the broad appeal of such expeditions. The roll call of professions was equally diverse, including a tennis coach, a landscape architect, a maths teacher, a physiotherapist, an art adviser, and a construction site manager. Yet, beneath these varied facades, the stories I was told tracked remarkably similar contours: a pervasive ennui at the relentless digitisation of modern life and the confining limits of city living; a deep, almost primal yearning for nature; and, crucially, the chance to connect with like-minded individuals in settings that transcended booze-soaked social conventions.

Louis, a 24-year-old physiotherapist, articulated a powerful, almost anthropological belief that community hiking taps into something fundamental within us. "Humans are designed to connect outdoors," he posited, his gaze sweeping across the vast landscape. "This is what we did thousands of years ago – our ancestors forged bonds and built communities while traversing natural environments." Emma, a 32-year-old teacher, viewed hiking groups as a direct and vital response to the growing challenges of urban loneliness and societal atomisation. "People want to come together without it being solely centred on drinking or going out," she observed, "connecting in a more conscious, authentic way that fosters genuine relationships."

I must admit to a degree of trepidation on the first evening, as we sat outside our rustic wooden lodge nestled within the stunning Slovak Paradise National Park. The setting sun painted the sky in magnificent strokes of gold and purple, but inside, a jangle of nerves and the lingering fatigue of travel had created a somewhat jarring group dynamic. The quieter members were practically tongue-tied, while the more extroverted individuals bellowed conversations across plates piled high with creamy bryndzové halušky—Slovakia’s beloved national dish of potato dumplings generously topped with rich sheep’s cheese and crispy bacon. I wondered, with a touch of anxiety, if this disparate collection of strangers would ever truly find a rhythm, let alone cultivate a genuine sense of camaraderie.

The following morning, any lingering doubts began to dissipate as we tumbled out of the minibus onto the tranquil Štrba turistika trail. The sun beat down benignly, a comforting warmth on our shoulders, as we followed a winding path along the mountainside. Below us, a valley of deep green pine trees fanned out, a verdant carpet stretching to the distant peaks. Uri, our other guide—a gentle giant with an inherently calm demeanour and an endless supply of small, sweet cherries—suggested we allow silence to settle among us. This, he explained, would enable us to better hear the myriad birdsong, the rustling wind, and the whispered secrets of the ancient pines. It was a conscious act of mindfulness, grounding us in the present moment and fostering a subtle, shared appreciation for our surroundings.

The High Tatras, a magnificent string of snow-dusted peaks straddling the Slovak-Polish border, represent the highest range within the vast Carpathian Mountains and are widely regarded as among the most dramatic and pristine in Europe. Their unique character lies in their compact yet lofty nature, with numerous peaks cresting well over 2,600 metres. This geological marvel compresses an extraordinary diversity of terrain into a relatively narrow alpine arc, showcasing everything from deep valleys and glacial cirques to razor-sharp ridges and crystalline lakes. The region is a biodiversity hotspot, home not only to eagles and marmots but also to chamois, brown bears, and lynx, thriving amidst a rich tapestry of alpine flora.

Long shrouded in mysticism and local lore, for centuries few dared to explore their rugged, formidable expanses. These mountains were believed to be the exclusive domain of mythical creatures – dragons, ogres, and spirits—tales that both protected and deterred human intrusion. However, over the past 250 years, mountaineering has become firmly embedded in the Slovakian national identity, a symbol of resilience and natural beauty. The Tatras are etched on the national coat of arms and eulogised in the stirring verses of the national anthem. This deep cultural reverence led to proactive conservation efforts: the establishment of Tatranský národný park in Slovakia in 1949 and Tatrzański park narodowy in Poland in 1954 created one of the world’s first cross-border protected regions. This foresight has been instrumental in keeping the land remarkably pristine and wild. Strict regulations, such as prohibitions on camping and swimming, are in place to preserve the delicate ecosystem. While I admit a fleeting longing to cool off in the crystalline alpine streams, I was ultimately thankful for the wisdom behind these protective measures, ensuring the mountains remain unspoiled for generations to come.

Before long, our winding path broke free of the embrace of pine and earth, revealing a startling, almost primordial expanse of rock and sky. The sun-dappled forests and wildflower-strewn meadows of the lower elevations were gradually replaced by hardy clutches of dwarf pine and obstinate patches of lingering ice, all set amidst a dramatic tumble of granite outcrops that jutted from the earth like crooked shark’s teeth. In this awe-inspiring landscape, the mundane realities of the world below receded imperceptibly into the distance. There was nothing left but the singular, focused placement of each foot on cold stone, the invigorating kiss of the cool mountain breeze on our faces, and the deafening, rhythmic gallop of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears. It was a profound, almost meditative state of being.

There is an undeniable magic in the combination of intense physical exertion and shared adventure that systematically peels back the layers in which we typically shroud ourselves in daily life. It wasn’t long before our group discussions, initially reserved, had turned to surprisingly candid topics: bowel movements, disappointing orgasms, and the bewildering landscape of modern dating apps. The barriers had dissolved, replaced by a raw, unvarnished honesty. We spent the second day weaving our way along a fairytale trail in Slovak Paradise, a landscape defined by its network of wooden ladders, steep staircases, and precarious fallen logs, all leading through a deep valley enclosed by steep earthen banks and caves winking from limestone faces. Emerging into bright sunshine and a welcoming mountain refuge set on a sprawling, viridescent meadow, we nursed refreshing pints of Zlatý Bažant, a popular Slovak beer. A comfortable silence settled among us, not awkward, but the easy quietude that only exists between old friends who no longer need to fill every moment with words.

Of course, the journey wasn’t without its minor tribulations. Tensions briefly flared when an organisational miscommunication left the group without lunch during a demanding nine-hour hike. But, ultimately, that unforeseen trial, rather than dividing us, bound us closer together. When water was scarce, tummies grumbling with hunger, and boots beginning to bite into blistered feet, it was kindness and generosity that unequivocally ruled the day. Last sips of water were meted out equitably, faster walkers willingly hung back for those hobbling with blister-addled feet, and emergency tampons and "pee-buddies" (a testament to newfound comfort) were offered in abundance. These small acts of solidarity, born of necessity, solidified our nascent bonds.

Steeling ourselves for yet another challenging ascent of about 2,000 metres, one member of the group suddenly erupted in a burst of unexpected jubilation: "I’ve got fig rolls!" A collective cheer, primal and heartfelt, rose up from our perch on the mountainside, the promise of a sugary snack injecting a fresh wave of energy and camaraderie. The climb was gruelling, the physical demands relentless, but the views, as always, were spectacular, offering unparalleled rewards for our efforts. Yet, most of us had come in search of something a little harder to define, something deeper than mere scenic beauty or physical achievement. Listening to the chorus of gleeful voices echo across the vast, ancient valley, a profound sense of contentment settled over me. I realised then that amidst the sweat, the struggle, and the breathtaking vistas, we had, in fact, found it. We had found connection, resilience, and a profound sense of belonging.

The four-day trip to Slovakia was provided by hiked.up and Tatra Escapes. The cost was £650 per person (£600 for a shared room) and included Košice airport transfers, three nights at Ranč Podlesok Relax on a bed and breakfast basis, and experienced mountain guides. For details of future expeditions and to join this growing community, follow @hiked.up on Instagram.