No turning back: Hiking in the Tatra Mountains

I’ve been meaning to write about this trip for a good while now. Since Summer, in fact. I’ve finally been able to pull this together, thanks to doing the research I failed to do before the trip itself. My friends Tom and Anna did all the preparations, bookings and general logistics for the trip, and to them, I owe these memories and photographs.

You do not need to know much about my life beyond the fact that I wrote this – but to give a small degree of context – I’ll say this. I lived with three other guys in my final year at university, and ever since we graduated, we’ve taken a trip together every year. The first being Portugal, the last being some big house near Basingstoke. I won’t say how many have been in between, as you’ll then know how old I am, something neither of us wants to talk about, I’m sure.

This year, with Tom living in Berlin, Oli and Lewis looking to go travelling soon, we decided to go big. We wanted to hike the Tatra Mountains in Slovakia, and I think it was the best trip yet. What made this trip even more special was that our numbers had doubled. Yes, for reasons that can only invite wondered speculation, we now all have girlfriends and they wanted to come. So, that was that. Eight of us were to meet in Krakow in late July.

Five of us arrived early, so we picked up the minivan and got the others as they landed before driving over the border into Slovakia. What a joy it was to be able to drive across borders without seeing a barbed-wire fence, mirrored sticks or grumpy stickler border force jobsworths frothing at the mouth waiting to interrogate you.

We headed towards Vysoké Tatry, a small town at the foot of the High Tatras, and slowly started to see the scale of what we were heading to conquer. With a few dazed troops in the back sleep-twitching, Lewis yapping drivel behind the wheel, and Nat verbalising her concerns over the prominence of bears in the region, the 3-hour drive flew by. Once we arrived in this small town, which felt like a warm, out-of-season ski town, half the group hunted for ATMs while the other half looked for bear spray before landing on buying a knife. We had the cash, should the bear fancy that, and the knife, for if he became offended by how much we offered.

It was 4 PM as we set off up the hill and it wasn’t mentioned but there was an underlying concern over daylight. We started slow, not because of needing time to warm up or anything but because of the domino effect caused by the first person to take out their camera. We’re quite a heavy camera group so everyone stopped at various times as they saw their own vision ahead of them.

This journey became epic, quickly. We also quickly learnt how to say hello in Slovakian; it’s ‘ahoy’ – well, that was us sorted for the next few days. Some put emphasis on the ‘h’, and some would throw a ‘ahoy ahoy’ at us, which was fun. We pushed on, and as we got to around 6 PM we finally caught sight of the hut we were to sleep in that night. It felt more than a day’s hike away, but our trusted guide, Tom, assured us that we’d be there in one hour. He was pretty much right and I find that astonishing, not because Tom is untrustworthy but because this hut was at the top of a huge, steep mountain. It will always surprise me how far a human can walk in a few hours but also how we’ve managed to carve out paths in terrain that looks unsurpassable.

Now, I’ve never been to Slovakia, and most mountains or volcanoes I’ve climbed have been when backpacking in tropical places like Guatemala and Indonesia, so the scenery here was goosebump-worthy for me. After spending countless hours idolising the West Coast of America, with all its Yosemite might and Pacific Northwest Beauty, this felt strangely familiar. As if I had stepped into a picture that had been collated from the magazines and YouTube videos I’ve endlessly perused.

Arriving at the first hut, we were unsure whether beer would be purchasable. It was, and it was bloody lovely. We spent countless hours talking about how they got that beer up there over the next few days but at that moment, we just quenched and took it all in. Our group had become strung out, so a few of us were there with beers in hand as the rest arrived. What a sight.

Once over the final crest and into the elevated cove, there was a lake and countless Chamois, an endemic animal in the region. The water was as placid as it comes, causing you to second-guess its validity as a body of water and not a mirror. We caught the sunset and headed inside to see what our quarters would be like. We booked late, and so we were to sleep on the dining room floor. Sounds rough, but it wasn’t that bad. A storm came rolling in that night and the whole cabin was flashing blue while being beaten by lateral rain. I thought the roof might just rip straight off. I’ll take a hard floor, inside, over a tent, outside, in those conditions any day of the year.

The next morning, at exactly 6 am, all of us dining room floor dwellers were awoken by what can only be described as a strange Slovakian nursery rhyme playing out the speakers. It felt like we were in an episode of Squid Game. Breakfast was served, and everyone was out just after 7 am. A fair number of Slovakians were drinking beers at breakfast, which I ultimately respected; there are no rules up the mountain.

We set off, weary-eyed but still in awe of where we were. The storm had passed through, and the morning was dry but cloudy. Tom had made some of us aware that we’d be climbing up some metal ladders at some point. He showed me an image on Google of the pass, and those climbing were smiling and waving, it looked like a jolly old time. For us, and in particular Nat, it was as far from jolly as can be. If finding 20 quid is jolly, then this was like falling over and watching your wallet fall into a drain, jolly.

We got to the base of the climb and 200m of elevation stood over us with nothing but metal chains and wonky ladder steps there to aid us. Most of us fearfully laughed, and the rest stood silent. Lewis, the mountain goat, jumped ahead and led the way. Nat managed to follow for about 5 metres until what I can only assume was the realisation of what she was doing hit her. Crouched down, unable to move, we knew we had to give her some support. Lewis took her bag and jumped from step to step as we all moved slowly and carefully. I was incredibly grateful it was as cloudy as it was that day, as it limited our view to merely the wall in front of us. This meant that the sight of how high we were did not compound the fear of falling down this immediate wall.

Much to my surprise, we all made it to the top safe and sound. I tend to laugh in these moments, and did try injecting some facetious humour, but it seemed heart rates were still too high for that. That was, according to multiple sources, ‘the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life’. I’d have said the same if I hadn’t celebrated an away goal in the Stratford end.

A few more horizontal miles under feet saw us reach the second hut of the trip. We warmed up with some goulash and local sausage before parting ways with the girls and heading up into the mountains for another pass with the guys. The girls would meet us at the hotel around the mountain by getting there via an easier way. Fair enough. The second pass was arguably much scarier than the first, and it began raining, making the metal chains and steps slippery. When you’re looking after someone more scared than yourself, you forget about being scared yourself, which made the first pass manageable. Now, it was just four lads, meaning my fear was slightly more present. We reached the top and were hit with an immense wind, so loud you couldn’t speak to the person next to you. It was here that we met a group of Slovaks just sitting smoking cigarettes; they took a photo of us below.

The scariest moment of the trip was the descent from this point. There were moments of holding on to a metal chain as you leaned over a 15m drop with nothing but your toes shuffling along the ledge. I actually could not believe how dangerous and unsupervised all of this was. Honestly, kind of refreshing. The sentiment of choosing to risk your life while also accepting potential consequences seems contrary to British mollycoddling culture.

Luckily for us, nothing went wrong, and we enjoyed a wonderful time walking through the mountains for the next few hours, chatting about anything and everything that came to mind. No phones, a good amount of sweat and a shared excitement for that first pint at the hotel. Yes, we decided to stay at a hotel for the next couple of nights and after last night’s hard floor, we were giddy. Before reaching the lake which sat alongside the hotel, we walked through some heaven-like meadows of greens, reds and yellows. We were at the perfect elevation for moisture to sit and provide tropical-like humidity and warmth for plants to flourish.

We knew we were close to the hotel, but it remained covered by cloud until we were about 200m away. We crossed over a river and then under its waterfall a few moments later, down into the lake bed, when we first caught a glimpse of the hotel. Behind the calm clapping of the lake’s wind-topped waves was the sound of fresh Slovakian lager being poured into frost-coated glass. We finished the 10-hour hike at sundown and settled in by the fire with flowing beer as we waited for the girls. Their day turned out to be equally adventurous as they found taxis were unable to drive up to the hotel. In the end, they found one adventurous soul who brought them up and received a generous tip in return.

Now all together, we showered and headed down for dinner. It was, much to our delight, a buffet dinner. Plates stacked, glasses empty and bodies ready for bed, we called it there. The next day was deliberately nothing to write home about. I went for a short run, and a few others went up to the meadow, but other than that, we just sat around, played some games and celebrated Nat’s birthday. Not a bad rest day.

The next, and final day, we hiked back down to the minivan before driving back into Krakow for our flights. This trip was short but incredibly sweet. There are insurmountable cliches out there regarding spending time in the mountains with friends, so I’ll spare you from them. What I will say, however, is that Slovakia is well nice. If you’re looking for stupidly beautiful mountains and trekking routes, friendly people and great local beer then get yourself to Slovakia.

I’ll leave it there and say thanks if you made it this far. Go book some hikes with friends in for next summer.