We are giddy as we reach the summit, breathless with exertion and a guileless, childlike joy. In every direction the jagged peaks of Slovakia’s High Tatras stretch out into the distance, nubs on a colossal spine, glittering lakes embedded like shards of glass far below the rocky, ice-streaked slopes. An eagle wheels above. Somewhere on the lunar landscape a marmot squeaks. Easy laughs ricochet around the group, photos are snapped, backs thumped, words of encouragement offered to the more vertigo-inclined.
The summit of Slovakia’s Kôprovský štít had been playing a Kafkaesque game of mountain mirage with us for several hours, always just over the next ridge which, once conquered, revealed a string of further, seemingly endless ridges. Eight hours and about 23km after we had set off on our hike through the Vysoké Tatry mountain range, an eddy of smiles rippled from person to person (some, granted, of the more clenched-teeth variety). “Yes, team! We did it!” Roman, our high-spirited Slovakian mountain guide, stood atop the tip, clasping each of our hands in congratulation as we crested the peak.
