Athletic Endeavours in the High Tatras

In September, I attended the UEC Trials European Championships in Poprad, Slovakia, as a photographer. Poprad lies just south of the High Tatras, of course – the same mountains where we had already tempted fate in 2021. Naturally, we could not resist paying them another visit with two hikes before the championships began.

Dolina Zeleného Plesa

After the High Tatras had already given us a very vivid demonstration in 2021 of what they think of overconfidence, we wanted to begin our second visit with a comparatively sensible hike. We chose Dolina Zeleného plesa, one of the most beautiful valleys in the region. At around 20 kilometres, the route was fairly long, but its nearly 800 metres of elevation gain were distributed over the distance in a reasonably humane fashion. There were also no chains, icy rock crevices, or snowstorms in the forecast. By our standards, it was practically a wellness retreat.

From Tatranské Matliare, the trail first led us through the forest and then through the valley of Kežmarská Biela voda. For long stretches, we climbed steadily along a pleasantly wide path without any major acts of malice. In fact, part of it is an unpaved supply road to the mountain hut. You are still not allowed to simply drive up for lunch, however, so our legs remained the only officially approved means of transport.

Our destination was Zelené pleso, shimmering green and framed by steep rock faces and the surrounding peaks. Chata pri Zelenom plese stands right on its shore. After our experiences in 2021, a pretty mountain lake with hot food in the sunshine seemed statistically far less dangerous than an icy rocky saddle in a snowstorm. This time, we did not have to bring any Tactical Foodpacks to life with a chemical heater either. Progress can simply mean that someone sells soup at the end of the trail.

After our break, the return route took us on a loop past Veľké Biele pleso and then back to Tatranské Matliare. A little over six hours later, we arrived back at the starting point without a snowstorm, mortal terror, or assistance from a rescue helicopter. Even the ponchos had spent the entire day unused in our backpacks.

Our conclusion after the first hike: apparently, we had become exceptionally well-prepared and extremely sensible mountain hikers. This reassuring misconception would at least last until Kriváň.

The route is summarised here:

Krivan

After our first hike into Dolina Zeleného plesa – with its pleasant trails, beautiful scenery, and delightfully little immediate mortal peril – had lulled us into a sense of security, the second tour was allowed to be a little more demanding: we were heading up Kriváň, Slovakia’s national mountain.

The mountain was not entirely unfamiliar to us. We had already seen it from Tichá dolina in 2021 while watching rescue helicopters fly towards the summit at remarkably short intervals. From this, we had learned the important lesson that the High Tatras should never be underestimated. Shortly afterwards, at Bystrá lávka, we gave an impressive demonstration of just how permanently that lesson had been stored in our memories.

Two years later, we were therefore exceptionally well prepared, naturally. We had already seen Kriváň from below, survived a snowstorm in August, and learned that a poncho is not a meteorological free pass. The weather was considerably friendlier this time as well. The ponchos could remain in our backpacks and were therefore unavailable as argumentative justification for questionable decisions. Basically, hardly anything could go wrong.

We set off from the car park at Tri studničky. The green-marked trail initially led through the forest, but was already gaining altitude with considerable determination. The ascent seemed to begin directly at the car door and showed little interest in a gentle warm-up period. For someone like me, who regards chain-vaping as an endurance sport and normally prefers to watch real sport being performed by other people, it was highly educational.

At Rázcestie v Krivánskom žľabe, we joined the blue-marked trail. From there, the route continued via Malý Kriváň and Daxnerovo sedlo to the summit. The trail was steep at first, then steep and rocky, and finally ended in very steep, rocky scrambling passages. The final exposed sections even did without safety chains. After our experiences in 2021, this seemed almost a little negligent on the mountain’s part.

This time, however, the weather actually cooperated. Instead of horizontal sleet, we had sunshine, good visibility, and – at almost 2,500 metres – a view that made even the preceding multi-hour stair-climbing simulator without stairs worthwhile. From the summit, the panorama extended far across the surrounding valleys and peaks. Kriváň looked even more impressive from this perspective than it had in 2021 – and the most reassuring realisation was that no rescue helicopter had to set off on our behalf this time.

For the return journey, we first descended to Rázcestie v Krivánskom žľabe and then followed the trail towards Jamské pleso. Via Tatranská magistrála and past the former Važecká chata, we eventually made our way back to Tri studničky. After a little over seven and a half hours, we reached the car park again: tired, but neither thoroughly bedraggled nor breaded by a snowstorm. Compared with 2021, this clearly counted as progress.

And here is the hiking route:

European Championships

After two very successful hikes, and with enough aching muscles to feel at least physically connected to elite sport, the UEC Trials European Championships could begin. This meant switching to a discipline much better suited to me: watching other people do sport while occasionally pressing the shutter button on a camera.

Conveniently, we had once again booked the excellently equipped holiday apartment where we had already stayed in 2021. The fact that it was once again within walking distance of the trials venue was, of course, pure coincidence. After Kriváň, every additional metre on foot felt like an unnecessary provocation.

Following the opening ceremony on Friday, the actual competitions took place on Saturday and Sunday. While the riders jumped their bicycles over obstacles that I probably could not have crossed gracefully even on foot, I limited myself to photographic documentation. Between the competitions, there was also some time to explore Poprad in greater detail. During our first visit in 2021, our mental map of the city had essentially consisted of the holiday apartment, the Lidl next door, the trials venue, and the local Decathlon – a surprisingly complete tourist infrastructure. This time, we discovered that Poprad does in fact contain other buildings.

This short post is not intended to be a complete record of the European Championships. Instead, here are a few impressions from a weekend full of precision, body control, and a remarkably relaxed attitude towards gravity.