connect

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.

Just 24 hours earlier, we had been a ragtag group of 11 strangers making small talk in London’s Luton airport. But here, on a vertiginous mountain top 2,367 metres (7,765ft) above sea level, friendships were budding, veneers falling away. And this was it: the 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. Connections forged during the shared toil of the climb; the sheer wonder at making it to this place where rock meets sky.

Community hiking is experiencing a surge in popularity, with countless groups springing up in the past few years, uniting tens of thousands of people for outdoor adventures. There are women-only groups, LGBTQ+ groups, Black, Indigenous and people of colour (Bipoc) collectives, those catering to slow walkers, “soft girls”, parents, dog owners. Our four-day trip to Slovakia was organised by hiked.up in partnership with Slovakian tour operator Tatra Escapes. Hiked.up began during Covid, with childhood friends Matt and Adam escaping lockdown stasis on walks around Essex, and has since evolved into a thousands-strong community offering expeditions across the UK and Europe.

“The demographic is so vast,” Matt tells me as we pick our way across a boulder field. “Young people, older people, some super-fit, others new to hiking. Most come alone. People join for mental health reasons, or just to get out and have fun, meet new people. You connect with people you might not expect to talk to day-to-day at our events.”

We are a motley crew in ability, age and disposition, hailing from all corners of the UK. The roll call of professions includes a tennis coach, landscape architect, maths teacher, physiotherapist, art adviser and construction site manager. But the stories I’m told track similar contours: ennui at the digitisation of modern life and city confines; a yearning for nature and the chance to connect with like-minded individuals beyond booze-soaked social settings.

Louis, a 24-year-old physiotherapist, believes community hiking taps into something fundamental. “Humans are designed to connect outdoors,” he says. “This is what we did thousands of years ago.” Emma, a 32-year-old teacher, sees hiking groups as a response to urban loneliness and atomisation. “People want to come together without it being centred on drinking or going out; connecting in a more conscious way.”

I admit to a degree of trepidation on the first evening, sitting outside our wooden lodge in Slovak Paradise national park, the setting sun splashing gold and purple across the sky. A jangle of nerves and travel fatigue had created a somewhat jarring group dynamic; the quieter members practically tongue-tied while the extroverts bellowed across plates of creamy bryndzové halušky (potato dumplings with creamy sheep’s cheese and crispy bacon). Was this collection of strangers going to find a rhythm, let alone a sense of camaraderie?

The following morning we tumbled out of the minibus on to the Štrba turistika trail. The sun beat down benignly as we followed a winding path along the mountainside, a valley of deep green pine fanning out below. Our other guide, Uri, a gentle giant with a calm demeanour and bottomless supply of small, sweet cherries, suggested we let silence settle among us, better to hear the birds, the wind, the whisper of the pines.

The High Tatras – a string of snow-dusted peaks straddling the Slovak-Polish border – are the highest range in the Carpathians and among the most dramatic in Europe. Singular in their compact yet lofty nature – with peaks cresting 2,600 metres – they compress an extraordinary diversity of terrain into a narrow alpine arc.

Long shrouded in mysticism and lore, for centuries few dared explore their rugged expanses, believed to be the domain of dragons and ogres. But over the past 250 years, mountaineering has become firmly embedded in Slovakian national identity, the Tatras etched on the national coat of arms and eulogised in the national anthem. The establishment of Tatranský národný park in Slovakia in 1949 and Tatrzański park narodowy in Poland in 1954 – one of the world’s first cross-border protected regions – has kept the land pristine and wild. Camping and swimming are not permitted, and while I longed to cool off in the crystalline alpine streams, I was thankful for the foresight.

Before long, we had broken free of pine and earth and were met with a startling expanse of rock and sky. Sun-dappled forest and wildflower-strewn meadows were replaced by clutches of dwarf pine and obstinate patches of ice amid a tumble of granite outcrops that jut from the earth like crooked shark’s teeth. Reality receded imperceptibly into the distance till there was nothing but the placement of each foot on stone, the kiss of cool mountain breeze, the deafening gallop of my heartbeat.

There is something about the combination of physical exertion and shared adventure that peels back the layers in which we shroud ourselves. It was not long before group discussion had turned to bowel movements, disappointing orgasms and dating apps. We spent the second day weaving our way along a fairytale trail of wooden ladders, steep staircases and fallen logs through a valley enclosed by steep earthen banks and caves winking from limestone faces. Emerging into bright sunshine and a mountain refuge set on a sprawling viridescent meadow, we nursed refreshing pints of Zlatý Bažant, a comfortable silence settling among us like that between old friends.

It didn’t all go smoothly. Tensions flared when an organisational miscommunication left the group without lunch on a nine-hour hike. But, ultimately, that unforeseen trial bound us closer together. When water was scarce, tummies grumbling and boots beginning to bite, it was kindness and generosity that ruled the day – last sips meted out equitably, faster walkers hanging back for blister-addled hobblers, emergency tampons and pee-buddies in abundance.

Steeling ourselves for another ascent of about 2,000 metres, one member of the group erupted in a burst of jubilation: “I’ve got fig rolls!” A cheer rose up from our perch on the mountainside.

The climb was gruelling, the views spectacular, but most of us had come in search of something a little harder to find. Listening to the chorus of gleeful voices echo across the valley, I thought we might just have found it.

The four-day trip to Slovakia was provided by hiked.up and Tatra Escapes and cost £650pp (£600 for a shared room). It included Košice airport transfers, three nights at Ranč Podlesok Relax on a B&B basis, and guides. Follow @hiked.up for details of future expeditions

FLIGHTS to New York could eventually take the same amount of time as it does to fly to Tenerife – and passengers might be onboard sooner than you think.

X-59 QueSST, nicknamed the “Son of Concorde” has been developed by NASA to travel as much as 300mph faster than current commercial flights.

At the speed of over 900mph, the aircraft could travel from London to New York in 3hr45 – far less than it does to get to some of the Spanish islands.

Currently, flights from the UK to New York take around 7hr30, on average.

With the jet it could be under four hours which is even quicker than a flight to Tenerife at 4hr30.

Most commercial flights currently operate at around 600mph but the aircraft is set to conduct test flights where it will reach supersonic speeds of 630mph at 43,000ft for the first time.

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After that, NASA said that “mission conditions” will follow where the jet will go even faster.

If successful, it is hoped that supersonic flights could launch by 2029.

Don’t worry about hearing a sonic boom either – despite the sound barrier sitting at 660mph, the aircraft have been designed to avoid this.

Instead it will create a sonic “thump”, which is “about as loud as a car door closing”.

Up until now, NASA has been conducting tests in wind tunnels or in the skies but at slower speeds.

The jet is dubbed the ‘Son of Concorde’ as Concorde was the world’s very first supersonic airliner that first flew passengers in 1976.

Concorde’s fastest recorded flight was on February 7, 1996, when British Airways flew Concorde from New York’s JFK airport to London Heathrow in two hours, 52 minutes, and 59 seconds.

Around 20 Concordes were created, but the fleet was grounded in 2003.

This was three years after the crash of an Air France flight, in which all passengers and crew were killed.

Low passenger numbers and high costs were also cited as reasons for the ending of Concorde.

When Concordes were flying they would often break the sound barrier, causing the shaking of windows and creating a loud noise that replicated thunder when passing overhead.

Fancy seeing a real Concorde plane? You can see retired ones at Manchester Airport, Aerospace Bristol or Brooklands Museum in Surrey.

KEY WEST, Fla. — Ruthie Browning dove into the calm, blue water off Key West, Fla., expecting to see “a big, old rock with stuff growing all over it.”

She was on a pilgrimage with other Black divers and community members, visiting sacred sites including one where a British slave ship — the Henrietta Marie — sank 326 years ago.

The vessel had delivered 200 enslaved people from West Africa to Jamaica and was heading back to Britain in 1700 — near the peak of the trans-Atlantic slave trade — when it was swallowed up in the churning waters of New Ground Reef where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Gulf of Mexico.

A concrete marker at the site memorializes the people on that ship.

As Browning and her group prepared to dive in early May, the water was calm. The marker, 20 feet below, was visible from the glassy surface. “I thought I’d look at it, pay my respects and that’ll be that,” she said.

But something unexpected happened. Tears filled her eyes. She gently told herself: If you can be quiet, maybe they will speak.

Staring at the monument, which is now a small living reef covered in corals and sponges, she felt her ancestors’ words: “My daughter, we’re so glad you’re here.”

Overwhelmed, Browning lingered by the marker bearing the words: “Henrietta Marie. In memory and recognition of the courage, pain and suffering on enslaved African people. Speak her name and gently touch the souls of our ancestors.”

She felt submerged in gratitude.

“Without their stamina, their spirit and survival, I wouldn’t be here today. None of us would be here today,” she said.

Pilgrimages aren’t meant to be easy

For the pilgrims in Key West, the gathering was an act of devotion, a quest for connection with their roots and for spiritually nourishing generations to come. They had tried to dive to the marker last summer, but the water was too choppy.

“The ancestors were not smiling down on us then,” said Jay Haigler, master diving instructor with Underwater Adventure Seekers, the world’s oldest Black scuba diving club. “This year was different.”

Such a pilgrimage was never meant to be easy, said Michael Cottman, who has written two books about the Henrietta Marie and was part of the National Association of Black Scuba Divers that installed the marker in 1992.

Cottman believes the site contains “spiritual turbulence.”

“Even if it wasn’t carrying enslaved people, it embodies the oppression of our people,” he said.

The group organized an annual pilgrimage in the 1990s, but it didn’t continue. The latest trip was spurred by an underwater interview project proposed by Stanford University anthropologist Ayana Omilade Flewellen, who serves on the board of Diving With a Purpose, a Black scuba diving nonprofit dedicated to documenting slave shipwrecks.

The submerged interviews also helped her connect as a pilgrim, Flewellen said. “I felt a kind of tenderness in my heart.”

The spiritual experience helped her process a traumatic history rooted in death and suffering.

“It’s hard to attach your life with this history,” she said. “The only way I could do that was turn toward what the divers were experiencing on this pilgrimage. That’s where it all bloomed and blossomed.”

Ancient ritual at African refugee cemetery

The pilgrims also gathered on land. At Higgs Beach on the south side of Key West, they visited a memorial and burial ground for 297 African refugees who died in 1860 after being rescued by the U.S. Navy from three slave ships — Wildfire, William and Bogota. Over 1,400 refugees were housed by the government in a compound and provided food and medical care, said Corey Malcom, the Florida Keys History Center’s lead historian.

While many were sent back to Africa, hundreds died due to the horrific conditions on the ships, he said.

Largely forgotten for decades, the grave site was discovered by historians and geologists using ground-penetrating radar. In 2010, a large pit containing 100 more bodies was located at a community dog park across the street. The area is now fenced off, Malcom said.

On Saturday, pilgrims met at the cemetery and held an emotional libation ceremony, a sacred, ancient ritual rooted in Afro-Caribbean spiritual tradition. One by one, group members tearfully thanked their ancestors and poured white rum on the beach. The clear spirit is believed to act as a messenger, inviting ancestral souls for their blessings.

“To honor your ancestors and the road they’ve traveled is very, very important because we’re all connected,” said Addeliar Guy, one of the elders and an avid diver.

Underwater monument represents a living history

Joel Johnson trained for weeks for his first open-water dive at the Henrietta Marie site. Johnson, the president and CEO of the National Marine Sanctuary Foundation, said what surprised him as he approached the monument was the vibrancy surrounding it. Fish darted among the corals that swayed with the currents; shells rested on the sandy bottom.

Conservation and protecting these habitats also preserve the history below the waves, Johnson said.

“This was not a place of death, but a place of life,” he said. “I didn’t feel like I was grieving for my ancestors. I felt like I was in the stream of history, recognizing that I’m a part of that. It made me happy.”

While underwater, Michael Philip Davenport, president of Underwater Adventure Seekers, was inspired to create art showing ancestors emerging from the monument.

“Their spirituality is still in that space,” he said. “I was feeling their lives and their tragedy.”

Dr. Melody Garrett, an anesthesiologist, started training with Diving With a Purpose in 2011 and has gone on missions to find the Guerrero, a Spanish pirate ship that wrecked in 1827 while carrying 561 enslaved Africans.

“A pilgrimage like this is so important now more than ever because there is an effort to cover up, rewrite and change history,” she said. She cited the Trump administration’s moves to remove references to slavery and Black history at National Park Service sites and federal museums, labeling it as divisive “anti-American propaganda.”

For Garrett, seeing these pieces of history gives her a strong sense of identity as an American, as the nation prepares to celebrate its 250th birthday.

“Black people have been here since before this country’s inception, longer than many other people have,” she said. “This is our country.”

Exhibit displays shackles used in slave trade

Remnants of the Henrietta Marie’s wooden hull are embedded at the site under layers of sand. The shipwreck was discovered in 1972 by treasure hunter Mel Fisher, but it wasn’t until 1983 that hundreds of intact items were recovered. Only a few slave ships were found out of the 35,000 used to transport over 12 million enslaved Africans; most vessels were intentionally destroyed to hide the illicit trade.

The artifacts, which occupy an entire floor of the Mel Fisher Maritime Museum in Key West, include over 80 sets of iron shackles, many of them child-size.

When Kory Lamberts first walked over wooden planks in the exhibit, they unexpectedly creaked.

“It was visceral,” he said. “It took me to a place. It also tells me that these were young people — children. These are baby shackles. There’s no sugarcoating it. The truth really hits you.”

While in Key West, Lamberts — who runs a nonprofit to make aquatics more equitable — said he brought back fish from the Henrietta Marie site, which he imagines would have absorbed the DNA of the ancestors. The group ate that fish for dinner the night after the dives — like a sacrament.

“I don’t practice a faith, but isn’t this what people are doing every Sunday at church?” he asked. “I wasn’t just bonded with this site through the experience of being there, but at this molecular level with a full circle moment of connection with myself and my history.”

Bharath writes for the Associated Press.