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Escalating Middle East tensions are driving crude (USO) (BNO) prices sharply higher and triggering what Nomura’s Charlie McElligott calls a “vicious rate vol impulse”—creating treacherous conditions heading into next week’s Federal Reserve meeting.
McElligott is dismissing the buyside’s interpretation that
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.
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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
The stunning views left me speechless(Image: Parul Sharma)
A hiker I am not. But when my husband told me the only thing he wants for his birthday this year is to be outdoors and go for a hike – a hiker I became. Begrudgingly.
The location for my (destined to be comical) exploits? The Seven Sisters Cliff Walk in East Sussex. ‘Walk’ being an under exaggeration.
Fair disclaimer before you read on – this story is basically a 900-word ode to my unsurpassable levels of fitness. *Cue Rocky theme song*
Whether I would be a picture of grace or not, at least the destination we picked was sure to be stunning, having recently been named one of the most beautiful and ‘eye-catching’ hiking trails in the world.
The new study by online running shoe retailer SportsShoes.com assigned each hiking trail an ‘eye-catching’ score using eye-tracking technology, ultimately giving us the world’s top 10 most beautiful hikes. The Seven Sisters Cliff Walk ranked ninth on the list.
We set off for the hike on what somehow turned itself into a glorious day amidst an endlessly rainy week and fervently thanked our stars for big little mercies. Then we missed our train and the order of the universe was restored.
We eventually made it to our seaside destination of Seaford – an hour and a half after the initial expected arrival – and set off on our hike. The wind was knocked out of my lungs the second my eyes gazed upon Britain’s most famous chalk cliffs. They were eye-catching alright.
Having done my due diligence much in advance, I had already been informed by countless reviews online that the ‘cliff walk’ was easy to moderate difficulty. Each and every one of the reviews was a lie. The difficulty level was hard, high, expert, nightmare.
The very first hill ascent left me winded, and when I reached the top of the ‘first’ sister of the Seven, I looked at my husband and called an emergency meeting. I loved him and happy birthday, but we would be taking shortcuts.
One look at my red, panting face and he quickly agreed, lest our outdoorsy hike turn into an emergency room visit. Good call on his part.
While I’m on this self-flagellating shame-spiral, it’s probably a good time to mention that I danced at an almost professional level for over a decade of my life. That girl was nowhere to be seen on this hike.
After taking a few embarrassing pauses while fit-as-hell pensioners passed me by, we finally descended the first hill, made our way to Cuckmere Haven, and braced ourselves for our next adventure (read: obstacle), The River Crossing.
With an unspoken agreement passing between us not to take the detour, my husband and I made our way to the flowing stretch we had to cross, and silently began taking off our shoes and socks. Nothing would stop me from undertaking this adventure (except for a very strong current, or really high water, or too much of a crowd – you get the gist).
Jokes aside, it was the part of the hike I was most excited about, so I was crossing this river come hell or high water. Pun intended and all that.
Holding onto each other for dear life, we made our way across the (extremely sharp and pointy) rocky river crossing and finally collapsed on the other side. It may well have been the most memorable, and fun, part of the hike. Would I do it again? Probably. Would I moan and whine doubly throughout? Definitely.
At that point it was time for a well-deserved pint, so off we headed towards the Cuckmere Inn for a scrumptious birthday lunch. After devouring my first ever Sunday Roast and finishing it off with a banoffee cheesecake, the greatest hiker in the world, aka me, got ready for the second leg of our ‘cliff walk’.
A short bus ride to Birling Gap later, we were back at the foot of a daunting cliff, and I, once again, questioned my commitment to our vows as I begrudgingly made my way up another hill that was not ‘easy’ or ‘moderate’ to climb.
Like the Big Bad Wolf in Three Little Pigs, I huffed and puffed my way up towards the Belle Tout Lighthouse, which, spoiler alert, was not pretty enough to be the reward for this monster mountain I had just climbed.
Another descent and one more seemingly endless and exhausting descent later, we got our first glimpse of the Beachy Head Lighthouse and clifftop and all was forgiven.
After spending an adequate amount of time ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the stunning, drop-dead gorgeous beauty we were surrounded by, we made our way towards The Beachy Head pub for our final pint (Pimms for me) of the day.
As the sun finally began to set on the day, we started walking towards the bus stop that would take us to Eastbourne Station so we could catch our train back to London.
It was on this walk that I began to realise something was horribly, terribly wrong. My entire right foot began feeling taut and stiff, and the shooting pain behind my kneecap rendered me limp.
What started as a slight wobble in East Sussex turned into a full blown limp by the time we reached London. Holding on for dear life, I made my way back to my apartment, each step more painful than the last, as I cursed my pro-athlete levels of fitness.
It covers a beautiful 13-mile route(Image: Getty)
New research has revealed one of the world’s most breathtaking hikes can be found right here on our doorstep in the UK, rewarding walkers with unrivalled coastal views.
An eye-tracking study has identified the most stunning hiking trails across the globe, with running shoe retailer SportsShoes.com employing cutting-edge technology to monitor the eye movements of participants as they were shown some of the most iconic routes from around the world.
The findings assigned each location an ‘eye-catching’ score, establishing which trails were the most visually striking. As a result, the UK’s very own Seven Sisters Cliff Walk, nestled along the English coastline in East Sussex, made it into the top rankings.
It will come as little surprise to those who live nearby or have tackled the trail that it would be regarded as a top 10 hike, with its tranquil sands and azure waters framed by the most stunningly white cliff tops imaginable.
The Seven Sisters are so magnificent they have featured in some of Britain’s most beloved blockbuster films, including Atonement and Harry Potter. The iconic cliffs form a demanding route that can take anywhere between four to seven hours to complete, yet tourists appear to agree it is worth every single step.
Most walkers opt to begin the challenging trek in Seaford and finish in Eastbourne, allowing them to soak up the celebrated views of the Seven Sisters as they reach the summit. Across the 12-mile route, hikers can expect to conquer seven hills, some considerably steeper than others.
The ideal vantage point for capturing all seven cliffs in a single shot is at Hope Gap, though for the finest views from the clifftop, you’ll want to hold on until you reach the iconic Belle Tout and Beachy Head lighthouses.
Fortunately for walkers, there’s a charming little pit stop along the way where you can take a breather and enjoy a range of food and drinks at the Bearling Gap Cafe. Here you’ll also find a handy centre complete with toilet facilities, so you needn’t worry about being caught short during the journey.
Having tackled the walk themselves, one visitor wrote on Tripadvisor : “The cliffs are breathtaking from a distance, and the view from the edge, facing the open sea, is unforgettable. Heading down to the pebble beach gives you a completely different, striking perspective.”
According to the full findings, topping the list as the ultimate hike boasting the most jaw-dropping scenery is France’s Calanques de Marseille. Tucked within the Calanques National Park, nestled between Marseille and Cassis, the route is truly spectacular, featuring a stunning backdrop of white limestone cliffs plunging into turquoise coves, with a variety of trails to suit different timeframes and fitness levels.
A hiker travelled via train for just over an hour to a hidden beach (stock)(Image: Ray Wise/Moment via Getty Images)
A hiker has highlighted a breathtaking town which boasts a secluded beach complete with its own shipwreck. Zoe Tehrani, who is based in the London, posted footage of herself climbing down a rusty ladder onto the shingle beach before setting off on a winding trail across the cliff face.
“There might also be a creepy tunnel that used to be a smuggling route,” she enthused in a TikTok video. Zoe went on to describe her journey, explaining she boarded the train at London St. Pancras and travelled for 66 minutes.
The town she visited is Dover, which has a railway station located just a 10-minute walk from the coastline. “It’s not the most scenic to get there, but at least there’s a mist tunnel along the way,” Zoe continued.
“I followed signs for the White Cliffs of Dover, passed colourful houses, headed up the chunky hill then at the top the trail levelled out nicely.”
Zoe then aimed her camera down towards the beach, and headed off once more on another winding trail, making a steady descent. She warned that inside the smugglers’ tunnel there are no lights, which is “a little bit creepy”.
“There’s a few things you need to know about this beach,” she added. “It’s underwater at high tide, so it needs to be out a bit – and you don’t want to sit [directly] below the cliffs because they are crumbling.”
Zoe decided to take a swim in the Channel, which meant carefully picking her way through seaweed to reach the water.
“You definitely want sea shoes for this one,” she suggested. “And it’s much nicer to get in when the tide is a little higher, so I chilled for a bit, had some lunch and then it was perfect.”
The White Cliffs of Dover paths are managed by the National Trust, which advises online: “There is a wheelchair-friendly footpath that leads to a viewing point, ideal if you just want a short route to see the famous cliffs.
“This all-weather path is built with a staggered incline, which allows for a few breathers on the way up. At the top is one of the best views of the cliffs, with the rolling green landscape and sheer chalk edge, dropping to the sea below.”
Venturing further along gives walkers a choice of routes, which are steeper closest to the cliff edge and more gentle further inland.
“These will take you to Fan Bay Deep Shelter and South Foreland Lighthouse,” the National Trust continues. “Beyond the lighthouse, you can continue walking the coast path to St Margaret’s, Kingsdown, or even Walmer or Deal.
“The ground can be uneven and the weather unpredictable, so please wear stout shoes and dress appropriately.”
Responding to Zoe’s clip, one TikTok user commented: “[I] went. Worth it for the views and the challenge but the beach/water is pretty bad. And the ladder was so scary, almost vertical.”
While a second person praised: “Stunning area.”
You don’t need to leave the UK to experience unreal views(Image: Emily Malia)
The more I travel around the UK, the more I am in awe of its natural beauty which seems to be overlooked by a lot of keen travellers, and this particular spot feels like a real slice of paradise.
You don’t need to hop on a plane to experience a sense of the tropics; it turns out you can immerse yourself in the brightest hues of green and walk along waterfalls in the north of Wales. While, of course, Snowdonia National Park is no secret, especially to avid hikers, cyclists and explorers, it was my first time visiting, and this specific route is one that blew me away.
It’s often cited as one of the best hikes in Snowdonia (Eryri). Cadair Idris is an 893-metre mountain in the southern part of the park and is renowned for its wild and rugged scenery. To me, it looked like its surroundings could belong in the likes of Peru or Southeast Asia, with its tropical plants, waterfalls and vibrancy of its green grass.
But of course, like any beautiful place in Wales, it reminded me exactly where I was when I spotted sheep dotted around its cliffs, even on the steepest parts. It looked as though the sheep could fall off the edge of the world, taking me with them, as I fought for hours against the growing pain in my shins, with each step up and up to the peak.
I was taken up the Minffordd Path route, which is described as the shortest yet steepest route to the mountain’s summit, tackling a demanding 10 km walk. Overall it’s set to take up to four to five hours to complete, and in turn you are rewarded with dramatic and captivating views of the national park’s landscape.
The route begins at Dôl Idris car park and takes you past the Cadair Idris visitor centre, which quickly fills up. We were recommended to get there early in the morning to beat the pile-up and were thankful that we did; setting off on our walk at around 8am meant we got to experience the quietness of the route in all of its natural wonder. Albeit, the lie-in would have also been appreciated.
Running parallel along the stream which runs parallel to the stream which leads to Llyn Cau, the lake at the heart of the base of the mountain. It was immediately, when taking on these steep steps along the river, that I felt like I could be abroad.
Not only was the sun shining down on us, but the water was trickling down, with tropical plants growing around us, and it felt as wild and wonderful as the experiences I had in Thailand or the pictures I’ve seen of hikes in Vietnam or Peru.
This continued as we made our way out of the forest area and into the open air, with nothing but pure greenery around us, and the mountain stood proudly ahead. The second phase levels lightly as you enter a rocky amphitheatre, with up-close and personal views of the lake.
Pushing past slate and rocks, many of which are loose and therefore can be difficult to navigate, this section and throughout the walk, requires concentration and care with each step. A quick trip or fall could have you stumbling, and that’s why lots of hikers opt to go armed with sticks to help gain their balance and push them through.
By the time I made it to the top of the mountain, the weather dramatically changed, from sunny to high winds which were extremely cold. It’s this that can catch a lot of amateur hikers out, and I think it’s always best to go armed with windproof and waterproof layers, as they say ‘don’t dress for the car park’.
The real treat after that consistently steep hike upwards is this – the flat walk along the edge of the entire mountain before reaching its penultimate peak. Seeing it all from a circular angle gave you a real treat at each point whenever I decided to stop and take a breath.
Wales is the gift that keeps on giving when it comes to my explorations, and Cadair Idris was no exception to that. If you’re willing to take on the circular route and the real challenge of its steep and unsteady ground, then you will be rewarded with a touch of paradise and views you’ll continue to daydream about.
Authorities have identified the hiker who suffered a fatal medical emergency in Runyon Canyon as 78-year-old screenwriter William Hasley.
Hasley was a veteran TV writer who taught screenwriting classes at UCLA Extension. He was also a friend of Caitlyn Jenner and helped write the former athlete’s motivational book “Finding the Champion Within,” according to his biography.
The L.A. County medical examiner released Hasley’s identity Tuesday but had yet to rule on his cause of death.
More than two dozen personnel with the Los Angeles Fire Department responded to a report of a hiker in grave medical condition off Nichols Canyon Road near Hollywood Boulevard shortly before 7 p.m. Saturday.
A helicopter was used to reach the patient and allow paramedics to provide urgent medical care. They were unable to save him, and he was declared dead shortly after, according to the LAFD.
Hasley hailed from Pittsburgh and played university football before venturing to Hollywood to pursue his dreams as a writer. He wrote on 37 episodes of “The Smurfs” in the late 1980s and early ’90s as well as several episodes of “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids,” according to IMDB. His TV writing credits also included “Swift Justice,” “Ghost Stories,” “Murder, She Wrote,” “Young Riders” and “Highway to Heaven.”
He was able to channel his love of sports while working with NBC on the network’s project “Star Salute to the U.S. Olympic Team,” where he met Olympic gold medalist Caitlyn Jenner, according to his professional biography.
The pair became friends, and Hasley went on to help write a book about Jenner’s philosophy on overcoming adversity in sports and life. He was commissioned to ghostwrite several other motivational books including “Passion, Profit, & Power” for hypnotist Marshall Sylver and “The Slight Edge” for self-help expert Jeff Olson.
Hasley loved sharing his passion for writing with students at UCLA and described the process of writing as akin to assembling a puzzle, where one tries many different combinations of pieces before finding the perfect fit, according to his teaching biography.
“I personally believe that when you know your characters well enough they will start dictating their actions,” he wrote. “When that happens writing becomes a euphoric experience.”
In addition to teaching and writing, he enjoyed golfing, horseback riding, fighting City Hall over an environmental issue, volunteering in soup kitchens and speaking to youth organizations, according to his bio.
Hasley was formerly married to actor Robin Riker, best known for her roles on “Brothers” and “The Bold and the Beautiful.”
He lived in the Hollywood Hills not far from where he suffered the medical emergency. A neighbor told the New York Post they had seen him earlier Saturday carrying groceries home. “It’s very sad he had to die all alone like that,” the neighbor said.
Times staff writer Sonja Sharp contributed to this report.