My Story
My name is Štěpán, but my friends call me Štěpis. I graduated from the University of Economics, but I find true rest in nature – ideally with a backpack on my back, somewhere far from signal, where you can actually hear yourself think.
I used to spend all my free time training and playing competitive beach volleyball. There was never space to stop and ask myself whether I was truly happy or what kind of life I wanted to live. It wasn’t until an unfortunate fall that my path unexpectedly shifted – as they say, a blessing in disguise. Today, I know it was that moment that led me to long-distance hiking.
Travel and nature have always been a part of me. On holidays, we’d rather head to the hills than to hotel resorts – more hikes than poolside cocktails. Still, I used to plan everything carefully and kept control at all times. Trekking taught me that while preparation matters, not everything can – or should – be planned.
On a trek, there’s space to pause, reflect without distractions, and truly connect with yourself. Some old patterns were left behind on the trail – and little by little, I was able to change them in everyday life too.
It Took Me a Long Time to Realize This Isn’t a Race
At first, I got it a bit wrong. I thought long-distance trekking was a challenge – who can walk more kilometers, go more days without a shower, go farther, higher, faster. I was pushing myself too. After years of competing, I had just moved the competition from the court to the mountains.
Only later did I realize this wasn’t the right path.
In the end, trekking didn’t become a race, but a return – to myself, to the landscape, to simple things. Whether I’m walking alone, with my girlfriend Kristýna, or with my best friend Myty, I’m looking for peace and meaning – not records.
Believe me, for someone who’s been competing their whole life, maybe the biggest achievement is to stop measuring distance, speed, and elevation – and just walk.
It doesn’t really matter if you go left or right. What matters is that you set out – and let the landscape show you something new along the way.
The journey itself becomes the goal.
First Treks and Finding My Path
The Precursor to Long-Distance Hiking: You Won’t Get Far with Twenty Kilos, Šumava 2021
Before my beach volleyball days were over, I started slowly discovering the world of long-distance hiking. During the year, it was hard to find time for multi-day trips – the season was filled with training, and summers belonged to tournaments. The only open window was in September – after the Czech Championship and before the start of the university semester. So, with Myty, my longtime best friend, we planned our first proper trek: crossing Šumava from Železná Ruda to Strážný.
We set out without experience but with twenty-kilo backpacks full of unnecessary gear, ideals, and optimistic ideas. Near Černá hora, about twenty kilometers from the finish, we had to call it quits. Our boots were constantly soaked, the backpacks heavier than our determination – and I was more annoyed than satisfied. At the time, I was almost shaking my head, wondering what everyone saw in it. But in hindsight, I actually remembered that discomfort fondly.
What stuck with me the most was the feeling of freedom – having everything I need on my back and thinking only about the basics: what will I eat, where will I sleep, where can I refill my water.
Blending Beach Volleyball with a Trekker’s Life
The tournament in Těšín was one of the most emotional experiences I’ve ever had. We slept in sleeping bags in the locker room of the local football club, cooked with a camping pot, and lived more like trekkers than athletes at a pro tournament. The Polish players looked at us like we were a bit eccentric – but these two curly-haired guys enjoyed every ball to the fullest – from frustration to pure joy. We “successfully burned” the opening matches – our favorite term for confusing our opponents when we lose the group stage badly. But then something shifted, and in the play-offs, we started winning.
We pushed ourselves to performances that no one would have expected on paper. Performances you can’t really train for – they happen only when the right moment, the right people, and that rare kind of atmosphere all come together. That’s what carried us all the way to third place.
That same evening after the matches, we caught a train to Krásná and climbed up Lysá hora at dusk. Our legs barely worked after three days of games, but around midnight we stood on the summit – and a few hours later, we were greeted by a magical sunrise and breakfast at the top.
At first glance, just a basic porridge with a bit of dried fruit and peanut butter. But when you’ve hiked for it, fought for it, and gone through all sorts of things along the way… it tastes like a feast. These are exactly the moments I love about trekking – when everything truly feels earned.
As for the results of the following tournament in Hradiště… let’s just say we don’t talk about that. But that sunrise – we still remember it vividly.
Harsh Reality: Andorra, September 2022
A year later, Myty and I set out again – this time for a proper challenge. After our Šumava attempt, which had hooked us despite the early end, we decided to give it another go. In September 2022, we planned a real loop: the GRP – a 140-kilometre route circling the entire Principality of Andorra in the Pyrenees.
Lakes, views, long climbs, and especially evenings where we just sat and looked around. We were much better prepared – both in gear and in mindset.
But the Andorran elevation gain quickly brought us back down to earth. Every day was intense – physically and mentally. That only made the feeling stronger as we got closer to the end. But even this time, we didn’t reach the finish. After roughly 100 kilometres, we had to end the trek due to a lack of gas. In the capital, Andorra la Vella, we managed to find the last two small canisters, but unfortunately, they weren’t enough to finish the route.
Back then, I couldn’t quite put it into words, but now I know that this was the turning point. Interest in nature turned into a real experience – not an escape from reality, but a return to it. On a trek, all the external noise fades – notifications, rush, others’ expectations – and you’re left only with what truly is. And that, paradoxically, is the most authentic kind of reality.
Turning Point: The End of Beach Volleyball, March 2023
In my youth, I was completely absorbed by beach volleyball. Every summer belonged to the court, tournaments, and travelling across the country. The community was small, friendly – almost like a family. Weekends had a clear rhythm, and life moved at a pace I loved back then.
But every system has its limits. Everything was going according to plan until my girlfriend and I flew off for a vacation in Costa Rica. During a layover in Canada, we passed the time by exercising. It ended with a handstand and the sentence: “One more, and we’ll go.” But that last one ended in a fall – straight onto my knee. At the hospital, it looked like just a bruise – but as it often goes, the reality was worse.
I tried to save the season for a while, but my body had had enough. Chronic inflammation, pain – and finally the decision to quit. Not for a while, but completely. It was a shock. Suddenly, no tournaments. Just emptiness.
But in that silence, space opened up for something new. In the pause that at first looked like an ending, I felt – for the first time – that maybe now I was finally starting to live on my own terms.
Freedom – I Traveled as Much as I Could, Spring 2023
When beach volleyball disappeared from my calendar, what remained was freedom. For the first time in years, my weekends were free. I didn’t have to plan around tournaments or worry about staying in shape. I could just go – wherever, whenever, with whomever I wanted. So that’s exactly what I did.
In the spring of 2023, I set out with family and friends – first to the Azores, then to Madeira. There was no overplanned itinerary – we stayed in one place and set out for day trips. To green ridgelines, through eucalyptus forests, and along cliffs with views of the ocean.
Summer brought shorter trips to Romania and Slovenia. Once again with a light backpack, this time without any pressure to perform – luckily, a sore knee made that impossible anyway. And maybe that’s exactly why I enjoyed it so much. Hiking in the mountains turned out to be one of the few things that truly did my body good – it got my knee moving without overloading it like training or running.
Each trip became a kind of quiet ritual – wake up, head out, feel the landscape, come back in the evening, cook something simple, and watch the sunset.
I started to realize that this pulls me in more than I originally admitted. That trekking doesn’t have to be an extraordinary occasion – it can simply be a natural part of life.
Adventurer Tour: A Challenge That Rekindled My Spark, Summer 2023
Half a year after injuring my knee, Kristýna and I set off for a summer holiday in Slovenia – to the Julian Alps. On the last day, we had planned to hike Triglav, but because of my knee, we opted for a slightly more accessible peak: Mangart. The early morning climb and sunrise at the top reminded us just how powerful a mountain morning can be.
That evening, while I was (as usual) occupying the bathroom a bit longer than necessary – yes, men and their deep toilet reflections – I was scrolling through Instagram when something jumped out at me: a new challenge in the Adventurer App. A monthly competition for “Adventurer of the Month.” New theme, new goals, new space to explore. So we went for it.
The old drive to compete came back to life – but this time not on the court, in nature. Kristýna was hesitant at first – after all, it’s not about who enjoys the mountains more. But my enthusiasm was contagious, and in the end, we dove in together.
In July, our goal was clear: to conquer as many summits as possible. On the way home, we kicked off with a hike up Deneck in Austria and within a few days, we were planning more ascents across Czechia and Slovakia.
We ended up summiting 15 peaks – 10 in Czechia, 1 in Austria, and 4 in Slovakia. Sometimes two in a single day. It was a wild ride.
But the more we pushed, the more a quiet feeling crept in. The most important thing – the present moment – slowly started to give way to performance.
Tour du Mont Blanc, September 2023: My First Solo Long-Distance Tre
After a summer full of challenges and summits, I felt I needed something different. Not a competition, not performance – but a deeper experience. I wanted to go alone, with enough time and only what I could carry on my back. I chose the Tour du Mont Blanc – a classic among long-distance trails, ideal for beginners: safe, with a dense network of huts and plenty of day hikers along the way.
It was my first time trekking solo. 170 kilometers through France, Italy, and Switzerland. A tent, a few things, a map, and the mountains. Every day a new landscape, new energy, a new rhythm.
The first few days were great. But on day three I realized I was missing one of my three shirts – and with it, the bracelet Kristýnka had given me for the journey. It spelled out “You can do anything” in Morse code. I ran about five kilometers back, searched every corner, but couldn’t find it. I returned to the trail a little deflated, still processing the loss, when I was caught up by a young Frenchman full of energy. We started talking, and when we reached a junction, he suggested a detour to Lac Jovet, followed by an unmarked ridge trail down to La Ville des Glacie
That day I covered 19 kilometers with 1,520 meters of elevation gain. A normal day for experienced hikers – but I was only on my third day. The next day I felt great. I set out with an Australian couple toward Col de la Seigne, the border between France and Italy, followed by a long descent into Courmayeur. Along the way, I chatted with an American who suggested taking a bus for the last stretch to rest my legs. I agreed at first – but then changed my mind and returned to the trail to finish the descent properly. Yeah… had I listened, things might have turned out differently. Toward the end of the day, my ankle started to hurt.
Despite the pain, the next day I climbed all the way to Rifugio Walter Bonatti. But that’s where I made the tough call to stop. I was really motivated and didn’t want to disappoint myself – but thankfully, reason won. I descended to the valley and called a taxi to the hospital.
Just like in Costa Rica, they told me it was “only strained.” But this time – wiser – I didn’t continue. That, to me, confirms how important mistakes are in life. The old me would have kept going at all costs.
On the way back to Chamonix, I had plenty of time to reflect (the queue at the Mont Blanc tunnel is no joke). I returned to the same campsite where I started, bought a baguette with prosciutto, put my feet up, and just was. The next day, without any guilt, I took the cable car up to Aiguille du Midi and soaked in the breathtaking view. And I knew that even an unfinished trek can be powerful.
Freedom. Solitude. Silence. That’s exactly what I came to the Tour du Mont Blanc for – and even though I didn’t reach the end, I found what I was looking for.
India and the Goachalla Trek: My First Time in the Himalayas
In autumn 2024, I left for a study exchange in India. It was my first long trip outside Europe with real time to explore – and, most importantly, my first encounter with the Himalayas. The moment I first saw their massive ridgelines on the horizon, I was speechless.
What stayed with me most was the Goachalla trek in the state of Sikkim – a route leading toward the sacred mountain Kanchenjunga, the highest peak in India. You’re not allowed to approach the summit itself, but even just seeing it from afar feels powerful – almost like the mountain has its own consciousness.
I hiked with a local guide, slept in a tent, brewed tea over an open fire, and watched the landscape shift around me. It wasn’t about altitude or distance, but about slowing down, feeling humble, and being grateful – for every step, for clean water, for a warm meal, for peace.
It was there, in the Himalayas, that I felt something new: small in the face of the mountains – and yet more alive and present than ever.
The Orchard: A Return to My Roots
Since autumn 2021, my friend and I had been slowly clearing an old, neglected orchard. Overgrown shrubs, waist-high grass, a forgotten patch of land slowly suffocating under weeds. I couldn’t bear to watch it fall apart – but there was never time to finish what we started.
When the Adventurer Tour challenge ended in summer 2023, it finally felt like the right time. This wasn’t about kilometers anymore – it was about patience, care, and a piece of land that held real meaning.
I stood at the edge of that tangled plot and thought it would be a one-year project. But the more time I spent there, the more I realized this was something deeper – a lifelong passion. A place that might one day bring me, my siblings, and our families together. A piece of nature where we might gather around a fire.
Slowly, it began to take shape – new trees, little paths, bushes, grass, birds. And for me, a deep inner peace. Because even a return to your roots can be an adventure.
What’s Next: Kungsleden and a Slow Journey North
In 2025, I’m heading out to chase another dream: crossing Sweden’s Kungsleden – 420 kilometers through remote northern wilderness. We’re planning it with Kristýna, going ultralight, carrying our own food, sleeping in a tent, far from civilization.
We’re not in a rush. We want to walk slowly. To be part of the landscape, not just tourists passing through.
After years of pushing for performance, planning every step, and struggling to truly slow down, I’m looking forward to this trek more than anything else. It feels like something bigger than happiness – to set off for a month in the wild with the person you love, without noise, with barely any signal… simply being together and enjoying the relationship you’ve built.
I’m preparing not just gear, but also my mindset. I know this journey won’t be about distance. It’ll be about silence, about cold, about the northern light in long summer nights. And about what you discover – when you walk 500 kilometers alone with yourself… and someone you truly love.
If you’d like to follow along, check out my blog or social media– this definitely won’t be the last long walk.