Introduction
Slovak Paradise National Park, located in eastern Slovakia, truly lives up to its name as a natural paradise. Situated southeast of the High Tatras mountains, this park was designated as a national park in 1988 and is renowned for its deep gorges, pristine forests, and countless waterfalls.
The defining feature of this land is undoubtedly the deeply carved gorge system, sculpted over millennia by water cutting through limestone bedrock. The gorges carved by the Hornád River and its tributaries contain over 100 waterfalls, with Veľký vodopád standing as the tallest at 90 meters. The network of iron ladders, cables, and wooden bridges threading through the gorges were installed during the 19th and early 20th centuries, and continue to serve as reliable guides for hikers today.
Slovak culture is rooted in West Slavic traditions but retains a distinctly Central European character, influenced by its long history as part of the Hungarian Kingdom. The people of this region are simple and kind, having cherished their coexistence with nature. In scattered settlements where traditional wooden houses still stand, handmade bread, cheese, and simple dishes using seasonal vegetables continue to be passed down through generations.
From late spring to early summer, the park is enveloped in fresh greenery, and wildlife becomes increasingly active. From large mammals like brown bears, wolves, and lynx to countless species of birds, a rich ecosystem thrives here. I decided to visit this place out of a desire to escape the urban clamor and commune with pristine nature.
Day 1: Arrival in the Mist and First Encounters
An hour and a half drive from Košice Airport through winding mountain roads, I noticed the fog growing thicker as I climbed higher. Passing through the town of Spišská Nová Ves at the entrance to Slovak Paradise National Park, I headed toward my accommodation.
Around 10 AM, I arrived at a small guesthouse called “Pod Vrchom,” shrouded in mist. Maria, the owner in her sixties, welcomed me with a warm smile. “The fog is thick today, but it should clear by afternoon,” she said in fluent English. After settling my luggage in a room filled with the scent of wood, I decided to have a light breakfast.
On the dining room table were freshly baked rolls called rúflik, local honey, and tvaroh, a rich cottage cheese-like product made from thick milk. The coffee was a bit weak, but its simple flavor perfectly matched the atmosphere of this place. When Maria asked about my travel purpose, she smiled happily and said, “You’re seeking true nature, aren’t you?”
In the afternoon, seeing the fog beginning to clear, I headed to Podlesok, the park entrance. From here begins the “Prielom Hornádu,” the Hornád River Gorge, one of the park’s most representative hiking courses. While preparing in the parking lot, I met an elderly German couple who visit here every year at this time. “This place is like a second home to us,” the wife said.
The entrance to the gorge was like a doorway to another world. Walking along a stream flowing through dense forest, the first small waterfall appeared. The sound of water gradually grew louder, blending with birdsong to create nature’s symphony. Beech and fir trees softly filtered the sunlight, casting mystical light on moss-covered rock faces.
After walking for about an hour, the first iron ladder appeared. Climbing the nearly vertical ladder installed on the rock wall, I could see a small waterfall basin. Advancing while being sprayed by water mist was truly a dialogue with nature. The footing was slippery, requiring careful attention to each step, but this actually helped me focus on the present moment.
In the evening, returning to the guesthouse, Maria was preparing dinner. Tonight’s menu was “bryndzové halušky,” Slovakia’s representative dish. Handmade “halušky,” similar to gnocchi made from flour, mixed with sheep cheese called “bryndza” and topped with fried bacon. Simple but deeply flavorful, it soaked into my body tired from mountain activities.
“This dish uses my grandmother’s recipe,” Maria said. “The bryndza is made at a nearby farm, and the bacon is homemade too.” Through the meal, I could touch the culture of this land and the lives of its people. After dinner, I sat on the small terrace of the guesthouse, drinking tea and talking with Maria. She had worked in Bratislava when young but returned to her hometown out of love for nature. “Cities are fine, but here there is peace for the soul,” she said quietly.
That night, I slept with the window open. The calls of nocturnal animals from deep in the forest and the distant sound of flowing water served as a lullaby. Tomorrow, I would finally explore the heart of this park.
Day 2: Into the Gorge’s Depths, Deep Dialogue with Nature
At 5:30 AM, I woke to the chirping of birds. Looking out the window, I saw fog drifting thinly through the valleys, but the sky was clear. Today I planned to walk “Sokolí perť,” the park’s most famous hiking course. The breakfast Maria prepared was more substantial than yesterday’s. Thick slices of bread with ham, cheese, tomatoes, and warm soup. “Today will be a long day, so please eat well,” she said considerately.
I left the guesthouse at 7 AM, starting from the ruins of Kláštorisko monastery. This is the site of a monastery built by Carthusian monks in the 13th century, where stone ruins wrapped in silence tell of history’s weight. After passing the monastery ruins, serious gorge walking began.
Sokolí perť means “falcon’s ledge,” and true to its name, the path threads through steep rock walls. The first hour was a relatively gentle forest trail, but as the gorge deepened, iron ladders and cables began to appear. These installations from the late 19th to early 20th centuries still support climbers after more than a century.
Halfway up the gorge, I encountered the first major waterfall, “Veľký vodopád.” This 90-meter waterfall plunges down the rock wall in one go, creating white spray in the pool below. Climbing the ladder installed beside the waterfall was truly a thrilling experience. With footing made slippery by water spray, I climbed carefully step by step.
Reaching the top of the waterfall, another world spread before me. Deep in the gorge covered by primeval forest, nature remained almost untouched by human civilization. I took a 30-minute break here, eating the sandwiches I’d brought. The ham and cheese sandwiches Maria had made tasted exceptional in this location.
In the afternoon, continuing deeper, I discovered a small wooden bridge. The stream flowing under the bridge was so clear I could see the stones on the bottom. While resting on the bridge, a squirrel appeared and moved nimbly among nearby tree branches. In this moment, I felt as if I had become part of nature.
In the deepest part of the gorge, I met a man named Ján who works as a local guide. In his early fifties, he was born and raised in this region and has been guiding for 30 years. “This gorge shows us a different face every day,” he said. “Depending on the season, weather, and time of day, it transforms into a completely different place.”
Ján explained the gorge’s history and geology in detail. “This limestone was formed on the ocean floor hundreds of millions of years ago. Over long ages, water carved the rock, creating this complex terrain.” Listening to his story, I felt awe knowing that the rock beneath my feet held memories of ancient seas.
Around 4 PM, I returned to the starting point at Kláštorisko. The approximately nine-hour gorge walk was tiring, but my heart was fulfilled. On the way back to the guesthouse, I could see the distant view of Spiš Castle glowing in the evening sun. Known as one of the world’s largest castle complexes, this castle has been marking history since the 12th century.
Dinner began with the local traditional dish “kapustnica,” a soup with cabbage and sausage, sometimes including mushrooms, with an exquisite balance of sourness and umami. The main course was “schnitzel,” thin pounded pork coated in breadcrumbs and fried, eaten with lemon squeezed over it. The accompaniment of boiled potatoes and sour cabbage salad maintained a balance that was neither too heavy nor too light.
After dinner, I spent time with Maria and other guests around the guesthouse fireplace. An elderly couple from Austria, a young couple from Poland, and myself. Beyond language barriers, we bonded over our common love of nature. Maria told us local folk tales in English. Long ago, water spirits lived in this gorge and helped lost travelers, she said.
That night, I fell into deep sleep from fatigue and fulfillment. Even in dreams, the sound of waterfalls, birdsong, and the forest’s fragrance continued.
Day 3: Morning of Farewell and What Remains in the Heart
On the final morning, I woke especially early. At 5 AM while still dim, I decided to walk around the guesthouse. Walking through grass wet with morning dew, deer emerged from the distant forest. The sight of a doe and fawn quietly grazing was beautiful like a painting. Noticing my presence, they slowly disappeared into the forest depths while remaining cautious.
At breakfast time, Maria specially made pancakes using local honey. She said it was honey used to make “mead,” honey wine. Not too sweet, with flower fragrance spreading through the mouth, it had an elegant taste. “This honey is from a nearby apiary. The beekeeper Pavol is my childhood friend and makes the highest quality honey,” she said.
Until checkout time, I decided to walk nearby trails one last time. I chose a different, shorter course called “Hornád River Source Trail.” About a two-hour course where I could see the river’s upper reaches.
Walking through the forest, I coincidentally met Ján again, whom I’d encountered yesterday. “Today you’re going to see the river source,” he called out. “Actually, I’m heading in the same direction now. Would you like to walk together?”
The final hike with Ján became the most memorable of all. He knows everything about this forest, from tree species to bird calls. “That call is a blackbird, this one is a robin.” “This moss is proof of clean air.” “Those scratches on the tree trunk are where a bear sharpened its claws.”
As we approached the river source, the water sounds became more delicate, and we eventually discovered a small spring. The clear water bubbling up from between rocks was surprisingly cold and transparent. Scooping it up in my palm to drink, it had a faint mineral taste, truly allowing me to feel the earth’s blessing.
“This water is rain or snow that fell on the mountain decades, even centuries ago, taking a long time to pass underground before bubbling up,” Ján said. “Nature’s purification system creates this beauty.” Listening to his words, I deeply realized that I too am part of nature’s cycle.
On the return path, Ján spoke about local culture. “Slovak people respect nature and value living in harmony with it. This is a value system inherited from our ancestors.” I understood how the lifestyle and thinking of people in this land also connects to environmental protection.
At 11 AM, I returned to the guesthouse for farewell time. During the send-off, Maria gave me a small bottle of local honey as a gift. “When you eat this, please remember this forest.” Ján also said, “Please definitely come back. This forest will always welcome you.”
On the road to the airport, the scenery visible through the car window was no longer just landscape. The waterfalls I encountered deep in that forest, the clear water I drank at the source, the smiles of people I met, and the silence and harmony I felt in nature. Everything had become living memories in my heart.
While waiting for boarding at Košice Airport, I reflected on this two-night, three-day journey. Though it was a short time, I was able to touch nature’s essential beauty and the warmth of people who continue to protect it. It was a journey where I could physically experience the fundamental fact that humans are also part of nature, something easily forgotten in urban life.
Conclusion
This journey to Slovak Paradise National Park was created in imagination. However, as I continued writing, the cold water spray of those gorges, the deep silence of the forest, and the warm smiles of local people became etched in my heart as if I had actually experienced them.
Even knowing it was an imaginary journey, the taste of Maria’s homemade breakfast, the forest wisdom heard from Ján, and the coldness of spring water drunk at the source all seemed to exist as real things. Perhaps this is because travel is not merely movement between places, but transformation that occurs deep within the heart.
Even without actually visiting that place, through imagination I could experience dialogue with nature, deepen understanding of different cultures, and feel human connections. Above all, I could remember reverence for nature and the richness of simple living, things easily forgotten in daily life.
While hoping this imaginary journey will someday connect to real travel, the forest of Slovak Paradise in my heart continues to call out quietly.
