Meet Oleg Stepanov: From Exclusion to Exploration

My hiking story began in 2013.

Not because I loved mountains.

Not because I dreamed of adventure.

Not because I wanted to become a long-distance hiker.

It started because of a t-shirt.

Every year in Scouts, participants who completed the K1.5 hike received a special shirt. To many outsiders, that might sound trivial. To a young scout, it represented achievement.

The hike itself was anything but easy.

• Twelve kilometres.
• One thousand metres of elevation gain.
• Steep slopes.
• Technical terrain.
• A challenge that demanded preparation and determination.

The shirt became a symbol.

The mountain became a goal.

And somewhere between the starting point and the finish line, hiking quietly entered my life.

For four years I remained involved in scouting activities and hiking events.

I looked forward to annual challenges.

I looked forward to seeing familiar faces.

I looked forward to feeling part of something.

Then everything changed.

In 2017 I stopped participating in Scouts.

The reason was what I felt was unfair treatment within the organisation.

The consequence went far beyond leaving a youth group.

It meant losing opportunities.

• The Walkdown.
• The Thales Challenge.
• The annual hiking traditions.

Most importantly, it meant losing contact with many of the hiking companions I had known.

One decision created a gap that would last years.

At the time, I did not know that hiking would eventually return to my life in a much larger form.

For several years it remained mostly dormant.

A chapter that felt finished.

Before graduating high school in 2022, something unexpected happened.

I started hiking again.

This time there were no scout leaders.

No organised events.

No achievement shirts.

The motivation came from curiosity.

Applications like Sweatcoin encouraged walking.

Geocaching turned ordinary routes into treasure hunts.

The world suddenly felt larger.

Roads became invitations.

Hills became mysteries.

Tracks disappearing into valleys demanded investigation.

I started exploring simply because I wanted to know what was there.

That curiosity would soon become something much bigger.

After high school my family moved into a house in a village.

At around the same time, many of my classmates attended a graduation celebration in Ayia Napa.

I wasn't invited.

Looking back, perhaps it should have hurt more than it did.

But I had become absorbed by an entirely new environment.

The village was surrounded by roads, dirt tracks, valleys, ruins and hills I had never explored.

Every direction offered a question.

Every road offered possibility.

Instead of dwelling on what I had missed, I became fascinated with what was around me.

The landscape became my social life.

The map became my playground.

Living in rural Cyprus introduced another challenge.

Public transport was limited.

Cars were almost mandatory.

For most people that would be an inconvenience.

For me it was something more significant.

I have lived with epilepsy since 2016.

Because of this, I cannot legally drive.

Walking therefore became more than recreation.

It became freedom.

It became transportation.

It became independence.

When buses did not arrive.

When routes were indirect.

When transport infrastructure seemed designed exclusively for drivers.

I walked.

Part of me also wanted to raise awareness for this issue.

Cyprus is full of beautiful places that become inaccessible if you cannot drive.

Walking allowed me to challenge that reality.

At the same time, I was increasingly excluded from social trips organised by friends.

Instead of waiting for invitations, I created my own adventures.

During my first year of university I had one free day every week.

Most students used it to relax.

I used it to explore.

One of my most memorable hikes was a 48-kilometre round trip from Pyla to Xylophagou.

Along the route I caught sight of the Ayia Napa Marina.

Standing there, looking eastward, a thought appeared:

“One day I will hike all the way to Ayia Napa.”

At the time it felt ambitious.

But the idea stayed with me.

Like a destination already marked on a map that simply hadn't been reached yet.

At the end of 2022 another exclusion occurred.

A Christmas reunion.

Again, I was left out.

This time the disappointment lingered longer.

Before New Year's Eve I made an impulsive decision.

I started hiking from my village toward the Dierona area through Kakomalis Picnic Site.

The route was beautiful.

The timing was terrible.

I had started too late.

The sun was setting faster than expected.

Eventually I called for help.

My parents became my rescue team.

They picked me up before conditions became unsafe.

Looking back, it was one of the first moments where I realised determination and planning are not the same thing.

Both matter.

The beginning of 2023 changed everything.

Hiking stopped being about geocaching.

It became about discovery.

I wanted to understand the landscape itself.

I became fascinated by streams, trails, forgotten tracks, and features missing from digital maps.

Then I discovered OpenStreetMap.

Suddenly hiking had purpose beyond exploration.

I could improve maps.

Document reality.

Contribute knowledge.

The dream expanded.

I wasn't just walking through Cyprus.

I wanted to help map it.

In my mind I wasn't exploring trails anymore.

I was surveying a living puzzle.

Eventually I achieved the goal I had imagined months earlier.

I walked from Pyla to Ayia Napa.

The route represented more than distance.

When I arrived, an unexpected thought crossed my mind.

For years I had measured myself against people who excluded me.

But standing there after completing the journey, I felt equal.

Not superior.

Not victorious.

Equal.

I had proven something to myself.

That mattered more.

In February 2023 I completed an eastern segment of the E4 European Long Distance Path.

The E4 had fascinated me since finishing my final high school exams.

It represented adventure.

Challenge.

Discovery.

The possibility of crossing Cyprus through movement alone.

Completing that section only intensified the dream.

I wanted the whole route.

Every kilometre.

Every mountain.

Every forgotten corner.

By summer 2023 hiking became strangely unstimulating.

I had explored so much of the nearby area that novelty became harder to find.

The next logical challenge was the complete E4 route.

But my parents insisted on one condition:

Find a hiking buddy.

Then came another reunion.

This time in Protaras.

The exclusion affected me more deeply than previous occasions.

Partly because earlier that year I had participated in the Limassol Marathon and experienced serious physical distress afterwards.

The experience forced me to confront mortality in a way I hadn't before.

A difficult thought entered my mind:

What if something happened to me before people understood who I really was?

I compared my life to those around me.

Many classmates had studied abroad.

Many had communities supporting their interests.

Many seemed surrounded by people who understood their ambitions.

I wondered whether they knew hikers as good as me.

I felt behind.

Alone.

Jealous.

Not because of success itself.

But because of connection.

Eventually I found a hiking buddy from my former Scout group.

Together we completed a hike from Mylikouri to Kelefos Bridge.

It wasn't the full E4.

But it was a start.

Then in July 2023 I encountered a female friend.

I was genuinely happy to see her.

At the same time, complicated feelings surfaced.

She had been connected, indirectly, to several of the exclusions that had shaped my previous year.

I wanted to speak honestly.

Not to accuse.

Not to seek pity.

Simply to be understood.

But I was in a rush.

The conversation never happened.

So I organised a group hangout in August.

Partly for fun.

Partly to create an opportunity for deeper conversation.

The person I wanted to speak with never attended.

Afterwards something changed.

Even unexplored trails began losing their spark.

In September 2023 I experienced a seizure in public.

The event shook me deeply.

I felt humiliated.

I feared losing control over how others perceived me.

I feared damage to my reputation at university.

Most of all, I felt vulnerable.

For someone whose independence depended heavily on walking and self-reliance, losing control of my body was psychologically devastating.

Depression followed.

In October 2023 I attempted to fight back the only way I knew.

I walked.

A 44-kilometre route from Pyla to Protaras.

The hike felt surreal.

Beautiful.

Almost dreamlike.

Yet something was missing.

The happiness felt empty.

Even positive reactions online could not fill the gap.

Afterwards I entered a period of autopilot.

Minimal university work.

Avoiding people.

Avoiding conversations.

Even avoiding my parents.

Therapy began.

Progress was slow.

But it began.

At the start of 2024 my parents noticed something.

I was spending enormous amounts of time indoors drawing OpenStreetMap data.

They encouraged me to return outside.

Gradually I did.

In February I completed a 40-kilometre E4 hike from Pyla to Kalo Chorio.

The route carried risk because public transport options were limited.

Yet reaching the finish felt rewarding.

A week later I completed another unassisted hike connecting Larnaca, Kalo Chorio, Pyrga and Delikipos.

Then came Agia Paraskeva.

Thirty kilometres.

1,020 metres of elevation gain.

An 860-metre summit.

Each hike rebuilt confidence.

One step at a time.

Academically, 2024 was difficult.

I barely passed university.

Yet therapy improved significantly after finding a specialist experienced with depression.

During summer I wanted to hike constantly.

My parents worried about snakes and extreme heat.

Despite limitations I still explored places including Papoutsa Peak, Madari Trail, Pissouri Cliffs and Pikrovrisi tis Merikas.

The mountains became temporary relief from emotional burdens that remained unresolved.

During the 2024-2025 academic year I became President of the Hiking Club.

My friend Rio played an important role.

He was in charge of organisation and helped communicate ideas clearly and encouraged students to participate.

The club began modestly.

Only four people attended the first hike around Larnaca Salt Lake.

Then seven of us attended Stavrovouni, me included.

Momentum slowly built.

By February 2025, the Caledonia Waterfalls hike became our most successful event.

Thirteen people attended the Caledonia Waterfalls hike in February 2025.

Students from many countries joined.

The club had become real.

Not because of numbers.

Because people kept returning.

In early 2025 my father wanted to participate in the Athens Marathon.

I agreed to join.

Partly because I wanted redemption.

The Limassol Marathon of 2023 had left unfinished business.

Training continued alongside E4 hikes.

Some routes became particularly memorable.

The climb near Kionia Peak stands out.

Muscle spasms appeared.

Dizziness returned.

For a moment I was reminded of previous physical limits.

Yet I continued carefully.

By November 2025 I completed the Athens Marathon successfully.

No hospital visit.

No crisis.

A personal best.

Redemption achieved.

During summer 2025 I travelled to London.

Originally I wanted adventure.

What I found was perspective.

The pace of life felt relentless.

People moved quickly.

Life moved quickly.

I realised many of my previous emotions had been understandable responses to circumstances.

Before beginning a Thames Path hike, I attended the graduation ceremony of the female friend who had occupied so much space in my thoughts.

She seemed surprised to see me.

We took a photograph.

She promised to send it.

I believed her.

More importantly, I shared truths I had carried for years.

Not seeking sympathy.

Not seeking validation.

Only honesty.

For the first time, my emotional needs felt genuinely fulfilled.

The next day I hiked 35 kilometres from Marlow to Staines-upon-Thames in steady drizzle.

The weather matched my mood.

Heavy.

Yet peaceful.

Eventually the photograph never arrived.

So I let it go.

The memory remained.

And perhaps that was enough.

My final university year focused less on hiking and more on responsibility.

I completed my thesis.

Organised memorable club hikes.

Competed in orienteering.

Achieved third place overall in the Cyprus International Orienteering Festival.

Graduation approached.

The end of one chapter.

The beginning of another.

After university responsibilities ended, I returned to long-distance hiking.

I completed a 50-kilometre journey to Nissi Beach via Malama Beach and Paralimni Lake.

Something unexpected happened.

Novelty returned.

Especially between Xylotymbou and Avgorou.

The landscape felt fresh again.

Like discovering hiking for the first time.

My mother proudly told others about the hike.

I found that amusing.

Parents never stop being parents.

When I heard that Nenad Popovic and Alex Popovic planned a walk from Larnaca Airport to Ayia Napa to promote physical and mental wellbeing, I immediately reached out.

People who walk such distances are rare in Cyprus.

People who understand why someone chooses to walk them are rarer still.

Afterwards I read Nenad's story.

His willingness to speak openly inspired me.

Perhaps the greatest endurance challenge is not physical.

Perhaps it is vulnerability.

My most recent major hike was 46 kilometres long with 2,204 metres of elevation gain.

The route travelled to Dierona and back through abandoned trails visible only on maps from the 1960s.

Forgotten routes.

Overgrown paths.

Fragments of history.

During the hike I saw an eagle only a few metres away.

For a moment everything felt still.

The years of exclusion.

The comparisons.

The jealousy.

The disappointments.

The seizures.

The depression.

The unfinished conversations.

Everything seemed smaller.

The eagle simply existed.

Unaffected by anyone's opinion.

Unaffected by social status.

Unaffected by validation.

Standing there, I realised something.

If someone sees me as not good enough, that is their conclusion to carry. Not mine.