He’s an entrepreneur, a mountaineer, an adventurer, and a voyager of the heights—but above all, he is a man who has learned to listen to his inner compass. His journey began at the “top” of Croatia, in Međimurje, along the Mura River. It was a childhood free of screens, yet filled with movement, nature, and community. Running barefoot through the meadows, the scents of the forest, and his first hiking trips were deeply etched into his memory, though he didn’t know then that these very moments would later become the foundation of his life.
He walked away from a corporate career to dive into entrepreneurship, launching Croatia’s first car-sharing model—a project that demanded vision, grit, and faith in something that didn’t yet exist. But as his business career reached new heights, so did his need for balance. The mountains became his personal reset. Not an escape, but a homecoming. Through the Himalayas, the Alps, and expeditions lasting weeks, Matija learned that the mountain doesn’t change a person—it strips them bare. In extreme conditions, the ego vanishes, and only your true self remains. That’s why his message transcends sports and business. It’s about humility, authenticity, community, and the strength to push forward even when things get tough.
“The mountain teaches me that no matter how prepared I think I am, I am never the master there—I am always just a guest. There is a key symbolism in that: an alpinist racing for the summit can easily ignore their own exhaustion or the warning signs in the weather, and that decision can be fatal. Humility is what saves you—on the mountain, and in life.”
And that is exactly why Matija Krznar is our Human Voice—the voice of the mountain. He reminds us that life isn’t a race to the finish line, but a journey toward oneself, and that the true value of life is measured not by the summits we conquer, but by the impact we leave on others.
I’m an entrepreneur, a mountaineer, an adventurer, and as you put it—a voyager of the heights. I’ve spent the majority of my career as an entrepreneur. I come from Northern Croatia, from the “top of the country,” as I like to call it: Međimurje. I moved to Zagreb for college, and I’ve been here for over twenty years. This is where I started my family, built my professional foundation, and launched my career in business. Interestingly, this is also where I began heading in directions I never could have planned—taking some unexpected turns as my path has evolved in recent years.
I started my professional life working for a global telecom company, but it was my time studying in the United States that really sparked something in me. The openness of the American market fueled my agility, my youthful energy, and that entrepreneurial spirit. Even back then, I began thinking about disruptive models—about different ways to redefine how we function, live, and work, specifically in ways that create a positive ripple effect for users, society, and the economy through resource optimization. In both life and business, I’ve always been driven by curiosity. I find inspiration in setting goals that might seem impossible—and then relentlessly finding a way to make them happen. For the past decade, I’ve focused on sustainable mobility and digital innovation. It all started when I launched a company that developed and debuted the first car-sharing system in the region. To me, that wasn’t just a “project”; it was a way to redefine urban mobility and shift the perspective on how we view movement and how we experience city life.
“In both entrepreneurship and climbing, there is a harsh, shared truth: loneliness. More specifically, the loneliness of the decision. When you are on a cliffside or facing a tough business choice, you are alone with yourself. On the mountain, when air is a luxury, every breath is a choice. Every step, every movement, is a decision to keep going.”
Today, I consult in the fields of mobility and technology, developing new projects and digital solutions—sometimes independently, sometimes with partners. I recently presented one of my projects focused on asset management at an innovation summit in China. That side of my life remains deeply rooted in technology, systems, and the future, but always with a clear focus on the meaning of it all: how we can use technology to simplify, optimize, and improve the way we move and live. In both business and life, I’ve always been drawn to things that are different—things that uncover the unknown. For instance, one of my key milestones was launching Spin City, Croatia’s first car-sharing service. Currently, I’m developing a new AI-driven project that smartly manages mobile assets and user operations.
But there’s another side to my world. Since I spend so much time in the mountains and frequently travel to the Himalayas, I launched Epic Treks. It’s a brand that merges my passion for mountaineering with the opportunity to provide others with a transformational travel experience in Nepal and the Himalayas.
I grew up in the countryside of Međimurje, along the Mura River. My childhood was spent “wandering” through the vast fields of Murščak. We would run barefoot through the meadows and hayfields. Even then, nature was somehow etching itself into me, and I was etching myself into the nature.I believe that’s where the first seed was planted—a seed I would only later discover as my true passion. After a decade in entrepreneurship, a sense of inner burnout began to set in. I felt a growing need for a natural contrast—something that would bring me back to myself. I started with the local peaks; the first “symptoms” of that search were hikes up Sljeme and Medvednica. From there, the climbs just kept getting bigger as my hunger for a challenge grew. Then, the pandemic hit. While the world was stalling under those constraints, I realized that was the moment I had to take for myself—that I had to make the decision to finally head toward what was calling me.
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I would tell myself—and I see this is something many young people lack today—not to focus so much on fitting in, but to start discovering and living your own authenticity much sooner. In the mountains, I often hear the phrase, “the mountain changes a person,” but I don’t agree. The mountain doesn’t change you—it strips you bare. It peels away the ego, layer by layer, until only who you truly are remains. The ego no longer has anywhere to hide its weaknesses. Authenticity requires honesty and vulnerability. Because if I admit I’m not okay, or that I don’t know something, I’m building a bridge of authentic culture with others. I’m creating a long-term energy—a resilience that helps when a pandemic hits, when conditions get brutal, or when the path simply becomes too difficult. Staying true to yourself and who you are—that is perhaps the best advice I could give for any entrepreneurial journey or any adventure.
Climbing major peaks is a dramatic, personal experience. These expeditions last three to four weeks. You spend ten to fifteen days trekking and climbing just to earn the chance for a summit push. Once you reach base camp, the rotations begin—acclimatization rotations where you adapt to the altitude. These are demanding ascents on rock faces and cliffs where you are tethered to a rope. I once read that the summit is where life finds its purest sense of freedom—it’s something that can’t be bought, only experienced. Every mountaineer knows this in their own way, but it holds true for everyone. When the final ascent comes, everything you’ve done up to that point—the entire “project”—boils down to those last 3,000 feet. At that moment, even if you haven’t eaten, even if your head is pounding and you’re suffering from altitude sickness, there is something inside you that pushes you forward. The interesting part is when people ask me, “How is it at the top?” They assume the summit is the best part. But the most beautiful feeling happens a few meters before the peak—the moment you realize you’re there, that you’re going to make it. It’s a triumphant stretch that awakens a sense of gratitude, calm, and pride for what you’ve achieved in life—and for the people you have around you. The summit itself? That’s pure exhilaration and awe.
The mountain is a reset. It strips everything away and filters out what truly matters. Values, in their purest sense, come to light during the hardest moments—whether in the extreme conditions of the Himalayas or when facing tough business decisions. The mountain teaches me that no matter how prepared I think I am, I am never the master there—I am always just a guest. That is the key symbolism: an alpinist racing for the summit can easily ignore their own exhaustion or the weather warnings, and that kind of decision can be fatal. Humility is what saves you—on the mountain, and in life. In business, success shouldn’t necessarily be measured by projects, money, or numbers, but by our openness to learn and our willingness to embrace the new.
The mountain grants you the freedom of choice—and that is its greatest power. If you feel at home there (as I always have), it becomes like an addiction: a tool that draws you back to where you recharge and find your energy. I started with local hiking clubs on nearby peaks, but then the passion caught fire, and the serious expeditions began. For example, on Monte Rosa—a 4,000-meter peak—I first felt those “altitude drums” in my head, the symptoms of altitude sickness. It was an invaluable experience for my future high-altitude climbs. Once you push through that, you realize that true motivation comes from something shifting inside you—from uncovering new experiences and letting your curiosity grow. That motivation then “bears fruit”—you become more driven in your everyday life, with your family, and in your work.
In order: Mont Blanc in Europe—a lightning-fast ascent with two friends. After that, I headed to the Andes in South America. That was my first true expedition experience: sleeping in tents for twenty days and reaching altitudes of nearly 23,000 feet. That same year, I did a solo trip to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro—using it as both physical and mental acclimatization for the Himalayas. In the Himalayas, I chose one of the most technical and demanding peaks: Ama Dablam. Many consider it the most beautiful mountain in the entire Himalayan range. It was an experience that “shifted my world” from within—it allowed me to look at the world through a completely different lens.
There is a profound symbolism in the rope that connects us in the mountains. As we climb toward the summit, the rope keeps us secure and helps us advance. But when we descend—it literally saves our lives. That rope symbolizes connectedness. I believe in the power of community: in the mountains, in family, and at work. Whether it’s a grueling ascent, a community of car-sharing users, or the challenges a family faces—the thread that connects us is often what makes all the difference.
Motivation can be an inexhaustible well—it just depends on the source. In both entrepreneurship and climbing, there is a harsh, shared truth: loneliness. More specifically, the loneliness of the decision. When you’re on a cliffside or facing a tough business choice, you are alone with yourself. On the mountain, when air is a luxury, every breath is a choice. Every step, every movement, is a decision to keep going. In those moments when everything around you tells you it might be better to quit, my boundless motivation comes from family and faith. It’s like the rope that holds me to the rock—an invisible thread that keeps me focused and alert as I climb, while giving me the calm and composure to descend.
The thought of the smiles and the time spent together waiting for me at the bottom is what gives meaning to every new movement and step. And I would add: motivation is not the same as enthusiasm. Motivation is often the decision to stay true to ourselves and to those who believe in us. My family is my compass—whether I’m on the cliffs of the Himalayas or in the turbulent waters of entrepreneurship.
Yes, I do. The mountains teach me that boundaries are merely static thoughts in our minds—and that we can push past them if we have a passion for the journey itself, not just the destination. The Himalayas remind me of my place within those vast expanses, but also that I can “conquer” them if I remain present in the moment and stay humble. Because life isn’t a race to the summit—it’s a journey through the heights.
I wouldn’t want to be remembered just for the summits I’ve reached or the projects I’ve built. I’d like people to remember that I believed in human potential—and that I encouraged others to find their own mountains and have the courage to start the climb. The greatest legacy isn’t what we’ve achieved for ourselves, but the number of people we’ve inspired to ascend to their own heights. If we look at the measure of a life, we don’t have to count it in business successes, finances, or figures—but in the number of people we’ve pulled up with us and the depth of the impact we’ve had on their lives.
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“I don’t want to be remembered for summits reached, projects built, or numbers. I’d like people to remember that I believed in human potential. That I encouraged others to find their own mountains, their own challenges, and the courage to start the climb. In the end, life’s greatest value isn’t what you conquer for yourself, but how many people you’ve pulled up with you.”