Vyšehrad is the castle Prague forgets it has. Everyone climbs to the big one across the river; the legendary rock — where the founding myths put the first Czech princess — sits almost empty on its cliff over the Vltava, and that emptiness is the whole reason to come.
Three kilometres, ninety minutes, mostly flat once you're up. From the metro (line C), walk the rampart road through the Táborská gate. The Rotunda of St Martin comes first — the oldest building in the city, round and small and over nine hundred years old. Then the twin black spires of the Basilica of SS Peter and Paul, neo-Gothic outside, painted in art-nouveau colour within.
The hřbitov next door is the middle of the walk. Dvořák, Smetana, Mucha and Karel Čapek are all here, the people who built Czech culture, and the Slavín at the end gathers the rest. You don't have to read every name — just walk the loop and let the sculpture do the talking.
Drop underground to the casemates and the Gorlice hall, then out to the southern ramparts for the view that closes everything: the river bending below, the city spread out, and the path down to Výtoň and the tram.
