Dear Herm’s Hiker’s,

In the words of Rod Serling from the Twilight Zone, “Tonight meet our good friend Son-Dance, a gypsy trail hiker who once traveled to the White Mountains in search of perfect knowledge and spiritual enlightment. Tonight meet our good friend Son-Dance, a mystic voyager who survived his trip in another mythical and magical dimension known as the Alpine Zone.” Cue to music (theme from the Twilight Zone!)
Did I just refer to myself as a trail hiker in the Whites? No, no, no! Let me correct that mistake! A more accurate description would be rock climber. For you see, for most of the Whites from Mount Washington to Gorahm, there is no trail, just mountains of rocks with a few white blazes if you’re lucky. Most of trail is marked by cairns. Sounds easy enough to follow, but when you get to the top of a mountain ridge where trails intersect (and there are lots of side trails in the Whites for day and weekend hikers), there are cairns standing eveywhere like silent traffic cops. They know the right direction, but they’re not saying a word. If you’re lucky there might be a signpost giving you some additional directions. Sure glad that I bought the trail maps from the Appalachian Trail Conservancy!
Entered the Whites at Franconia Notch. Instead of tenting at the nearby campground, I decided to head for Lincoln, NH, a trendy little tourist town situated next to a ski resort. What a great place for hikers! Gourmet shops and restaurants, and a Dunkin’ Donuts and McDonalds. Is life good in Lincoln or what! But most of all, Lincoln had Chet’s Place, a home hostel run by Chet West and his helpers Bruce and Fallon. What a great place and what a great story! Chet, who is in his early 30’s, was severly injured when a camping stove blew up as he was attemping to light it. Chet’s face and arms were unscathed, but his lungs were damaged from breathing in the smoke and flames. In addition his mid-section received third-degree burns which destroyed a significant amount of muscle tissue. Chet was in a drug induced coma for 8 months and in the hospital for a total of 18 months. Speaking with Chet brought goosebumps to my arms as he described his spiritual journey immediately following the accident. He said he was standing at the door to the other side where a bright, blinding light was shining. He saw the faces of loved ones who had gathered at the door and and heard the voices who told him to go back becasue it was not his time to step through the portal. Wow! Chet recovered from the accident, although he still has to use a wheelchair. What a courageous and inspirational story!
Once again, I feel the Hand of God pointed move in the directon of Chet’s Place. In the trail journal there was only a listing for a hostel. There were no details about Chet’s and his miraculous story. I think my guardian angel was whisppering in my ear “Go to Chet’s Place for the night.”
The next day I headed out from Franonia Notch to hike Franconia Ridge. Heard a lot about the views but had no idea what I was in for. After a 2,500 ft. climb (hand over hand, up and around the boulders for 3 miles), I reached the ridge summit. Spectacular! The weather was sunny and the wind was blowing in excess of 25 miles an hours, but the views were stunning. Looking around, I was instantly transported to Evererst and great mountains in Nepal. Any second, I expected to see sherpas leading a group of mountaineers and local villagers herding yaks. Up and down, I hiked the various summits, Little Haystack Mtn. at 4,800 ft, Mt. Lincoln at 5,089 ft, and Mt. Garfield at 4,500 ft. The climbing was difficuult but not severe becuase the peaks were on the ridge. It was a lot of ups and downs above the treeline, and a mountain hiker cannot ask for anything more than that.
Stayed at the Garfield Ridge Shelter that night (thanks to the overnight hikers who carried up the Blue Moon ale) and then headed out for more mountains the next day, South Twin Mtn. at 4,902 and Mt Guyot at 4,580. More hard climbing with the hardest part coming as soon as I left the shleter. The trail to the mountain valley was literally the waterfalls for about a quarter of a mile. Totally insane! The most most difficult and dangerous hike that I have experienced. No place to take any chances with your footing. At Mt. Guyot, a storm front with light rain and heavy fog was racing across the across the mountain. I missed the turn off to the AT and met up with professor David Taylor and his two assistants who were doing reseach on mountain vegatation. Professor taylor hiked with me back to the turn off and put me on the right path to the next hut. Thank you, Dave! You are a trail angel.
Later in the day teamed up with follow hiker Utah who was also heading north. For the next three days we hiked and hit the “huts.” After bypassing the first two, we stayed at Zealand falls, Mizpah Spring, and Madison Spring. Since I’m with the advance party of NOBO’s, we were able to “work for stay.” In return for about an hour of work (dish washing, room cleaning, etc.), we got a place to sleep indoors and dinner and breakfast. We lived like hiking kings! The food and hospitality were fantatic! Our dinners were stuffed shells, chicken in wine sauce, and lasgna. Breakast was oatmeal and pancakes! Of course, we had to wait until the paying customers had eaten before we could dine, but who cared. We were eating a hot meal and eating as much as we wanted. Hiking gypsy kings!
A special thanks to Doris, Ken and their daughters, 1, 3 and 7 at Zealand Falls. As a bone-tired hiker (That’s me!) was making his way down the side of the mountain at the end of a long day, what appeared before me was a vision of beauty as three lovely ladies (appearing to be in their 20’s or early 30’s) in spandex outfits and hiking shoes, were bounding up the mountain with bubbling energy and enthusiasm. For a minute, I thought I was hallucinating! Son-Dance, I thought, you’e been in the mountains far too long. As we passed, I inquired about the proximity of the hut, and they replied just about 20 minutes down the mountain. In response, the long-faced hiker (That’s me!) bemoaned the fact of another 20 minutes on a rocky trail with tired and aching feeting. Then up, up and away, this lovely trio disappeared into the forest on their way to the scenic viewpoint.
Well, I finally reached the falls at the hut and decided to soak my feet in the cold mountain water. As I was relaxing, a couple (Doris and Ken) came over to where I was sitting with a carton of wine and a couple of plastic cups. Good wind and great conversation! Can’t be beat! As we were talking and drinking, the three lovely returend from thier mountain journey to join. Yes, the three ladies were the daughters of Doris and Ken. They noted my quick recovery as I sat with my feet in the water and a glass of wine in my hand, all with a smile on my face. To Doris, Ken and daughters, a sincere and humble thanks for your hospitality and generosity! You were a highlight of the trip.
The next day Utah and I reached Crawford Notch where we were thinking about taking time off. When the info desk said they were expecting good weather for the next two days at Mount Washington, we immediatley threw on our packpacks and headed up the mountain. And, glad that we did! By the time, we summited Mount Wasington at 6,288, the weather was bright and sunny with winds blowing at 55 MPH and temps in the upper 40’s. A perfect day at the top of the mountain with some of the harshest and severest weather in the country. Like at Everest, when the weather beakons, you heed the call. After a quick lunch,we headed out for more mountains named after presidents (That’s why it’s called the Presidential Range) for Madison Spirng Hut. The six miles from Mt. Washington to the hut were extremely diffiuclt, rock climbing hand over hand. With it being late afternoon, it mad the hike only harder. My bloodied and bruised shins are proof. The hut was an oasis in a rocky desert. Lost one of my water bottles on the hike to Washington and scored two matching, relatively new bottles, in the lost and found box at Lakes of the Clouds hut. Thanks, guys, for letting me rummage through the box. It was my lucky day.
After a night at the hut, I hiked to Pinkham Notch where I met hiking legend Leon Barkman who thru-hiked in 1967, long before trail names. Leon leads hikes from the notch and dispensees trail magic with bags of trail mix. Leon, thank you for your trail magic. You are, indeed, a trail legend and a trail angel.
Well fellow hikers, I’ve been at the computer too long. I’m getting a lot of stares from the librarian. In two day, I’ll be in Maine and then in two weeks, I’ll hopefully met with Rainbow Brite (Mrs. T) to hike the Wilderness. As always, keep me in your prayers. I know somebody’s prayers were answered because of the fantastic weather. Hike in peace and hike with your angels! Happy trails until we met again!
Son-Dance

Dear Herm’s Hikers,

To paraphrase the words of Rod Serling from the famous TV show, “Open the door and walk into another dimension where high is low, up is down, wet is dry, valleys are mountains, and summer is winter. But don’t stop walking just yet, for you have just entered the Alpine Zone.” Cue to the music from the theme of The Twilight Zone.
Greetings from Glencliff, New Hampshire, and the Hikers Welcome Hostel, the gateway to the White Mountains. The hostel is an old farm house and barn, dating from 1832, with Phat Chap and Uncle Walt as the main caretakers, both who look like roadies from the Grateful Dead. But it’s a great stop on the trail with friendly service, comfortable bunks and lounging quarters, and a few stores and restaurants in the village of Warren, just down the road. Everything an AT hiker could ask for. Even some good conversation was on hand last night as the bunkhouse debate centered on religion and miracles. It seems some of the younger hikers (The Youngbloods) who label themsleves agnostics and doubt the existence of both. With age comes experience, and with experience comes the wisdom to acknowledge both. I would like to hear their comments when they become Greyhounds. Geez, am I getting old here or what? Never a dull moment on or off the trail.
My, oh my how things have changed in a week. Last week in Vermont, water was becoming scarce. Water sources at some of the the shelters were drying and becoming nothing more than mud holes. The prehistoric mud swamps from last year that sucked the boots right off your feet were now just damp earth (Well not quite damp, but you get the picture.) I did see one mud hole on the trail that still looked menacing. Testing the site, my hiking pole sunk over two feet in the ooze. I expected to stir up a floating backpack or hiking boots, remnants from an unfortunate hiker who happened to step into this AT quicksand. Water quality at some of the springs and creeks could be judged by the frog factor. More frogs in the water usally meant less water and less water quality because all of the amphibians in the area were gathering at that site. Coming into Hanover, NH last weekend, I had hoped to spend the night at the Happy Hills shelter before a short hike into town the next day. My plans were drastically changed when I found the water source to be a muddy stream bed and a moist spring about the size of a 5 gallon bucket. Already low on water (just a few gulps in each bottle), I had to walk over five miles to the next water source. That day Happy Hills was not a happy place. But the trail is like the weather, keep hiking and conditions can change within a few steps, or more like a few hundred steps.
And speaking of conditions. With each passing day, I grow older and the mountains grow bolder and colder. Coming north, there was Moose Mountain at 2,290 ft., Smarts Mountain at 3,230 ft., Mt. Cube at 2,911 ft., and then, the big one to date (drum roll, please.), the first mountain in the Great Whites, Mt. Moosilauke at 4,802.
Hiked to Smarts Mountain in beautiful but hot weather. Teamed up with 3 German hikers and a couple from Texas (Hobo and Variable. Yes, Variable is a math teacher.) and climbed to the ridge which we thought was the summit. When we saw the fire tower on the next peak, we knew that were were standing on the ridge, just another false peak on the AT! Half way to the summit, thunder boomed around us in the valleys below. Climbing at times hand over hand, I double-timed it up the steep and rocky trail to reach the safety of the old fire warden’s cabin which was the shelter. Just as I reached the cabin and threw off the backpack, day beacme night as storm clouds raced over the mountain. Seconds later, the wind howled and the rain blew sidways. Rain quickly turned to hail and then sleet. I said a silent prayer for my hiking partners who were still hiking up the side of the mountain. The storm lasted about 15 mininutes, and was followed by clearing, cool weather and a picturesque sunset over the west mountains. A group of us with cameras climbed the fire tower to enjoy Mother’s Nature postcard evening. A few days later, my luck held as I hiked to the hostel and just missed another heavy thunderstorm with hail. Yes, my fellow hikers, prayers are being answered out here. Thank you Herm and the angels above!
Today I treated myself and slack-placked Mt. Moosilauke. Slack-packing is where you don a light packpack and usually hike back to your starting point. In my case, it was from Kinsman Notch to the hostel, a distance of about 10 miles. What a joy to be hiking without 33 pounds on my back. I was as quick as a cat! For the first 2 miles, I hiked the Cascade Trail which runs alongside the waterfalls. That alone tells you how steep it was. It was straight up, hand over hand climbing with rebar siderails at some of the more steeper sections. But it was scenic, and it was slippery because it was right next to the falls. In addition to all of the moisture, it started to rain. Just a light shower that grew heavier as I climbed higher. About a half mile from the summit, I met a fellow hiker who said “put on your Goretex,” and I was glad that I did. At the summit which was a large bald area with some grass, wildflowers, and scattered rocks/boulders, the wind was howling, the rain was blowing sideways, and the fog and clouds raced across the summit to create a whiteout, reducing visibility to about 50 feet. Following the cairns, mounds of piled rocks, was the only way to follow the trail. Moutain hiking at its best! Simply awesome! Oh, what a feeling! Breathtaking! Exhilirating! After hiking about a mile across the summit, I reached the relative calm of the treeline. Thrity minutes later, I was hiking down the mountain in sunshine. By the time, I reached the bottom of the mountain and walked to the hostel, it was hot and humid with the temperature in the low 80’s. All in a day’s work on the AT!
Tomorrow it’s some relatively sane and calm hiking farther into the Whites, In a day and a half, I should reach the “huts” run by the Appalachian Mountain Club. The huts are self-sustained lodges that provide beds and meals to hiking tourists. They are literally little motels on the trail. It should be some great hiking with terrific views above the treeline and some great meals. Next week looms Mount Washington at 6,288 feet, the highest peak in the Northeast. Can’t wait to summit!
Time to get some sleep for tomorrow’s hike. Looking for good weather and a great hike. As always, keep me in your prayers. Hike with your angels and hike in peace!

Son-Dance

Dear Herm’s Hikers,

Greetings from Tigger’s Treehouse! No sign of Pooh, Eyeore, or Christopher Robin. I guess I met them on the trail. The Treehouse is the name of the hostel just north of Hanover, New Hampshire, home of Dartmouth College. Needless to say I am glad to be done with Vermont. Last year’s fall is now a distant memory. As I was hiking up and down the mountains, I was constantly thinking about last year’s end to the hike. Ouch! If I could make it out of Vermont, that would be a big step to a successful hike. Now there are only 2 big steps left, New Hampshire and Maine. And as they say on the AT, as the miles grow shorter, the mountains grow taller.
The hike in Vermont was designed to put in shape for the Whites, and put me in shape it did. Last year was the wettest year in 100 years; this year it’s the hottest. Just my luck! Walking in the Vermont woods was like walking in a jungle. Ver-sauna I nicknamed the state. Temperatures were in the mid 90’s and the humidity was extremely high (I believe around 40%+). Man, was it hot. How hot? A couple of times a day I would stop and wring out my clothes. A few minutes later, I would be soaking wet as if I fell into a swimming pool. Nude hiking was not an option, but the thought did cross my mind one or twice. One day we had beautiful sunny weather (perfect hiking conditions) and that night it rained a wall of water from 8 p.m to 5 a.m. I had to get up three times in the night to move my sleeping bag because the shelter roof was leaking. One hiker who slept in his tent woke up to find his hiking boots filled to the brim with water. Now that was wetter than wet! Overnight the rains transformed the woods into a primordial soup. As the temperatures rose the next morning, so did the clouds of flies , gnats and mosquitoes. A nightmare of insects that followed you every inch of the way! Amazingly, in the evening there was always a gentle breeze which stopped the bugs dead in their tracks. At least, I was able to get a good night’s sleep.

For two days, I saw no NOBO’s (northbound hikers) and I was worried that I would be hiking the Whites alone. But that has changed in the last couple of days as the early migration of NOBO’s has caught up with me. I am once again into the flow of the trail. It’s nice to hike alone in the forest where the only sounds are the the breathing of you and Mother Nature, but it can be scary. And as usual, there’s the Whitman’s Sampler of trail characters, heroes, villains, and everything in between. Two night ago, I met Tadpole who parents had worked with Willie Nelson. Tad, who is now in his early 30’s, worked as a roadie for the band in his early 20’s. Needless to say, he had some great stories to tell. And in return, I told him of my roadie days with the Baltimore Marching Ravens, the NFL’s premiere marching/show band. Hey, Marching Ravens, there’s a hiker on the trail named Ponytail Dave. Haven’t met him yet, but I am curious to see if he resembles our Ponytail Dave. Hope to see you in September if you and the Z Man want me back.
On the spiritual journey, I spent a night at the Back Home Again Cafe and Hostel which is operated by the Twelve Tribes of Israel. They are a religious community who embrace the Jewish traditions of the Old Testament but embrace the core beliefs of the New Testament, namely that Jesus Christ is the world’s salvation. I was invited to attend a morning prayer service. Since they were such gracious hosts, I accepted the offer and was glad that I did. I must have made a good impression because I was invited to attend their weekly observance of the Sabbath. My special thanks to a community of faith that reaches out to the hiking homeless.
Have to run! Time to eat and sleep, two of my favorite pastimes on and off the trail. Hope to reach Glencliffe,NH, by the end of the week. Glencliffe is the AT hiker’s gateway to the Whites. After that, it’s about ten days through the Whites. As always, hike with your angels and hike in peace. Please keep me in your prayers. Have a great week!

Son-Dance

Dear Herm’s Hikers,
News Bulletin - Herm’s Hike marches to Mount Katahdin on July 12, 2010! It’s hard to believe that it’s been ten months since I “crashed” in Vermont. Well, I actually slipped and fell down the mountain, but it wasn’t too far of a fall. My shoulder is still a little sore at times, but that’s probably from old age. Mentally and spiritually, I’m ready to dance with the mountains once again. I have just over 500 miles to go so I’m looking to finish sometime at the end of August or beginning of September. But remember, the mountains grow taller as the miles grow shorter.

Once again, I will be collecting donations for the Alzheimer’s Association. If you haven’t donated, it’s still not too late. Just click the donations box on the opening webpage. In light of the recent setbacks in Alzheimer’s research, your donations are needed more than ever to find a cure. Plus, there’s still time to have the name of your Alzheimer’s loved one listed on the stone memorial that will be placed atop Mount Katahdin. Just send me an e-mail with the name.

And once again, I will be documenting the hike on my website trail journal. One thing for sure, I’m excited about the trip. If this year is anything like last year, it will be an action-packed, fun-filled adventure. So now is the time for you cyber-space thru-hikers to sit back and relax as we head to the White Mountains and beyond. What a great summer vacation!

Time to finish stuffing the backpack. Yes, I am packing cold weather gear for the high altitudes. Please keep me in your prayers and please keep in touch. Would love to hear from last and this year’s Herm’s Hikers. And as you travel down the road of life, hike with your angels and hike in peace. Thank you for your generosity and kindness.
Son-Dance

Dear Herm’s Hikers,
I am sad to report that Herm passed away on Tuesday November 17. Below is a copy of the obituary column to be published in the Sunday Baltimore Sun.
My father was a humble and sincere man with an easy smile and a wonderful self-effacing sense of humor. His vocation in life was service and sacrifice to his faith, family and country through character, commitment and compassion. It is said that a person is judged by the company they keep, and my father kept some great company. His heroes and role models were St. Frances of Asissi, General Douglas MacArthur, John F. Kennedy, and Pope John Paul II. Little did my father know that not only would he follow in their footsteps, but one day he would step beyond their shadows and reach out and touch the hearts of those around him. My father certainly made his little corner of the world a better place to live and love. In dying, he taught us how to live; in living, he taught us how to love. What a wonderful legacy! Old soldiers never die; they just fade away.
Once again, I thank you for your donations to the hike and your prayers for myself and my family. Without your support, Herm’s Hike would not have been possible. As always, hike with your angels and hike in peace. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations to Herm’s Hike. Godspeed on life’s journey!
Paul Travers AKA Son-Dance
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Herman J. Travers, Pearl Harbor Survivor, Decorated WWII Combat Veteran, Retired Postal Employee

Herman J. Travers, died Tuesday, November 17th, at the Genesis Loch Raven Center after a courageous four year battle against Alzheimer’s disease. He was 89. His life personified and exemplified the unsung heroes that were hailed as the Greatest Generation by noted newsman and author Tom Brokaw. He was by all accounts a “soldier’s soldier.”
Mr. Travers was born in Baltimore and raised in Canton. After graduating from Sacred Heart parochial school in 1935, he attended Patterson High School for one year before leaving to support his family with jobs at the waterfront packing houses in the Fells Point/Canton area. During this time, he became an aspiring welterweight boxer under the tutelage of local boxing legend and trainer Lee Halfpenny at the YMCA. Seeking adventure and a chance to see the world, he enlisted in the US Army as an infantryman and shipped out for Oahu, Hawaii, in January 1941 after being selected as the outstanding recruit at boot camp. On December 7, 1941, he witnessed the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor while assigned to the 27th Infantry Regiment. His vivid description of Japanese dive bombers strafing the parade deck at Schofield Barracks was recounted in the book “Eyewitness to Infamy: An Oral History of Pearl Harbor.” After the attack, he was assigned patrol duty along the beaches of Waikiki.
Following support duty at Guadalcanal, he attended Officers Candidate School at Fort Benning, Georgia, where he was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant in December 1942. He returned to the Pacific Campaign in 1944 as a member of the 323rd Regimental Combat Team, 81st Infantry Division. In October 1944, during the Battle of Peleliu, he received two Bronze Stars for Heroism in Combat. On October 17, he led a volunteer team of four men and successfully rescued a wounded soldier from the battlefield during deadly mortar fire that killed one member of his team and wounded another. On October 30, while on patrol near Bloody Nose Ridge, he successfully directed a counterattack after his patrol was ambushed by enemy machinegun fire. Severely wounded during the fight, he was evacuated stateside where he spend three years in Army hospitals undergoing reconstructive surgery on his foot. He was discharged from the Army with the rank of 1st Lieutenant at the Valley Forge Army Hospital in 1947.
On June 30, 1945, he married his wartime sweetheart, Frances M. Janiszewski, at St. Stanislaus Church in Fells Point. While on leave in 1942, he was introduced to his future bride by his childhood friend at a neighborhood social club. Unable to secure employment as a park policeman or state trooper due to his physical disability, he worked briefly at Bethlehem Steel Sparrows Point before accepting a position with the United State Post Office. He worked as a postal clerk at the Clifton and Hamilton stations before retiring in 1985. He settled with his family in the Gardenville area where he managed youth baseball teams, to include Morton’s Pharmacy. His love of the outdoors inspired Herm’s Hike, an Appalachian Trail thru-hike in 2009 to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Association.
Mr. Travers was a communicant at St. Anthony of Padua Church and a member of the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association, the VFW, and the Purple Heart Society. His hobbies included reading, golf, chess, and his grandchildren.
In addition to his wife, Mr. Travers is survived by a daughter Regina S. Schuch of Jarrettsville, MD, two sons: Paul J. Travers of Parkton, Maryland and Mark Travers of Manassas, Virginia, fours sister and one brother, seven grandchildren, and a great granddaughter.
The family will receive friends from 3 to 5 and 7 to 9 p.m. on Sunday at the Schimunek Funeral Home, 9705 Belair Road. A mass of Christian burial will be celebrated on Monday 10.a.m. at the St. Anthony of Padua Church. Internment will follow at the Gardens of Faith. In lieu of flowers, the family requests memorial contributions to the Alzheimer’s Association, c/o Herm’s Hike, P.O. Box 2940, Chicago, IL 60690. To donate online, go to www.paultravers.com and click on “Donations.”
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Dear Herm’s Hikers,
Much to my disappointment, I will not be returning to finish the hike. While my knee has healed sufficiently to carry a limited backpack, I have simply run out of time to finish the hike at Mount Katahdin. I still have at least two months of hiking to finish and only a month and a half before they close the mountain.
While disappointed, I am not devastated. I have hiked over 1,600 miles with two surgically repaired feet and two surgically repaired shoulders. That in itself is a minor miracle for someone pushing 58 years of age, and for that I am most grateful.
As I said to everyone that I met on the trail, Herm’s Hike was never about Paul Travers thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail; it was about raising money for the Alzheimer’s Association. And raise money we did. To date, almost $5,000.00 has been raised. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will be forever overwhelmed, inspired and humbled by your generosity.
My biggest regret is not being able to raise even more money by finishing the hike. Every dollar is important because the next dollar might be the one that finds the cure for this dreaded disease. Even though I’m not on the trail, you can still make a donation to the Alzheimer’s Association. If you were waiting to donate, now is the time to do it. I will continue to maintain the donation links and info for your convenience.
To those people I befriended along the trail, my sincerest thanks for opening up your hearts, your homes and your wallets to support this cause. You have provided me with a mountain of magical memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I experienced the journey of a lifetime. There are no words to describe my gratitude. Indeed, you are truly “trail angels” who dispensed “trail magic” in one way or another to a mystic voyager who happened to magically appear in your lives.
Well, the really bad news is that I stlll have about 550 miles to finish the hike. On the flip side, the really good news is that I still have about 550 miles to finish the hike and contine to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Association and raise awareness the disease.
At this point in time, my goal is to return to Vermont next year and finish the hike. So please keep me in your thoughts and prayers over the long winter. It will be one of reflection and anticipation. For those who would like to stay in touch, please feel free to e-mail at this website. I would love to hear from you.
Once again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. As always, hike with your angels and hike in peace as you travel down the road of life. As the sun sets on Son-Dance for this year, I am looking forward to the dawn of new sunrise in the coming year. Once again, I hope you are by my side.

Son-Dance (He who danced with the mountains to honor
his earthly and Heavenly Father.)

Dear Herm’s Hikers,

NEWS BULLETIN!!!!! SON-DANCE HAS FALLEN (but he can and did get up). STAY TUNED FOR THE LATEST DETAILS!
I am sorry to report that I have been TEMPORARILY forced off the trail due to a mild knee injury (At least I hope so.). I will be returning home (Parkton, MD) for a couple a weeks to recover and rehabiliate.
The injury occurred while climbing down the backside of mountain in southern Vermont. I simply slipped on the wet rocks and twisted my knee undeneath the weight of my body and my backpack as I fell forward. At first, I thought I had escaped with only a few scrapes and bruises, but walking became more painful as I continued down the mountain. You learn to live with a lot of pain (I already had a mild case of tendinitis on that knee.) on the AT but something did not feel right so I went into town to see a doctor.
The initial diagnosis was medial and/or lateral ligament sprain of the knee. There do not appear to be any tears in the ligament(s). At this point in time, the best rehabilitation is rest for the knee.
Fortunately, I was not more seriously injured. I truly believe my hiking angels were at my side and helped to break my fall. As you know, the mountains were getting higher and steeper in Vermont and the rain more frequent, a dangerous and hazardous combination in mountain hiking. Serious injury is always a step away, and your net step could be your last step.
Hopefully, I have many more steps on the trail to take me to Mount Katahdin. This is not the end of Herm’s Hike but only a timeout. Please continue to check my website for updates on my status. Please continue to spread the word about the hike. And above all, PLEASE REMEMBER, WE ARE STILL TAKING DONATIONS. There is still a ways to go before Katahdin and still a ways before meeting our fundraising goal.
Please continue to check my website for updates on my hiking status. And most important, keep me in your prayers. Hike in peace and hike with your angels!

Son-Dance

Dear Herm’s Hikers,

Greetings from Williamstown, MA, home of Williams College! Massachusetts was a tough hike due to the rain and the insects (mosquitoes the size of bluebirds), but what a blast!
First stop was in Great Barrington was the Guthrie Center (the old Trinity Church), formerly the home of Alice and Ray Brock of Alice’s Restaurant fame. For those who didn’t know or don’t remember, Alice’s Restaurant was made famous by folksinger Arlo Guthire in his musical monologue titled Alice’s Restaurant Massacre. The song was based on the true story of his arrest on Thanksgiving in 1965 for littering and subsequent rejection from the draft for a criminal record (or so the story goes). It has become Arlo’s trademark song to say the least.
The Guthrie Center is a community center that sponsors a number of social programs that includes free lunch on Wednesday. I made it a point to arrive on Wednesday to enjoy a hot lunch (meatballs, vegetable, salad, bread, and dessert with beverages) in the great room of the one of the most historical and hallowed sites in contemporary folk music (at least to the Flower Children of the 60’s). The walls were adorned with music memorabilia from Woody, Arlo, and the musicians/singers who have performed at the center. On a small stage was a guitar signed by those who who have performed during the year to date. If you want to enjoy some great folk music in a small, intimate setting, the Guthrie Center is the place. George and staff, thank you for your hospitality!
After leaving the Guthire Center, I walked down to the produce stand/bakery at the end of the road for a cup of Joe. The conversation with the cashier was well worth the walk. For it seems the cashier was a lady by the name of Dr. K. Andrews Dietrich who serves as an historical consultant to Denise Vanaria, a historical re-enactor who has a traveling road show called med “Titanic The Experience.” What a great time! Ms. Andrews is an expert on the Titanic. I told her that me and my oldest daughter were huge Titanic fans, and that my daughter would have been tickled to death to meet and talk with her. The conversation was so good that I stayed for another cup of coffee and two raspberry muffins.
Spent a night at the East Mountain Retreat Center, a silent, meditative center that houses hikers, where I met a ghost of the AT past. I was lying on my mattress reading one of the spiritual books from the retreat’s library when in walks a hiker who points to me and says “I met you and your wife at the Hiawassee Inn back in April.” The hiker was Just Tim, a retired Special Forces soldier, who had been driving the shuttle van for the owner of the Hiawassee Inn. At that time, Just Tim said that he was going to be hiking in New England later in the summer and that we just might run into him on the trail. He hiked, and we met. Just another small world story from the AT.
Spent another night at the Upper Goose Pond cabin, a fully enclosed 2-story structure with bunks, fireplace, pancake breakfast, and, of course, a scenic pond. The next morning as I enjoyed a cup of coffee on the front porch, a fellowhiker named Bluejay whispered “Don’t make a sound. Look to your right.” Right next to us on the ground was a juvenile black bear slowly making his way to the front of the cabin. The bear didn’t seem to mind us as much as we didn’t mind him. He took his good old time in circling the cabin which allowed us to snap a few pictures.
After the Guthrie Center, the next logical stop on any trip down memory (it’s been forty years since I graduated from high school in 1969 which also coincides with the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock music festival) is Rising Son Records, also the home to Arlo D. Guthrie, the folksinger of Alice’s Restaurant fame who happeneded to play at Woodstock. In the fall of last year, I e-mailed Mr. Guthire and his record company to see if they would be interested in mentioning/listing Herm’s Hike somewhere on a website. Never heard from Arlo, but the record company responsed that if you get in the area, stop by to see us. Well, I was in the area and I stopped by to see. So there I was standing next to Arlo’s house, trying to decide if I should knock on the door or just stand ther until someone notices me. In the quiet of the late morning, I heard voices coming from the building next to the house. Aftrer a few minutes of not being noticed, I knocked on the door of the buildng and popped in my head with the question “Is this the offices of Rising Son Records?” The four ladies gathered around a table sipping coffee looked at me and then each other wtih a gaze of confusion and bewilderment. When I asked if I could have a minute of their time, they once again looked at me and then each other with the same gaze. Finally, one of the ladies invited me to come in. I quickly introduced myself and retold my story about the e-mail to the record company. No one rememberd it which didn’t surprise me, but they did take one of my Herm’s Hike flyers and said they would see if they could post it on a blog. One of the ladies at the table was Annie Hays Guthrie, one of Arlo’s daughter, head of Rising Son Records and an outstanding folksinger in her own right. I asked about the possibility of meeting Arlo, and Annie responded that her father was home but not in at the time. I took a few picutures of me and the staff and then headed back to the trail. Rising Son Records, thank you for your hospitality, generosity and the Arlo CD!
During continuing showers (a hard rain is gonna fall accordng to Bob Dylan), I slogged my way through the mud along the trail to Dalton and Tom Lovarde’s house which is right on the trail as you enter the south side of town. Tom is probably one of the most gracious hosts on the trail. He opens his house and his heart to hikers, providing a bed, shuttle service, and, at times, food, and asks in return only that you remove your shoes/boots before entering the house. It was a great time with some great trail stories from Tom and fellow hikers !
The next day I took the morning off to do some Herms’ Hike business in town. One stop was the Dalton United Methodist Church which is right on the trail (the trail runs through the heart of town for about a 1/2 mile). No one was at the parish office, but I did hear music coming from the church. When I entered the side foyer, the contemporary music group, was rehearsing. When they took a break, the singer Meg asked if she could help me. I told her about Herm’s Hike, handed her a flyer, and then asked if the hike could be announced in the church bulletin or newsletter. When Meg asked me how the hike was going, I made the fatal mistake of saying in a church that the hike had been a spiritual journey. After I told Meg and the band about the prayer sessions, Meg asked me if I would like to speak about the power of prayer at their Sunday service the following morning. I immediatly accepted and returned to Tom’s place to prepare some speaking notes. The next morning I was called to the front of the congreagation and proceeded to speak for approximately ten minutes about the AT, Alzheimer’s, Herms Hike, and the power of prayer on a journey of faith. What a powerful moment! At times, I got my eyes teared and I and had to pause for a few seconds to collect my emotions. That really had people leaning forward in thier pews to hear what I had to say next. You could have heard a pin drop. After the service, I attended a coffee and cake social where one lady asked me what brought me to their church. I responded that I did not find their church, but their church found me. I told her that my hiking angels had simply led me to this place on this particular Sunday. That was the only explanation. After speaking with some other parishioners, I found out that Meg’s parents (Meg was the lady who who extended the invitation) had been afflicted with Alzheimer’s and one had recently passed away. The ministry of the trail continues!
A special thank you to Meg, Lisa and Bernie who conducted the Sunday service, and Barb and Dave Badeau who treated me to lunch at their house. To Barb and Dave, continue the trail magic. To all of you I say, you are truy trail angels!
Summited Mount Greylock, the state’s highest mountain at 3,491 feet topped with a war memorial, on a bright, sunny day. But don’t worry, coming down the other side, it grew dark and forboding as a vicous thunderstorm rolled over the mountain. For a few minutes, it was deluge of biblical proportions! I got off the mountain just as quickly as I could. My Goretex jacket was of little help!
From here it’s on to Vermont, just only a few miles north. It’s still raining hard and I have no doubt the trail will be muddy. After all, they don’t call Vermont “Vermud” for nothing. Another state down and only 3 to go! As always, keep me in your prayers! Hike with your angels and hike in peace!
One of my fellow hikers gave me a gift while passing through the state, a book titled “The Sun Dances, Prayers and Blessings from the Gaelic.”

Son-Dance

Dear Herm’s Hikers,

Time and miles are fleeting. In and out of Connecticut in 4 days. Good thing too because this part of CT is very upscale, trendy, and expensive. The trail is CT is excellent for hiking, some mountains, valleys, and river paths, but the mosquitoes are horrendous. The trail book said that when you hit Kent, CT, you hit the mosquitoes. The book has never been more correct. You have to lather yourslef in bug spray every few hours if you don’t want to be eaten alive. Combine the bug problem wih the constant rain that occurred this week and you have yourself a major disaster movie about killer mosquitoes.
Stayed at the Cooper Creek B&B. Thank you Cooper and Mary for a wonderful stay, the tour of the house, and the history lesson about Helen Botway, Cooper’s grandmother. In the 1920’s Helen started her art career as a still-life painter in New York, befriending some of the biggest names in the art businesses. She was your typical artist, eccentric and ecclectic until the end of her life, and all the while still painting and sculpting. A remarkable women with an fascinating life story. She was a liberated woman (married at least 5 times to some rich and famous people) in the Roaring 20’s long before the women’s liberation movement. Kent is home to Henry Kessinger. Celebrities such as Michael J. fox, Joan Rivers, Lynn Redgrave, and Meryl Streep live in the nearby villages, and that’s just a partial list. No you can see why everything is so expensive. While in Kent, I stopped at a thrift shop to buy a shirt while I was doing my laundry. For 10 cents, I picked up a great t-shirt (I left it at the B&B) that described the hike to a T (no pun intended). On the front of the shirt it said “Cabaret National Touring Compnay,” and on the back it said “Life is beautiful in here.” Is that beautiful or what! Great stuff! It was just too heavy to carry in my backpack.
Also in Kent I became I met a bank teller with that name of Travers. She told me that she had extensivley researched her family history and is able to trace her ancesters back to the some small village in Ireland to around the 1500’s. She said the Travers name was Irish in origin. I’ll drink to that. Now I know why I have developd a fondness for Guinness and Irish whiskey.
Spent a Sunday in the picturesque village of West Corwall next to the Housatonic River. As a matter of fact I liked it so much that I camped there that night. What a delightful night next to the white water of the river, even with the bugs! Since then I have obtained a bug bucket which is a hat with an overhanging bug screen. Thank you Just Tim for your generosity. Your book will be on its way when I get home.
To Steve at Baird’s General Store and Lisa and Mike at the Smokin’ BBQ in west Cornwall, thank you for your generous donations to Herm’s Hike. And to Bianca at the Wish House, thank you for your hospitality and assistance in sending a BD card to my oldest daughter. Hey Cindy, Happy Birthday this Sunday!!!!
Some here I am on a late Sunday afternoon in the tiny village of West Cornwall, now nearly deserted, looking to kill some time until dark. Crossing the street I look up to see this victorian house that is the Wish House, a boutique that sells paintings, books, and women’s clothing among other gifts. It was as if the building just appeared out of nowhere. Right out the Twilight Zone, I’m telling you. I can hear Rod Serling now saying “You have just entered the house of your wishes in the Twilgiht Zone.” As I entered the store with my backpakc still on my back, I almost knocked down a card stand. As I turned around to see what I hit, I standing fact to face with a rack of birthday cards. And, boom, then it dawns on me that next Sunday is my oldest daughter’s birhday. With the help of the store owner Bianca, I bought a card and stamp and then mailed it off just across the street at the post office. Since I couldn’t have the wish to be with my daughter on her birthday, my wish of sending her a BD came true. Yes, be careful what you wish for in the Twilight Zone.
Tuesday it was on to Salisbury where I had the pleasure of staying at Maria’s house. It was just like home. Maria was the German version of my mom (who by the way is Polish), and I say that as the ultimate compliment. Her motherly doting and devotion to was quite welcomed and refreshing. We watched the rain fall as she fed the fox in her yard and talked about the good old days. If you stay with Maria, make sure you cook your 3 eggs in the morning or she will be upset that a hiker went hungry from your house. Maria, thank you for a wonderful stay! I enjoyed your company immensely. Also visited the Salisbury Historical Association during my stay. Great visit ti a wonderful society. Salsibury was famous for cutlery and knife handles in its heyday.
Have to cut this entry short. The library is throwing me off the computer. Hike in peace and hike with your angels! It’s off to Massachusetts!
Son-Dancel

Dear Herm’s Hiker,

Greetings from Kent, CT! New York has been completed. Whee! At times, it was a very tough section to hike. It started with small rocks and small mountains and progressed to larger rocks and larger mountains. With no switchbacks, some of the climbing was hand over hand up some very large rock formations. But things got much better as I headed north. The last 20+ miles were some of the best hiking to date. It was a nice mix of hills, valley, flats and small mountains. I was finally hiking as I envisioned hiking, not rock stepping or rock hopping.
New York got off to a great start with homemade ice cream (Of course, 2 scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough) at the Bellvale Creamery on top of the mountain above Greenwood Lake. That night at the Wildcat Shelter, there was a large black bear roaming the woods about 50 yards away. That was the only bear sighting in NY. Saw a lot of very big bear tracks in the mud along the trailath with some smaller ones. That meant a mother and cub(s) were in the area. A situation to definitely avoid. The next day was a stop at Lake Tiorati in Harriman State Park to wade in the water and cool off the feet. That night was probably the best night’s sleep that I ever had in a tent. When I reached the William Brien shelter, there were two inflatable mattresses inside. No one wanted to use them so I took one and place it under my tent. Man, oh man, it was like sleeping on a cloud on top of a mountain. I didn’t sleep in the shelter because it was a stone structure with a partial dirt floor that resembled a stable. All that was missing were the barnyard animals. Nice shelters in NY were far and few in between to say the least, although we did spend a night at the RPH Shelter which was one of the best on the trail. It was previously an enclosed structure that was converted into a three side block shelter with bunks. Even better, you could order pizza to be delivered at your shelter doorway. That night I ate a whole pepperoni pizza for dinner. Hey, that’s what happens when you burn thousands of caloreis every day. Walk like a horse; eat like a horse.
The next day we hiked up and over Bear Mountain and crossed the Hudson on the Bear Mountain Bridge. Who should I meet on the bridge? None other than Circuit Rider and Sherlock. Circuit Rider is the minister who I prayed with earlier and met again in New Jersey. As we walked across the bridge about two hundred feet above the Hudson, Cirucit Rider asked if I would like to pray. Of course, I immediately agreed. I don’t think you could find a better place to pray. It was as if we had wings and were flying to heaven. I’m sure the sailboats that passed underneath were wondering what in the heck were those two guys doing on the bridge.
Of course, the highlight of the NY hike was another spiritual moment, a stay at the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center. Graymoor is a retreat center and headquarters for the Franciscan Friars and Sisters of the Atonement. Indeed, it is a very spiritual place. Just the kind of refuge for a weary hiker. As I was walking around the grounds, I was introduced to Brother Pius, a retired friar who is the center’s groundskeeper, archivist, and historian. When I told Brother Pius that I was a history buff and fascinated with the history of the center, he told me to hop in his car. And off we went for the grand tour that included all of the chapels, the founder’s tomb, the prayer gardens, and abandoned structure that was to be the national shrine to Saint Anthony. After visiting the chapel that housed the shed that Father Paul, the founder of the order, lived for nearly a year, we were off to the chapel of St. Francis of Assisi, the highlight of the tour. Unbelievable! Inside the chapel was an altar that once stood over the site where St. Francis received his stigmata (the wounds of Christ). And above the altar was a statue of St. Francis. The face of the statue was made from one of the two known death masks of St. Francis. One is at Graymoor and the other at Assisi. The face was sad and mournful but also very contemplative. Realistic is an understatement. It was so life-like that I expected Saint Francis to step down the altar. With it’s tall wood pews and stained glass windows (the inside of this small chapel resembled a cathedral), it was kind of spooky having St. Franics peer down at you. Before leaving, Brother Pius asked if I would like to pray with him, and pray we did. The visit at Graymoor was the highlight of the day, the week, and the month.
On Wednesday, I stopped at Fahnestock State Park where I swam in the lake and lounged on the beach. What a great way to spend a few hours on a summer afternoon. They even had a grill at the concession stand. NY has some great state parks! Kudos to the NY state park system and their personnel.
Hope to be out of Connecticut within four days! The prayers and miles arre starting to pile up. Keep the prayers and donations coming! As always, hike in peace and hike with your angels!

Son-Dance