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