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! Read more »

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