Don’t Call It A Comeback – The New England Trail

I always knew it would be trial by fire.

Some of you might remember a timid former corporate girl finding her way to the MA/VT border in June of 2023 with a bunch of heavily-researched gear, but not much experience to speak of (fake it ’til you make it, right?) For 21 days, I fought my way through heat waves, drought, black flies, torrential freezing rain, wildfire smoke, grueling climbs, and a lot of solitude to reach the Canadian Border. Made many rookie mistakes, but my biggest takeaway? I’m capable of a lot more than I realized.

The following year in 2024, I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail – but not without hardship. Broken bones, norovirus, malnutrition, a tooth infection, complications at home, and resurfacing trauma made the actual hiking of 2197.4 miles the easy part. Despite it all, I made it to Katahdin from Amicalola Falls in 134 days, with a trim pack and wisdom gained from my first thru-hike in tow.

2025 was a year of feeling directionless (aren’t I supposed to be heading north?) Lots of factors in my life changed; I moved to a new state, pivoted careers, and decided I needed to prioritize finding my joy again. The AT changed my life; I’ve never felt more of a sense of belonging than I have on trail. Unable to take much time off work, I signed up for a trail race on a whim. I looked at it as an excuse to get back out there and see what I was made of.

Which leads me to an unexpected blue blaze..

On many of my training runs, I’d see signs for the New England National Scenic Trail. It was on my radar, but not exactly a priority. It’s less developed than many other trails, designated campsites are mandatory to stay at and few-and-far between. The NET features a lot of road walks, lacks the sweeping views found further north, and isn’t exactly easy logistics-wise. It is, however, right in my backyard.

I thought how I felt in CT and MA while on the Appalachian Trail. My off-trail life crumbled about halfway through my journey, but by the time I got there I began to feel like myself again. Quaint little towns felt like home, reminiscent of childhood summers spent in New England. Rolling hills, views from modest traprock peaks, and the changing mountain air was a sign of promise that better things were to come. I pushed big miles and truly enjoyed the rest of my hike. Then I considered what it means to be a thru-hiker and how to juggle that identity with ‘real life’. To me, it’s always been if you want it badly enough, you’ll make it happen.

So in about a month, I’ll be heading SOBO this time (crazy, I know!) 235 mi from the NH/MA border to the Long Island Sound. The kicker? I’ve only got about a week to do it. Remember the ‘juggling trail life and real life part’? Averaging around a 50k (31.3 mi) a day seems unattainable, but the truth is – if the sun is out, I’m on my feet hiking. That’s just how I like it.

Dancing, daydreaming, or carrying the weight of the world.

For this trail, I’m trying out a true ultralight setup. I’m swapping my tent for a tarp, leaving some ‘luxuries’ at home, and squeezing it all into a 22L frameless day pack. Minimal, but it matches my hiking style. Lightening the load just makes big miles a little easier. Spring in New England can be a toss-up with erratic weather and mud season on the horizon. Mentally, I’m preparing for early mornings and brutally long days on my feet. But pounding the dirt has an innate way of clearing the mind. I’ve hiked big days before, but not in succession quite like this. It might be hard, but it will be fun – and just what I need.

A week is just enough time to go feral and back again. Looking forward to embracing everything this little trail has to offer.