I used to consider myself a backpacker: I thru-hiked the 132-mile Northville Placid Trail with my thenboyfriend in 2001 and Vermont’s 273-mile Long Trail with my now-husband for our honeymoon in 2003. It rained 18 out of the 32 days we were on the trail. So much rain, we renamed it The Long River—it was not the honey-moon we had planned, but oh well, we were hard-core backpackers. After hiking the entire length of Vermont, I looked like Rosie the Riveter when I reached the Canadian border.
But then life brought my husband and me the responsibilities of three children, two careers and maintenance for a 100-year-old house. Backpacking held no appeal. My own bed, clean sheets, ceiling fan, hot shower, and coffee that brewed itself were all I wanted once I became a parent. The idea of carrying food and bedding and water and instant coffee on my back, miles through the woods to sleep restlessly
