
Have you ever had that 3pm feeling on day three where you're moving like you've got a hangover, making dumb little decisions, and you can't work out why?
You're not tired. You're underfed.
And here's the cruel part. You don't feel hungry. You feel exhausted. So you skip the snack, push for camp, and roll in worse than you needed to be.
I've watched this drop fit, well-trained hikers more times than I can count. Lunch comes around, half the group isn't hungry, they pass. By three the legs have gone heavy and the brain's foggy. By camp they're straight into the tent. The trip starts shrinking from the inside.
The reason is simple, and once you see it you can't unsee it. When you're working hard day after day, your hunger signals lag behind what you're actually burning. Your body's flat out keeping you upright, so the hunger message turns up late. So by the time you feel hungry on day three, you're not five minutes from needing food. You're an hour past it.
That's why "eat when you're hungry" falls apart on a multi-day. It's fine on a Saturday morning at a cafe. It does not work at hour seven in the wilderness with a 17-kilo pack on your back.
So stop asking. Eat on the clock instead.
Every 60 to 90 minutes, something goes in. Doesn't matter what. Calories beat variety out here. Just don't let the tank hit empty. Set a watch alarm if you have to. The first few times I did it, it felt mechanical and a bit silly. A couple of trips later it was just how I hike. The afternoons stopped collapsing. Camp stopped being brutal. I started finishing days with something left in reserve.
The other half is killing the friction, because willpower is the first thing to go when you're cooked. Most snacks never get eaten. They're buried in the top of the pack, and stopping to dig them out feels like more effort than just pushing on.
If reaching the snack takes more than ten seconds, you'll skip it. If it's already in your hand, you'll eat it.

So I load my hip belt pockets with the stuff I want every 60 to 90 minutes. Bars, nuts, dried fruit, jerky, chocolate. Grab it without breaking stride. Calorie-dense and actually tasty, because if it's boring you won't touch it when you're tired. I rotate salty and sweet, both pull you back online in different ways. And I keep one easy reset item for the worst point of the day, usually something warm and sweet like a hot drink or a soup. Works on grumpy adults. Works on kids.
And yes, your body's got fat stored, and it can learn to run on it. Some people train for exactly that, and good on them. But a lot of us haven't, and day three of a big trip is a rotten place to find out you're not one of them.
There's also something I won't apologise for. I like the snack. I like having something to look forward to at the worst point of the climb, and I like knowing there's a proper feed waiting at camp. Half of hiking is morale, and a salty handful at the right moment does more for mine than any amount of stored fat.
Try this next trip. Set a watch alarm for every 75 minutes. Each beep, you eat. Don't ask if you're hungry. Just eat. Doesn’t need to be much, just a handful of fuel to fed the engine. Pre-load your hip belt with seven snacks for the day, easy reach, no fumbling.
You'll feel it in the afternoon. Not in some vague way. You'll just keep moving.
THAT’S ALL FOR THIS WEEK
Thanks for reading Mowser’s Musings. I hope this helps you hike further and happier.
Until next week, keep exploring.
Mowser

Discover more. Hike further.
P.S. Lately I've been hooked on my own home-dehydrated meals. Three of my favourites are written up as free recipe cards here.
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