The voyageurs knew a thing or two about keeping going. Whether they were crossing the big northern lakes or hauling their 300‑pound canots du nord over eight‑mile‑long portages, the canoemen took regular breaks. They called these brief respites “pipes,” and for good reason: each one lasted just long enough to smoke a pipe of tobacco. That won’t have done much for their aerobic capacity, of course, but the voyageurs also took advantage of their hourly pipes to refuel, wolfing down a handful of berries or a hunk of buffalo pemmican, followed by a couple of dipperfuls of water. Then they got back to work.

Such short breaks are as important today for cyclists, paddlers, and hikers as they were for the voyageurs or yore. We may not be hauling commercial goods on our bikes, in our boats, and on our backs, but our engines still need fuel. If we try to run them on empty for very long, we end up burning body fat to keep going. And while even the skinniest trekker has plenty of this stored fat‑fuel to keep going for many miles, it’s a little like trying to run a car on wood. It can be done, but it’s not terribly efficient. Endurance athletes speak feelingly of “the bonk,” a hapless state when muscles turn to jelly and energy drains away. This doesn’t sound like much fun, and sure enough, it isn’t. So it’s worth a little forethought to keep the bonk at bay.

Which means that anything more than a leisurely out‑and‑back from home has to be a moveable feast. That sounds great, doesn’t it? There’s no need to count calories. No worries about stepping on the scale next day. Suddenly, between‑meal snacks are no longer a sin. They’re a necessity. But there’s a downside. After a while, you simply grow tired of snacking. Or, more accurately, you grow tired of snacking on the same old things, day in and day out. It’s happened to me many times.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I have a long list of eat‑on‑the go favorites, from Hundred‑Mile Bars to chocolate to homemade GORP, and if I ever tire of plain water to drink, I can always swig Newt Nectar. Yet even these have been known to pall, sometimes as soon as the second day of a trip. Which is why I’m always on the lookout for variations on the theme. And I found one just recently, in a most unlikely place: the breakfast aisle at the local HyperMart. Credit nostalgia. Or hunger. Or some subtle marketing ploy that I was too addle‑brained to resist. Whatever the cause, I found myself putting Pop‑Tarts in my shopping cart…Read more…

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