Written by The_Obese_Hiker

The weather this week has been less “summer breeze” and more “walking through a hot armpit in hiking boots.”

There’s a special kind of suffering that comes from hiking in hot, muggy weather. Not the picture-perfect “summer walk” your office mates bang on about. No, I’m talking about the real kind. The type where your shirt fuses to your back within five minutes, your thighs have already filed for divorce, and you’re mentally drafting your own will halfway up a hill named something like “Crag of Despair.”

If that sounds familiar, congratulations - you’re a fat hiker in the British summer. And you’re doing better than you think.

☁️ The Lie of “Perfect Weather”

It always starts the same: someone says “It’s perfect weather for a walk!” And because you’ve got the optimism of someone who hasn’t yet left the house, you believe them. You pack your snacks, lace up your boots, and stride out feeling positive.

Five minutes in, you’re sweating. Ten minutes in, your inner thighs have begun a friction-based protest. By the half-hour mark, you’ve developed a personal raincloud under your backpack straps and made at least three deals with whatever deity handles cloud cover.

It’s not walking. It’s wilting with forward motion.

🐌 The Pace of the Overheating

Summer hiking, when you’re fat and flustered, is less about covering distance and more about surviving the distance. Forget PBs or smashing your Strava stats - you’re measuring progress in “how far did I get before my socks turned into puddles?”

And while you’re being overtaken by someone in Lycra skipping up the hill like they’re off to buy hummus, you’re back here sweating like a kettle and questioning everything.

But there’s pride in the plod. You’re still out there, still moving, still ignoring every instinct in your body telling you to lie down and weep into a bush.

🔥 Chafing: The Red-Bordered Reality

Let’s talk chafing. Because nobody else wants to. It’s the great, sweaty elephant in the room - or more accurately, between your thighs.

It starts as a tingle. Then a rub. Then before you know it, you’re speed-waddling like a toddler with a full nappy, trying to pretend you’re “just walking this way for a laugh.”

It affects everyone, but when you’ve got extra squidge and you’re sweating like a guilty man in court, it hits different. Underboob chafe. Waistband rub. The dreaded rucksack-back.

Helpful tip? Sudocrem, talc, anti-chafe balm, and the power of prayer. That’s your survival kit.
(Plus, maybe a funny mug for the post-hike brew that tells people exactly why you go outside.)

🌡️ Sweating in Places You Didn’t Know Could Sweat

Armpits? Standard. Back? Fair enough. But let’s talk about the rogue areas. Elbows. Knees. Shins. Ear creases. The inside of your elbow pits. Suddenly, every inch of you has joined the sweat club.

And your body doesn’t sweat like those Instagram fitness types with their “glow.” Oh no. You leak. You dribble. You finish the hike looking like a forgotten lasagne that's been left out in the sun.

People say sweat is your fat crying. No, love. Sweat is your spirit evaporating.

🦟 Midges, Swarms & Your Salty Face

And let’s not forget the wildlife. Nothing says “great hike” like being eaten alive by things smaller than your sense of dignity. Midges, horseflies, things that look like wasps but scream like demons.

They love the sweaty ones. Especially the ones who dared wear deodorant that smells remotely fruity. Suddenly, you’re a walking buffet. One hand swatting your own face, the other gripping your walking poles like you’re fencing an invisible enemy.

You wanted “back to nature?” Nature wants blood.

🧢 Clothing That Betrays You

You know what’s worse than overheating? Overheating in gear that was supposed to prevent it. That new “breathable” T-shirt? Might as well have worn a clingfilm poncho. Your moisture-wicking socks? Swamp. The hiking trousers that promised “anti-chafe seams?” Lying filth.

And no matter how many times you adjust your waistband, that one bit still rolls down and clings to your belly like it’s trying to burrow in for the long haul.

By the end, you look like you’ve been dragged backwards through a river in full kit.
(Might be time to check out our enamel mugs or bottle openers for that post-hike morale boost. If nothing else, you'll be well equipped for the “drink it off” stage.)

🤬 Why We Still Do It

Because - somehow - it’s still worth it.

That stupid sense of achievement when you reach the top. The smug first sip of your flask brew while the wind tries to blow your hat into Wales. The wild satisfaction of looking at your red face in a phone selfie and thinking, “You didn’t quit. You absolute sweaty legend.”

Because even though you’re fat, sweaty, wheezing, raw-thighed and possibly bleeding somewhere unmentionable - you showed up. You got out. You fought the hill, and you won. (Sort of.)

And that? That’s something most people won’t do. They’ll sit in front of the fan and moan about how “it’s too warm to move.” Meanwhile, you’re out there building character one soggy step at a time.

🏕️ Tips for Hiking in the Hellish Humidity

• Anti-chafe everything. Balm, shorts, Sudocrem - this is not the time to be shy.

• Hydrate or die-drate. More water than you think. Then double it.

• Breathable fabrics? Test them before you trust them.

• Spare pants. Always. Don’t ask.

• Microfibre towel. Not glamorous, but essential.

• Walk slow, moan loud, laugh often. Bonus points for sarcasm at every stile.

🩳 Highly Recommended Gear: Chafe-Free Boxers for the Win

Let’s not beat around the inner-thigh bush here. If there’s one bit of kit that’s saved more hikes than any fancy GPS watch, it’s chafe-free boxers.

Moisture-wicking, thigh-protecting, confidence-restoring undercrackers.

If you’re still hiking in regular cotton pants and wondering why your legs feel like they’ve been lightly sandblasted - this is your intervention. Ditch the Poundland multipack and invest in a pair that actually wants you to succeed.
👉 Find them on my gear page.

Whether you're hiking the Yorkshire 3 Peaks or just chasing the ice cream van, they’re the single most important layer between you and a painful waddle.

🧭 In Summary

You might not be the fastest. You might not be the fittest. But if you’re hiking in muggy weather, with your thighs clapping and your fringe stuck to your face, you’re doing something most people wouldn’t dare.

You’re the kind of stubborn, sweaty hero we salute here at The Obese Hiker.

So go forth, brave the swamp air, and when someone asks “Was it worth it?” - just smile through the burn and say,
“Absolutely. Now pass me a beer and a fan.”

💥 Before You Go - Let’s Plug Some Stuff

🔥 Product of the Week:
Powered by Brews & Bad Decisions enamel mugs - because if you’re going to be red-faced and mildly dehydrated, you might as well have a good brew at the summit.

👉 Check out our full For Him and For Her collections for more sarcastic outdoors nonsense.

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