The Poop Talk, Act I: A Series of Anecdotes of a Pro Wilderness Pooper
Yes, Dear Readers, this is just as potty-mouthed and gnarly as the title suggests.
Although maybe we don’t exactly like to discuss such things, especially over dinner, we adventurers must acknowledge that poop happens, and there is not always a nice clean porcelain throne accompanied with a door for privacy on hand every time one needs to go.
Pooping in the outdoors, as everyone knows, I am sure, comes with a variety of challenges. Please keep in mind while reading this, that these stories are, unfortunately, and hilariously, personal experience, and completely situationally dependent.
How to properly deal with human waste, often changes with where you are, how many are in your group, and so on.
For example: sometimes, you bury your poo, and in other cases, you pack it out. This is all with regards to how well things break down in the climate you are in, and how heavily trafficked the area may be. Sometimes you dig latrines, other times, you spread it out. Some of this is preference, and some of this is unwritten code.
Always be sure to deal with waste in a proper, ethical way, and respect other visitors, as well as the land you are in.
As you read this, you may laugh, you may go “eeeew”. Maybe you will find it brutal, or maybe you will guffaw, and say to yourself “Pshhh. That’s nothing. This one time, when I was pooping in the woods…”
And so, if you have a story of your own that you would like to share, you can send it to us through our Contact Us page. Poop is always funny, no matter how old you are. That’s a fact!
May these experiences enlighten you, and perhaps serve as a lesson on some do’s and don’ts.
Readers beware, and please enjoy a good ole fashioned poop talk.
This isn’t Poop, Just Pee…. a Whole Birkenstockful.
It was nearing the end of a 16 day fly-in canoe trip. We were camped in the sunshine on a beautiful sandbar inside a canyon. This trip in particular, was with friends. A personal trip, not one that I was working. This allowed for a loose schedule, and a lot more Baileys in the coffee.
It was late in the morning, and we were slowly getting ready to get back on the water. I disappeared into the bushes to pee.
The ground at this site was soft and sandy. I had brought my trusty Birkenstocks along on this trip for kicking it around camp (For those of you who don’t know me, socks and sandals are pretty much my iconic fashion statement).
I popped a pro squat, and let loose.
While hearing the sand turn into mud, I glanced around at the sunny trees and sighed wistfully.
I quickly cleaned up, and hiked up my camping pants.
The warmth from the sun felt amazing. In fact, even my feet felt warm…..
Ah.
It appears that my sock-and-sandaled foot had sunk into the sand, and my morning routine coffee output results had pooled around my foot, and filled my sandal with my very own pee, soaking my wool sock.
Warm indeed.
Some eco-friendly dish soap, and some river water cleaned up my sandal and sock….and I then had to put them back on, and went about my day.
Coffee and its Effect on the Body: A “Gross” Underestimation
Now, it was but a few days earlier, on the very same trip as mentioned above (I was just having a hard time this trip, give me a break), that we had decided to enjoy an extraordinarily warm morning, and drink several times more coffee than usual. Pair that with some chocolate buckwheat pancakes, and boy, your intestines are a well-oiled machine.
This campsite was on a flat plain, bereft of bushes. In order to find privacy, you had to hike for about 10 minutes, up to a ridge, where there was a small bundle of shrubs, like a...pooping oasis in an otherwise barren, privacy-starved landscape.
Now, having mastered the art of *le squat*, my technique consisted (and still does) of using a small garden trowel, and cutting a circle in the earth. You then remove the circular chunk of dirt, and voila! Your own personal pit.
My aim is flawless; Position to pee...done, right leg one step forward annnnnd...rrgh...done.
Oh boy.
As it turned out, I had completely underestimated the amount in which my approximate 6 L of coffee would produce in regards to the modest mini-pit I had just dug into the rocky earth. Certainly not in a current state to be buried.*
I get myself back in order and brace myself as I begin to dig carefully around my mistake, trying desperately not to touch anything with the shovel while re-digging the hole.
I must have been there three times longer than I would normally take, and I was praying no one would stumble upon me looking like I’m building a heinous poo-castle.
I snap a couple of twigs off of one of the shrubs, and chopstick that bad boy further into the pit. I grab rocks, and shovel some dirt, until finally, the deed is done.
The place looks like a war zone, but it is over. I sanitize, and look up to see some wild blueberries. I pop a couple into my mouth before skipping back down the ridge like I hadn’t just undergone the most trying number two I think I’ve ever had.
*On this trip, it was acceptable to bury your waste in a shallow cathole. We then packed and burned toilet paper and any other hygienic paper materials. All plastics were carried out.
By Mikeala Shaw