Date: 2018-05-07
From: US19E

To: Upper Laurel Fork
Miles today: 12.7
Weather: clear sky

Everybody poops. When my boys were little they received a book with a title similar to that. On each page there were pictures of animals out in nature. If you lifted the flap with the picture of the rock on it, underneath you would find the poop. If you slid the slider with the picture of the tree, well behind the tree you would find poop. The AT is exactly like that. The difference is, the animals poop smack dab in the middle of the trail...but they are allowed to. It is the humans who do a lousy job of disposing of their waste properly. Putting a rock on it or doing it behind a tree is not proper disposal. Dig a hole. Burry it. So, I knew right from the start that I would have to poop when I was out on the AT. Obviously! Everybody poops! But, here is what I thought. I am a very regular predictable pooper. First thing in the morning, I get it done. No problem. Shelters have privys. I¢m good to go.Then day three happened and changed my world. There was no privy at Lance Creek. But, never mind that. In the evening I ventured way out into the trees with my pee rag to tinkle in private. Unexpectedly and without warning my bowels decided to get in on the purge. I was totally unprepared. No trowel. No TP. Luckily the ground was covered in dried up leaves. They would have to do. I used a stick to attempt a burial, but really it was only half hearted. I was more focused on the dry leaves that were no doubt stuck to my butt and was totally put off and upset by the untimely discharge. Day three and I had already failed at ¢leave no trace.¢ This of course would not be the first upset to my plans pertaining to pooping in the privies. Even the shelters aren¢t guaranteed to have a privy. In the Smokies they really mess you up. At one Shelter you¢ll see a sign pointing you to a ¢toilet area¢. This is just a designated pooping place in the trees. You, like a hundred people before you, will want to hide yourself behind some obstacle as you go....a tree, a stump, a bush. But the obstacles are few and the one you pick will undoubtedly have been used before. Maybe the person before you used a trowel and maybe they didn¢t. You just never know. So you come to dread pooping in the Smokies, but then, low and behold, you come to a shelter in Smokey Mountain National Park that actually has a privy. Not just any privy either. In other places on the trail, some privies have no doors on them. Some have a door that touches your knees if you close it. Not these privies in the Smokies though. They are BIG and spacious. In fact, they have ramps, handle railings and pictorial instructions showing you how to use the privy from your wheel chair. Say what!!Yes indeed, the privies in the Smokies mountains on the Appalachian Trail are wheelchair accessible. Good grief! Obviously by now I have come to terms with the fact that I have to put my trowel to use on a regular basis. I¢ve even found a method that I feel the most comfortable with. It involves selecting a location where there is a tree strong enough to support my weight but thin enough that I can grasp the trunk firmly with one hand. I dig my hole close by, grasp the tree then squat. (hovering over a hole with my pants down and NOT grasping a tree is just way too precarious) My success rate at actually making it into the hole is actually quite low. A stick will do the trick to roll it into place though (I never use my trowel or boot for poop relocation). Pooping in the woods is just a natural part of my life now, but you won¢t find what I leave behind by lifting a flap or sliding a slide. You¢ll have to dig.Now, you may be wondering what brought on this dirty discourse on dung.  Diarrhea.After two days of rest, Mark drove Cole and I back to where he had dropped us off. It was hard to say goodbye again, especially to my son Evan.The weather was favourable and the trail was beautiful, but by the afternoon my stomach and my bowels had completely turned against me. I couldn¢t dive behind a bush fast enough. Like, mess in the pants not fast enough. Ugh! I cleaned myself up, got back on the trail and almost instantly had to dive behind the bushes again. I was feeling just fine despite having ¢the trots¢ as my grandmother would have called it. However after four or five episodes my energy was completely drained.About two miles from where we intended to stop for the night, we encountered trail magic. A cold soda and a tangerine were a huge blessing at that moment. They gave me the energy I needed to get to camp.I pulled out my little camping basin and soap, cleaned up my clothes and hung them to dry....right before another emergency dive behind the laurels. Too late! Ugh! Out came the wash basin and Dr Bronners once again.I had an unhappy night sleeping in my rain pants to prevent myself from soiling my bedding.