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07/26/2010 04:19PM |
quote marc bates: "We stayed 3 days on Rolland and being in the Q we had no toilet. We found not far from camp the perfect tree for taking a #2. It was just the right size to sit on and hang your butt over the side, and it was just the right height about three feet off the ground lying vertical where it's end had wedged into another tree. He had 4 adult males and tree services us all three days. Everyday you just slid down a little further. By the end of the trip it looked like a group of Indian burial mounds set in a straight line. When we got back to the U.S. and toilets, someone would ask "how is the toilet?" and the reply would always be "it ain't like our tree".
Story #2
My father, grandfather and I went deer hunting. My grandfather had just bought some new thermals, which was a onezy, and was very proud of how warm they were. We get out in the woods and I was with my grandfather. We weren't there very long in the blind when he suddenly stands up and says I have to take a crap, and leaves. The problem was he didn't come back. I became concerned and went and got my dad and said "we need to find pa, I think something happened". We went out on search and found him standing in a field next to the woods, butt naked with nothing but his boots and hat on, next to a raging fire. Turned out he didn't make it and crapped his pants. He stripped down to clean himself up. He used the clean upper section to wipe off. He said that we was freezing so he set fire to them and then started to put wood on it that was lying around. He said it was to cold to come find us so he figured he would just wait for us. Needless to say my dad and I were crying we were laughing so hard. I can never get the picture of my naked grandpa standing next to a fire in the woods. Thank god we were the ones to find him."
Story #2: Priceless (am typing this through tears of laughter)
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07/26/2010 09:18PM |
Angleworm trip: The scoop on the poop
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07/26/2010 10:26PM |
quote Nordic77: "Well paddlers, I'm writing a book about great crap stories. If you're men, I don't care how refined you are, there's nothing like a good crap story; and there are many.
My question is this. Would you buy and read such a book? Years ago someone wrote a book titled, "How to Crap in the Woods". It's a practical book, but not a story book.
Some of the most lively and entertaining camp stories centers around this very fundamental and natural human process, i.e., taking a crap.
Which begs the question: why do we say "take a crap" when in actuality we "leave a crap"?
But I digress . . . "
Nordic - I have a younger brother that could probably provide several chapters worth of material for you, along with pictures and diagrams. He could also be a heavy contributor to a urine-themed sequel.
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07/26/2010 11:56PM |
I guess I'm a snob.
But you might sell more copies, if the pages are perforated.
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07/27/2010 07:21AM |
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07/24/2010 11:26AM |
My question is this. Would you buy and read such a book? Years ago someone wrote a book titled, "How to Crap in the Woods". It's a practical book, but not a story book.
Some of the most lively and entertaining camp stories centers around this very fundamental and natural human process, i.e., taking a crap.
Which begs the question: why do we say "take a crap" when in actuality we "leave a crap"?
But I digress . . .
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07/24/2010 12:04PM |
quote PineKnot: "You're sick, N77...time for a dump...:-)"
Here's a sample story. All stories, by the way, are verifiably true.
The Cuticle Crap
It was a wilderness adventure in Alaska; on the Kenai River, after breakfast, early morning.
As is the case with some wilderness craps where time is not of the essence, where the luxury of site location is possible, and actual thought can be invested when and exactly where, such was the case for Jim.
He left camp after announcing to the other three men, "I have to take a sh**!" Proper camp etiquette usually requires such announcements to anyone within earshot.
With high expectations, Jim left camp in search of the perfect spot.
Imagine his luck when, a short while later, he had found the perfect spot. A cedar tree, growing horizontally and low to the ground before arching toward the sky like the limbs of a bow, would provide him the perfect seat.
And the view was magnificent. A splendid panorama of the Kenai stretched before him. An eagle soared overhead. The morning air was damp, the sun was shining brightly, and the scent of cedar filled his nostrils. It was indeed, the perfect spot.
Before depositing the previous day's salmon dinner, Jim was suddenly overcome with a rare emotion; "I can't just crap on top of the beautiful and soft moss", he thought, almost outloud.
And so, with his right hand, Jim began to scrape away a layer of moss and assorted plant life in order to create a shallow depression for his soon-to-be deposit. Afterwards, he would cover it up, cat-like if you will.
Jim began his minor excavation with his fingertips when, confusingly, he felt something warm, something wet, something oddly foreign in such an environment.
Curious about the sensation, he momentarily stopped his project and examined his fingertips, his fingernails, his cuticles.
To his horror and utter disbelief, Jim suddenly realized that his perfect spot, the spot he searched for and concluded to be the absolute perfect spot to take a crap, was, just minutes prior, chosen by one of his camp mates as, you guessed it, his own perfect spot.
To this day, Jim's camp mate still fondly recalls the pitiful screams echoing across the Kenai with, as you might expect, a great deal of pride.
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07/24/2010 12:27PM |
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07/24/2010 05:09PM |
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07/24/2010 05:19PM |
Yeah, write that book. We'll read it :)
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07/24/2010 05:30PM |
The date was early August, 1991.
The place was somewhere between Madison and White Lake, Wisconsin.
The time was early afternoon.
I was on a 220-mile bike ride - don't remember if it was Day 1 or Day 2 - and it was hot. I had been keeping well-hydrated and stopped many times to pee. Unfortunately, I had not been keeping well-evacuated.
I recognized that the irritation I felt was not just my aching butt. Something urgent was about to happen and I needed - desperately - to accommodate it. Ahead, the road turned to the left, and a shaded farm lane continued straight ahead. From the amount of shrubby overgrowth, it looked like the lane hadn't been used in quite some time. Ahh, a perfect place to duck off the road and lighten my load.
I pulled in and made sure I would be invisible to any traffic. Then I retrieved the little roll of TP from my pannier and settled in for a relaxing moment. I will "relieve" you of the ensuing details and share the most salient aspect of this little detour: mosquitoes. Hundreds - no, thousands - no, millions of them. About all I'll say is that I was somehow able to minimize the bites taken out of the only places I couldn't scratch while riding. The next couple of hours were miserable enough to make me wonder if it might have been better to have just kept riding, regardless of the consequences.
To this day, for some reason looking at a shady lane in midsummer makes me itch.
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07/24/2010 06:04PM |
quote Koda: "OK, don't say you didn't ask....
The date was early August, 1991.
The place was somewhere between Madison and White Lake, Wisconsin.
The time was early afternoon.
I was on a 220-mile bike ride - don't remember if it was Day 1 or Day 2 - and it was hot. I had been keeping well-hydrated and stopped many times to pee. Unfortunately, I had not been keeping well-evacuated.
I recognized that the irritation I felt was not just my aching butt. Something urgent was about to happen and I needed - desperately - to accommodate it. Ahead, the road turned to the left, and a shaded farm lane continued straight ahead. From the amount of shrubby overgrowth, it looked like the lane hadn't been used in quite some time. Ahh, a perfect place to duck off the road and lighten my load.
I pulled in and made sure I would be invisible to any traffic. Then I retrieved the little roll of TP from my pannier and settled in for a relaxing moment. I will "relieve" you of the ensuing details and share the most salient aspect of this little detour: mosquitoes. Hundreds - no, thousands - no, millions of them. About all I'll say is that I was somehow able to minimize the bites taken out of the only places I couldn't scratch while riding. The next couple of hours were miserable enough to make me wonder if it might have been better to have just kept riding, regardless of the consequences.
To this day, for some reason looking at a shady lane in midsummer makes me itch."
Holy crap, Koda. That's a funny story.
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07/24/2010 11:53AM |
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07/24/2010 12:35PM |
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07/24/2010 04:53PM |
quote Nordic77: "... If you're men, I don't care how refined you are, there's nothing like a good crap story; and there are many. ...
"
At first I was a little taken aback by this, but given the volume of poop humor usage in current popular "culture", we must enjoy a good cr@p story. Examples: South Park, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, American Pie, Austin Powers,
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07/24/2010 11:03PM |
Poop threads are better than cell tower and mining threads...certainly more entertaining
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07/24/2010 11:35PM |
Those buggers are viscious!
This trip used to be wn annual one. We tried once to make the ritual bugless, but the "potty tent" just didn't quite work out. (an old tent with the bottom cut out)
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07/24/2010 11:06PM |
Winter 1974. I was 14 and hunting with my two young friends behind their house in western Pa. We each had on these brand new red one piece hunting suites that we were so proud of. While standing at the bottom of a hollow near the crick Mike makes mention that he has to do the dirty deed. His brother and I stood waiting, discussing white tail strategies I suppose, as Mike disappeared into the crabapple thicket brand new hunting suite and all. Did I mention that these brand new hunting suites had hoods on them???
Now if your vivid imagination has taken you to the inevitable,go one step further by imagining what Mike looked and felt and oh yes, smelled like when he unknowingly threw that hood over his head!
Needless to say that by the time we caught up to him, he was a bit,,,blemished.
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07/25/2010 09:57AM |
quote nojobro: "Koda, my uncle had a similar story from canoe camping on the wisconsin river. When he came back to camp, it was at a run while screaming, his roll of tp gripped tightly in his hand, the end fluttering madly in his wake.
Those buggers are viscious!
This trip used to be wn annual one. We tried once to make the ritual bugless, but the "potty tent" just didn't quite work out. (an old tent with the bottom cut out) "
Speaking of the Wis. River, I could tell a story about a friend and his wife who stopped with us on the shore one day for a lunch break, and her going into some vegetation to relieve herself and getting poison ivy, and how she's extremely sensitive to it, and how a week later she was pretty durn uncomfortable on the trip to Germany, and how it didn't clear up until about a month later, but I'd rather let her tell it, and she isn't about to.
So sorry, no story.
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07/25/2010 10:49AM |
I just might appreciate a good crap book to read. Go for it.
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07/25/2010 11:55AM |
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07/24/2010 10:07PM |
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07/25/2010 10:28AM |
unionsuit
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07/25/2010 10:09AM |
Darn kids!
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07/26/2010 08:19AM |
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07/26/2010 10:44AM |
Story #2
My father, grandfather and I went deer hunting. My grandfather had just bought some new thermals, which was a onezy, and was very proud of how warm they were. We get out in the woods and I was with my grandfather. We weren't there very long in the blind when he suddenly stands up and says I have to take a crap, and leaves. The problem was he didn't come back. I became concerned and went and got my dad and said "we need to find pa, I think something happened". We went out on search and found him standing in a field next to the woods, butt naked with nothing but his boots and hat on, next to a raging fire. Turned out he didn't make it and crapped his pants. He stripped down to clean himself up. He used the clean upper section to wipe off. He said that we was freezing so he set fire to them and then started to put wood on it that was lying around. He said it was to cold to come find us so he figured he would just wait for us. Needless to say my dad and I were crying we were laughing so hard. I can never get the picture of my naked grandpa standing next to a fire in the woods. Thank god we were the ones to find him.