Potty Training

Birds do it. Bees do it…oops, wrong subject. Bears do it. Yup, they do.  Now you know, the answer is yes if you are ever asked.  I know my dog does it, and amazingly, without any training at all, does so, politely, off trail.  However, we do keep the doggie waste bag companies in business.

 

What the heck am I talking about? I am talking about toileting in the woods.

It is true that men do have the advantage to be able to pee standing up.  Women, however, have excelled in the art of utilizing toilets, especially public bathrooms. We twist and turn, squat, lean on an elbow, whatever it takes so as not to touch any surfaces.  If you have mastered that skill you can go ahead and get out into the woods with confidence, knowing that when it comes to peeing outside, you can utilize the squat without touching anything technique and have success.

However, I think both sexes can agree that we are pretty much equal when it comes to, how to say this politely…..pooping outside.  This is a learned skill and can have negative results because it takes a little longer to do the deed than pee. 

You might ask why bring up such a less than desirable topic of conversation.  Well, two things, wait, three reasons why….the first is our own wilderness toilet misadventure, one of many I am sure will take place, that was just so wicked funny for all of us, well, except one, at the time, but now we all can look back and laugh.

While on an overnight camping adventure, my partner experienced one of the very fears that probably prevents most women from venturing out into the woods for a long period of time in the first place. There is the general toileting fear, but the most dreaded fear of all - will my legs cramp and give out?  My partner tried their best to prepare for it, found the ideal spot; braced themselves against a downed limb; everything is a go, until…your worst fear happens and your legs do give out and your full weight shifts tcompletely onto that limb.   note to self… be sure the log you prop yourself up against will support your full weight.

My partner seemed to be gone a very long time simply taking care of business. I began to wonder if they got lost or got attacked by some wild beast. Of all the things that could have happened to my them out there in the wild woods of NH, getting impaled by a tree limb already on the ground was not at the top of this city girl’s list. We have hiked on windy days, and even walked in our yard, as branches fell all around. Not once have we been "attacked" by branches on the ground. 

I soon learned their time was not being taken up answering nature’s call, or wandering around lost, but from pulling shards of splinted tree parts out of their arse; all the while trying to stand back up after the limb collapsed beneath them.  Picture if you will, pants twisted down around your ankles, you are experiencing pain, literally in the butt, and you are now attempting to stand on the very legs that collapsed beneath you in the first place, all while trying to pluck pieces of bark and branches out that are embedded in your butt. It is not every day you have to assist in first aid because of a snapped tree limb that left toothpick like debris stuck in someone’s butt… I, of course, thought it was hysterical, that sort of crazy laughter that comes when you see someone trip and fall and you laugh so hard trying to help them up. 

The second reason I share this questionable subject matter is, shortly after the “incident”, my partner received a couple of helpful books on the matter from good friends,  “How to Shit in the Woods” by Kathleen Meyer, and “Up Shit Creek – A Collection of Horrifyingly True Wilderness Toilet Misadventures” by Joe Lindsay.  We were surprised to learn that these are two of many books out there on the subject. A side note here is one of these gems came from the same good friend, (who will now be known as Double K), who suggested I read “Not Without Peril” by Nicholas Howe, before climbing Mount Washington for “inspiration” she said. (See previous blog Seek the Peak) I see a wicked sinister sense of humor being revealed…and love it!  The books might have been more beneficial prior to overnight stays in the woods, but serve as a pleasant reminder of how something so simple can be so challenging.

The third reason, in case you are still counting, is it gives me a chance to share a funny scene from a cute chick flick starring Renee Zellweger and Harry Connick, Jr, called “New in Town”. It is how I felt about the matter early on in my outdoor adventures. Ms. Zellweger’s character is a high class, MBA type from a Fortune 500 type of company in Miami and Connick is a Union president at a food processing plant in a blue-collar town in Minnesota.  The typical story of two different worlds colliding, culture shock, learning, adapting, falling in love, blah blah blah type of film. There is a great scene where the female lead character is on a hunting trip with the blue-collar guys and of course nature calls. I just love this scene. The banter between the City gal from Miami and the Foreman of the processing company, in a classic Minnesotan accent is priceless:

Stu: “Are you such a city girl
you can't pee outside?”

Lucy: delivered with just the right amount of sarcasm...“You see, Stu, that's just one
of the advantages of being a city girl……You don't have to.”

I don’t deny I still take full advantage of being a city girl, hitting the indoor restrooms, or in a desperate pinch, a porta potty, whenever possible before heading out on any outdoor trek. My plan continues to be avoiding having to do any toileting in the woods in the first place. Tease me if you must for wanting to stop en route to any destination to use actual toilet facilities, but this City Girl, lacking in rugged outdoor skills, has yet to be injured answering nature’s call. 

 

Seek the Peak Part One

A few months ago, a link came to my attention called “Seek the Peak.”  It is a fundraising event for the Mount Washington Observatory, whereby you climb Mount Washington on a summer day in the middle of July.  I forwarded this link to two friends whom I thought would be interested in participating, with me simply cheering them on and supporting their efforts.

Be careful what you forward to friends.  The surprise was on me when one replied that I had to do it.  That it would be great for me.  At the time, I was looking for just the right challenge, something to volunteer for, to give back in some way.  There it was, staring me in the face: “Washington or Bust.” 

How could I push something on friends that I wasn’t willing to commit to?  It would be the best opportunity and the timing was right.  My friend Kathy is an avid hiker and has enough experience to enable this city girl to enjoy the adventure, rather than hate every moment because I was out of my comfort zone.  I would in fact, feel as if I have my very own guide, if she could tolerate the numerous questions.  What to bring?  What trail? When to hit the trail?  What if it rains? Washington can be relentless as the sea around Cape Horn.  Do I have what it takes?  I’m not getting any younger.  I have someone willing to spend their free time with me to help me succeed.

I began to train shortly after Kathy confirmed she would participate the first week in May. My plan was to climb the stairs at work to my fourth floor office every day; to workout at least twice a week; to walk a mile or two and gradually work up to three to five; to continue with the Step class at the gym; and to lose 20 lbs.   I called Kathy to tell her the plan, which I thought was good start.  She politely agreed and strongly suggested I include long walks.  Thinking I was ahead of the game, I explained that I had mapped out specific two- and three-mile walking routes that included hills. Maintaining a positive attitude of encouragement, Kathy went on to define a long walk …8-10 miles…a day.   I should be grateful she didn’t suggest a long walk off a short pier. 

I started strong.  I included the recumbent stationary bike a few times a week, maxing out to date at 7.5 miles; utilized the treadmill, adjusting the elevation and speed periodically during the session, and ended the 3.1 mile walk with the last ¼ mile at maximum; did a quarter mile on this combo machine I associate with mountain climbers – which may not sound like much, but I previously lasted a minute.  I included extra “workouts” within my workday, took the stairs as much as possible regardless of whether was one flight or four, park farther away from store entrances, whatever would add to the momentum.  Nothing was standing in my way. 

Unfortunately, my sister ended up hospitalized for three plus weeks shortly after I began my plan.  The daily visits impacted my workout flow; I could no longer keep the rhythm. Then it hit me! I figured out if I parked at a friend’s house farther away, I could get in a long walk AND a steep hill and still visit my sister.  This certainly had to be better than nothing. Between this long walk and the full length of the hospital campus I managed to get in a mile or so one-way.  Still not the 8-10 miles, but I could feel the difference. After a couple of days I could do it with ease. I would throw in the 6 flights of stairs from time to time just for fun. The best advantage to date was walking from work to a local park for the firework festivities.  I carried an equipment backpack and 6lb tripod the mile and half AND proceeded to walk around for four hours with said weight covering the event.  Something must be working because it was not bad at all. I was juiced.  I even managed to attend a conference that required a tremendous amount of walking across a college campus.  This is when I opted to break-in my new hiking boots.  Much to my surprise, I faired better the day I wore the boots, with the proper socks, than I did with my trek shoes and cotton socks.  Yes, I know, cotton kills. 

My workout hasn’t been perfect.  I will no doubt lack grace in my hiking style.  It might take me a little longer than most.  I believe I have the proper gear, especially footwear. The weather, as of 4:00pm July 18th is looking pretty darn good for my first real mountain experience.  And...I got people…family and friends, with gifts of support and concern; someone crazy enough to hike with me; and a special someone who will be stressfully waiting at the top “no matter how long it takes”.  Why shouldn’t I go for it?

---

 Seekthepeak.org

Bog Blog

In Plymouth, NH, a roadside sign invites you to visit the “Quincy Bog Natural Area.”  After passing this sign many times over the past eight years and always picturing the cranberry bogs of Cape Cod, I finally ventured to check it out this past spring. 

I found that the Quincy Bog, actually located in Rumney, NH, is a natural, pond-like area with well-maintained trails. It is where a friend pointed out a salamander here and there – the first one I’ve ever actually seen, at least up so close.

It is where, the day Hurricane Earl swept through New England, I completed the one-mile trail with growing excitement.  Remnants of storm clouds, white puffy clouds, and streaks of white, black and blue, mixed with purple from the late afternoon sun across the sky. This, combined with the numerous trees and grasses growing in the water, and the trees around the edge provided great photo ops. The sun, as if renewed, danced across the effervescent water, erasing any signs that a hurricane had passed through less than 12 hours before. Awesome adventure!

Many animal tracks were embedded in the marshy, muck areas.  My friend quietly wondered, “wouldn’t it be cool to see whatever left the tracks … we have to come back at dusk to see whatever bounds down these paths.”  City girl that I am, I secretly wished my friend would stop wishing for such things. I have no need to see the animal that left the large tracks with claw marks bounding across my path.

It quickly became evident that I would need to visit this best-kept secret seasonally.  Two friends and I visited again this past Columbus Day Weekend.   It was a balmy day with a light breeze to keep you cool, perfect for hiking. Weeks of blustery days had removed many leaves in various states of changing over, subduing the eye-popping brilliance of the earlier fall. Still, there remained a vibrancy, not just to the colors of the leaves that remained, but to the whole area. We could hear living things scurrying about in the fallen leaves with what seemed a focused urgency to get whatever they were doing, done.  We “city folk” would call it getting ready for winter.  For all I really know, it is their normal routine, done 25 times a day, 365 days a year.  Geese fed and swam gracefully in the water, then moved into formation and slowly crept, or even completely stopped, when they sensed danger, a danger we couldn’t see. No doubt one of the many beavers also moving along readying for winter.  

At one point, my friends – the outdoorsy types –paused in the middle of the trail, trying to find something that had piqued their interest. I realized from their hand signals that they were listening to a knocking that they believed was a  woodpecker.  When I mumbled, “it’s the trees,” they ignored me. After 15 minutes of standing, staring, and listening intently for this alleged pileated woodpecker, my friends almost simultaneously stated, “Oh, it’s that tree bending against the other one in the wind.”  Hmm, City Girl isn’t so dumb.

That day, the bog held a beauty my camera could not fully capture. In fact, this natural area called a bog provides me a place I can go to regularly and be outdoors, really outdoors, without too many worries, maybe a garter snake here, a few animal tracks there.  I have the sense that this one-mile loop will not become boring even after numerous visits, that each visit will bring a new and different experience.

What a shame that the word “bog” kept me away from this wonderland for eight long years.
 
Dictionary.com begins to define a bog as wet, spongy ground.  These are the very same words it uses as it begins to define a swamp.  This is where I get a little uneasy.  I have, after all, just spent several afternoons trudging around a “bog” only to learn what separates a bog from a swamp is soil composition, a certain tree and/or vegetation.

Public relations or spin is everything, isn’t it?  Take the Florida Everglades. They don’t call it the Florida Swamp, but by definition or to look at it, it could be. Or even a bayou sounds better. Certainly Linda Ronstadt singing I’m coming back someday, come what may, you Blue Bayou is way better than singing Blue by a Swamp.

Are we so stuck in word association that it doesn’t matter what it means?  Did you know that Antarctica by definition is a desert?  If it just sounds like something we don’t want to see, taste or hear, we can miss out on something wonderful. 

I am learning with this outdoor stuff some of the same lessons I learned growing up in the city, especially at suppertime – keep your mind open and at least give it a try.

Antarctica, anyone?

City Girl you say?

On September 4, 2010 I decided to do a blog. 

I have spent some pretty good times with family and friends in the great outdoors. Since we laugh almost always and have a great deal of fun together, wouldn't others enjoy me sharing these "good times"?   

I am reading my third book about other people and their experience or adventures in the woods, the getting back to nature and such.  It only seems natural to me that "I can do that".  Wouldn't it be cool to do a "woman outdoors" type of blog. I can write about how this city girl gets outdoors and moves beyond the "eewww Nature, get it off".  So here I am with my blog, typing on a computer, indoors.

Most of my friends are women who apparently really enjoy the outdoors.  Lucky for me, they want to share it. Take Kathy.  She has done some amazing things in the great outdoors, like climbing many of the 4000+ peaks in NH - leaving the house with a backpack larger than her petite frame, loaded with all the appropriate and necessary gear for a February climb...snowshoes, crampons, and three plus layers.  This and that, just in case.  Good grief, I'd be lucky to climb a hill in 60 degrees, carrying just a bottle of water.  Sorry, the weather AND temperature has to be just right.  If I have to take half the house with me, it better be for a cruise or a real vacation.

Not one person would describe me as a princess or girly girl. However, somewhere along the line, I seemed to be given the nickname "City Girl".  Yeah, I am from a city, but not city, city like Boston or New York.  OK, so it's the largest city in our county, but I have been beyond buildings and concrete, lots of times! 

I golf.  That is outdoors. Courses have trees, stinky ponds, mud and BUGS.  I have spent many, many days and nights at the beach, which is outdoors. I have camped...tented in the wilds of a Yosemite campground, spent a few nights in a camping cabin in the Great Smokies, and slept in a tent in torrential rain.  You try not touching the sides in a so called two-person tent that barely had room for one. I call that roughing it!  I have walked in the "woods" in my surrounding small towns, and climbed "mountains" that I later learned are really just very tall hills.  I even fish.  Ok, so I don't touch the fish much, hardly at all really, but I have put the worms on myself. 

What part of that makes me a City Girl? 

Am I a City Girl because I don't like getting nipped at by Black Flies or mosquitos, or having ticks grab hold sucking my blood?  I don't want to hug a tree either, but I have climbed them in my youth.  What's the big deal in wanting a real bathroom? So what if I don't want to be outside in below freezing temperatures or hike in snowstorm?  I'm not against nature, just against frostbite.

This City Girl has actually saved the day a number of times out in the so called wild.  Many escape me since I didn't know I would one day blog about such things. However, last spring my friends decided to camp in a Tipi for a weekend.  Absolutely nothing but a tipi and "nature".  It had been decided that I would join them for the day the next morning because City Girl didn't want to deal with nature in the dark.  I was the hero bright and early the next morning.  Fresh HOT Coffee and donuts were a welcomed treat. I did spend the whole day, and night with them, hiking the trails where the deer and the ticks play and attempting to sleep with nothing to protect us from bears, but a canvas wall.  In the end it was something worth doing at least once.

I don't aspire to be "Mountain Girl" or "Woodsy Woman" either. I am not entirely sure where or when the City Girl nickname came to be mine, especially after all I have done outdoors.  But I do know, the same person that dubbed me City Girl, calls me to get the spider out of the shower.