Most Extreme Dump

[Lepton]

Often on an off day in Yosemite I would hang out in El Cap Meadows, watching the progress of friends up the various routes and scoping out the next wall project. During those idyllic afternoons tourists would often stop, from buses or cars or guided tours, and get out for their 15 minutes of gaping. Invariably they would come up to us, since we looked scruffy enough to be actual climbers, and ask us questions about climbing in general and climbing El Capitan in particular. It never failed that they had to ask THE QUESTION.

 

"How do you, uh...you know...relieve yourself up there?"

 

That is an excellent question.

 

In those days the mode of choice was just changing from the "hang it out and let it fly" ethic, which left undesirable microbes in the cracks below, to the "do it in a paper bag and fling it as far out from the rock as you can" ethic. That new ethic, of course created an odiferous approach, especially under the Nose. I understand now the ethic is to pack out your poo poo.

 

Memories of these conversations brought back an experience that was for me the most extreme "dump" I ever took. In the late 1970's Mike Adams and I tackled an ice climb right across the valley from the Alpental ski area. A short snow shoe to the base of a one pitch frozen waterfall with a 20' vertical section. The ice on the approach to the vertical section was the kind you dream of, like squeeky cork that would accept tool placements without shattering of any kind.

 

Mike led off the climb and I belayed. It was a nice sunny day with the temperatures hovering around freezing. I watched the skiiers across the vally on the slopes of Alpental.

 

As Mike made progress over the crux bulge and disappeared from view I was very excited to take my turn to follow the route. But suddenly I realized that I "had to go". But now was not the right moment, not out here in front of God and thousands of skiiers. There was no shelter immediately available, and it was hard to shout back and forth with Mike and he took up the rope and started yanking for me to follow the pitch.

 

"Okay", I thought to myself, "I'll just climb fast, squeeze tight, and find a good depository up there in the trees above the climb."

 

This plan worked adequately for the approach to the vertical bulge, but I was disappointed to be so distracted by nature's call and couldn't really enjoy the beautiful climb. As I approached the vertical part, nature became much more demanding. A rude shouting, in fact. Tautness of gluteal muscles were not going to have effect much longer.

 

In desparation I noted that around the side of the vertical section there was a slight cave with a 70 degree slab of ice to stand on, with slight shaded protection from the view of the skiiers.

 

Getting into a strenous bridge on the ice slab, facing out toward the valley, I began working on untying the rope from my harness and retying it around my body so I had some element of safety and so Mike wouldn't hoist the rope out of my grasp (he was a "yanker" for anyone who didn't follow quickly enough). Then I worked at untying my 1" tubular webbing harness, you know, the kind as outlined in Freedom of The Hills? THEN I started to unbutton my 13 button Navy surplus sailor's pants (that I had converted into spiffy knickers)...

 

All the while said nature was having its way.

 

By the time I had gone through this epic untying and unbuttoning struggle, with my thighs starting to burn from bridging on the steep ice, and pressure breathing to keep oxygenated from the workout, I had already started to soil my unders. I finally struggled and managed to get my knickers down to let the load fly with great abandon and relief.

 

Then I had a problem.

 

Here I was, with fertilizer in my unders, with no knife, and with Mike the Yanker hoisting at the rope, in a strenuous bridge. What to do? I certainly didn't want to hoist my unders back up. I did the only thing I could think of.

 

I took my state of the art Sumner ice axe and started hacking at my unders, careful not to spill any of the contents. After some time I successfully cut them away, and after dumping out the load I found they made an excellent cleaning rag. I apologize for leaving the destroyed unders wedged between the rock and ice of the pillars. I hope that time and elements have been able to run their course with this obsenity.

 

Rebuttoning my 13 button knickers, retying my harness, and retying into the rope took some time, with Mike the Yanker cursing and shouting above. Finally I was able to get out of that strenous bridge and bring relief to my aching thighs. With a sense of actual and metaphorical relief I literally felt lighter and almost floated up the vertical ice column, almost as an afterthought.

 

Any contributors that would care to share their Most Extreme Dumps would be appreciated.

[Dru]

http://www.maakies.com/archive/m511.gif

[ChrisT]

and I thought this was about snow! great story!

[catbirdseat]

Real competition for Michael Layton.

[sobo]

Real competition for Michael Layton.

 

...and E-rock.

[sketchfest]

Don't forget Shred's incident on Hood!

[scott_harpell]

Or a certain incident in a borrowed sleeping bag by an infamous cc.com poster.

[catbirdseat]

'bout time we had a decent poo thread!

[sobo]

I'll try to "work one up" over lunch...

[tlinn]

I don't know if this is all that extreme...but I think the most inconvenient dump must of been taken by whoever relieved themselves at the top of Diedre. I'm just glad I noticed it before I put my hand on that big greasy sloper.

I guess if you gotta go, you gotta go...

[Squid]

yuck, Diedre.

 

Climbing it this summer I found a sock sitting on a belay ledge. Since my socks tend to be expressions of negative space, I was excited by the prospect of 'booty-sock.'

 

As I reached for the sock, I realized that Mr. Hanky was peeking at me from within the depths of the sock- the previous owner had found some ingenious use for it.

 

While I applaud the previous owner's resourcefulness, and empathize with what must have been unholy desperation, I suggest that good taste dictates that 'toilet socks' must be trundled, not callously abandoned on perfectly good ledges.

[tread_tramp]

Yet more pure eloquence from Mr.Lepeska

[hopalong]

http://www.maakies.com/archive/m511.gif

 

Burnt beehive.

[layton]

a most extreme dump TR

[johndavidjr]

My wonderful contribution: Throwing giant turds on to alpine tree branches at moderately remote notch in NCNP; I figured this was a reasonable environmental alternative 2) being horrified by giant human turds at St. Peter's Gate in ONP this summer, which I removed with a disgusted kick.