Ultimate in privacy...

Sometimes it is difficult to find privacy on the trail. Bushes aren't tall enough, trees aren't wide enough, too many members of the opposite sex are scouring the nearby land for firewood. Any number of factors can contribute to your need to hike another 5 miles with orange trowel in hand to find the perfect place to do your business.

But nothing...nothing, I say...says privacy like the privy at Wise Shelter on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia. This is about 20 yards off the trail. A pit toilet.  On a platform. Up four stairs. With no walls. No coverage. No curtain. Ladies and gentlemen, please check your modesty at the trailhead and proceed to the highest point for some pubic public humiliation.

On a pedestal. 

My memory is a little foggy, but I'm pretty sure that big billboard says something like "HEY! CHECK OUT THIS HIKER! SHE'S TAKING A DUMP ON A STAGE!"

And yes...I used it.

It's a gazebo, no...it's a privy!

Occasionally the charm of a privy comes from it's unusual looks. An example of that is the Cloudland Privy at the Thistle Hill Shelter on the Appalachian Trail in Vermont. It is essentially a gazebo, which offers not a lot of privacy but does make for good ventilation. It has even had the honor of being photographed for National Geographic magazine.

It holds the name of the original shelter where it was housed but has since moved on. My friend, MsKB, allowed me this action shot of the Cloudland Privy in use.

Hex on you!

red privy of death

I encountered the Red Privy of Death (RPoD) at the Sassafras Gap Shelter just north of the Nantahala Outdoor Center while attempting a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail back in 2006. It sat off to the side, about 50 yards from the shelter. Tinted red and falling apart, missing pieces did nothing for privacy in this privy. I had to investigate this curious structure more closely. It did not disappoint.

The door had a pathetic crescent moon painted on it. As I opened it, releasing a herd of green flies, the smell of every thru-hiker before me wafted out causing an immediate wrinkling of the nose. A privy set just outside a resupply area will not disappoint in stinkage because more than likely, the 7 trail miles from town have provided just enough jolting and jostling on the intestines to create a need to rid oneself of the mass quantities of town food one has consumed. The RPoD was no exception.

I marveled at the inside. The 1/2 roll of toilet paper that sat on the floor, partially shredded by a resident mouse. The spider webs in the corners, and given the fact that numerous boards were missing from the privy, it was surprisingly dark and damp inside. The board to protect your legs from falling excrement was completely missing. The toilet seat was a tiny little toddler-sized one; as big as one you would find in the loo of a sailboat. Itty bitty! My ass would not have fit on it had it been whole, which it was not. Somehow, somewhere along the line, someone had broken this tiny little seat and what was left was only half. The other half was nowhere to be found.

I stepped back, smiled and admired the RPoD before returning to my pack for my trusty orange trowel and wandering off into the woods. I've seen a lot of privies over the years, but this one will always hold a special place in my heart.