Poop epics (not ethics)

Who has the best poop story?

The best story I know of is the Red Rock Poopocalypse about the dude who dumped in his nalgene on Epinephrine, the nalgene then rolled off the ledge and fell down the route, exploding in a disgusting display of poop and plastic bits that rained down the walls. And when I say best, I mean the worst. There's a whole write up about it in the Vegas Climbers facebook group describing it in detail.

Someday, if someone really rubs me the wrong way...

Picture this. You walk back to your $160k sprinter van after a long day of climbing poorly. You dont know this yet, but someone had the last straw with your behavior that threatens access for the locals (you dont care because you're leaving in 3 weeks and you might never be back). When you step in the van you realize it smells a little funny, the van has been roasting in the sun. Best to get things aired out. So you turn on the overhead vent fan.

 But I pooped in it from the top. It's not solid. It goes everywhere. 

EDIT: Does Shawn Snyder have a sprinter?

Best I've read from best_of_ukc

Wings of Steel

There was a story on climbing.com (?) about a dirtbag in Yosemite valley. He ate iffy beans before setting off on a wall with a new partner. Wind + diarrhea resulted in splattering the partner on the wall above.

Please post a link if you track it down.  https://www.climbing.com/culture/that-one-time-one-crappy-climb

^^^^
mike libecki

I have a fun poop story from a few years ago!

I'm solo traveling in Norway and make my up to Lofoten, keen on climbing Vestpillaren Direct, one of the longer climbs there at 12 pitches. I find this guy on a local FB partner finder group and it'll be his third and final attempt on this route for the season. First attempt he got rained out, second attempt it got so hot the lack of friction became prohibitive so he had to come down. Dude was SUPER motivated to get it done before he sailed south in his sailboat. We want to get an alpine start, so I spend the night on his boat and we head out at 4am or so. 

He leads the first pitch and we agree to swing leads, which would have me leading the crux pitch, which neither of us mind one bit. He's only followed the crux pitch once and has a healthy respect for it. At about pitch 3 he starts complaining about stomach cramps, but says they're not too bad and he'll attempt to void himself of whatever demon on a ledge at the top of P4, so we continue on.

... Ladies and gentlemen, he informs me that I accidentally linked up pitches 4 and 5 when he gets to the ledge part way through following my apparent linkup. I tell him he should go ahead and do his business anyway since the ledge is plenty spacious, but, I think in the interest of efficiency, he opts to continue upwards, the damned fool. Because I linked pitches, he ends up with the crux pitch a couple pitches later, traditionally the 7th pitch (our 6th). 

The crux pitch is 10d, thin fingers and smeary feet on an inside corner. He's pulling the crux moves on fairly thin gear when his foot slips. He hangs in there, avoids the fall, then climbs out of sight to the top of the pitch. I follow it and am pretty impressed by his lead. As I'm approaching the belay he says "It happened." I respond "Hell yeah dude, you sent the crux pitch!" and he replies "no... it happened." Yup, he pooped a lil' nugget when his foot slipped, and he's now in a bad way. 

We take out the grocery bag we're using for snacks, dump the snacks into my pack, and he proceeds to take one of the loudest, wettest sounding shits I've heard in my life. The belay ledge we're on is about the size of an average coffee table, and I'm standing on one end looking out over a picture perfect, gorgeous day over the blue-green water of this arctic archipelago while this guy is purely focused on exorcising some potent gastrointestinal demons 3 feet to my left. 

He wraps things up, we empty his nalgene into mine to use his as secure storage (there are about 3 or 4 parties below us), and head up. I end up taking the harder pitches higher on the route, as his seance only provided temporary relief. Eventually, we reach the final pitch, about 200ft of 5.dirt climbing. He positively runs up the thing with the aim of fixing the rope to literally anything he can find at the top so he doesn't have to waste time belaying me. When I get up there he's nowhere to be seen, but eventually he shows up from behind some godforsaken bush feeling human again and we make the walkoff without further incident.

I'll forever be damn impressed by his perseverance, I would probably have been calling it quits well before reaching the point of leading the crux if I'd been in his shoes!

alpinist 47wrote:

^^^^
mike libecky

Thanks, that was enough for me to find it: climbing.com/culture/that-o…

Where's Waldenwrote:

Someday, if someone really rubs me the wrong way...

I know that feeling and have acted on it. A very popular hiking location that we frequent has limited parking and gets very busy. Some people are quite inconsiderate and park in the handicap spot figuring that they will not get a ticket. It really rubs me the wrong way because in my father's last year, it did him good to go for short hikes in the woods. His handicap placard let him park at the trailhead and not further away.

This area is also very popular with dogs as it is one of the few places they can go due to the surrounding area being watershed where dogs are not permitted. As such, there are dog waste barrels at the trailhead. More than once I have left a series of dog poop bags adorning an illegally parked vehicle. However, one time I decided huck a bag. Many dog owners know that doggie poop bags are often biodegradable which means there is not much too them. Such was the case with this bag. That combined with impact velocity and looseness on the contents, the bag and its contents splattered all over the driver's side window and door. Which was also facing into the sun so it likely dried. I did not stick around for the owner to return. Some day I might have to put a trail camera up as it would be great URABoob fodder.

I have ulcerative colitis and there was a couple years where meds weren’t working and I had to wear diapers. One time I was fully stemmed out and let loose, thankfully the depends kept it from spraying my partner. I think if that had happened I would have untied and jumped off.

I was the recipient of the Poopacalypse on Poopenephrine, no hard feelings, good story at this point.   

Super hungover on the day I promised my friend we’d jug to the top of the Heart Lines. Even though temps were easily in the 80s that day, the lines were SUPER popular with would be big wallers hauling their gear. The entire time I was fighting the urge for the mess to uh…come out one way or the other. Retching and breathing heavily and sweating through my harness. I looked like I was going through a withdrawal and I don’t know why I kept going. One last pitch to the top, with the hot sun on the back of my neck and it finally was the bottom end that breached. You get the idea. I wanted off immediately. I had to rappel past a LOT of parties and everyone was too nice to admit that it smelled…well…like shit. It wasn’t regular poop- it was two days of day drinking in the valley poop. I was in tears by the end of it. The hike back couldn’t have been comically longer or more trafficked. “WHO THE FUCK SHITS THEIR PANTS ON EL CAP” I cried to my extremely supportive friend once everyone was out of earshot. She was convinced I can’t possibly be the first, bless her heart. I jumped into the river past all the confused tourists with their binoculars and I’m so so so sorry to anyone who was fishing downstream that day. I didn’t really have a change of clothes and I wasn’t sticking my pants straight into the camp curry washing machines.

This is my deepest darkest climbing secret but the world is burning and empires are falling every day, who cares at this point.

For the rest of you posting other people’s stories and not your own, you are cowards. Cowards! Show yourselves!

Ally L, I've never met you but I think I love you :) 

Honnold took a poooo during his free solo of el cap( and other solo missions)

y’all are in good company 

poo safely out there

I feel like this is a necessary addition 

https://youtu.be/1dJLN43G6KA?feature=shared

One of the greatest climbing videos out there

 poop happens to everyone. the older you get the more matter of fact you get about bodily functions. 

To celebrate my birthday one year, my wife and I head up to Skaha to do some sport climbing for a handful of days. 

The night before my birthday we go out and have drinks and sushi. We are having a great time, getting a little drunk and enjoying the food. The chef comes out to our table and offers us some free food (I can not actually remember what the dish was.) He lets us know that they are closed the next day and does not want it to go bad on their day off. We are thankful and enjoy the free side dish. We walk back to the hotel and fall asleep.

The next morning, which is my birthday, we start walking out to the crag. I feel a little off, but figured some climbing would wake me up. Right before arriving at the crag I feel a little fart coming, mid stride I let it rip... But it was not a fart... It was liquid shit. Happy fucking birthday to me. Waddled back to the car, threw my underwear in the trash, cleaned up in the outhouse and went back to climb.

Moral of the story- If you are ever offered free sushi, because it would go bad in the next 36 hours, it is probably already bad. 

Q: What is the definition of a surprise?

A: A fart with a lump in it.

Q: What is the definition of a bigger surprise?

A: A fart the runs down your leg.

Ally Lwrote:

This is my deepest darkest climbing secret but the world is burning and empires are falling every day, who cares at this point.

For the rest of you posting other people’s stories and not your own, you are cowards. Cowards! Show yourselves!

Picture it. Lover's Leap. 2007ish. An old gym buddy and I are climbing something moderate, maybe Haystack or Bear's Reach. Beautiful sunny day, fall I think, not a cloud in the sky.

Middle of following P1, I am hit with the overwhelming urge to poop but decide that I can ride it out. My partner sets off to lead P2. To my shock and surprise, the pain of a poop denied starts to build, I start to sweat, and uh oh, I know this feeling. I call up to my partner, "Hey, can you get safe?" He says, "Yeah, why?" I calmly tell him that I'm about to pass out and that I will mule the belay strand. Which I promptly do. Both things.

Passing out of course leads to complete loss of bowel control. I regain consciousness a few seconds later feeling much relieved and grossly soiled. Thankfully, the mess seems to be contained to my clothing.

I don't remember exactly what I said to my partner at that point, but I unmuled him and we carried on to the top. At one point, we were passed by another party who I am sure could smell my indiscretion, by which I mean the poop that was now trying to invade my ankles. 

We get to the top and I hop off into the woods to do damage control. This is where I confess to you, dear reader, that in my day pack that I carried up a 3-pitch 5.7 climb on a cloudless day, I had not only wet wipes but also several liters of water, a trash bag (for emergency bivy), and a full set of rain gear. I was able to get mostly clean, stuff the mess in the trash bag, and change into the rain pants for the ride-of-shame home in my partner's car. He was good humored about it, but surely my cargo and I stank. We never spoke or climbed again.

These days, I do my best to start out the climbing day on empty.

Michael Tiska, if you're out there, I owe you a beer. Several. 

I had some pretty bad IBS about 7 years ago and experieced 2 poomergencies and 1 existential emergency a year apart to the day while approaching the same climb in mazama.  I end up feverishly thrashing and scrambling, completely unintentionally to precisely the same spot I had been the year before. I blindly pull up a big rock and there lies my mostly reclaimed remains from a year ago exactly.  I have the strange feeling of being in a time loop, like very strong deja vu, as it dawns on me that ive been here before and Im looking down at my own poop.  I had reacted exactly the same way to all internal and external stimuli like a puck in a game of plinko.  Free will does not exist. This is not real.  This is a game.  A shitty hall of mirrors.  Also sorry for collecting my poop under that rock.

Edit: i do carry blue bags now…fool me twice…