Wilderness Latrine

 

Latrine photo courtesy of  https://bwca.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=forum.thread&threadId=110645&forumID=12&confID=1

Campsites within the BWCA consists of a U.S. Forest Service iron fire grate, somewhat flat grassy tent area and a the all important fiberglass latrine.  The BWCA wilderness latrines are typically some distance behind the campsite.  Usually a short walk; however at times, the walk can seem long.

A definite trail is readily visible leading to this relief oasis in the woods.  Its not difficult to find.  Follow the path at the back of the campsite away from the lake.  At the path's end you will find the green fiberglass implement you seek.  Some latrines have beautiful views of the surrounding woods.  Some are up high on a small hill, or down low in a knoll.

Some have stellar lakeside views.  Which can be unsettling.  On one trip as I was sitting in the woods with a nice view of the lake to my left.  A couple canoes paddled by not more than 50 yards away.  I could clearly see them through the trees and hear their conversation as I sat there in my altogether minding my business.  Glad I didn't wear my red plaid shirt on that necessary walk in the woods.

Other latrine locations are surrounded by low brush and ferns.  Continually shady and damp.  Mosquito havens.  We learned the hard way to always bring bug repellent on our walks into the woods.  Our tender, never seeing the sun backsides are a beacon to blood sucking mosquitos and biting gnats.  Keep the bug repellent handy when you drop your pants.  Give your backside a healthy dousing of repellent to give yourself some time to sit and think.

When nature calls we would announce, "I need to take a walk."  This declarative statement let everyone in camp know that the green stool in the woods is about to be occupied.  This announcement quelled any embarrassment by having someone walk in while another was tending business.

Later on, we hung a roll of TP on a tree branch at the trailhead to the latrine.  This worked quite well to replace our nature call announcements. If the roll of TP was missing, you new someone was at the office consulting business.  After an overnight rain, we had to modify our tree hanging TP roll.  A gallon sized Ziploc baggie proved a worthy rain guard to the precious roll of TP.

Roll care while using the latrine is essential to prevent roll mishaps.  Typically, there is not an optimal place to set the TP roll.  Usually a flat rock near the feet worked fine.  Unless it had rained, or was raining.  A wet rock lent a soggy roll. Reaching for the roll must be taken with care.  Reaching too far to only knock over the roll will send the TP roll into a spin down the dirt trail.  Nobody wants to do the quick walk of shame to retrieve the wayward roll.  

On one occasion, Bob took his nature walk only to hurry back in a panic.  He explained he needed paper towels and the pot of hot soapy dishwater we used to wash breakfast dishes.  Perplexed, we followed Bob to the latrine.  There we saw that a squirrel or some poor rodent had gotten itself into the latrine and proceeded to climb out, covering the latrine seat and sides with little paw prints of whatever was down in the latrine.  We had a laugh about that poor happless rodent.  Yet we felt bad for the critter.  Worse was cleaning up after the fouled rodent.  ugh.

The 1999 Blowdown was disastrous.  Hundreds of acres with trees blown down, campsites were damaged. Forest crew spent time clearing portages and campsites from downed trees. The trip a year after the Blowdown was a memorable latrine experience. Surrounding the latrine was a wall of logs, almost like a three sided log outhouse; but without a roof.  I did not notice the crack in the latrine's seat as I sat down to do business.   Once seated, I experienced a sharp pain on my backside; a severe pinch on my right backside cheek.  

This pain had no end.  However, standing up was impossible.  The latrine seat had my seat in its tight grip.  The damn thing was goosing me and would not stop.  I could not stand.  And calling to my fellow campers was not an option; at least not without extreme embarrassment.  To free myself, I had to push on the back of the seat, behind my behind while pushing the outside of the latrine stool inside.  Free at last, but with quite a sore welt on my backside.  Once back in camp I warned my fellow campers.  We all learned to hover on that trip.

Reflections on Cigar Ash

My dear friend Paul, may he rest in peace, and I used to have contests smoking cigars to see who could keep the longest ash.  Loser would have to pour the next round of drinks.  Though it mattered not who won or lost.  Round two was a win- win either way.  Whomever broke their ash on themselves were subjected to ridicule.  Our choices in cigars varied from each other.  Paul’s favorite was Onyx while I preferred Romeo e Julietas.   Our taste in scotch was also different.  Paul preferred Tomatin or Johnny Walker.  I preferred The Balvanie Double Wood or a style of an Islay.

Our cigar endeavor began in our junior high school days.  We’d somehow, by various means, get a hold of Swisher Sweets, grab our fishing gear and bicycle to Beaver Brook for some fishing.  As we aged, all fishing trips required a cigar(s).  Later, we graduated to better cigars.  We’ d get together just to visit, drink and smoke.  Good therapy when we joined the corporate world.  

Fishing trips would take us to his family cabin on Gunn Lake.  The two of us armed with scotch and cigars  spent considerable time conversing with not so much fishing.  On those weekend adventures, the cigar butts mounted.  Frugal as we were Paul got a brilliant idea in buying pipes to smoke the remaining one inch cigar butts to it’s last.  Which of course led to us buying pipe tobacco for our briar woods.  

Of course we enjoyed a wee bit too much scotch weekend evenings on Gunn Lake.  Ice was a premium, so we added a splash of water.  I coined the term Gunn Lake Water for the evening drinks around the campfire.  The following morning was hectic and slow.  We managed to put the coffee on, but had no energy to actually cook breakfast.  In the cupboard, Paul scrounged up a box of Raspberry Poptarts.  We decided sunshine and fresh air outside on the deck would clear our foggy minds.

Leftover cigar butts and an open bottle of Johnny Walker greeted us.  Since there were no women around to say no, we lit up and poured a morning glass of Gunn Lake Water.  A perfect morning.  No words were spoken.  The gentle lapping of the lake on the shore, birds singing, blue cigar smoke rising made for an exceptional breakfast.  I must say, the cigar smoke and smokiness of the scotch combined with raspberry Poptarts made for a wondrous flavor sensation.

I still try to see how much ash I can leave while smoking my cigars.  And the only flavor of Poptarts I buy is raspberry.   Perhaps this weekend I’ll replicate our breakfast we once shared.  Thanks Paul, for a lifetime of memories!

 

Little Big Dippers

 

The moon was out, bright above the tree tops when my niece asked if we could look at it through my spotting scope.  Its a Bushnell 15-45x 60mm on a mediocre tripod.  It takes time to focus as the tripod is a bit wobbly.  Someday I’ll replace that wobbly tripod.  Our best viewing was on the road at the end of the drive looking towards the east.  Always fun to see the moon in fine detail. 

Just to the left of the moon we could see Jupiter.  A large white orb of light in the spotting scope viewfinder. Void of detail as its too far away.  But a thrill to see none the less.  Up and to the right we focused on Saturn.  Though, we could not make out it’s rings, it had an oval appearance rather than being round like Jupiter.  We took turns looking through the scope in wonder at our night sky.  We also took turns swatting the squadrons of biting mosquitos in the hot July night air.

I pointed out Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, the Big and Little Dippers high overhead.  We tried to trace the stars that make up the constellation of Draco, but the bright moon faded the stars in that constellation.

Looking to the western sky, my niece asked if the moving light was a plane.  No, not a plane.  It was a bright fast moving white light.  Too fast for a plane.  It was too large and bright to be a satellite. It showed up on my iPhone SkyView Lite app as the International Space Station.  We watched it for a minute transversing the sky eastward.  We lost it under the close horizon of treetops down the road.

The hungry mosquitos chased us indoors.  This cut our star gazing and satellite hunting short.  We’ll pick it up again in September when its not so hot and the mini vampires are gone.

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