[Nibile]

Not climbing related at all, but YYFY nonethelss.
While working, I take great pleasure in giving silly excercises to my class and going to take a d**p, getting back in class pretending I've been searching for a book.
Anyway, the only problem is that being Italian I'm used to using a bidet after the main business. There's none in the school bathrooms, so I have to use baby wipes, which are nice and soft and allow me to tuch my ass without feeling strange.
Today I ran out of baby wipes.
Before crying out in despair, I had the best idea of my life: I washed my hands, with lots of soap, then without rinseing the soap off, I dried them with a paper towel, which immediately became wet, soft and soapy. The perfect baby-man wipe.
And I am happy.

[Fultonius]

Not climbing related at all, but YYFY nonethelss.
While working, I take great pleasure in giving silly excercises to my class and going to take a d**p, getting back in class pretending I've been searching for a book.
Anyway, the only problem is that being Italian I'm used to using a bidet after the main business. There's none in the school bathrooms, so I have to use baby wipes, which are nice and soft and allow me to tuch my ass without feeling strange.
Today I ran out of baby wipes.
Before crying out in despair, I had the best idea of my life: I washed my hands, with lots of soap, then without rinseing the soap off, I dried them with a paper towel, which immediately became wet, soft and soapy. The perfect baby-man wipe.
And I am happy.

I have quite a different vision of you than I did before I read this. 

[SA Chris]

+1.

[Fiend]

I was down on the Aberdeen coast the other day tackling a much-needed pre-climbing dump. 

There was a secluded niche well away from the crag to go in, but no grass, seaweed, moss nor anything available. 

I had to do pretty much what Nibile did. Except swap "water" for "sea water" and without any soap....or paper towels. 

[slackline]

Pack some white-mans prayer flags in your sac next time you're leaving the house (and a lighter).

[Fultonius]

I went to Limekilns the other day with no emergency shit-tickets. Fortnuately the tree I squated beside had nice big leaves 

I saw a Spaniard taking a dump ON THE MAIN PATH up to Fiesta de los Biceps at Riglos. Like, literally not even beside the path but right on it. W. T. F.   

I was down on the Aberdeen coast the other day tackling a much-needed pre-climbing dump. 

There was a secluded niche well away from the crag to go in, but no grass, seaweed, moss nor anything available. 

I had to do pretty much what Nibile did. Except swap "water" for "sea water" and without any soap....or paper towels. 

How did the post-climb sandwiches taste     Remind me not to borrow any of your gear any time soon 

[Grubes]

I just took a dump at work. When I arrived at the cubical the seat was covered in pubes and the inside looked like a sceen from drag me to hell.
It also smelled like a sheep that had died and been left to rot for 6 week.

Luckily there was bog role and air freshener

[Nibile]

I didn't mean to start anything like this...

[SA Chris]

YYFY just took on a very different slant.

[tomtom]

(ahem) Log pile?

[SA Chris]

Gone round the bend a bit hasn't it.

[slackline]

Keep puns to the goat thread please.

[Nibile]

Sorry again.
Mods, split and logpile?

[Jaspersharpe]

This stinks.

[tomtom]

http://www.ratemypoo.com

[tomtom]

Phew - well moved Lucy

[Grubes]

Yeah it was starting clogg things up

[tomtom]

I was down on the Aberdeen coast the other day tackling a much-needed pre-climbing dump. 

There was a secluded niche well away from the crag to go in, but no grass, seaweed, moss nor anything available. 

I had to do pretty much what Nibile did. Except swap "water" for "sea water" and without any soap....or paper towels. 

A few months ago I was DWSing in Oman with a boat load of climbers, of which a significant proportion DFBs. Most people were either trying routes on the seaward face of a small stack or treading water underneath. I was hit by an urgent need to shit and was short of options so performed a very minimalist dump, as you describe, in a hidden spot behing the stack. After that, I thought little more about it until about an hour later when there were various simultaneous shrieks of horror. It seemed that my turd had quietly drifted around the stack on some malicious current and appeared directly amidst the climbers. I fessed up later, though only only selectively. I do recall that it was an unusually neat and well-formed turd, of which anyone would be proud, which eased my embarrassment a bit ...

Some poo karma! That'll learn you not to shit on your own stack

[tomtom]

Yeah it was starting clogg things up

I recon this thread will run and run.

[slackline]

A few months ago I was DWSing in Oman with a boat load of climbers, of which a significant proportion DFBs. Most people were either trying routes on the seaward face of a small stack or treading water underneath. I was hit by an urgent need to shit and was short of options so performed a very minimalist dump, as you describe, in a hidden spot behing the stack. After that, I thought little more about it until about an hour later when there were various simultaneous shrieks of horror. It seemed that my turd had quietly drifted around the stack on some malicious current and appeared directly amidst the climbers. I fessed up later, though only only selectively. I do recall that it was an unusually neat and well-formed turd, of which anyone would be proud, which eased my embarrassment a bit ...

 

[Will Hunt]

I once went climbing at Ravensdale. The second pitch of the HVS we were doing (I forget the name) was mine to lead and it had lots of bridging. I had made a grave error that morning and neglected to take my morning poo. I only realised this when walking into the crag and feeling the first pangs of "I need a shitness". Anyway, leading this pitch which, incidentally, required a lot of bridging I began to feel bowel spasms. I quickly clenched. Climbed on, more spasms. Clenched. The third time I came dangerously close to unloading. Just about managed clench. Arrived at the top and built a very quick belay and brought partner up. On his arrival he remarked "That felt stiff, I'd not argue with E1 for that".
"Grrfrrgle", I replied.
"What's up with you?"
"I need a turd. Badly"
"I'll help". He leaps at me and squeezes my middle.
"NOOOOOOO"

I stagger round desperately trying to find some suitable wipe. There are no broad leaved trees at the top of Ravensdale. I eventually found some large clumps of moss an hopped over a dry stone wall into an adjacent field. Do not fear livestock lovers, I was in a narrow "corridor", seperated from the crag by stone and from the sheep by a wire fence.

To use a recent quote I heard: "With the gentlest of pushes... the world fell out of my arse." There was no consistency, it was like thick soup and, to my surprise, the moss was incredibly absorbant and effective.

In fact, its ecologically friendly to produce and biodegradable and works better than toilet roll. If it wasn't socially unacceptable I would gladly use it day to day.

[SA Chris]

I was down on the Aberdeen coast the other day tackling a much-needed pre-climbing dump. 

There was a secluded niche well away from the crag to go in, but no grass, seaweed, moss nor anything available. 

There's a section on the Arbroath Seacliffs included in North East Outcrops in case you are ever caught short.

[Fultonius]

Oh man, this thread is bringing back some deep seated unpleasant memories...

About 8 years ago my friend Marcus and I decided to have a bash at The Pause, our first multi-pitch E1.

The first few pitches went fine, although the traverse right into the niche was a little pant worrying.

Not as pant worrying as the 5th or so pitch, about 40m with only a handful or small wires. Phew, finally at the "belay", perched mid slab, incidentally shared with another route, possibly The Long Reach.

Marcus led of into the distant white nothingness, placing a piece every 15m or so. When he was about 35m out from the belay I felt the 10 second grumble. Uh oh.

Marcus, are you safe?

Erm, no, I've not placed any decent pro since since that shonky cam 10m back.

Well, hold on, I.....erm....have to tie you off for a second.

I'm on smears and there's no hand holds!

Ok, you're tied off, don't move.

WHAT WAS THAT?

Flfffplplhphggghhrhrhr!

What are you up to down there?

Ok, you're on belay again!

What?

Just finish the pitch!

Oh, shit. Someone's coming up The Long Reach. Erm. WhatthefuckdoIdonow??

So, I pulled off my - fortunately quite cheap - fleece and tried to cover the long, brown, eye wateringly pungent smear slowly oozing it's way towards the retching, dry heaving leader approaching my stance.

Some hastily muttered apologies and half excuses about curries and beers and I heard the welcome call of "Climb when ready".

[RAK Punter]

First aid route in Yosemite and like many went for South Face Washington Column.  Kor Roof had been fixed previous day and a idyllic night spent on Dinner Ledge cooking various culinary delights with plenty to drink to help digestion.  First thing in the morning my partner headed up the hanging line and proceeded to haul the pig up.  I set off to jug and clean the Kor Roof. 

Progress was steady without problems until at the lip of the Kor Roof I managed to get myself chock-a-block against piece of gear I was supposed to be cleaning.  Every attempt to bypass it or remove it only made the situation worse.  With frustration rising and a realisation that I was in the shit............. a deep bubbling emerged from my guts followed by sharp cramps.  These continued in intensity and frequency along with the internal pain in my arse to let it all go.  There are some things you can fight; this was not one of them. 

There was nothing subtle about the moment of release as the previous evenings consumption exploded through the fabric of my clothing and the constrictions where my harness was weighted.  Gravity was defied as I sprayed the rock, the haul bag hanging (with toilet paper inside) tantalizingly close, the rope looped below me and the gear hanging on my harness.  The relief was immense but the situation was dire.  Any attempt to clean up was completely futile: think empty cease pit with a plastic take away fork.  I managed to extricate myself from the chock-a-block situation through construction of improvised harness from slings and removing my own combined with various gymnastics and ascend to the belay.

By the time we completed the route (with few woods spoken apart from various abuse from my partner) and descended for a well earned ice cream at the Curry Village store everything was covered in excrement of depth varying from a slight smear to full cake.  It needed more than a few wet wipes to clean us up.

[Oldmanmatt]

Hmmm...

Snow hole...

-50DegC...

Badly timed contact between bare buttock and ice...

You know the "tongue frozen to window" thing?

Well, guess the rest!

Assistance was required and some third party warming...