[Closed] Your worst trail poo experience.

i had a dodgy curry last night and got caught out on the trails. it was orange...

Not that bad, not even close.

Many years ago I was riding one-handed along a completely flat, featureless bit it pathway in the park chatting to my mate. A few seconds too later I caught this dog-egg with the front wheel, it managed a pass or two and looks like it was going to be flicked up into my face any moment so I grabbed the brake hard...

Brake, not brakes you'll note as I was riding one-handed...

The front brake, the bike pitched me forward with before I could get my other hand to the bar they were turning sharply - I ended up doing a sort of half OTB / half off the side crash, BUT despite liking a bit of a div and a mild bruise didn't get shit in my face and I was glad of the outcome.

Mudguards? 😉

Cycling along the River Lee canal, on a bright sunny afternoon ten years ago, I rounded a bend to find a local ned, trackies round ankles, pushing one out on the trail roughly one hundred yards from a public lav.

He greeted me with a cheery "Mornin'!".

A couple of years ago I was flying down a well known descent when the vision in my right eye is obscured (luckily I had glasses on). Moments later the smell hits my nostrils and I'm coming to a stop and dry heaving. Green dog poo has thrown itself forward off my tyre which I then rode into. It's everywhere; in my mouth, on my face and worst of all my camelbak mouth-piece was coated too. I had to wipe the worse of it off with my gloves and then rinse myself off using the bladder as a sort of bagpipes. It was grim as ****.

Sh*t thread.

Mudguards?

Or chudguards 🙂

Had the dog eggs all over face, in mouth, hair, beard every damn where.

Also not me but lad riding a bit behind me, descending down the back of a cattle shed, what looked to be mud was run off from said shed, awful stuff.
"Keep your mouth closed" shouts I, "say aga...." Choke cough, splutter, vomit replies he. I didn't laugh much.

In the late 90's riding around Epping Forest with a mate.
We stopped for a breather and I could smell dog poo. I checked all the normal places on the bike and myself, etc. But the smell just got stronger.
Eventually my mate pointed out what looked like a lump of mud attached to my top lip and almost blocking one nostril.
Yup, it was dog shite 😡

Twenty years ago I had my “Big Off”. Knocked myself out and made a right mess of my shoulder, month off work, surgery, big scars and so on.

Anyway… I digress.

I was sat in A&E in a bit of a state and slowly noticed the smell. The smell of shit. Had I, in all the excitement, treated myself to a “Dirty Sanchez”? When the coast was clear I scurried off to the bogs to check to see if I was alone in my shorts. However, as I was in a triage cubicle in A&E with a big gash behind my ear and my arm only attached by a small percentage of the bits that were supposed to be holding it to my body, the nurse who had turned her back for only a couple of seconds was quite alarmed to find that I had gone walkies.

Eventually I wandered back having discovered the source of the smell and ask if somebody could wipe the dog turd off the back of my knee because, whilst I could see it, there was no way in my current condition that I could reach it.

I went home shortly afterwards for a couple of weeks sat doing nothing.

Then Princess Di had her accident and there was nothing on telly but sad music for a sodding fortnight and Mark and Lard were dropped from Radio One in favour of Kevin Greening. Arses.

Not biking, but walking.

It was a deeply misty morning, high in the lakes, I needed to go.
Just as I was curling it out, resting against a suitable sized boulder, the mist cleared almost instantly, revealing a path less than 50 metres away with a group of a dozen or so rambler ladies on it...

😳

If you're eating stop reading this post.

I once went through some bad dog toffee in the local woods. It exploded and went everywhere. Bright orange leavings all over my gloves, shifters, brakes, forks, headset. Totally rank, I was retching the entire time while cleaning it.

Eventually I'd flicked most of it off and went to ride off again. I could still smell it but figured it must be residual traces on my hands, some unseen winnets on the frame etc.

Anyway after a while I took a sip from my camel back ... you guessed it! A blob of shit was stuck on the mouthpiece 😐

eta:

JackHammer - Member
rinse myself off using the bladder as a sort of bagpipes

🙂

Not biking, but walking.

It was a deeply misty morning, high in the lakes, I needed to go.
Just as I was curling it out, resting against a suitable sized boulder, the mist cleared almost instantly, revealing a path less than 50 metres away with a group of a dozen or so rambler ladies on it...

I used to get a backache when sleeping that would wake me up really early in the morning and I'd have to get up and get moving to relieve the pain. Whilst camping up near Aviemore one spring the backache struck in the early hours - had to get up before dawn so decided to go for a ride up to Loch Eanaich at about 5 in the morning. Rode up, hung about there for a bit then decided to ride back to the campsite for breakfast.

Free wheeling silently back down the glen I found out that just about any walker you encounter at that time of day thinks that

A)They're the first person up and out that morning

and

B) That if anyone is going to happen upon them while they're having a shit it'll be someone following them up from further down the glen - so they all arranged themselves bums to the south so they can keep lookout for anyone approaching from down hill

Over every rise and round every bend I seemed to be greeted by buttocks and turtle heads.

As a teenager out walking in the lakes I put on a little sprint to get to a stile before a big queue of walkers coming the other way.

Sprang over the stile just before the go there and slipped and fell on my arse right if front of them. Got up and dusted myself off and hurried on.

It then dawned on me that what I'd done was jumped over the stile - landed in a huge dog shit, fell on my arse in the dog shit - put my hand in the dog shit the get back up again - then 'dusted myself off' by wiping dogshit on anything not already covered in shit.

Riding to work on a nice sunny morning and something flicked in to my eye. My instinct was to try and fish it out and as I ran my finger across my eye, that familiar smell pervaded my senses. Basically I was squeegeeing dogshit off my glove using my eyelid.

My body went into full 'this is bad, get rid' mode. I have never experienced anything like it. Dry heaving, eyes and nose absolutely streaming shot and mucus.

Rancid. I don't ride without glasses anymore.

I was biking here in Germany with a friend of mine coming down a fast grasssy section when I heard a "urgh!" behind me eminating from my friend. I turned round to see that he had stopped and had a mountain bike tyre width of very pungent dog diarrhoea starting from his shorts and continuing up the middle of his shirt up his neck and over his mouth and nose and finishing on the top of his helmet. As he started violently retching I was incapacitated with tears of laughter. What are friends for? 😀

nothing compares to hitting a dog egg, with an industrial strimmer, you have a half a mili-second to register the smell before a high velocity lumpy aerosol of fodo's finest bum chod is projected under your visor, up you nose and in your beard.

Like others, a tale from a few years back when riding the Calf/Bowderdale loop. Out with thelittleisthobo off here and a few others it was on a cold day when nearing dusk it became frosty. We were cycling along a farm track/open moorland towards Ravenstonedale. Thinking the "tinkling" noise was gravel from the road being picked up by the tyres we reached the cars and packed our kit and bikes before setting off up the road to Carlisle where I was getting the train back to Dumfries.
Sitting on the train I started to thaw out and started to notice a smell, looked dow to see a puddle of dirty water and sheep "rounds" under my bag!!!!!
45mins later as I got ready to get off the train I was aware of a similar puddle under my bike!!! The rattling, " tinkling" sound we had heard was in fact sheep s:;t 🙄

Imagine what hobo, having left his bike in his car opened the door to 😛 😯 Luckily the car was a repmobile so got a good valet at his work...

However working on farms when I was a kid it was an occupational hazard, you stank all day long....

Sheep or horse shit is bearable tho, dog or cow is f-honking.

Not as bad as some of the above, but.

Kneeling down on a cold ride to fix a puncture, only noticed I was knelt in shite because it was still [u]warm[/u].

APF

Sheep or horse shit is bearable tho, dog or cow is f-honking

Nah, cow is relatively benign - my rule off thumb is that herbivore shit ain't too bad, it's the excreta of carnivores that you need to avoid.

Sheep or horse shit is bearable tho, dog or cow is f-honking.

Not anywhere near as bad as fox.

Hitting fox poo with the lawnmower is an occasional event that I could easily live without.

ok...

a guy I use to know once was caught short whilst out biking. for reasons known to himself, he decided to 'lay a cable' then work out a wiping strategy. after the 'event' he surveyed the ground and settle on trying to wipe himself using an acorn. thinking that a 'slow rotation' would work. funnily enough, it didn't.

the end

About five years ago when I got my first fat bike, I went on an exploratory ride to check out this new tangled devise and magic 5 psi tyres.

Anyway.

Where I lived at the time, the local farmer had a section of his farm dedicated to " rare breed " cows. dunno what they were but pretty things with red hair and big horns.

On the way back from my 20 mile trundle, I always looked forward to a down hill section where they used to test tanks. It was a 1 in 20 so it will get you to about 30 mph pretty quickly and you could coast the next 1/4 mile down hill at some pretty good pace.

However, on this day, I'm not sure what he fed the poor girls but the path. ( spiky broom on one side and a gully on the other) was a 6 foot wide shitty " slip n slide" I had nowhere to go but plow though and hope the fat tyres would create a bow wave leaving me dry and shit free. Alas , what actually happened was the front tyre coated the down tube and anything else on the treads was flicked forward by the treads for me to ride into. The " shit mist " covered my face, chest, hair, teeth - everything.

The rest tyre covered the seat tube, saddle bag' saddle and flung anything else onto my back and into my jersey pockets n hair .

I slowed down to check the damage - that was my biggest mistake as the smell had a chance to catch up and make itsself known.

Dry heave ....... spit urrgggghhhh

I cycled the next 5 miles home and dropped in to the local spit and polish car cleaners I used to used.
They took one look and after they stopped laughing, knew what they needed to do.

They jet washed me and the bike off with some high pressure lance which cleared pretty much all of the shit, but left me with some lovely red marks all over my body.

Ah well. Better than smelling of liquid cow crap.

I once hit a horse poo. No problem you may think- its not that offensive. However this one was frozen solid - it was like hitting a breeze block. Nearly caused me to crash

Why were you cycling on a dog trail?

My story has nothing to do with riding through/landing in/kneeling on or having a shit, but It's funny & does involve shit, mainly mine.
I used to live in a house served by a septic tank which needed to be emptied every so often & at £60 a pop (in 1995) I was reluctant to pay. So a farmer mate of mine offered to come with his sucker/spreader & do it for some beer. He duly came with his big tractor & shit sucking/spreading tank & did the job.
Later on he was spreading the contents (not all mine) on a field when the spreader stopped pumping crap out so he went to the back to have a look, & noticed, jammed in the exit nozzle, a small plantpot. So he grabbed a hammer from the tractor cab & whacked the nozzle to clear the obstruction, which worked. Only he'd forgotten to turn the PTO off. He was facing the nozzle when he hit it. 😕

My eldest son who was about 6 at the time later admitted to putting the plantpot down the vent pipe of the septic tank. 😀

Riding practice day on the second Innerleithen UKGE, or maybe third... I was feeling quite dicky all day but going up towards the crop circles, things reached a head. Rode across to the nearest trees- a horrible distance- only holding back the tide with a combination of titanic arse power and saddle intervention. But that couldn't last, and just as I reached the trees I had to jump off and unleash the flood right beside the trail. Then by a series of small moves when the opportunity arose, finally got under cover leaving a sort of snail trail behind. Nobody was riding past at the time but about 500 people did over the next 2 days, it was all quite unsanitary.

But there is a part of that hill that is forever northwind's underpants.

Why were you cycling on a dog trail?

😆

My best / worst was walking to school through the park, new and a pal always went slightly off-piste. One morning I was crossing a ditch, slipped in a turd and slid right through it covering my trousers. Went home and didn't have any a spare school trou so mum lent me a pair of hers. At 16, that definitely wasn't embarrassing.

After a heavy night I had to s#it behind the wall at Burnt horse going up to Skiddaw house.
I thought I was out of sight ,in the ferns .
A troop of Red Sox all waved. Pah.

I've got a photo if you want

🙂

Had curry-induced food poisoning while climbing Skiddaw over Xmas 20 yrs ago. Had to bunker down and drop something positively luminescent in the fog. Not good.

Bad guts while dog walking on Leith Hill 15 yrs ago. For 20 seconds I became a human cement mixer.

I did the bridleway over the hill from Arncliffe to Kettlewell last week after the rain cleared (for a few hours, ha ha). Great to get up top for a clear wet run down. It was only when I got to the old farm that I saw the bike was entirely covered in green sticky stuff, not the usual brown. Lucky to find a waterfall to sluice most of it off and get the gears to work again before hitting the flicky faster sections. Shaun and pals strike again.

I did the bridleway over the hill from Arncliffe to Kettlewell last week after the rain cleared (for a few hours, ha ha). Great to get up top for a clear wet run down. It was only when I got to the old farm that I saw the bike was entirely covered in green sticky stuff, not the usual brown. Lucky to find a waterfall to sluice most of it off and get the gears to work again before hitting the flicky faster sections. Shaun and pals strike again.

Crankworx whistler last year. It's taken until now that I feel I can talk about it.

Stomach felt a bit sloshy in the morning before a day in the park, so (mercifully, as it turned out) put a few emergency only sheets of loo roll in my bag. Went up to the fitsimmons station, felt ok, rode B Line down to hecklers rock (this was Canadian open DH day, so the place was crawling with shirtless, mainly drunk, Australians) watched a few riders come down, went for a bit of a chill in some shade.

Then the gurgles started.

I want to release the fast building pressure, but can't due to my fear of [s]unleashing Pandora's box[/s] popping a cork on a shaken champagne bottle. There is no way I'm going to be able to keep all this fury contained within on the ride back to toilets so I gingerly go to try and find a quiet spot.

I wander back to BLine and venture into the woods, find a fallen tree to brace myself against, maybe 20 yards from the shirtless hoard, drop trow aaaand relax...

Think a hose pipe with your finger over the end. Same pressure and consistency. Much more audio. I was terrified the hecklers would hear, see (the trees really aren't that dense, and I was in full fluro enduro jimmers) or smell what was going on, but I was powerless to stop it. It did stop, so I cleaned up, covered the devastation as best I could.

Went back to get bike and started to ride back down. The gurgles restarted.

I didn't have strava on (nor was I stopping to set it going) but I'm pretty sure that no wc rider past, present or future, could get down that hill quicker.

Made it to the loos in town (just), more high pressure liquid expulsions, then back to to hotel for an Imodium lunch and a sleep.

One thing I have learned is that cows are magnetically attracted to any path or trail that passes thru their field. The other thing I noted was that they tend to sh*t all along the track rather than on their dinner.

Had to cross a really claggy field in Switzerland once. Started off on a 26er. Got to the other end of the field on a 29er fatbike judging by how much mud and sh*t accrued.

Not a problem I thought, it'll all come off as I ride the next bit. Hmm yeah, a short steep road downhill, and I had to stop within 5 seconds as there was so much shyte flicked off by centrifugal force, that it had gone up my nose and up underneath my glasses. Brake dragging can sometimes be a good thing! 😉

Dried apricots on an ultra marathon - mistake not realised until mile 31...

Many moons back I feel of the bike along an alley way.

Before getting up I noticed a perfectly spherical dog egg stuck right onto the end of my thumb.

You couldn't have placed it better if you had tried. Is was like a lollipop. Mesmerising it was.

Poopscoop - Member
Mesmerising it was.

Inspiring, even?

^^

Now you mention it, yes actually.

I felt at one with the universe for a brief few seconds as I admired chaos theory at work.

Not a trail poo story....but I once made the local rag.

It'd been a heavy night out on the town followed by a kebab and then a house party with lots of shots.

On my meandering way back home through town my tummy suddenly started gurgling and the need to unburden myself became paramount.

I was on a quiet side street and I dashed into what seemed to be a small car park and made my unsteady way to the most secluded corner.

A torrent ensued, somehow I kept upright and amazingly none of it went on me. I had to ditch the under-crackers though.

I made it home, and the following day I'd pretty much forgotten about it.
The day after however the main story in the local paper was that someone had 'vandalised' the car of the headmaster of a small prep school in town. It seems I'd pooed all down his drivers door and left my pants on his bonnet. There was an accompanying grainy photo of me in the car park from a security camera. Luckily of such bad quality that I was unrecognisable.

I did feel a bit guilty. Though in my defence I was absolutely shitfaced.

Back in my yoof, I was seeing how many mates I could jump over on my '89 Rockhopper Comp (complete with 150mm stem and 480mm bars!) and just as I took off from the ramp made from planks and pallets, I piece of dog poo flew up and went in my eye... It stank and I knew what it was right away. I think I smashed all my PBs getting home as fast as I could to get it washed out for fear of parasitic blindness!

Wasn't a trail poo as such, but rather an industrial estate poo.