had a poo?

Inspired by the shower thread, where have you had a poo where it wasn’t the normal thing to do? (As in, not in a bog?)

Sailing once, on my own in a one man dinghy, a fair way offshore. The urge struck me, so turned in to the wind (fnaar), hopped over the side and released a Mersey Trout in to the wild. Most liberating, I have to say.

Too much? Or will anyone else admit……

This is Hora’s favourite topic, he’s been in the woods on every ride I’ve ever been on with him.

Bottom of chapel gate – glad i wore gloves that ride.

It was in a bog, but my best poo was in the Beverley Hills Hotel. I just love that I’d had a poo in Hotel California 🙂

Hmm, not a great fan of the outdoor crimp – it’s like a box of chocolates, you never know when you’re going to get a soft centre.
And I’m not a gambling man.

However, I have weed on the summits of highest mountains in three countries.

Riding up Snowdon, the previous evenings Stella made its presence felt, so I recreated the Macc Lads legendary Dans Big Log at the top of the Llanberis Pass

Yup another sailing realted one for me too.. Melges24 Europeans in Lake Garda, 2003 IIRC, off the back of the boat in pre start countdown (5,4,1 go) with my mate holding on to my dungaree straps (thankfully he didn’t let go, Garda is a Coooolllddd Lake) Wasn’t all that (cough) solid, more fluid which was entertaining. I still bare the scar of the nickname “stinky” to this day..
😳
😆

In the garage. Into a bucket lined with a rubble sack.

Our toilet was broken.

shat in a “friends” bath tub at is house party…. i wasn’t the only one to do so. think there were about 5-6 poos in there by the end of the evening plus some wee.

last wild poo was on the side of an Italian mountain. thought i was safe and out of view after hopping over a crash barrier and down the slope a little. half way through and a large group of slow, meandering MTBers pootled past. had to squat right down to remain out of sight.

thinking about it, that wasn’t my last wild poo…. was in summer, a few weeks after the above, somewhere below the Bernina Pass. pulled over for the night in the van on what i thought was a dead end road. on one side of the road was a stream, on the other a large variety of foliage. i disappeared into the foliage and used the pooing technique that a mate had recently told me about (one leg free of clothing, down on one knee… a bit like this:
)

just as i was finished a car drove past. waiting for it to disappear before making the awkward walk across to the stream. as i made my waddle across the road another car appeared at which point, figuring all my dignity was lost, i made a dash for the stream…. god that water was cold…

On the way back along the coast to Kenmore after doing a loop via Applecross, fantastic views over the Hebrides. It was only the burning in my thighs that made me move on!

In a field in County Durham just as fog lifted, said “morning” to the farmer as he trundled past on his tractor 😯

Near the car park in Llandegla

Behind agree at Rivington ,by the barn.

In my parents kitchen, ruined my underpants with a very moist follow through.

I pooed off a cliff in the dolomites as a consequence of a.) some poorly stored speck and b.) because I wanted to poo off a cliff.

Bushes behind a marshalling point I was staffing on an overnight event.

The poo is the easy bit – it’s the paper that’s the problem…

In the days before you had Portaloos on building sites, my mate went behind a heap of sand for a dump. When he pulled his overalls back up he found that he’d crapped in the collar and it was now squashed against his neck.

Out in some fairly large surf and couldn’t be bothered to paddle back in. So just paddled out and to the side of the line up, dropped me wetsuit and released some brown trout back into the wild. I had to adopt a sort of sitting position with a bit of a breaststroke to keep a bit of forward momentum to avoid any comeback.

Edit: location, south of France somewhere north of Hossegor.

The British Embassy in Berlin. I was so chuffed.

In the days before you had Portaloos on building sites, my mate went behind a heap of sand for a dump. When he pulled his overalls back up he found that he’d crapped in the collar and it was now squashed against his neck.

😆 😆 😆

I shat my pants in the queue for a nighclub in Glasgow one cold winter evening. Ran round to a lane, sorted myself out with my socks and boxers and rejoined my mates in the queue…to rapturous applause from the queue as word had filtered down about what had happened. A nice girl kindly gave me some baby wipes 🙂

(it was Pressure at Arches, anyone that knows Glasgow will agree that’s not a small queue!)

I met a Canadian who used to climb trees and crap out of them, he called it Alpining.

Mine was at the start of the Dyfi rally when the porta loos were full and there was an urgency in my pants.

Polaris, Kielder Forest, on some snow.
Few years previously, in my pants on the way home from school. put the pants in a wooden box stored in my bedroom for many years afterwards. (Out of embarrassment, not cos I wanted to keep them)

Nowhere unorthodox—the very prospect of an ‘off piste’ poo would make it go back in again

Any time I see a sockless biker I usually assume they have had a ‘wild one’

P.s you all need to read this – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Peculiar-Memories-Thomas-Penman/dp/0747542376/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1390499518&sr=8-1&keywords=thomas+penman

I shat my pants in the queue for a nighclub
……
(it was Pressure at Arches)

Indeed it must have been (afraid I don’t do glaswegian rhyming slang – “arches ?”

In the chemical toilet of a hired narrow boat, which I then couldn’t work out how to flush. It seemed like the only done thing was to find a stick to pick it out with, run through the boat and lob it into the canal.

I really hope edhornby comes on shortly with his TWO stories, or I may just have to out him.

Mid-ride on the Isle of Wight, after a few ciders and a Chequers Inn Special Burger (Burger, Bacon, Cheese, Fried Onion, Mushrooms and Egg) got a very sudden urge.

Unfortunately I was half way down a track in a steep sided gulley with no way out – and timing was critical.

Managed to tear off top and bibs, but couldn’t climb out of the gulley, so had to lay cable on the track 😳

Just managed to tidy up a bit and hop back on the bike as I heard the rumble of more approaching bikes – I didn’t stop to say hi!

Funny thing is, the exact same thing happened the following year on a similar ride after another Chequers burger. Managed to find woods and soft ferns that time though!

So it’s not strictly in the spirit of the thread but….

The highest permanent toilet in Canada. Neil Colgan hut; Banff national park. The wind sure does whistle through the col..

when working on railway a few years back,I was working on a very quiet branch line usually only used for freight trains,there was very little cover so got squat at best place I could.Half way through the motions(I had the squitts), a passenger train came slowly around the junction from the main line onto the branch line(had been diverted due to blockage lol).no time to pull my trollies up,i just squatted there and waved at the bemused train full of passengers,6 coaches full of passengers btw.

Another off the back of a narrow boat here. Knee high barrier at the back (fnar) made for a great seat, whilst the splash-back made for a makeshift b-day!

Had one in the depths of Dartmoor to.

Probably had more wild movements than I have in bogs that aren’t at home. That probably says something about me, but I don’t give a shit.

Every bivi I have been on and had to crap in a bag on a couple of occasions in the back of my PO van!

Hehe.

Once out riding I had a very sudden urge, in a lightly wooded area, so I had to dash for the nearest tree which was in fact a small sapling, only a few yards from the fire road which in turn was about 200 yards from the car park and hence very busy. Managed to get the cargo bay doors open and all that came out was a rather large pile of something that looked like light brown wet concrete. It stank to high heaven, and all I could do was bury it in a large pile of ferns and leaves. Which was also all I had to wipe with!

Another time was when we’d walked out to somewhere in the Peaks (I forget where) to go climbing, but due to scheduling and public transport limitations me and my mate’s mate were camping near the crag. Problem was, it was in the middle of a huge flat moor with not a single tree to be seen. I also had the customary small plastic trowel to dig with, but it was not in any way up to the task of cutting through the tough grass cover so I had to find a small stone, pull it up and go in the recess, my white buttocks shining like a beacon in the evening sun to anyone within a mile’s radius. The stone of course would not fit back into its hole with my huge turd in there so I had to squidge it down in an attempt to cover it up, which was not pleasant!

Alpin’s German story reminded me though – on our first day trip round the mountains when we lived there, there was light patchy snow on the ground, and we pulled over to a layby to go down to the river and have a little explore. A few yards from the picnic tables I trod in a HUMAN poo and a pile of bogroll. FFS this is the middle of the picnic area! What is wrong with you?

I left an exhibit in Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Like a miniature Henry Moore it was. I’m ‘firmly’ of the opinion that when it’s time it’s time.

After a heavy night of booze and strippers with a colleague on a trip to Chicago I exploded at both ends in the Kahzi at the newly opened Planet Hollywood.

I like to think that Arnie himself had to clean it up.

Not where…but related to sailing.
I once endured a ‘lecture’ delivered in all sincerity, by RYA Sailing coach to UK Youth Squad (including Mr Ainslie) for 30 mins on the subject of ‘Toileting in dinghies’.
CfH’s first example was ‘fall back’ as it were.
Drop yer keks and hike hard was another.
Ladies for a pee should sit on the centre board case / daggerboard slot…
Using a bailer was another No.2 location.

You can imagine the amusement this caused us 15/16 year olds…!

😆

(Oh, and finest location has to be atop a lovely spot above Loch Rannoch, watching the sun set. A tree had fallen many years ago, and had become the perfect seat from which to hang over. You could see for miles and miles over to Glencoe. lovely.)

In the crystal clear waters of the med in southern Spain off a beach where an Indiana Jones movie was filmed.

In a box in a friend’s living room. The one khazi in the house was occupied and it was one of those super-urgent hobbies.

Up until last October/November I’d prided myself on never having to do this, but on my local Saturday ride I ended up just having to go for it.

I utilised the ‘shorts and pants around ankles whilst holding a fence post and leaning back whilst squatting’ technique and achieved a very clean ejection. A good job as there were only a couple of big leaves nearby………

shat my pants* on the infield near Tetre Rouge whilst watching the Le Mans 24hr race. found a less than convenient place not quite out of view to finish it off and dispose of my under crackers.

*dodgy bolognese

1. Close to the peak of Helvellyn on Boxing Day late 90s. No doubt the result of a dodgy curry or two the day before. Yes, that’s right, curry twice on Xmas Day as the result of me and a mate escaping the reality of life for a week in the Lakes over Xmas 🙂

2. In the bath at the home of the parent’s of a friend’s girlfriend’s best friend. Long story 🙂

3. In a mate’s shed in the middle of the night c. the winter of 2001. Walking home pi55ed from a night of clubbing with a(nother) mate. Freezing our nuts off we decided to break into a mate’s shed for shelter. Whilst struggling to stuff patio chair cushions up our jackets I felt the sudden urge to poo … only it came with a 5 second warning! So I did!

4. In and around loads of fields and forests down here in the Surrey Hills.

5. In a few bins.

1. On to a conveyor belt – the done thing when working deep underground
2. In the garden when I was a kid 😳 – we did have a big garden