REALITY WARNING: serious potty talk to follow
As I noted back in the early accounts of our arrival here, there are some very basic human needs which we tend to take for granted. Having a place 'to go' is definitely one of them. While it is easy enough to rough it in that regard for a week or two on a camping trip, it can become a source of complete dread and misery as the months slip by and the claws of winter winds rasp across your backside. The second photo shows our very first privy facilities.
When we bought the ranch, there was no existing shelter other than the barn. The only visible vestige of a former dwelling was the orange/brown skin of another old rat trailer which had burned up and then been dragged across the road and left to rot like a rusty tin can in a farmer's dump (photo 1). This meant that we would have to go 'native critter' as far as nature calls. We started to envy the kitty boys in a hurry with their warm and clean indoor litter box.
We had barely arrived before the frosts hardened the ground and the task of excavating holes with the broken hoe became harder and then almost impossible. Somewhere in there came the dark of night desperation visits, possibly aggravated by living out of a cooler full of melted ice water and maybe a little situation anxiety. It wasn't a pleasant time for either of us. Luckily, I had yet to blow out my knee but the knee strain was beginning to take its toll on both of us within a month's time. Darkness accented the misery as you scratched around with the hoe by the feeble, skewed beam of a flashlight resting in the sage stubble. The chico brush would spike your buttocks viciously if you had misjudged your digging or foot placement in haste. I suppose it took our minds off what creatures were lurking out there in the dead of night with us and I care not that the cows eat chico with reasonable benefit; I would eradicate that miserable plant if I had my way. Spike my butt even once and I WILL remember, forever.
For me, the biggest vexation was to settle down to business and find that, nearly without fail, a small-engine plane would appear from behind the mesa and laboriously grind its way over my head (and associated exposed parts) at embarrassingly low altitudes. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn that someone had been selling tickets to these events.
Perhaps by being born a setter instead of a pointer, I had fared better than Mark in this long run of misery. He soon found it beyond any sane acceptability to compress his 6.5 foot frame into a low squat and maintain that pose on quaking knees for as long as necessary. It wasn't long before he had developed a case of ... uhm ... serious retention. That's certainly not good over the long haul. It got to the point where he would literally save his efforts for the next town run and a chance to use a sit down/take a load off, real porcelain throne. I began to quietly worry about his new state of affairs in this respect. Something had to be done, anything would be an improvement.
To be continued
35 comments:
Oh lin, you've done it again. Can't wait for chapter two.
One thing, tho -- why not dig a hole for the next person after you finished your business? Make life easier.
I'm notorious fro finding things to make my life easier. Sometimes Wild Thing gets this exasperated look on her face, but I know she's just jealous. >)*..~(<
Cat, the ground was THAT hard that it was every man (and woman) out for themselves. I could also imagine one of us saying "Hey, what's this? I dug you a WAY deeper hole and NOT right in front of the chico!"
Grin ... I bet Wild Thing DOES have a much different way of describing your efficiency skills. I can relate.
The pictures from the plane will be posted on the internet very soon.
I love this post...this shows you two are real "salt of the earth" folks, part of a great multitude that help fertilize this great land.
I posted once (search my blog for "Barn") about visiting the barn as a kid with 3 corncobs in hand...two brown and one white!
You post also reminded me of a 15 degree morning when natured called on a deer hunt and squatted dead center over a frozen weed shaft! Woke me right up!
Great stuff...the reason I come out your way.
Moose, migawd, they probably already are! It's a good thing that very few folks would recognize my posterior 'in the flesh'!
Now where are those Johnny on the Spots when you need them? They could have brought a truck load in and spaced them out for you.
I can visualize a 6 foot 5 person with bad knees attempting to squat. When I hurt my hamstring I weighed carefully eating and drinking habits that necessitated trips to the toilet.
Mushy, you HAVE to write about that hunting trip nature call. I've heard some great stories about such moments in the past and love 'em (they make us feel a LOT better about our own travails out here!).
Thank God you're keeping the history of the corn cobs alive - I will have to go search for that story!
Oooh, damn. And I thought Grandma's old outhouse was primitive....
Sue!!!! You read beyond my reality warning!
You bet ... a porta-potty would have been sheer nirvana! But only the oil patch can afford to have such things sent out this far. You can always tell when a rig is ready to move out because the porta-potty guy is the first truck to form the long procession. Everybody else follows quickly and willingly.
Grin ... Goddess, Slim has an outhouse up at his place. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when we had to pick our way back there in the slippery mud to take a sit. I was seriously jealous, STILL am in fact!
Why don't ya' put a post-hole digger on that skidder? Better yet, slap the bucket on it, and dig yourself a first-class latrine, complete with "sitting-arrangements"! Maybe even stretch a tarp over the top, for sun and aircraft protection...!
Lin, Hi - Wild Thing here, Catmoves productive counterpart with a bright idea for you. Get a 10 or a 30 gallon trash can,(depending on personal size preference) and put a piece of plywood over it, with a large adequate size opening in it. For additional comfort, try one of those foam donut rings so you don't get splinters! And don't forget the wiping material. JCPenny still has catalogues, but watch out for the barbed wire pages.
Bruno, one of these days I hafta take photos of our JD attachments for you. After all those years of doing without and nickel and diming it, we did this one up right - TWO different diameter post hole augers, fork lift, bucket and root grapple. G-a-w-d ... life doesn't get much better - we have finally ARRIVED!
Now wait for the next part of the potty tale - we are almost uptown and indoors. In the meantime, your are so right - it would have been so nice to have a tarp over our 'bombers'.
Wild Thing - its great to hear from the Cat's Meow! Sounds like you really have the same practical streak as the big Cat.
This is a pretty retro story starting here - we've actually progressed about .56 of a century since this first phase but I favor your idea of the bucket brigade as a vast improvement over this first step and it will hopefully mesh into our final variation. Whoo-hoo, just wait until you see the next big step in our effluence evolution!
Oh, Hi lin. Got some exciting news for you. You may never speak to me again but: I was tagged. Just finished it (and not at all happy with what blogspot did to my spacing) but I thought you'd better read it.
C-A-a-a-t, oh bad, bad, bad kitty! I enjoyed your response to the tag but you probably know darn well that I likely never played well with others on this stuff ... or chain e-mails. You need to hit David up - he is such a raring good sport!
Moose was that YOU in that rental plane buzzing Lin? I'm telling.
Hi Lin, I'm behind in my reading but will get caught up soon. Have a good sleep.
Babzy - you tell him! Sometimes I thought I saw one antler hanging out of the plane windows but I wasn't about to make any specific accusations with my eyesight.
Not to worry, I've been making my customary blogs rounds but lately often too darned dragged out to leave my usual comments.
Dear god, that would kill me. I hope your facilities improve soon.
PopeT, Mark will certainly agree with you on that. The next step was a vast improvement for him.
ha ha! I can rember going on a pig hunt and seeing no wild pigs....then doing as you descibe...only to have a mob appear across open paddocks, then motorbike riders and the farmer....
After which I had a serious case of retention!
Ohmigawd, that's hilarious, Simon! Makes me feels so much better - at least they weren't sending in spectators by motorbike when I was in dispose (or was that "in dat pose").
C'mon Lin, You were tagged, Play nice with the other children.
As for the pictures- Remember Tattoo- Da Plane, Da plane.
I can put captions-Da Moon, Da Moon
Roflmao
My hubby and his father, uncles, cousins, and a few friends, go off to the Gila Wilderness every November for the annual "deer hunt". They go for a week, stay in a big army tent they have, cook over a campfire.
For their times when nature calls, they have constructed a potty chair. They basically cut a hole from bottom of a plastic chair (the stackable kind), then fitted it with a store bought toilet seat. Someone digs a hole underneath it, fairly deep, but narrow enough for the chair to go over it. There you go, comfort at a fairly high level. My husband is 6'4", some uncles and cousins are taller. I'm sure it's easier for them to take care of business that way.
Alphonse, n-n-n-O-P-E! If I could still stand playing nice, I would likely be living in an artist's loft in Soho. I am a jaded, disillusioned hermit, that's all there is to it. That ain't gonna change any time soon.
AND ... if you even think about using that caption, da moose will see "Da stars! Da stars!"
Luv ya!
JennyE, that potty arrangement sounds like pure genius, especially if it was the type WITH ARMS - talk about plush! Hmmm - but I wonder who is going to be the lucky guy to fatigue a leg off of it when age and then a little cold weather get to it. Sure would make another great hunting story though! I suppose I should get writing on the next installment - wish it was that creative though.
Did they all manage to draw tags on the Gila this year? Seems like a lot of unit changes came down from NMGF this year.
I don't think my husband even applied for a tag this year. That is messed up. Last year he made the deadline on the last day. But really, most of them don't go down there to hunt, they go down for the male bonding. Besides, we have 50 head of deer eating a circle of wheat on my FILs ranch, 8 miles north of my ranch. If we really need a deer, we have no problem getting one. But I would have to buy a whole nother freezer, I already have a large chest freezer over half full of beef, and a smaller one half full of a pig (with another one coming in November). No room for deer right now.
JennyE ... wow, he didn't apply - you sure he's feeling all right? lol
Yep, I can see where the real joy for the guys would be just hanging out together for the week.
Do I ever envy your freezer space! It was tough for a hard core sale-shopper to adapt to this smaller propane fridge.
Please hurry with the sequel. This is hilarious.
Love from he who didn't know what the WSJ was (I was thinking magazine, for some reason)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!
... and that is the best post title of the day as well!
David, you JUST missed the next installment by barely a few minutes! I hope you enjoy it as much.
I know, WSJ is hardly the first publication to come to mind when it comes to witty headers but they do a smashing job of it.
And a big, reverent lovey bear hug to the master of the shamefully witty article header!
Damn, you guys really ARE roughing it. I've taken many a dump in the woods, on canoe trips and hiking trips, and it's always funny to see all the other little piles of paper where the last few months worth of caoers or hikers managed to find the same secluded spot. Go over to the FlickR widget on my blog and look in the Grand Canyon pics for the shots of the toilet we crapped in. The guides toted our crap, litterally, for 11 days. Take note, if you sprinkle tide, or some other cheap detergent on the "deposited items", they won't stink or draw flies. Worked like a charm in the canyon.
FHB, the guide had to literally take all your crap for a week and a half? Now THAT's dedication!
Thanks for the tip on the detergent deterrent - there are certainly times when ... you know.
The planes going over to keep you company reminded me of my own experience with aircraft visitors during potty time. I was driving through the Highlands of Scotland on a dirt road that was barely more than two ruts across mountaintops. Breathtakingly beautiful, right? Oh, and I was full of beer. Not drunkenly full, just comfortably mildly, remotely buzzy. But I had to pee. BAD. So , wtf, right? Middle of nowhere on a mountain, who's gonna see?
Just as I've wrestled my jeans down (it was February) under coat, sweaters, scarves, etc., a helicopter from the RAF came over, remarkably close. They waved. I waved back, mid-squat.
You gotta love roughing it. For about 5 minutes!
Phlegmmy, that is absolutely hilarious! And EXACTLY what I am talking about here; I figured I had a better chance of winning a mega lotto than having someone fly over at precisely that moment in the middle of truly nowhere. Sigh.
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