Toilet Talk



Do you prefer hot and steamy...

or cold as a flag pole in January?

Anticipation of the toilet situation on the mountain has provided fodder for a few memorable email exchanges in the past few days.

From the Smurf after a recent "training "hike...

It went well.  Practiced walking really slowly.  It turns out I’m a professional.   Good and toasty while hiking.   Kept my CamelBak under my jacket and it didn’t freeze for the first time.  Got to the top, faced the wind and thought I was going to die.  Thought about taking pictures but was too terrified to take off my mittens.  Figured I might need my fingers at some point in the future.  I’m guessing that it was far colder than anything we’ll have to deal with on Kilimanjaro.  Hopefully. 

I did do some mountain toilet planning while I walked (that's just weird if you ask me)and came up with the theory that the benefit of being the first to use the box &bucket may not outweigh benefit of the heat transfer from 4 other people. I can only imagine the seat will immediately bond to the first ass at 5:00am.  Sort of like licking a metal pole in February. (Thank you for that image).

My reply...

Got to the top?  Where did you hike?  Are you nuts?  As far as the toilet goes, you would need to have a pretty sweaty hind end if you were to worry about bonding to the toilet seat.  I assure you that will not be the case for me.  If you do have this issue, I will be sure to take a photo and post to the blog.

The Smurf continues to amaze with his scientific analysis of the situation (way too much time on his hands in my opinion)...

Oh sorry.  Mt. Hunger.  Yes we were nuts.
As for sticking to the pot, I’m sure your hind will be far warmer than the pot and thus create condensation which will immediately freeze.

Thankfully Bianca at Team Kilimanjaro came through with this reassuring bit of information before genuine pottie panic set in...

Since January 2011 we have included portable toilets in our climb at no additional cost. So you do not need to rent a portable toilet, we will provide 1 for the group.
Please note, however, we do not use portablef lush toilets. We actually have a couple of these but they both broke almost immediately.

The problem is that there is a plastic slide between the two chambers. Freezing condensation cements the slide closed and when one forces it, because low temperatures make the plastic brittle, the plastic handle to the fore of the slide plate, snaps off.
So sadly, these portable flush models are not suitable for use at altitude. We therefore use the simplest possible design as there's least risk of malfunction (and justified complaints) on the mountain.

We are constantly on the lookout for new gear, but are yet to find a satisfactorily reliable more sophisticated alternative to the wooden box with bucket inside! We know it sounds rather primitive, but to date we would still deem it to be most fit for purpose on Kilimanjaro.

Please do not hesitate to contact me with any other questions you may have.


Best wishes,

Bianca

Thank you Bianca.  I'm not sure it was necessary to explain the mechanics of flush toilet malfunction at altitude.  You had us at "...we have included the portable toilets." Enough said.

Should we be concerned that while other climbing groups are fretting over gear and fitness our crew's biggest concern seems to be the commode?  Perhaps.  And, after all this fretting, who will actually use the private potty?  I leave you with this parting thought from idiotonamountain (an equally ill-prepared Kiliclimber with a blog).

A last little upright looking tent was put up slightly away from the camp and it served as a toilet tent. I looked inside it once and saw a little box with a lid on it. I couldn’t bear to shit in it and expect someone to clean it each morning so i instead decided to use the long-drops.

There is something to be said for an anonymous poo.

Eat, Pray, Hate the Cold

It has come to my attention that this blog is "lame."  Based on this constructive feedback from the Smurf, I will attempt to rectify the situation for my one dedicated follower (I will point out, however, that I have shared this link with no one for expressly this reason).  Rest assured I have been accumulating a wealth of interesting and amusing information to post for your reading pleasure.

However, first you must endure this brief rant about the cold and nervous breakdowns.  I took off for the weekend - headed north of the border to Montreal in an effort to have a little time and space for introspection a la "Eat, Pray, Love" - a little respite from my mid-life crisis. Well, I need to work out exactly what this "Eat, Pray, Love" chic has going for her that I don't.  She got a book contract, an all-you-can-eat pasta orgy, sexy Italian tutors, spiritual enlightenment, and love on the beaches of Bali. 

I got thirty-six hours in the great frozen tundra. I spent the first 24 hours reassuring everyone that I had not gone off in the deep-end and the next 12 hours wondering if I had.  Who goes north in January?  It was at least 50 degrees below zero in Montreal, and with the wind chill it felt like -200 degrees.  Seriously.  I believe the tip of my nose dropped off somewhere on St. Catherine Street, but I was too freakin' cold to go back and look for it.  Seriously.  Insane.

So, instead of indulging in delectable Italian treats like my "Eat, Pray, Love" counterpart, I ate a heaping pile of poutine which necessitated walking two hours in the frigid air to eliminate the negative effects of cheese curds and gravy on my extremely strict Kilimanjaro training program (see following posts for my blubber vs. fitness training conundrum). It was during that frigid stroll that my nose fell off.

All that remains of B&J in the land of the iceberg. 

Thankfully I had a warm hotel room in an obscure building that was rendered excessively creepy by the fact that every hallway was under construction and had been stripped down to the concrete flooring (thank you Expedia for that excellent find).  Alas I am sounding a tad bitter, and I digress.  This blog is supposed to be about the Kilimanjaro Experience.  There is a connection here...really.

So, I walked a lot.  I ate exactly one meal of poutine (because it was too freakin' freezing to leave the hotel for a second meal), and I read a hilarious book by Mindy Kaling that reminded me that "the best revenge is living well..." She took it much further, but I promised my dear friend that I would not (despite the incredible temptation) post her full rant on my Facebook page. It spoke to my soul, and it was in unbelievably poor taste.  However, dear readers, if you should be so inclined as to read her book, "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" see page four and picture me laughing my frozen ass off in the great white north.  For now, however, I will get back to the more admirable goal of living well.

By now you are asking probably yourself, "WTF does this have to do with Kilimanjaro?"  There really is a point...I promise.  As you will learn in following posts (a conglomeration of emails from the past few weeks), the Smurf has been sending a regular stream of motivational articles and videos about every person who has ever reached the summit of Kilimanjaro.  Apparently everyone and his/her mother has climbed this mountain.  It's actually pretty annoying.

I was waiting anxiously for the next installment, perhaps a video of Ronald McDonald summiting with his support team of Grimace and the singing french fries, but the Smurf had gone awfully quiet.  I inquired about the dearth of motivational material, and his response was, "I have decided we are going to die."  Fantastic.  Now the one delusional member of our climbing team had also come to terms with reality.  Instead of motivational videos, he now sends photos of the disgusting toilets to be found on the trail.

It only seemed fitting then that my parents arrived in Montreal to meet me for breakfast armed with a newspaper clipping from a friend featuring en extremely old guy from Florida who had recently made it to the top of Kili (naturally).  Another motivating success story to start my day with one small caveat, "the guide lost three toes to frostbite." Seriously?  I like my toes.  I already lost my nose.  What are we doing?