Mile 841. *The* business business.

Let’s talk business.   Not office business.   Rather bathroom business.  *The* business business.

In the everyday world, business business is a passing thought.   We walk down the hallway.   Do our business.   Flush the toilet.   And it’s done.  Presto!

Business business in the Appalachian Trail world, however, is quite a bit more complicated.

Well-managed shelters have a dedicated “privy”, which is an old-fashioned outhouse.  Here, a toilet is installed on a platform that stands over a dug-out pit.   While most privies have three walls with a door, some privies have just three walls with no door.   These allow the hiker to behold the glory of nature both literally and figuratively while doing her business.

Many shelters have dedicated “privy areas”.   As through-hikers, we have made a commitment to Leave No Trace.  In other words, we have promised to leave no evidence that any of our business ever occurred.   In this case, the hiker is asked to dig an 8” cat hole in which she buries any evidence.   The trouble is - after so many hikers have used the same privy area - walking through it can be a land mine.   God bless the hiker who chooses the wrong area to dig her cat hole: that could be an unwelcomed surprise.

The most interesting of all business business takes place at the stealth camping sites.    Stealth camping is setting up a tent in an unofficial and unsantioned location, usually tucked away along the side of a trail or road.

The first challenge is finding a private area that is off the trail, away from any water sources, devoid of any poison ivy, and free of snakes.   As with the privy areas, hikers first dig an 8” cat hole so they can bury any evidence, per the Leave No Trace principles.   

Matters get very interesting - and stressful - when the stealth site is on the side of a steep mountain.   In this case, I find a sturdy tree to hold onto with both hands to do my business.   Then, while holding on for dear life with one hand, I use the opposite hand to manipulate the tissue cleaning action.   I am happy to report that, so far, my grip has remained strong and I have not fallen backwards during this process.  Yet.  

I also find myself in quite an awkward situation when it’s time to stand up.   After hiking over 800 miles, my knees don’t work like they used to.   So the transition from deep-knee-bend to standing is … delicate. 

Rigormortis sets in fast during business business.  As I stand, pants still wrapped around my ankles, I let out a painful “Fuuuuuuuuck, that hurts.”   I stiffly guide my knee, hip, and back joints into position.  And - one arm still desperately clinging on to the tree - I pull up my pants with my remaining hand, all while precariously teetering beside the cat hole. 

Feeling victorious about my valiant moves, I am tempted to celebrate my morning success.   But I still have to remain at the scene to bury the evidence. 

It’s safe to say that plumbing is the one thing I miss most out here on Trail.