Emptying the Gravel Spring Privy

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The corrugated bin cover (extreme right) is off.  Steve and John plot the attack.

Shenandoah National Park, Gravel Spring Hut, August 17, 2020 — One would not consider August an ideal month to be emptying the compost bin of a backcountry privy but PATC’s faithful Crapper Crew reported for duty anyway armed with buckets, shovels and digging bars.

Most privies in our region are a simple design consisting of two bins and an outhouse that can be moved from one bin to another. One side is active while the other is composting which normally takes about two years. Users are asked to cover their business with wood shavings from a bucket to allow air to enhance the process. Urine adds needed moisture.

Extra wood shavings and cleaning supplies are stored in the long silver box in the upper right of the lead photo. It’s not a coffin for any dead bodies we might find.

Normally the heat and humidity of a mid-Hotlantic summer is unbearable. Add close proximity to the active side of the privy and the word ripe could be an understatement. Let’s just say that we got lucky. Starting temps were in the mid 60s tickled by a gentle breeze. We took it.

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The ramp had to be removed before we could start.

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You need a team to do this.  First up is the digger who scoops out the compost and puts it in one of several five gallon buckets.  Second is the picker who hand picks and trash-bags the stuff that’s not supposed to be in the privy.  Last is the bucket brigade whose members spread the compost on the forest floor.  All told, we totaled five.

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You find a lot of detritus in the compost.  There is usually at least one pair of underwear.  Wipes, which don’t decompose, in spite of what the packaging says,  are the most common item followed by the likes of food packaging, bottles, feminine hygiene products, and clothing.  Once we found a potty trowel used by hikers to dig cat holes.

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This trip hikers gifted us two bags of trash.  That’s about normal.

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The digger gets in the bin so they can reach the gold at the bottom.

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Once the composting bin is empty, the crew slides the outhouse over the empty bin and bolts it back on. 

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The bin cover is placed over the newly inactive side and the ramp is reattached.

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Long deck screws finish the job.

Ok.  I know.  I didn’t answer the question you’ve been thinking about the whole time.  No, the compost does not smell. 

Sisu

The Ridgerunners Ride Again!

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After a early evening rain shower at Annapolis Rock

Annapolis Rock, Maryland, April 1-2, 2016 — Spring has sprung loose the usual Pandora’s box that is the hiking public.  The weather is improving and they are on the march.  Time for the ridgerunners to ride again and help the challenged to do the right thing.

This year’s class is interesting.  We were funded for six vs. five last year.  The extra one goes to Shenandoah National Park where we’ll now have two veteran ridgerunners to cover 105 miles of the Appalachian Trail there. I’ll introduce or reintroduce everyone as they come aboard.

First things first.  Maryland funds two ridgerunners because its 42 miles of trail is among the most heavily used anywhere.  After all, millions of people who live in Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, D.C. areas are within two hours travel time and easy access to relatively gentle hiking.  The trail candy, e.g. the sites, vistas, civil war, and monuments, are attractive incentives.

Consequently the state wants a caretaker at Annapolis Rock (AR or the Rock) from April one through Oct. 31.  All the rest, with one exception, work from Memorial Day weekend through Labor Day – peak season so to speak. That exception launches in Shenandoah next week.

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The easy access, gorgeous views, romantic sunsets, and excellent rock climbing, not to mention being named one of Washingtonian Magazine’s top 10 hikes, make the Rock a prize to to which people flock in droves.  Three hundred people on a pleasant weekend day is not uncommon.  Someone’s gotta help and guide them or the vegetation would be trampled and the trash would obscure the rocks.

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Enter Kyle. He’s a jocular former Marine and 2014 AT thru hiker.  He’s also a recent graduate of the National Park Service Park Ranger Academy.

Ridgerunning is not glamorous.  First thing is moving into the rustic apartment provided by the Maryland Park Service.  Then the AR overseeer helps you find the wood chips that help the two composing privies at the AR campground work.  Taking care of poop by tending the privies is a big part of every ridgerunner’s job!  That’s the ironic part of this dream job.

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Q:  Guess what the shovel’s for?  A:  It falls into the privies.

Next you have to put up the tent in which you or the summer ridgerunner will be sleeping in for the next several months.

It was fun trucking that stuff up the mountain – not.  Thanks to Rush, the AR overseer for schlepping it up.

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We got the rain tarp flying over the picnic table just before the rain hit. The rain was a nice complement to April Fool’s Day.

After the first band of showers, we went up on the rock to enjoy the scenery and that last “golden hour” of sunlight.

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Overnight showers snare-drummed the fly of my hammock all night long.  Me, I was hanging high and dry, my ears stuffed with ear phones listening to old “Lone Ranger” radio shows. Rain drops or hoof beats.  I couldn’t tell.

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They sky cleared this morning and it was time to haul up the first bail of wood chips for the privies. The first day in the glamorous life of a ridgerunner.