Sixty feet, six inches.
That’s the distance from home plate to the pitcher’s mound in Major League Baseball.
But it’s also a good rule for burying your poop on the trail, sixty feet away, six inches deep.
Most of my routine on the trail can probably be assumed from home. But something like digging a cat hole, burying my poop, and stuffing the spent baby wipes into an empty Gatorade bottle might not cross everyone’s mind.
I pitch biohazard containers when I get to a new town. It’s not too hard to replace. Asking a thirsty hiker to empty new Gatorade isn’t exactly pulling teeth.
So yes, I bury my poop and carry the baby wipes I use with me.
The whole cat hole thing is the accepted norm.
In fact most hiker’s will look at you like you’re voting for Donald Trump if you don’t bury your poop.
I’m not convinced burying the poop helps the waste decompose, but I’ll follow along anyway. Out of sight out of mind. Nobody wants to look at that shit.
Mile 109.
