To Bidet…or not to Bidet?

Screw a hunk of rubber onto your water bottle, walk 200 feet away from the trail as well as any water sources, dig a six-to-eight-inch deep by five-inch wide hole, annnnd GO!

My considerations of using a trail bidet ended there.

My imagination rarely allowed me to take the matter further. But when it did, my concerns could be summed up singularly: contamination.

Splashback. Invisible crawling bacteria on hands, clothes, shoes, not to mention the water bottle.

And I wasn’t clear on what the future held for that poor water bottle? Was I supposed to drink out of it later? Tucking the bidet away, attaching a Sawyer Squeeze, and guzzling pristine water through my filter while tiny unseen friends clambered over each other in a race down the outside of my bottle towards my open mouth?

I’ve eluded the Norovirus so far, and I hope to keep it that way.

Maintaining an aversion to all excretions north and south benefits many a hiker, delaying the seemingly inevitable first bout of sickness. I’ve eluded the Norovirus so far, and I hope to keep it that way. Me sick=whiny baby. Multiply times ten if I have a stomach bug.

If I should ever encounter a stomach bug in the woods, I will not hike, I will not be cheerful and brave. I will pitifully beg startled passersby to feel sorry for me in my time of need. And they will keep hiking, perhaps more quickly. I will ask my sister, Walkie, to get me a ginger ale from the nearest vending machine. I will request that she place her cool hand on my funky forehead, and she will abstain and look on me from afar with love and disgust.

You can continue reading the full article here.

The Trek: To Bidet…or not to Bidet?

To Bidet…or not to Bidet?

Screw a hunk of rubber onto your water bottle, walk 200 feet away from the trail as well as any water sources, dig a six-to-eight-inch deep by five-inch wide hole, annnnd GO!

My considerations of using a trail bidet ended there.

My imagination rarely allowed me to take the matter further. But when it did, my concerns could be summed up singularly: contamination.

Splashback. Invisible crawling bacteria on hands, clothes, shoes, not to mention the water bottle.

And I wasn’t clear on what the future held for that poor water bottle? Was I supposed to drink out of it later? Tucking the bidet away, attaching a Sawyer Squeeze, and guzzling pristine water through my filter while tiny unseen friends clambered over each other in a race down the outside of my bottle towards my open mouth?

I’ve eluded the Norovirus so far, and I hope to keep it that way.

Maintaining an aversion to all excretions north and south benefits many a hiker, delaying the seemingly inevitable first bout of sickness. I’ve eluded the Norovirus so far, and I hope to keep it that way. Me sick=whiny baby. Multiply times ten if I have a stomach bug.

If I should ever encounter a stomach bug in the woods, I will not hike, I will not be cheerful and brave. I will pitifully beg startled passersby to feel sorry for me in my time of need. And they will keep hiking, perhaps more quickly. I will ask my sister, Walkie, to get me a ginger ale from the nearest vending machine. I will request that she place her cool hand on my funky forehead, and she will abstain and look on me from afar with love and disgust.

You can continue reading the full article here.

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Editors
The Trek Editors
We are the word nerds of The Trek who want nothing more than to infuse some hiking and backpacking joy into your day.
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The Trek: To Bidet…or not to Bidet?

To Bidet…or not to Bidet?

Screw a hunk of rubber onto your water bottle, walk 200 feet away from the trail as well as any water sources, dig a six-to-eight-inch deep by five-inch wide hole, annnnd GO!

My considerations of using a trail bidet ended there.

My imagination rarely allowed me to take the matter further. But when it did, my concerns could be summed up singularly: contamination.

Splashback. Invisible crawling bacteria on hands, clothes, shoes, not to mention the water bottle.

And I wasn’t clear on what the future held for that poor water bottle? Was I supposed to drink out of it later? Tucking the bidet away, attaching a Sawyer Squeeze, and guzzling pristine water through my filter while tiny unseen friends clambered over each other in a race down the outside of my bottle towards my open mouth?

I’ve eluded the Norovirus so far, and I hope to keep it that way.

Maintaining an aversion to all excretions north and south benefits many a hiker, delaying the seemingly inevitable first bout of sickness. I’ve eluded the Norovirus so far, and I hope to keep it that way. Me sick=whiny baby. Multiply times ten if I have a stomach bug.

If I should ever encounter a stomach bug in the woods, I will not hike, I will not be cheerful and brave. I will pitifully beg startled passersby to feel sorry for me in my time of need. And they will keep hiking, perhaps more quickly. I will ask my sister, Walkie, to get me a ginger ale from the nearest vending machine. I will request that she place her cool hand on my funky forehead, and she will abstain and look on me from afar with love and disgust.

You can continue reading the full article here.

Photo thumbnail Blog Author
Editors
The Trek Editors
We are the word nerds of The Trek who want nothing more than to infuse some hiking and backpacking joy into your day.
Media Mentions
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