RAWROD ’06: Oh, So THAT’S Why They Call it “Endurance” Cycling
Before I start my story of Ride Around White Rim in One Day (RAWROD) ‘06, I feel compelled to set your expectations appropriately, so you don’t feel let down at the end.
- There is no twist ending at the conclusion to this story. The arc progresses to its natural conclusion.
- I do not emerge triumphant. There is no cheering crowd at the finish line.
- I do not win a moral victory, nor do I have any startling epiphanies.
OK, let’s proceed.
The Night Before
It seems that every time I go on an epic ride, someone suggests that we camp the night before. “That way,” they always say, as if there’s some sort of script these people share with one another, “we can just wake up and take off!” Brightly, they continue, “And we’ll save money on hotel rooms!” Then, triumphantly, they conclude: “It’ll be fun!”
In the past, I have always argued that we should stay at a hotel instead. I like sleeping in a bed the night before a long ride. I like coming back to a room with a shower and a bed after a long ride. I like the way the temperature in the room can be controlled. And—without going into detail—I like having a toilet available both before and after a long ride.
This time, though, I didn’t argue. Since I was coming from out of town, I didn’t have my own vehicle, so I didn’t have any leverage, anyway. “Fine, let’s camp,” I said, agreeably.
Next time I go on a long ride, I will know better.
Don’t get me wrong. Right up until the point where you actually go to bed, the camping was great. Kenny had thoughtfully brought along enough bratwurst for all 60 people (!!!) who were doing this ride. I had two, with horseradish on the delicious homemade bread Kenny had baked and brought.
Eventually, though, I had to go to bed. Dug had arranged for a really nice cot for me. He had also arranged for a sleeping bag, though I could see there would be problems when he handed the bag, still in its teeny-tiny stuff sack, to me. Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: “Thanks. Is this the pillow?”
Dug: “No, it’s your sleeping bag.”
Me: “The stuff sack is approximately the size of a sock.”
Dug: “Whatever.”
Me: “So, is there a special ripcord or something I pull to make it suddenly inflate, at which point it will have magically have some high-tech insulating properties?”
Dug: “Whatever.”
Me: “Or maybe you have special information about the weather and how while the temperature seems to be plummeting right now, it will shortly rise back to about 50 degrees and stay there?”
Dug: (Walks away, no longer interested in this conversation.)
So, I did not get much sleep. And the sleep I got was poor. And I was cold. And the wind made the tent flap. And there was very little indoor plumbing the morning before the ride (which is a really really really good time to have indoor plumbing).
Next time I go on a big ride, I’m not going to argue about whether we should camp before. I’m staying at a hotel.
OK, I’m done whining.
No, wait. That’s not true. I’m done whining about camping. I haven’t even started whining about the ride itself, though.
Big Wheels
With 60 people starting this ride, there was no way in the world we’d actually get started by the stated start time of 6:30. Brad, Dug and I were the first to roll out at 7:10AM. We rolled down the nicely graded and groomed Horsethief trail, getting passed by Mike Young—who would ride pretty much the whole day by himself, a victim of his own superiority. In fact, the only time anyone would see Mike that day would be at the designated group photo spots.
Here’s Mike, posing heroically.
At first, a lot of people were riding together—after all, there were 60 of us (!!!). And as we rode through several patches of deep sand, I noticed something: Those of us on 29” wheels rode through, no problem. Those on 26” wheels got off and walked. It was pretty much that cut and dried.
After the first group photo at the bottom of Horse Thief, Brad, Dug, Mark Warner and I hooked up and rode together for the first 50 miles, ‘til we got to the top of Murphy’s Hogback, the designated lunch spot.
The weather was warm—not yet hot—and mild, we were chatting, and I felt strong. I was having a great ride. As we got to Murphy’s Hogback—the second longest sustained climb of the day, my knees were starting to hurt, but not bad. I cleaned the climb without particular difficulty, then sat down with Brad and Dug in the only shady area for miles around, and started heckling others as they finished the climb. Most people ignored us, a few people laughed along with us, and a few (foolishly) even followed our advice, a sampling of which follows:
- No, that’s not how you do it! Stand up!
- No, that’s not how you do it! Sit down!
- No, don’t ride to the right! Ride straight up the center! The center is the only way!
- Oh, you were so close! Go try it again; I’m sure you’ll make it next time.
- What, you’re not going to try it again? You know, your wife cleaned it her first try.
Misery Hates Company
We had a delicious lunch—chicken and stars soup and clif bars for me—followed by cake and singing a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” to Racer, who had unfortunately chosen not to come. Oh, and let’s not forget the group photo:
Then it was time to ride again. This time, Kenny hooked up with Dug, Brad and me and we rode together for almost five minutes before Brad discovered he has the strength and endurance of ten men and shot off the front. Dug, feeling good, followed close behind.
Meanwhile, I wasn’t feeling so hot. My knees were hurting worse, and I just couldn’t work up any energy. Kenny, who is one of the nicest and most decent people I have ever met, stayed with me for at least 15 minutes as person after person passed us. Eventually, though, it became too much and he shot on ahead, playing gracious host to others in the massive party he had coordinated.
The truth is, though, I no longer really wanted any company. I was descending into the eleventh circle of hell (yep, there are eleven now), and was building a list of things I didn’t like at all. The list was extensive and I’m afraid I can’t remember everything in it, but here are the parts that I recall:
- I didn’t like people who rode by without saying anything: Look, we may not know each other because this is such an enormous group ride (60 people!!!), but we’re still riding the White Rim, in the same direction, on the same day. Would it hurt to say “Hi” as you went by?
- I didn’t like people who said encouraging things as they rode by: Don’t tell me I’m looking good. If I were looking good, you wouldn’t be able to pass me. When I’m looking good, I can clean your clock. And don’t tell me it’s a beautiful day for a ride. It’s a beautiful day for not riding, that’s what it’s a beautiful day for.
- I didn’t like people who asked me how I’m doing: I’m going four miles per hour on an easy flat stretch. Isn’t it pretty clear how I’m doing?
- I didn’t like how I was feeling: I was beginning to suffer some distress that only a latrine would cure. And there wasn’t a latrine for miles and miles and miles yet.
- I didn’t like my bike: I thought I had set my bike up to have the saddle like on my other bikes, but I guess I didn’t get it right, because my knees were hurting like crazy. Both of them, right along the top. The main thought in my brain for about five hours was, “Does this pain mean my saddle is too high, too low, too far forward, or too far back?” The accompanying thought was, “And does it really matter, since I plan to never ride a bike again as soon as I finish this thing?”
- I didn’t like the terrain: From mile 65 – 85, you’re riding on a choppy, rocky surface that just batters you constantly. It’s like riding on cobblestones, except the cobblestones are made out of sandstone. And there are giant potholes everywhere. And the cracks between cobblestones are about eight inches wide. And every alteranate cobblestone sticks up about four inches higher than its adjoining cobblestone.
- I didn’t like being called “Fatty.” At all.
Betrayal
I was living with all this, though, because of a memory: there’s a ten-mile rolling section that always has a tailwind. You can cruise that section at 25-30mph. It’s wonderful.
This time, though, there was a headwind.
Yes, a headwind. I’m still outraged at this audacious betrayal.
I rode it at about 10mph.
Sometimes, 5mph.
And internally, things were not getting better.
I arrived at Musselman Arch—the last place everyone was supposed to gather for water before finishing the ride—completely blown. However, I did still have plenty of water—my camelback felt like it was a third full, and I had a full bottle besides. And I really needed to get to a toilet.
So I rolled in—by my estimation, I was one of the last ten people to arrive—and saw Brad, Dug, and Bry taking shelter in what shade they could find.
Dug did not look good.
I’ll let Dug tell his story tomorrow.
Bry and Brad, on the other hand, seemed happy as could be. “Hey, Fatty, where’s your big smile?” Bry—who is, I should point out, an incredibly nice guy who has never said anything mean to me, even when I stupidly caused him to crash a few years ago—asked.
I flipped him off.
To get a sense of how I felt at the time, consider: this is the first time I’ve flipped anyone off in my adult life.
I headed back onto the trail. I knew there was a toilet no more than five miles away.
Last Climb
I will not go into the details of my time at the latrine at the bottom of the Shafer climb, but I will say this: I would previously not have expected it to be possible to be overwhelmed with joy at the sight of a toilet.
Then it was time to do the big climb up Shafer.
The best way to not get demoralized by Shafer is this: Never, ever, ever take a good look at it. It’s just a cliff—a big cliff that switches back and forth for pretty much ever. It’s steep; it’s loose. It’s evil.
It’s the only way out.
I knew I wouldn’t be climbing fast, so I intentionally started the climb in my granny gear, and just stayed there. This was not a bad strategy; I managed to ride practically the whole thing. I just ignored the people passing me. Pretended they weren’t there at all.
And then Bill—the only person in the world who may be a nicer, more decent guy than Kenny—caught me.
“Man, I am so slow!” he said, as he easily passed.
I will not repeat what I said to Bill, but you can safely assume that it was out of character, and was very likely nastier than events warranted.
Eventually—oh, so eventually—I got to the top of Shafer. All that was left to do was ride the nice, rolling pavement for about seven miles back to the tent , where—instead of taking a nice shower and laying down on a bed, like I would if we had a hotel room—I’d need to break camp. Grrrr.
Here’s the thing, though: That pavement was endless. And it didn’t roll, either. It just climbed and climbed and climbed. It was the most dispiriting part of the whole ride.
And then, from out of nowhere, Kenny pulled up ahead of me. “Let me pull you for a while,” he said. I got in as close as I could, hunkered down, and drafted my little heart out. I noticed Kenny was frequently looking off to the right where he could see our shadows, then feathering his brakes whenever he saw I was starting to drop back more than a foot or so.
I tell you, Kenny is the nicest, most decent guy in the world.
PS: The King and Queen of Shafer
Kenny asked me to choose a King and Queen of Shafer for this edition of RAWROD. I figure I’d still be out on that road if it weren’t for him, so here are my picks.
- The King of Shafer: Linde Smith picked RAWROD 2006 as his first 100-mile MTB ride. And he did it on a singlespeed. And he has MS. Personally, I think it’s a little bit of overkill to contract MS to get the title “King of Shafer,” but that’s just me.
- The Queen of Shafer: Serina Warner did the whole ride on a singlespeed. And she’s really nice. And she did the ride with a big ol’ swollen arm, due to the bee sting she had got the day before. And she didn’t sing opera at all during the whole ride. Which counts for a lot.
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 6:35 pm
when have you ever slept the night before a big event ride? never, that’s when. i did you a favor and gave you an excuse for not sleeping.
hey, are you excited for the cream puff in june? i’ve never been so totally excited to NOT be signed up for an event. you kids have fun.
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 7:05 pm
First, it was clear you were screwed when you said “I had two, with horseradish…” You could have stopped right there, really. As for the cold… dang. I’m just glad that you chose IT work over a career in the Special Forces. Otherwise, old Afghan ladies would be whipping our butts with tea cozies and knitted socks. “Ow! Stop! Really! I mean it! That wool itches! Stop! Hey, this is Kashimir… so where’s the cashmere? Ouch!!!” On the 29’er thing – I’ve seen the same thing on the road. So many of the guys who just crush me in roadraces have Dura Ace and Zipp wheels. Man, if I could just afford that stuff, I’d be sooo much faster.
On riders passing you and saying/not saying anything – I think I prefer that to the usual roadracer greeting. “Hey, thanks for the draft…[under the breath: ya fat bastid.]” FWIW, in translation, “nice day for a ride” means “nice day for a ride…y’know, if you actually *could* ride.” “How you doing” means “do you need me to call the medevac chopper yet, Alice?” And “looking good” means “you probably look very good to the vultures.” You should probably hunt down the people who said that stuff to you and kill them. Or at least fill the tires of their 29′ers with water.
Four last words: cat hole. Toilet paper.
Comment by Fat Cyclist | 05.1.2006 | 7:19 pm
dug – that was the old me. i USUALLY sleep just fine before a big ride nowadays.
al – i’d like to blame the brats, but that’s what everyone was eating. it is my fondest hope that next year you will join us for rawrod ‘07; i think it’s just the kind of sufferfest you’d like.
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 7:43 pm
Nice work fatty – I wish I could do what you did!Now, I know it’s just an acronymn, but – didn’t you know this was going to happen when they named the race?I can’t imagine any circumstance under which I would ever ride any event with either of the words RAW or ROD in the name, much less both of them. My hat’s off to ya fatty, you’d'man.
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 7:53 pm
fc,
anytype sausage + hotel = nice
camping + cycling = not nice
"friends" + endurance events = maybe nice
jessica + alba = very nice
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 7:54 pm
At least you got to ride this weekend. With friends. On your 29er. So quit your bitching.
Comment by rich | 05.1.2006 | 8:52 pm
Wow, and I thought I could whine. Its not all bad though, we did get a RAWROD tshirt (thanks Kenny). Is anyone else getting blood when they wipe? I think I have an anal fissure.
Comment by jim | 05.1.2006 | 9:04 pm
This was not the bolstering, encouraging, long-distance re-cap I had hoped for. Judging by some of my recent training for the 150, I am apt to have similar frustrations minus the camping and toilet issues.
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 9:21 pm
Yeah, it sounds great Fatty. Fat roadie with zero technical skills (other than climbing logs, man, can I ride logs, lots of them out there, I bet) convinces his wife to let him ride MTB seriously again, attempts to ride 100 miles offroad, surrounded by people who actually can ride an MTB, gets humiliated by everybody except the guy who is suffering abdominal cramps from raging diarrhea stemming from a severe a bratwurst allergy, gets his humiliating ride immortalized on two or three blogs.
I don’t see how I could say no, quite frankly.
Comment by Unknown | 05.1.2006 | 9:36 pm
Are you still planning on the Kokopelli Trail Race? Remind though, that if you are there, not to say anything if you look bonked. :D Sounds like you guys had a great time. I was really wishing I could have been down there with you.
Comment by Andrew | 05.1.2006 | 10:05 pm
Dear Chubby Cherub,
I mean no disrespect–really–but you whine almost as much as a triathelete.
Comment by joan | 05.2.2006 | 12:55 am
I’m sorry – but anything entitled RAWROD just cannot end well. Rich – are you sure about that fissure?
Comment by Jose | 05.2.2006 | 3:15 am
Don’t feel bad fatty, you didn’t kick ass but at least you made it. I love your pictures, especially the one of that Mike Young. He looks like Napoleon crossing the alps. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Napoleon4.jpg)
By the way, is Rich the guy with the spread legs in front of the group photo? He looks like he needed a little heat in his posterior.
Comment by Sue | 05.2.2006 | 4:01 am
I’d reconsider your decision to drop cycling: ((Fat Cyclist) – Cyclist) = Fat.
Botched
P.S. Wow that’s a really big group! Must be close to 60 folks!!
P.P.S. What you experienced happens to me everytime I ride my mountain bike for more than about 7 hours. Gastly.
Comment by Jill | 05.2.2006 | 5:34 am
I rode the White Rim once … in three days … with a support vehicle and Dutch oven dinner every night. I still suffered immensly in my Granny Gear climbing that cliff above the Green River, which is scary as all hell if you’re a vertigo person like myself. So, no matter how much you talk down your ride, I’m still impressed.
Comment by Tim D | 05.2.2006 | 9:56 am
Think yourself lucky, you could have spent your weekend like mine. The only nice sunny day I was inside on a training course. Sunday I spent decorating the downstairs loo, Monday inside fixing the broken computer and then building a new garden bench. The only time I got outside was to cut the wood for the bench.
My friends were in Scotland mountain biking all weekend.
Tim
Comment by BIg Mike In Oz | 05.2.2006 | 10:39 am
OK, let’s start at the start.
1. RAW ROD… Ride Around White Rim in One Day… nice acronym, and nice try. Now tell everyone the truth. It’s actually Raw Rod, and even Assos chamois Butt’r can’t fix it. Can you spell chafe?
2. Most importantly though, I noticed something in the group photo that has caused a profound change in my opinion of mountain bikers. Not mountain biking, that’s still just plain silly. But the bikers themselves have moved up the evolutionary ladder several rungs. Despite the perceived abuse of equipment that is at the heart of mountain biking, every bike in the group photo has the drive train up out of the dirt.
3. 60 riders? The group photo has 61 heads in it, plus someone is probably standing behind the camera. That’s 62. Did you pick up a couple of stragglers from last years ride that were still out on the course?
4. Al – if I can find a sponsor for the plane ticket, I’ll go. You and I can fumble around together.
Comment by Unknown | 05.2.2006 | 11:29 am
Even though I’m only a roadie, I know exactly what you are talking about. At 6′4”, 230, uphill and I don’t get along too well. I’ve definately told people cheering for me to shut up, during a race. I definately prefer to suffer alone.
Anyone who cheers for me after I’m dropped deserves a quick shot in the pills, I think. Then they will at least know what I’m feeling just then.
Comment by Tom Stormcrowe | 05.2.2006 | 1:23 pm
Elden, the only thing that makes you feel physically worse than a great ride does in the middle, is a horrible ride! You had a great one!
Comment by Unknown | 05.2.2006 | 1:27 pm
Mike, here’s the plan. I’m putting together a single speed cross bike to race in the fall. If that works out okay, I will commit to RawRod. The rims will be Velocity Deep Vees – good Ozzie stuff there - that comprise the original (and still popular) homebrewed bulletproof 29′er wheel, up-tired to a 700×45 or 700×50. I’m using a Surly Cross Check frame a buddy is selling me, unless I can scare up an On One Il Pompino, either of which is definitely tough enough to take the pounding, especially if I get some forks. Hell, I’ll even wear my roadracing club jersey and do it with shaved legs. If I’m going to suck, I should at least behave in a legendary-stoopid manner, and win the Style Points competition. My theme for next year: Yeah baby – RawRod ‘07 on drop bars!
Comment by Sue | 05.2.2006 | 2:48 pm
White Rim is hot and long with an absolutely demoralizing climb at the end, but it is not very technical; a person could do pretty well on a cross bike, except for one problem: SAND. The skinny tyres (that one’s for MIKe and Tim) are gonna sink to the hubs.
Botched
P.S. Notice I worked a semicolon and a colon into the first sentence?
Comment by Sue | 05.2.2006 | 2:49 pm
dug, that’s the best picture of you I’ve ever seen.
Botched
Comment by Stephanie | 05.2.2006 | 3:08 pm
the two guys to the far right of your picture should deserve a prize for biking in a polo shirt and jeans, or for snaking into your group picture.
Comment by Zed | 05.2.2006 | 3:16 pm
Botched, that’s three clauses in one sentence. There has to be a rule against that somewhere.
Fatty, forgive the curiosity, but exactly what <i>is</i> on the approved list for things people say to you as they ride past? I’ll bet that’s a short list, eh?
Comment by Unknown | 05.2.2006 | 3:30 pm
The skinny tyres (that one’s for MIKe and Tim) are gonna sink to the hubs.
Well, that’s why I want to do it on a CX bike. I figure that I can throw the bike over my shoulder and run. Heck, if the people on 26′ers sink anyhow and have to push, I should be able to cut a rakish figure by running along with a bike on my back, woofing and shouting in Flemish. Besides, a 700×50 Cross knobby, the widest you can get that I’ve found, is just a shade under two inches. A 700×45, a more common Cross size, is 1.75 wide and fits the Surly.
Comment by Fat Cyclist | 05.2.2006 | 4:15 pm
al – the thought of doing this ride on a cyclocross bike — maybe even a fixie cross — had occurred to me before I rode last weekend. i still think it’s a great idea…for you to try.
caloi – of course, the proper thing for people to do is not pass me at all. i got along just fine with the people who didn’t pass me.
botched – your math is irrefutable.
stephanie – the folks in jeans were the nice people who drove the 3 sag wagons behind us the whole day, carrying food, supplies, parts, and stuff.
jose – the guy doing the splits is lee, who dug will mention in his story i’m posting just a little bit later today.
boz – i’m not sure the "gruff drill sergeant" schtick is working out for you.
rich – oh, don’t worry. you’re still the most prolific whiner i know of.
theEdge – really, you want to have a bad day when you’re doing a big ride. if everything goes off like clockwork, the story you tell will be very boring. pain = drama = good story. i mean, consider: what would Mike Young’s story from the same day look like? Here’s what:
My RAWROD ‘06 Adventure
by Mike Young
I started the day feeling strong, and remained strong throughout. Nobody could hang with me. I rode efficiently to the halfway point without incident, way off the front.
I then waited for a long time for others to arrrive.
After a healthy lunch, I rode away again, briefly and pleasantly saying "hello" to everyone as I rode by them.
I finished the White Rim ride in five hours (riding time), without incident, feeling much the same as when I began.
I did some stretching exercises, ran five miles to keep my legs loose, then drove home at a brisk-but-safe speed.
The End
Comment by barry1021 | 05.2.2006 | 4:27 pm
Hey FC, does Mike Young have a blog? I loved his story!!
Whadya mean it was the first time you have flipped someone off as an adult? It sounds like there is a story there, like when you were 13, you were flipping off a friend and a giant condor came by and picked you up by your middle finger and started flying away and you prayed to God that if you lived you would never flip anyone off again, and the condor let go and….well something like that.
Actually I haven’t flipped anyone the bird….today, but then again I didnt drive into work which is usually good for at least one.
RoadRage
Comment by Chris | 05.2.2006 | 4:40 pm
Fat Cyclist,
Thanks for the RAWROD recap. I especially liked the pillow incident conversation. If you were fleeing from a pack of zombies and had to RAWROD again, what bike would you chose: 26" full suspension or 29" hardtail.
I’m wondering if the ability to rode through quicksand is worth taking a beating from miles 65 to 85. Maybe a 29" daully is the way to go.
Comment by Unknown | 05.2.2006 | 6:07 pm
For once in my life I have avoided the regret that inevitably comes from engaging in an activity that is way above my head at the moment.
Lucky me. I know you would have loved to have me there so that someone else could have suffered more than you. I would like that, too. Just as long as it’s not me.
I feel good that I dodged that bullet.
And I don’t know Mike Young, but I hate him, none the less.
Comment by Tim D | 05.2.2006 | 6:12 pm
Al, the Il Pompino is great, but I’ve never gone off road on it yet. I like the 130/135mm rear spacing, but the latest frames come with 120mm track spacing. Still at £400 complete, it is an unbeatable deal
Tim
Comment by Jsun | 05.2.2006 | 7:05 pm
Fantastic write-up! I liked the pain and agony. You’re right, it makes a much better story and you do it so well. You should have kept your picture out, you’re not fat at all.
And you’re right about the comments page being just as interesting as the blog post. I haven’t got around to posting my ‘blog’ here on the comments page yet, but may do so after our annual RAWR-in-3D. Even though our rule is what happens in WR stays in WR, but with your readership…
How about this long-story-short:
When I was 17, I really liked this girl, enough to go to church with her. So, Sunday morning I pick her up and while driving to Sunday School, a car cuts me off, honks and the people in the back give me a dirty look, so I naturally flip the bird. Our Sunday School teacher turns out to be the other driver. I now save that gesture for only the most deserving of my friends.
Comment by Unknown | 05.3.2006 | 3:09 am
11 circles of hell? Sort of like turning your amp up to 11???
Comment by Unknown | 05.3.2006 | 3:21 pm
Gruff drill sargent ?
OK, hit the deck and give me 20.
Comment by Unknown | 05.3.2006 | 7:59 pm
Fatty – fantastic write-up! I love these stories of the epic trail rides from Hell. I am a solid mid-pack guy and at times get suckered into epic torture rides by the faster riders in my circle of friends. My strategy to gauge the reality of what they are selling me is by making sure a slower rider than me, whose done the ride before, is showing up also. Invariably, the slower rider doesn’t show half the time… and then I know my goose is gonna get cooked.
The crazy thing about your RAWROD is that you actually know what pain you’re in for… and you still do it! Good for you!
Comment by Jared | 05.3.2006 | 8:22 pm
A big thanks to Kenny and everyone else who helped organize the ride. Eldon’s summary of the ride was spot on. I could relate to a lot of what he wrote.
My brother and I did the ride for the first time this year. He tuckered out about halfway through — which was probably the smart thing to do. I let pride get in the way of good sense and I finished it — one of the last people to finish, but I finished nonetheless. I’ve never had my body hurt in so many places at once. Now that a few days have passed since the ride, I’m finally warming up to the idea of sitting on a bike seat again. Probably not this week, but sometime soon. It’s amazing how quickly we forget.
Comment by Azriel | 05.9.2006 | 3:24 pm
Told you before on "what to take on an epic ride" – Toilet paper.But, how do you go when you realy need to and have no "decent" place?Let’s devide the problem to two parts :1. Biological and easily bio-degradable2. Paper. Degrades only after a decent rain.So, given the moab doesn’t get too much rain, we need to dispose of the evidence in an inviromental-friendly manner. here are a couple of options.So here are the top suggestions of the Israeli – Desert riding jury:1. Hide it under a rock. This way it won’t be an eye-sore.2. Burn the paper, hide the rest under a rock.3. Hide it under a rock, put the paper in a zip-locked plastic bag, and dispose of it when you can.4. Hold it till it comes out of your ears.#3 is the best… just remember not to ask guys to take stuff from your camleback :-) and be very suspicious when helping othersThese methods were devised by the best of the Israeli "commandos", cause we’re used to not having ANY restrooms in the desert. And holding it for 3 days and nights, seems like a not such a good idea :-oCheers,Azriel.