Mid-morning on a Fourth of July weekend, I finished my 5 hour hike. I have a trip planned to high elevations in Argentina and am training at altitude to ensure I thwart potential altitude sickness. The campsite I chose was off a remote Jeep trail just below timberline. Needless to say, after my long hike, I was eager to take care of some biological necessities. To make things a little easier and environmentally sustainable, I carry a portable “potty” and a small green pop-up privacy tent. When finished, the bagged contents can be packed out for later disposal. This is a recommended strategy to prevent what we all know as white mountain flowers (aka toilet paper peering through the ground where a dump was taken).

As I was entering my green “potty” tent, I noticed a group of people on an ATV tour with their young male local guide, a seasonal companion to those interested in surviving the outdoors. The group saw me enter the tent. I assumed this would indicate to them to move along, but with great dismay, they stopped to take a lemonade break. Right there. Outside my “potty” tent while I was attempting to unload in peace. Seriously? Despite this awkward situation, I was entertained by their conversations like a comic book left in the potty for leisure reading.

Guide: “You see those two mountains over there, they are the two highest peaks in Colorado. I climbed them last summer.”

Tourist: “You mean there are trails that go clear to the top of those mountains?”

Guide: “I call that hill up there ‘Top of the World.’”

My thoughts: “We’re surrounded by 14ers and you’re calling a 12,500 ft hill ‘Top of the World’?”

Tourist: “What’s that green thing over there?”

Guide: “It’s a shower tent. But it says Pop-Up Poo Pod on it, so it’s probably a privacy tent.”

Tourist: “Is that what she’s doing in there?”

Guide: “Probably. It looks like she camped out here overnight.”

Tourist: “So, people camp here?”

My thoughts: “Sure. Let’s just make me the center of attention while I perform a live demonstration of pooping inside a poo-pod while camping.”

Guide: “You can see a runner further up the trail. There are a couple of marathons up here every summer.”

Tourist: “People go running up here?”

Another tourist: “People are crazy out here.”

Guide: “Sometimes you can see herds of elk or deer come through up here.”

Tourist: “Animals actually live up here?”

Guide: “Yep. In fact, you can see the neighborhood marmot right over there.”

What I wanted to verbally clarify from inside the tent but decided to keep my mouth shut: “Dude, there are thousands of marmots up here, not just one.”

Tourist: “Are we going further up the trail?”

Several Jeeps & trucks head down from further up the trail as the guide says: ”No. It’s too dangerous to drive up there. One mistake and you go tumbling over the edge.”

What the guide was probably thinking: “It’s totally not dangerous. I just don’t trust you tourists to not drive over the edge while gawking at the scenery.”

Guide: “Marmots die if it’s above 72 degrees.”

My thoughts: “Me, too! That’s why I’m here.”

Guide: “So where is everybody from?”

Tourists: “Quad Cities.” “Michigan.” “Iowa.” “Illinois.”

My thoughts: “Nuff said.”

And to the guide that decided to stop this group by my camp spot: “Sorry you had to stay so long without getting the scented pleasure of me crop dusting your temporary tribe.”