The Unspoken Trail: How Poop is Reshaping Our Approach to Outdoor Stewardship
There’s a conversation happening in the outdoor community that’s as uncomfortable as it is necessary: what do we do with all the poop? Specifically, the kind left behind by hikers in places like Colorado’s Mount Elbert, where the alpine environment is as fragile as it is breathtaking. Personally, I think this issue is a microcosm of a much larger debate about how we interact with nature—and it’s one that’s far more complex than it seems.
The Problem Isn’t Just About Poop—It’s About Preparedness
Let’s start with the facts: a recent survey found that 11% of hikers on Mount Elbert are pooping along the trail, and fewer than a third are using the available vault toilets. What makes this particularly fascinating is that it’s not a lack of willingness to do the right thing—it’s a lack of tools and preparedness. Jake Thomas, co-founder of PACT Outdoor, puts it bluntly: ‘This is a tools issue.’ And he’s right. When nearly three-quarters of outdoor enthusiasts admit they’ve had to poop in the wild without the proper means, it’s clear we’re dealing with a systemic gap in education and accessibility.
What many people don’t realize is that alpine environments are ill-equipped to handle human waste. Unlike lower elevations, these areas lack the microorganisms needed to break down poop naturally. So, when hikers dig holes or leave their waste exposed, it doesn’t just disappear—it lingers, contaminating the soil and water. This raises a deeper question: if we’re so passionate about preserving these landscapes, why aren’t we better equipped to protect them?
Wag Bags: A Solution or a Band-Aid?
Enter the wag bag—a portable waste disposal kit that’s been hailed as a game-changer. These bags, which include a gelling powder to dehydrate and neutralize waste, are being distributed at trailheads across Colorado. But here’s where it gets interesting: while 30% of hikers on Mount Elbert used them, 87% said they’d use them again. This suggests that people want to do the right thing, but they need the resources to do it.
From my perspective, wag bags are a step in the right direction, but they’re not a silver bullet. For one, they rely on consistent stocking and maintenance, which can be challenging in remote areas. Lloyd Athearn, of the Colorado Fourteeners Initiative, points out that kiosks need to be regularly emptied—and that’s no small feat. Plus, there’s the psychological barrier: carrying your own waste is, well, gross. But what this really suggests is that we need a cultural shift as much as a logistical one.
The Role of Infrastructure—and Its Limitations
One thing that immediately stands out is the lack of infrastructure in many backcountry areas. More than 40% of Colorado’s 14er trailheads don’t have toilets, and building new ones is expensive—a single vault toilet can cost up to $150,000. With federal land managers facing budget cuts, it’s unlikely we’ll see a toilet boom anytime soon.
But here’s the kicker: even if we could build more toilets, they wouldn’t solve everything. High-altitude hikers often experience gastrointestinal distress, making it difficult to plan bathroom breaks. If you take a step back and think about it, the solution has to be a blend of infrastructure and personal responsibility. Wag bags and toilets aren’t competitors—they’re partners in a larger stewardship effort.
The Psychology of Poop: Why We Resist Change
A detail that I find especially interesting is the psychological resistance to carrying waste. It’s not just about the ick factor—it’s about convenience and habit. Most hikers don’t plan for the possibility of needing to poop mid-trail, and even fewer carry the tools to handle it properly. This is where education comes in. As David Boyd of the White River National Forest notes, there’s a learning curve, but making wag bags readily available encourages people to try them.
What’s more, the success stories are hard to ignore. In the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness, the distribution of wag bags has led to a dramatic decrease in exposed poop—from 351 piles in 2015 to just 53 last year. This isn’t just a win for the environment; it’s a win for the hiking community, which is increasingly aware of its impact.
Looking Ahead: A Blended Future
If there’s one takeaway from this, it’s that solving the poop problem requires a multifaceted approach. Wag bags are a vital tool, but they need to be paired with better infrastructure, education, and a shift in mindset. Personally, I think the outdoor industry has a role to play here—companies like PACT Outdoor are already leading the charge, but more needs to be done to normalize waste-carrying as part of the hiking experience.
What this really suggests is that stewardship isn’t just about leaving no trace—it’s about actively protecting the places we love. And sometimes, that means carrying your poop home. It’s not glamorous, but it’s necessary. If we can get over the ick factor and embrace solutions like wag bags, we’ll be one step closer to preserving the wilderness for generations to come.
So, the next time you lace up your hiking boots, ask yourself: are you prepared for every eventuality? Because in the great outdoors, even the smallest actions can have a big impact.
