Riding the Pooh Trail

I've long been perplexed at the practice of bagging pooh after your pet has laid some cable on a local mountain bike trail. We've all seen it...small brown bags, tied neatly at the top, just sitting there on the side of the trail, looking forlorn and scared. As I ride by I usually think ..."They'll be back for that bag and place it in the trash at the trail head."

But too often I see that same sad bag of pooh lingering for longer than it should.



Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the actual bagging of the pooh; it's far better than the all-to-frequent alternative of letting your horse-sized animal created a new obstacle in the trail for the rest of us to either ride around or through.

Come to think of it, there's one trail that in my corner of the universe has become famous for random animal droppings: Mueller Park.

While this trail is busy with hikers and bikers, it's also seemingly the place to bring your animal to take a hud. Within the first 200-300 yards of trail one can consistently count several piles of fresh mess. Part of me thinks this is the dog just getting it out of his system before the tag-along run with his owner.

But more and more I'm starting to believe this is a place people bring their dogs to pooh.

And I've been unfortunate enough to have ridden through one of these piles. It's been several years, but the memory (and the smell) is still fresh in my mind. And there's nothing worse than hitting a steaming pile of Alpo right at the outset of a ride to keep your anger brewing.

Seriously, can't you people take a stick or a makeshift broom made of pine bows and brush this stuff off the trail where it can decompose quickly and remain out of sight for riders? I smell bad enough after a hard ride with out freshening up with Fido's fertilizer.



I've also seen this phenomenon on paved trails, believe it or not...and on faux paved trails like Slickrock in Moab. Mmmmm....nothing like baked crap being flung about by some inexperienced rider who can't avoid it. And there's surely nothing sweeter than finding out too late that the smell that's following you is on you. And it's the same color as the trail, so it can be hard to miss. And it's going to stick on your tires and jersey for longer than you think.

And don't even think of trying to question my already questionable bike handling skills. I can steer around the pooh...if I could see it. It usually hides in the shadows, caked in a think coat of the same dusty dirt that covers the trail...maybe posing as a pine cone, but always finding its way onto you.

Which brings me back to the little brown bags of pooh. Yes, it's very kind and sensitive of the person who bagged the crap to do so. But I implore you to take your smelly mess with you; whisk away the unbagged dung into the bushes if you run out of pooh bags; and until that dog learns how to pedal or wipe itself, leave the dog at home.


The one dog owner who packs out what his dog packed in (and then let out.)

PETA can bring their team of high poohwered attorneys after me — I will no longer stand for owners and their animals treating our trails as their own outhouse. I demand justice. I demand freedom from pooh. I demand a bright fluorescent dog food that's visible from 50 yards once it's evacuated from the animal.

To all dog owners out there who don't clean up after your animals: May you step in your own pet's pooh. And may it smell. Badly.