Once we got to the top, the lodge was amazing. A quaint, primitive lodge, with no electricity, one pipe of running water, several cabins, one large dinning facility, and an outhouse. The cabins were all the same (that I can remember). Each one having a common area with a large fireplace and two bedrooms adjoining it. Each bedroom contained two sets of bunk beds, two pales of water and a wash rag, and lanterns on either side.
So my friend Trent and myself decided to stay up and play card games with the kids of the family that were in the other bedroom. Interestingly enough for two 15 year old boys, the kids were two 15 year old girls - twins. I don't recall their names, but we did play Canasta. During the night there were several fun experiences that occurred. Apparently, at night, the mouse population of Mt. LeConte comes out to play. They were everywhere. On the rafters over head, crawling across the floor, and even over the bed posts. One point, I heard my mother scream because one of the mice crawled over her face. I laughed. Too bad it didn't poop on her.
However, as all fun and good things must do, we decided it was time to fall asleep, and I needed to go to the restroom. None of the cabins had a bathroom or toilet, and with one pipe of running water (which was available outside) the only facility to fulfill this function was the shared outhouse in the middle of the peak. Probably a quick two or three minute walk from the cabin we were staying in. I picked up one of the lanterns, made sure it was going to stay lit and walked out.
The outhouse was large, and really about what you would expect. Basically a stall exposed to the world. It had a door that could close tight and the walls extended almost to the ground, but there was a little room to allow light and ventilation. The roof was slanted and crudely made. What more can you expect for a exterior outhouse exposed to the harsh conditions of mountain peak living? None the less, it was purposefully built. The almighty throne of nature was also about what you would expect: a box with a hole. At least they provided a little padding.
To spare you the renal details, I did my business and was about to exit when I heard a sound coming from the bottom of the stall. It was a sniffing sound, very harsh and abrupt. The beast outside shadowed the already diminished moon light coming in from the cracks of the plank wood stall. It felt like an eternity, but was probably only about five or ten minutes of the monstrous beast circling the primitive lavatory.
Eventually it left, but the thought through my head was, "How long do I wait?" So I waited longer. I think I must have gotten to known that stall for a good hour before I worked up the courage to exit and scurry back to the cabin.
The next morning, all of the residents of the lodge gather together for a shared breakfast prepared in the dining hall. The hall was equipped with a full kitchen, complete with a propane fed stove and oven, an ice box refrigerator, large sinks full of water, and of course llamas. That's how they get their supplies up to the lodge daily. Yet, that wasn't the interesting part of the morning. No, the interesting part was the talk of the morning.
A large black bear, larger than any that LeConte had found in a while to that point was found wandering the lodge. It had ransacked the trash barrels, even the ones that were locked up, and destroyed a screen door leading to the kitchen. Only the lodge workers saw the monstrous Black Bear. I kept quiet. My face must have been white as a ghost.
That thing would torn me to shreds! Anyways... lesson learned: when using an outhouse, beware of Bears.
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