These Are the Things We’d Retrieve from a Trailhead Toilet
People keep falling into outdoor latrines while rescuing lost phones. Our editors list the belongings they would fish out of an outdoor crapper—and which ones they’d leave behind.
Would you? Could you? (Photo: Jason Finn/Getty Images)
Updated July 7, 2025 10:12PM
It’s the conundrum every hiker has contemplated in 2022.
No, not whether you’d rather trek the Appalachian Trail or the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s whether you would ever, under any circumstances, climb into one of those disgusting trailhead toilets to retrieve a lost item. This question was first thrust upon us in April, when a woman fell into a pit toilet in Washington State while trying to recover her cell phone. The question popped up again last month, whenVice investigated an image circulating on Reddit of a man who appeared to be stuck in a concrete latrine. Most recently, outdoor podcaster and author Steven Rinella added an Instagram take, commenting on a photo of a woman climbing into the bowl of an outdoor privy. She too was chasing a phone, and Rinella, a former Outside contributor, opined that he would “absolutely” do the same thing.
To find out what the employees at Outside Inc. are made of, we asked them straight up: Are there any items in your life that are worthy of such a nauseating recovery mission? And which belongings would you cut bait on and allow to disappear forever into the pit of horror?
That one houseplant my partner won’t admit is dead
Sierra Shafer, Editor in Chief, SKI
I’M GOING IN
My dog, Auggie (when did I become this person?)
Anything that requires a trip to the DMV or Social Security office to replace
A framed copy of my first writing paycheck, for $30 (to remind me why I do this sh*t)
TIME TO SAY GOODBYE
Granola bars
“Risk,” the board game
My fantasy football team
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Steve Potter, Digital Editor, Climbing
I’M GOING IN
My partner
Anything my partner drops in there and wants back
The threadbare Miguels Pizza sweatshirt I bought on my first climbing trip in 2004
TIME TO SAY GOODBYE
My 401K, since there’s nothing much in there anyway
My mother’s mini-Australian shepherd, who, though cute, has decided my bed is a wee-wee pad
The next door neighbor who, though old and frail and nice enough on other subjects, staunchly refuses to turn their billion-lumen garage light off at night