On April 19, 2022, the Brinnon Fire Department received an unforgettable call: a woman had fallen headfirst into a vault toilet at the top of Mount Walker. The 40-something hiker had dropped her phone into the dark abyss while using the facility. What followed was a desperate attempt to retrieve it—dismantling the toilet seat, fashioning a makeshift retrieval tool with her dog’s leash, and ultimately slipping into the 8-foot pit herself.
With her phone miraculously still functional, she used it to call 911 after 15-20 harrowing minutes of trying to escape on her own. Responders from Brinnon Fire Department and Quilcene Fire Rescue rushed to the scene, finding the woman trapped but uninjured, her loyal dog likely bewildered by the entire ordeal. What unfolded next was a rescue mission unlike any other.
Episode 11 of Mary Poopins dives headfirst—much like our unfortunate protagonist—into the literal pits of despair. Set against the majestic beauty of Mount Walker in Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, this episode takes a wild turn from serene hiking trails and breathtaking views to the dark, ominous depths of a vault toilet. It’s almost as if nature and the toilet took revenge on this woman.
Stick around as we unravel the details of this odyssey, sprinkle in some potty humor, and remind you why no phone is worth the plunge. 💩
Mount Walker, nestled in the heart of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, has sublime natural beauty. Towering Douglas-firs blanket the landscape, remnants of a forest rejuvenated after a century-old wildfire. The trails offer a meditative journey, leading visitors through wild rhododendrons that bloom in bursts of purplish-pink during late spring. At the summit, breathtaking panoramas unfurl: the jagged peaks of Mount Constance, the serene waters of Quilcene Bay, and, on clear days, the distant silhouette of Mount Rainier rising majestically into the sky. It’s a haven for hikers, birdwatchers, and picnickers seeking solace in nature’s embrace. Yet, amid this idyllic scenery lies a starkly utilitarian feature: the vault toilet. Designed for functionality over charm, these facilities quietly serve the thousands of adventurers who make their way to Mount Walker each year.
For one visitor, however, the vault toilet became the setting for an ordeal that felt plucked from the pages of absurdist fiction. Her story turned Mount Walker's natural tranquility into the backdrop for an unforgettable, if mortifying, misadventure.
Vault Toilets: Ingenious Yet Unforgiving
Vault toilets, also known as pit toilets, are marvels of outdoor engineering designed to solve the problem of restroom facilities in remote areas. Without the benefit of plumbing, they rely on an underground, airtight tank—or "vault"—to collect waste. The key to their functionality lies in their simplicity: waste is deposited into the vault, where the slow process of natural decomposition begins. Above ground, the structure is utilitarian, featuring sturdy walls, a roof, and a ventilation pipe jutting into the air to help disperse the noxious gases that accumulate below.
Inside, the setup is as bare-bones as it gets. A single toilet seat, often bolted securely in place, perches above the dark, gaping void of the vault. You might find a roll of single-ply toilet paper dangling precariously from a holder if you're lucky. But seasoned outdoors enthusiasts know better than to rely on this amenity, which is prone to running out, or absorbing ambient moisture. Packing your own TP is considered a cardinal rule of hiking and camping. If there is any toilet paper, remember you are in a dark, damp spot, just the kind that spiders and other creepy crawling bugs love. User, beware!
Who Maintains These Minimalist Thrones?
Vault toilets are typically maintained by park staff, contractors, or specialized waste management teams. Cleaning schedules depend on usage; heavily trafficked sites might be serviced every few months, while less-frequented locations might only see attention once or twice a year. Maintenance crews use industrial vacuum trucks to pump the vault's contents—an unenviable job requiring both technical skill and, one imagines, a strong stomach.
The ventilation systems are essential not only for odor control but also for safety. Without proper ventilation, gases like methane and hydrogen sulfide could accumulate to dangerous levels, risking asphyxiation for anyone who dares to venture too close.
How Do These Compare to Porta-Potties and Flush Toilets?
Vault toilets differ significantly from their portable cousins, the porta-potties. Porta-potties are often used for short-term events, utilizing chemicals to break down waste and control odors. These are emptied frequently, usually after each event, and are more mobile. Vault toilets, by contrast, are permanent fixtures designed for long-term use in remote locations. Their reliance on natural decomposition rather than chemicals makes them more environmentally friendly, though significantly more odorous.
Flush toilets represent the gold standard of restroom luxury, complete with running water, plumbing, and a general absence of existential dread. But such luxuries are rare in the wilderness, where vault toilets reign supreme.
The Vault Toilet Dilemma
Vault toilets are a testament to human ingenuity and adaptability but also a reminder of our primal discomfort with waste. They’re practical, functional, and relatively eco-friendly, but their design evokes an almost universal unease. Whether it’s the smell, the darkness, or the inherent vulnerability of squatting above a cavern of waste, vault toilets have earned their place in the pantheon of necessary but dreaded experiences.
Texting on the throne has become a modern ritual for many, seamlessly blending multitasking with a moment of solitude. Bathroom breaks now pair with Instagram scrolling, consulting with loved ones, or firing off a quick text. But for all its convenience, this habit carries risks we often ignore. For one unlucky hiker, the worst-case scenario became a grim reality.
It began like many digital-era misfortunes: a distracted moment, a slippery phone, and a precarious angle. We can only guess who she was messaging. The phone slipped from her hand and disappeared into the dark, foreboding depths of the vault toilet. One Reddit commenter summed up the options perfectly: “If your phone falls into an outhouse, just let it go.”
Did our Outdoor Adventurer cuss, shake her fist, or scream out in frustration? For most people, that echoing splash would signal the end. There would be mourning, self-recrimination, and perhaps a chance to finally upgrade. But not for this woman. The phone was more than just a device—it was a lifeline to her. Whether it held photos, essential information, hot spicy sexts, or something more. What followed was an attempt so daring it rivaled Renton’s infamous dive into the “Worst Toilet in Scotland” in Trainspotting. Like Renton’s plunge, her mission was raw, real, and utterly unforgettable.
The Trainspotting Connection: Desperation Drives Action
In Trainspotting, Renton’s plunge into “the Worst Toilet in Scotland” is a grotesque yet oddly poetic depiction of desperation. The toilet itself is a monument to squalor, overflowing with filth and decay, a physical representation of the depths Renton will sink for his addiction. But as he dives in headfirst, the scene transcends the literal. Director Danny Boyle transforms the nauseating reality into a surreal journey, the filth morphing into an ethereal underwater world. Renton swims through crystalline waters, his pursuit of the opium suppositories turning into something almost triumphant. Emerging victorious, he shouts with uncontainable joy, “Yes, you fucking dancer!” It’s a moment that captures both his determination's absurdity and grim beauty.
While Renton’s dive is imbued with cinematic surrealism, our hiker’s was a tactile, sensory nightmare: the smells, the textures, the squelching sounds. Instead of a hallucinatory escape, she faced a grim abyss with no soft lighting or ambient soundtrack to cushion the blow. The parallels, however, are striking. Renton’s desperate retrieval of his opium suppositories mirrored this hiker’s quest for her phone. Both saw their respective treasures as indispensable. Renton’s prize was his next high, hers, a vital connection to the outside world. A phone today isn’t just a gadget—it’s a repository of photos, contacts, apps, and messages. Perhaps it contained her favorite trail maps, irreplaceable pictures, or even a crucial text thread. Unlike Renton’s exuberant cry of victory, her experience likely ended in stunned silence, punctuated potentially by the barely there buzzing of her phone—a far less euphoric conclusion.
Into the Abyss: The Nightmare Below
Vault toilets are not for the faint of heart. They are dark, cavernous voids designed to hold waste for months at a time, slowly breaking it down with the help of nature’s least glamorous processes. Seeing that black hole triggers an almost instinctive fear for many: What if something falls in? Phones, keys, wallets, sunglasses, granola bars, or other hiking snacks—anything not firmly secured can easily tumble into the abyss. Dropping an item into a vault toilet isn’t just inconvenient; the dark, foreboding depths whisper, Drop something here, and it’s gone forever.
The moment the phone fell, it descended into a realm of the unimaginable—a symphony of plops and splashes echoing in the abyss like a cruel laugh track to her misfortune. The smells, a blend of gases and the earthy stench of decay must have hit her like a slap in the face as she leaned closer.
The view alone can be unsettling for anyone standing above a vault toilet: light refuses to linger, and your imagination does its worst. Armed with a dog leash and an admirable (if questionable) resolve, she set up a rescue mission. First, she removed the toilet seat—an act that, frankly, deserves a standing ovation for mechanical bravery—and began her descent. She leaned into the vault to retrieve the phone using the leash as an impromptu harness.
The leash, however, was not designed for spelunking into the smelly pit. It gave way, sending her careening headfirst into the latrine. Oh no! Using a leash designed to hold the pulling force of a dog to support a human’s body weight as a plan was always a crapshoot.
Our Hero lost her balance and careened through the opened hole and down into the eight-foot pit. Luckily, she was unhurt by the fall. When she fell, the impact was more than just physical—it was emotional and sensory devastation. The squelch of sludge, the fumes burning her nostrils, and the suffocating darkness must have combined into a full-body nightmare.
The Sounds and Smells of Despair
Let’s not sugarcoat it: falling into a vault toilet isn’t just gross—it’s a front-row seat to the depths of human waste with sickening sloshing sounds. The smells and the sludge's texture clinging to her clothes and skin would be a visceral reminder of exactly where she was.
Did her phone glow in the darkness like a mocking reminder of how it got her there? Was it buzzing with notifications? Perhaps she thought, If I can just get to it, this will all be worth it. But with every squish and splash, that optimism had to fade fast.
The Health Hazards: This Is More Than Just Gross
If the psychological trauma wasn’t enough, the physical dangers were very real. Vault toilets are not sterile environments—far from it. The waste stew she found herself in was a literal petri dish of bacteria, viruses, and who knows what else. Even a tiny cut or abrasion could have been an entry point for serious infections, including tetanus or worse. Exposure to raw sewage is no laughing matter, although it probably looks funny. We laugh because seeing so much waste makes us uncomfortable with our bodily processes.
Methane and hydrogen sulfide gases, byproducts of decomposition, also pose a significant risk. These gases can cause dizziness, nausea, and even unconsciousness in high concentrations. She was lucky to remain alert and functional.
The Phone Call
Her contact with the outside world brought disbelief rippled for the fire station. “When the call came in, we all just looked at each other and were like, ‘Did I just hear what I think I heard?’” Brinnon Fire Department Chief Tim Manly recounted to the Kitsap Sun.
Somehow, despite everything, her phone still worked—a miracle of modern technology. Calling 911 in such conditions must have been an exercise in both relief and humiliation. Picture her holding the sludge-coated device to her ear, hoping the dispatcher couldn’t hear the squelching sounds as she bobbed, surrounded by unmistakable odors. What could she have said to convey the gravity of the situation? “Hi, yes, I’m in a bit of a… sticky situation”? If the dispatcher asked her location, she might have thought, At the bottom of my dignity.
Let’s not forget the existential dread of being stuck in a place like this. Vault toilets are designed to keep their contents out of sight, out of mind. Being physically immersed in them reminds us of humanity’s less glamorous side—a primal, visceral connection to waste that we spend most of our lives avoiding. And here she was, face-to-face (or perhaps waist-deep) in that truth.
As she awaited help, every moment must have felt like an eternity. Did she try to hold her breath, only to realize there was no escaping the smell? Did she try to shift her body only to hear the sickening squelch of sludge echoing through the chamber? Was it possible to float on the sea of poo? Really, inquiring minds have to know, did the glop feel like a whole bunch of pudding? The abyss wasn’t just holding her—it was consuming her, one squish at a time.
The incident details were publicly shared on social media: “Brinnon FD Rescue 41 and Quilcene F&R Aid 21 responded to the mountaintop. Upon arrival, they found the woman as described. The crews made a makeshift cribbing platform by passing them down to the patient.”
Note that a makeshift cribbing platform is a temporary, improvised structure built using readily available materials, like wood blocks or planks, to support heavy objects or create a raised working area. It essentially acts as a temporary platform for lifting or stabilizing something when proper cribbing equipment isn't available; it's often used in emergency situations or when quick construction is needed. So here, they passed items down so she could create a way to exit the pit.
“After making it tall enough for her to stand on, the crew pulled the victim to safety. The patient states she was uninjured and requested no transport. The patient was washed down and given a Tyvek suit to wear. Patient was strongly encouraged to seek medical attention after being exposed to human waste, but she only wanted to leave. She thanked the responders and continued her journey back to California. The patient was extremely fortunate not to be overcome by toxic gases or sustain injury.”
That last line is the understatement of the century.
Let’s spare a thought for the rescuers. Did they exchange uneasy glances as they approached the pit, silently drawing straws to decide who would lead the charge? Did the stench make their stomachs churn, or did years of training prepare them for this ultimate test of olfactory endurance? Were there any hushed bets on who would break first and let out a gag?
And what about after the rescue? How many showers did it take to feel human again—three? Four? Did they have to burn their uniforms in a ritual cleansing? Most hauntingly, does the memory of that day resurface every time they step into a public restroom, a faint whiff of you-know-what triggering flashbacks of a vault toilet gone wrong? These are the unsung burdens of heroism, the scars that don’t make it into firehouse bragging rights. After all, saving lives is part of the job—but rescuing someone from the depths of a poop abyss? That’s a tale they might save for retirement.
Lessons in Letting Go
This story is a cautionary tale for all of us. If your phone falls into a vault toilet, let it go. Park officials, equipped with tools and noses of steel, are better suited to handle these recoveries. Sure, phones are expensive, and it’s a pain to reinstall all the apps, but so are therapy sessions and antibiotics for infections you never want to explain to your doctor.
As one Reddit user aptly said, “I’d rather face a bear than retrieve a phone from a vault toilet.” And let’s be real: no text, selfie, or sext is worth the splashdown. So next time you feel tempted to scroll while on the throne, remember the dog leash, the eight-foot fall, and the rescue team still scrubbing their memories. Your phone might survive the plunge—but will you?
As for the woman? She’ll likely be keeping this story a giant secret for years—after many, many showers. And somewhere, her dog is probably wagging its tail, proud to have witnessed the weirdest day in its owner’s life.
Do you love your time with Mary Poppins as much as we love NOT dropping our phones in vault toilets? Keep the potty humor brewing with a coffee at buymeacoffee.com/marypoopins!
Remember, while we’re all about diving into the humor, leave the actual vault toilet rescues to the professionals. And for anything medical—potty or otherwise—consult a licensed doctor! 💩☕
References
1. U.S. Forest Service, "Mt. Walker Viewpoint," Olympic National Forest, USDA Forest Service. https://www.fs.usda.gov/recarea/olympic/recarea/?recid=47889
2. Brinnon Fire Department Facebook Post https://www.facebook.com/profile/100064588970363/search/?q=mount%20walker
3. CNN Article
Zoe Sottile, “Fire crews rescue Washington woman after she falls headfirst into toilet,” CNN, April 24, 2022.
https://www.cnn.com/2022/04/24/us/woman-rescue-toilet-washington-trnd/index.html
4. People Article
Mary Ellen Cagnassola, “Woman Rescued from Wash. Outhouse After Dropping Phone and Getting Stuck in Toilet,” People, April 25, 2022.
https://people.com/human-interest/woman-rescued-from-outhouse-after-dropping-phone-and-getting-stuck-in-toilet/
5. Outside Online Article
Frederick Dreier, “She Fell Eight Feet Down a Trailhead Toilet. But She Got Her Phone,” Outside Online, April 28, 2022.
https://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/hiking-and-backpacking/trailhead-toilet-fall-olympic-peninsula/
6. The Pop Culture Studio Article
Leon Miller, “The Worst Toilet in Scotland – How Trainspotting’s Most Notorious Scene Changed Cinema Forever,” The Pop Culture Studio, February 3, 2021.
https://thepopculturestudio.com/2021/02/03/the-worst-toilet-in-scotland-how-trainspottings-most-notorious-scene-captured-the-spirit-of-a-generation-and-changed-cinema-forever/
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