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| the best outdoor toilet there ever was. |
After a life of family hiking trips, I started backpacking with my best friend as soon as we could drive. Every weekend we would backpack Torreya State Park, "The Mountains of Florida," on the the high bluffs along the Appalachicola River; so much so, we got sick of it. Then we made a copy of the key to the same friend's church's trailer of canoes and started taking long paddling trips on Florida's scenic rivers. Not once did I ever poop outside.
I wasn't scared of dropping deuces in the woods, though Deliverance didn't help. And I wasn't grossed out by wiping with leaves. I just preferred the comfort of my own toilet, my own toilet paper, reading material, and privacy. I could hold it for a weekend.
Until one time on the Wacissa River the weight of the world dropped in my stomach while portaging through Slave Canal. There was no waiting this one out. This wasn't prairie dogging, this was a raging black bear charging through my digestive tract.
And at that moment, at a safe distance from any water source, I became a man.
Pooping in the woods is a rite of passage. In an instant one may go from discomforted dayhiker to liberated mountain lover. As made evident from a recent post, it only takes a few nights outdoors for even the most insecure nature newcomer to embrace their ancestral instinct and be completely open about it.
You can google "how to poop in the woods" and get more than 3,890,000 search results. And aside from some important Leave No Trace principles, it just seems a bit ridiculous. Are we that far removed from our ancestral roots that we can't put 2 and 2 together to take a #2 sans toilet?
Our ancestors pooped au naturale. Our human brothers and sisters across the globe still wipe with corn cobs and river stones. Yet we won't talk about it unless it's in an off color birthday card and middle school boys won't even admit that girls do it. Our indifference to pooping outside forces the question, "Are we not human?"
I hope then we shall answer, "Nay! We are mountaineers! Dirtbags and trailrunners! Climbers and kayakers!"
Let us celebrate the fact that we can crap amongst the pines and the hemlocks while the rest of Western Civilization poops anxiously in dimly lit public restrooms.
Let us celebrate that we can defecate serenaded by cicadas and frogs and the distant sound of streams while our classmates and coworkers listen in on noisy stall neighbors, on phone calls and flatulences and explosive diarrhea.
Let us celebrate that we can drop a load surrounded by mountains while friends and family settle for wet seats, hemorrhoids, and single ply toilet paper.
Let us then speak the good news of pooping in woods! Let us tear down the social constructs of lavatory amenities! Let us share the liberating power of backcountry pooping!
In the half-light of morning, coffee brewing on the tailgate of the truck, I wondered down the hill, shovel in hand to find a fabulously fallen tree resting perpendicular with the ground at an angle prime for squatting. Small limbs broken off over time made an actual toilet paper roll. An eight inch cat hole purposely placed for perfect aim, a mountain vista, the cool breeze on my posterior, the Stephanie Davis memoir, High Infatuation and I was in poopoo heaven. It was like MTV Cribs meets Little House on the Prairie.
I didn't want it to end.
Let us celebrate our forested fecal fertilizations!
What's your story? What's your best or favorite outdoor crap tale?
It is an intelligent observation when calling the first outdoor toilet visit a rite de passage. Way back I studied anthropology so I must admit that I immediately felt the use of the concept right. Last week I went through this rite myself, without thinking of the concept before reading it here today. Even though I have passed the age of 40 I have never thought of how hikers go to toilet - before last week when I went on my first hike for several days. I am on a summer study stay in another country. Last week I was invited by a group of my colleagues and students to join them for a one week hike in the wilderness. Nobody said anything about the toilet issue. I certainly understood that we had to pee outdoor, but going in the bushes for # 2, well, uhm, ?? The first day was no problem, neither was the second day. Where we went I could see no toilet and for sure everone went to pee but opening their bowels, well, uhm, ?? The third morning I felt very stuffed, but still no problem to keep it. But that day I started asking myself about how my friends managed it. When going to pee at lunch time I must admit that I looked actively around and for sure, I could see one of the others on distance squatting with his shorts down at the knees. Certainly he is taking a dump I thought. No man is peeing that way. Then I did something that I only admit with a certain degree of shame. I did something that a decent woman should not be expected to do. When he was finished I went over there and got it confirmed. The unmistakable result of a man in huge need. At that time I had no urge. But in the evening after dinner I felt the urge. I made the decision. It was over three days since I last opened my bowels. The need was obvious. I put some paper napkins in my pocket and chose a moment when I thought nobody would notice and walked away. Well away, into the bushes, behind the bushes, down a slope, among some stones, behind a huge boulder. Stood there looking around, no others to be seen, and said to myself - there is no way around. If a middle aged woman should do it outside, this was a suitable place I told myself. And I did it. I shall refrain from any details but the relief was complete. When walking back to the others the body was totally relaxed. I went to sleep immediately and had a good night's sleep. The remaining four days I managed to keep habits normal. Nobody ever mentioned the toilet issue. But being a bit observant I could see small signs showing that we all did it, some used paper, some poo, some white skin among the branches. I passed the rite de passage and found it a neccessary activity, but getting used to it? Not yet.
ReplyDeleteMy rite of passage? Well, it was about 20 years back at a hike in South America. There were no toilets along the trail. Where we camped there either was no toilet or the toilets were extremely dirty (and of the squat type). The toilet issue was never discussed and the first days I lived in the hope that we should come by an ordinary toilet at some point of time. But we did not. On the third morning I woke up with pain in my stomach and feeling extremely stuffed. The reason was obvious. The belly was full of stuff that needed to come out. When I went out of the tent nobody else was around so I decided quickly that it had to happen now or never. I took some paper in my pocket, went well away from the tents and found shelter behind a big boulder. I still remember that I looked carefully around and hesitated a bit before pulling down my throusers. But I did so, squatted and got done what really had to be done. The remaining days I managed to keep habits normal by taking a dump once or twice a day somewhere in nature. Afterwards I have done it lots of times. But still it is something that I really do not like to talk about. This summer I was thru hiking a popular trail with a group of friends. Mostly no toilet around when needing it. And for sure everyone had to go in nature lots of times, not only to pee but also to take a dump. But it was never mentioned by anyone. My worst outdoor experience? A few years back on a fellucca boat ride in Egypt. We stayed on the boat over night and there was no toilet. In the morning I had to go to toilet and did as we were told. I went onshore, well away and behind some bushes, pulled down and did what nature required. When sitting there one of the others came by. She pretended not to see me, but it was obvious that she did. Well, shit happens, I thought. But this was not so traumatic as my wife can describe. Some years back she worked for a period as an aid worker in Africa. Every morning she started out from the base driving to visit several villages. She hated the filthy toilets around and therefore she preferred to squat somewhere in the bushes when out driving. One day she had stopped just before entering a village and had gone into the bushes to relieve herself. But before finishing she became aware of some sounds from behind. And when looking over her shoulder she suddenly discovered a couple of kids standing there looking at this woman with the very white bum. She took it quite cool but when working in the village during the day she understood from what the kids spoke of that someone had told what they had seen.
ReplyDeleteJust these days walking a very popular trail in Spain. Not used to go in the bushes before, but now I really have got practice! Finding a sufficient dense blackberry bush, walk behind, pull down, squat and let go. Hoping that nobody shows up. (Which regrettably has happend.....) Well, I think most (all?) of my walking friends do it too. At least at several occasions I have spotted bare bums between the blackberry branches.
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