Recently, I had a rather unpleasant experience in an outhouse while camping. I wasn’t really surprised because … well, … because it was an outhouse. But it did get me to wondering, are there ever any pleasant experiences in an outhouse? These buildings are created for the convenience of people who need a bathroom in places that generally do not have such facilities available, but the location is often the only thing convenient about them.
To be clear, I am not talking about the bathrooms you find in parks and public spaces in the middle of your average metropolitan areas. I am referring to the rustic, medieval torture chambers sporadically placed in out-of-the-way campsites and along sparsely used hiking trails. The kind of place you stand outside and stare at for fifteen minutes trying to decide if you should go in or just drop your pants where you are and take care of business.
Most of the campsites I have been to use the “open pit” style of bathrooms. This is simply a brick or wood building erected over an open septic system with a couple of seats propped up over holes in the floor. These seats are situated so as to allow patrons to make direct deposits into the pit and, if you’re lucky, not fall in. The smell is generally awful and, if the pit has not been pumped out recently, the view through an open toilet lid is definitely less than scenic.
Because the receptacle is just a big hole in the floor, it is the perfect breeding ground for flies and other insects that feed on waste. From personal experience, I will tell you that there is nothing quite so disturbing as sitting on a toilet trying to relax while listening to the angry buzz of a thousand insects engaged in a sloppy orgy directly beneath you. Except perhaps when one of those insects decides to launch itself straight up and tap you on the bare bum. Fortunately, because most people avoid such places, there probably won’t be anyone around to hear your scream.
On very rare occasions, the bathroom will have running water, a closed septic system, and an actual flushable toilet. Although, for some reason I am unable to fathom, most of these bathrooms attract people that are either unable or unwilling to flush a toilet. The bowl is usually full to the brim and overflowing onto the ground with … well, no need to get quite that specific.
On a side note, I can’t help but wonder sometimes if what is on the floor is actually overflow, or if somebody was just so drunk they thought, “Hmm, I made it inside the building. I guess that’s good enough.”
The toilet paper supplied in the average outhouse (if, in fact any is supplied at all) is also an absolute treat to the rugged outdoorsman. Some paper manufacturer has managed to create the comfort and softness of a high-grade, finely-grained sand paper, and combine it with the durable absorbency of a quality waxed paper. The stuff is absolutely amazing. And that same manufacturer apparently convinced the owners of every campsite I have ever visited to buy only their particular crappy product (pun intended). But the truly incredible feature of this toilet paper is the fact that they managed to make is so incredibly thin, if you don’t fold it at least three or four times before using it, it is guaranteed to tear and leave you with a finger firmly embedded exactly where you did not want it.
And speaking of needing to wash your hands, let’s discuss the faucets next. The last outhouse bathroom I utilized had a sink with running water, which is definitely a plus. However, the faucet was operated by a little, spring-loaded, twirly thing on top. In order to turn the water on, you had to turn the twirly thing with one hand, but the moment you let go, it turned itself back off. I can understand that this probably saves on water since nobody can walk away from the sink and accidentally leave the water running, however this also requires that one hand be on the faucet at all times.
Think about this situation for a moment: one hand on the faucet and the other in the water. Release the faucet, switch hands and repeat the process. How exactly are you cleaning your hands when you transfer whatever was on your right hand onto the faucet, then grab it with your other hand? Not to mention whatever the hell the last guy left on there when he “washed” his hands. There is a reason that normal people wash with both hands under the water at the same time, and yet this set up was designed to completely defeat that process. Maybe the builders figured that since you are camping in the great outdoors you might not mind a little e. coli poisoning to go with your S’mores.
Despite the drawbacks of having to use an outhouse, I still enjoy camping and I am planning on taking as many trips as possible while the weather remains hospitable. I have discovered that copious amounts of alcohol make the experience much more pleasant. Although, drinking requires me to make more frequent journeys into that funhouse of poop, it also makes it less likely that I will remember what I did while I was in there.
Or where I did it.