By Elliot
Warning: this post is probably not to be read over breakfast
We’ve finally come to the inevitable toilet post. For those who don’t know, I’ve previously written stories involving toilets, and have a strong interest in toilets.
Over the course of this trip I’ve used a range of toilets. The gold standard is a private flush toilet, as we have in a motel room. There’s a comfort in knowing you have access anytime to a flush toilet whose cleanliness you are familiar with.
We’ve also stayed in places where there is one toilet for all the TA walkers which could be up to fifteen people. This can be further complicated by the one toilet and one shower being in the same room. There end up being long stretches where the toilet is not usable, which can cause me anxiety. Luckily, I usually wake up early needing to go, before things get busy. This has also given our blog some beautiful sunrise pictures, as I wake Ruth up on my way out of the tent and let her know the sky looks amazing.
There are the long-drop toilets, or outhouses. These are standard in most huts and campsites that we stayed at. These can be completely fine, clean, and not smell bad. They can also smell so bad and be dark so as to cause panic. You end up rushing, trying your best to get out of there as soon as possible and get some fresh air. The worst is when a long-drop has become a short-drop: splashback becomes a real risk.
We’ve also had the pleasure to use composting toilets. In these, you do your business, and then grab a handful of mulch from a bucket and throw it into the toilet to cover your addition. I’d never used one of these before, so this was a novelty. At one campsite, the composting “toilet” was just a big bucket with a toilet seat on it. The farmer whose land we were on would come and replace the bucket everyday. I was quite embarrassed when I was the last one to use it, leaving no room for anyone else to go.
Lastly, we’ve gone au naturel, with no toilet. First, you hope it’s not raining. Then you go looking for the right spot. It can’t be too close to camp, and it should be far enough off trail that others won’t accidentally stumble upon it. You try to dig your hole, which in the rich soil of New Zealand is not a problem. It still requires some work to dig with the small plastic trowel we have. Finally you squat down and do your business, then cover it up with the soil you just dug up. Honestly, this can be pretty great, being outdoors and not have to deal with the smells of hikers past.
There you have it. The hardest part is not knowing what to expect ahead of time. I miss my toilet back home.