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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Camping advice: Put the damn toilet seat down!

Seabury Blair Jr.

Since I am old and feeble, I’ve been spending a good deal more time in campgrounds these days, and too little time hiking or biking the trail, or paddling the waters.

And because I am old and feeble, I’ve been spending more time than I prefer in campground outhouses. Those of you who have spent time in campground outhouses know that it is not the most enjoyable part of camping and that nothing more on the subject need be said.

Under normal circumstances, you’d be correct. But since I am anything but normal, and the circumstances possible, I am compelled to address the topic of outhouse etiquette and behavior.

First, I have long appreciated the spiffy new outhouses that are replacing the stinky old ones at many National Forest and Park campgrounds throughout the Northwest. These concrete beauties are a far and welcomed cry from the old fiberglass or – plug your noses – wooden privies with their crescent moon doors and fly metropolises.

When properly maintained by workers and respected by campers, these new loos make nearly as pleasant reading rooms as the en suite in your own home. You can listen to birdsong outside, marvel that the roof doesn’t leak and generally enjoy the privacy from which the word “privy” derives.

Yet so much of the ambiance – if you can call it that – of the outhouse experience these days depends solely upon the camper who preceded you. While I have always believed that campers are an enlightened and polite lot who always do the right thing and would never dream of disturbing others in any way, my recently elongated stays in campgrounds are beginning to convince me otherwise.

First and foremost: PUT THE DAMN SEAT COVER DOWN.

Without going into detail, which I am sure would entail descriptions of things that civilized people simply don’t discuss in company mixed or otherwise, modern outhouses are designed in such a way as to eliminate offensive odor. They do so by venting said odor out a large pipe high above the roof, following much the same design principle as the bathroom in your home.

But when you leave the damn seat cover up, the odor vents into the outhouse. One out of every four of my recent visits to a campground outhouse resulted in walking into a vapor cloud so malodorous as to cause birds to drop from the heavens and writhe on the ground, gagging like snakes choking on large toads.

All because the previous camper didn’t PUT THE DAMN SEAT COVER DOWN. This, despite the fact that more polite pleas than mine are posted on all outhouse doors.

Another sign you are likely to see in campground outhouses: “Please do not throw trash into the toilet. It is extremely difficult to remove.”

In sum, I am old and feeble. My camping time has increased.

I have a new and profound respect for National Forest, Park, and State Park workers who remove trash from the toilet.

Now, if you could just do something about that ridiculously thin toilet paper …

Seabury Blair Jr. is the author of six Northwest hiking guides. E-mail him at Skiberry@hughes.com