I Would Like to Talk About Camping Toilets

My brothers in Christ, I am here to say that if something can go wrong while we are camping, it will go wrong while we are camping. In the words of my departed uncle, Charles Dickens,”It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” (similar to this family road trip to ND a few years ago)

First, we decided to go camping and bought like 100 different things to make ourselves feel at home and comfortable out in the wilderness, in a tent, even though we have a perfectly functional house with all the same things except even better and with AC. Does this make sense? Somehow, yes. This is the price we pay to enjoy the outdoors and make core memories for our kids who we only have probably 3 summers left with before they go to college. Show me a picture of a tent on Cabela’s dot com, with a happy, laughing family sitting around it, and I am like where do I sign up.

We bought one of those hitch storage carrier things to perfectly fit on our Jeep. You know the kind that you can put a couple coolers on because you don’t have the space in your car? We were pretty happy with this storage solution. Then the Jeep engine blew up and needed to be replaced. So we borrowed my father in law’s old truck and didn’t need the hitch thingy after all (what are these called?!). 

The truck used to belong to Aaron’s grandfather. He bought it in ‘63. We love riding around in it while listening to old music. It’s so nostalgic and makes good memories. It goes exactly 42 miles per hr which is my speed. I love that even though this truck has maybe two specks of paint, and the rest is covered in rust, when people see it, their eyes light up and they say,”Wow, great truck!” and we all stand there knowing that this is a memory making truck and that makes it better than anything else on the road.  

My father in law uses this truck for debris. We can be guaranteed that anytime we need to use the truck for camping, picking up a Christmas tree, moving furniture, etc, it will need to be emptied at the dump first. 

Aaron is always like,”What are the odds this truck needs to be emptied again when I need to use it?!!!” And we both know that my father in law is working smarter, not harder, and this is the way it should be.

On our way to the campsite, for our first ever camping trip as a family with my bff, Rachel, the front tire blew out on the old truck. We didn’t have a spare. And it was later in the day so all tire shops were closed. We were sweating our guts out from the heat because the truck has manual windows instead of AC. But, Rachel picked the girls and I up, and took us to the campsite where she was already set up with her fiancée, Nic. Nic brought a portable water mister (which is like AC for outside), and we all remarked that he is a man of extraordinary intelligence. 

Aaron stayed behind with the truck while his brother brought out new tires, that he thankfully scrounged up from family who serendipitously had the exact tires we needed, and it all worked out. We had a lovely time after that, and experienced refreshing, light rain both nights while we slept. There were indoor, flushing toilets at this campsite which I definitely appreciate.

First morning in our tent. Dirty faced kids (dirt everywhere!). Sleeping on the way home even though they were “not tired at all!”

Two weeks later we went camping again with most of Aaron’s family. This time out in the wild with no toilets. Listen up, I did not manage to live to the year of our Lord 2026 just so I can go do my personal business in a hole in the woods like a wild animal. We have been set free from this uncivilized way of life, and also won the vote. So Aaron did some research and came up with a compromise. A little toilet tent, biodegradable baggies that would make any dog on a walk feel jealous, and a camping toilet (it’s just a fancy bucket). Plus Aaron got an auger (I won’t link to the auger because, naturally, IT BROKE ON US) for his drill to “dig you some nice holes for those baggies, babe.” This is part of the covenant of marriage. This is what it means when we say til death do us part.

I’ll come back to the toilet as it is the most important aspect of camping.

I did not realize the amount of work that goes into planning and packing for a longer camping trip, and I was crying before it was all done. I told myself it would be worth it (it was!), and at one point stopped for a two hour nap while the kids petted my arms and said,”Poor, Mama!!”

I gave the kids and myself Dramamine before we left because it was nearly a two hour drive with a lot of winding roads. I thought they were chewable pills, and we all got a retching surprise as we simultaneously crunched, and realized these were NOT chewable pills after all. Did you know that if you chew a Dramamine pill part of your tongue will go numb? But at least we weren’t carsick.

Then we left the house a few hours later than planned, which was unavoidable, and got to the campsite after dark. Nothing better than setting up tents and whatnot in the pitch black wilderness while the kids cry from the cold, and constantly tell you,”I need a bush wee!” 

Headlamps and hand warmers came in clutch (what does that even mean?), and we dropped into our cots, fully exhausted but excited, around 11pm. I woke up roughly every 30 minutes, and realized that next time I need earplugs so I don’t hear every snore and the swishing about of sleeping bags. We brought a power bank to run a sound machine, but it turned off every two hours like clock work, and I longed for a hammer to smash it to smithereens.

Our campsite was the most beautiful spot! River, woods, beautiful trees, natural rock wall across the river. The works.

During the night, I heard a noisy scurrying about and did not like it. I did not like it one bit. Something scurried loudly right next to my cot on the other side of the thin tent wall. Then I heard lots of clanging about in our camp kitchen. I woke Aaron up. I went to the door of the tent, and partially opened it to fist fight whatever was outside. I did, after all, train myself to be a Navy Seal, as a teenager, while wearing a long denim skirt. I karate chopped my bunkbed a lot. Aaron said,”Sunny Jane, close that back up right now.” I closed it because I am a very meek and submissive wife, and also because I remembered that I took a karate class as an adult, and never moved past yellow belt even though everyone else was moving on to blue. Aaron pulled out his gun just in case the scurrying thing decided to scurry right into our tent somehow. We ended up not being able to see anything in the dark, thru the screen of our tent door (so brave!), so we went back to bed, and allowed nature to take its scurrying course.

But then we saw lights flashing around, and heard much louder scuffling going on out there. I said dear God if I get woken up one more time I swear I will commit violent murder. Turns out there was a skunk cheerfully eating my brother in law Adam’s tortillas and hot dog buns (Psalm 147:9), and Adam crawled out of his tent and threw shoes at it, in his underwear, like the true mountain man he is. The skunk knew the game was up and left. It will be my lifelong regret that I did not get a picture of Adam, softly illuminated by our headlamps, chucking shoes at a skunk in his undies.

But we woke up the first morning to the most beautiful fog, chilly air, and the sound of the rushing river beside us. Absolutely stunning and awe inspiring. We could hear a doe blowing in the woods, off in the fog.

We made french press, started a campfire, and watched the fog burn off. Adam gathered the remains of his tortillas. There were no hot dog buns left. The teen boys played chess. The little girls all played fairies by the river with Luna’s fairy garden house and Schleich fairies. I loved seeing our kids play like this. No cell service at all so we were all happily forced to do things like chop wood, soak up the surroundings, and read books. Once it got warm enough, everyone else went swimming, rock jumping, and fishing. I took a chair into the woods to read, and marveled over the electric green moss everywhere.

Adam,”Guys, how was I supposed to know skunks like tortillas?!!”

I noticed that Adam, who arrived at the campsite first, had set up his own toilet tent. Right in the walking path. So if you wanted any privacy, technically no one could see you, but they could all hear you. Aaron contentedly said thank goodness we didn’t need set up our toilet. One less thing to do. I felt differently about this and suggested setting it up, maybe off the beaten path, maybe out of sight, out of hearing, out of like… everything. “Nay!”, he proclaimed jovially, “there is no need!” 

I suddenly discovered I am adept at ye olde bush wee. I meant to take a picture of the bush wee spot for posterity, but I forgot. There was a tree bent into a perfect seat shape, surrounded by green moss, perfectly situated under a much larger tree whose branches draped down like a privacy curtain. Very picturesque. I did not use the tree seat because I didn’t want nature touching my hinder parts, and Aaron said it was a real pity and waste of opportunity. But I did hide behind the tree seat for every bush wee so it wasn’t a total loss (opposite of God, you may see my face and live, but you ain’t seeing my hinder parts). Before we left, Aaron asked if I would like him to buy me one of these and, although I cried laughing over the thought, I just felt the humiliation would be too great. I have personal standards.

I will, again, return to the toilet situation, and for now will just say that I learned the trick of not going for a bit. I could use the bathroom at home in two days or so. It would be fine.

That night we sat around the campfire and played Yes or No (animal category). S’more’s, coffee, and hot chocolates abounding. We went to bed exhausted again, but happy. The skunk revisited to shred some toilet paper, which we were unaware skunks were interested in, and to eat a little trash snacky. Adam threw more shoes which does, astonishingly, work on skunks every time. If you have any skunk issues, give Adam a call. He comes highly recommended and with experience.

The next morning was the same. Fog, french press, picking up the skunk trash, bacon and eggs, warming up, swimming, chess, fairies, etc. Honestly, just soothing.

I noticed, happily, that at one point I was alone at the camp. Everyone else was at the river. Bless me, I would not need to wait any longer. I made a run for the toilet tent. I settled in, as one does, and what did I see… Adam did not stake this delicate little tent down to the ground. The wind picked up. My eyes widened. Then, I heard Adam coming up the path, talking loudly,”And this is the campsite. Here is the kitchen. That’s the little toilet tent…” And in this moment I realized he was making a video for his wife who did not come. Probably because she has bathroom standards. The wind was blowing a little harder, the edge of that little tent was lifting up, and, in alarm, I grabbed frantically at the tent walls. I thought, “Here it goes. This is the moment the wind catches away my bit of privacy whoosh, and my brother in law catches me, ON VIDEO, pantsed in the toilet tent and my sister in law will watch it when he gets home. It will be me, sitting on a bucket toilet in the middle of our pathway with Adam standing there startled at the sight, the sound of happy swimmers in the distance. We will make eye contact, and I will remember it on my deathbed.” 

But, my death grip on the tent held out, and my dignity remained intact. That is, until I had to stride past Adam, baggie in hand, to the “graveyard” in the woods where dignity does not exist. “How you doing,”I said casually, baggie gently swinging. 

Thankfully Aaron, who loves me deeply, had pre dug some holes. But when I approached the cemetery-for-le poop, nary a hole was in sight. The rest of the fam bam had used them all up, and no new graves had been dug! And we didn’t bring a shovel + I didn’t know how to use Aaron’s auger thingy. So guess what? I lived it up like a real pioneer woman from days of yore, and dug a hole WITH MY HANDS. Then I had to walk past Adam again to wash the dirt out from under my fingernails. He paid me no mind and took down his tent since he was leaving a day earlier than the rest of us.

I noticed there was an angry looking storm cloud off in the distance as we said goodbye to Adam and his kids. We all knew there would be a little bit of rain so I had brought rain gear for the kids and I. I put their little rain suits on and we started to place all the chairs underneath our various shade canopies. “How nice it will be”, we said in ignorance, “to sit under the canopies in a nice gentle rain!” I beamed at the thought.

Aaron and his brother, Alex, decided to make a run for gas for the chain saw because they had run out. I asked if they should maybe stake down the toilet tent since the wind was picking up (I had not forgotten that narrow miss earlier), and maybe the canopies too? Only the tents were fully staked out. They decided, yeah, maybe they should do that. We had the kids and the dog under the canopies at that point because it was clear the rain was about to hit. The guys finished staking down all the stuff and got ready to leave and in that moment the rain HIT.

Guys, I have lived in the PNW for 21 years. I grew up in the deep south and I know what a real storm looks like. We have never once, until this day camping, had a real rain storm in the 21 years I have lived here. But on this day, the gale force wind of God hit us with copious sideways rain, crashing thunder, purple lightning, and hail. One of the canopies broke and collapsed almost immediately under the sudden weight of heavy rain. I saw the sheet of rain right as it hit and screamed while grabbing four of the little kids,”TEEEEEENNNNT!!!! TO MY TENT!!!” And we RAN to our tent like we were hoping for gold at the Olympics. Luna was crying in terror because it truly seemed like our tent was about to enter US air space. A tree fell in the woods behind us.

It absolutely poured for a good 20-30 minutes. Alex and Lizzie’s tent started to flood so, mid-storm, they picked the whole thing up and moved it to higher ground. Every single thing outside of our tents was fully soaked. Every chair, drying clothes on the line, extra blankets, extra shoes (all Aaron had left to wear were his slippers!) We spent the evening in my tent with the kids watching movies on Lizzie’s iPad and eating snacks as the rain slowly stopped. The guys managed to build a roaring fire and cooked us all steaks at 10pm while drying out chairs and shoes before the fire. Back to bed we all went exhausted and laughing about how crazy it all was. Very thankful all of our food was in bins with lids and still dry.

It rained again most of the night and everything that had been dried out by the fire was fully wet again. Alex and Lizzie’s tent somehow flooded for real this time (ours was a little wet inside, but was mostly fine).

So the next morning we got up, had french press, huddled under the two plucky canopies that did not collapse, Aaron and our nephew, Nic, played Go Fish with a fully drenched deck, and then we packed up a wet and muddy campsite for three hours in pouring rain. Aaron in his slippers. He said next time we will keep one extra pair of shoes in the car for such a time as this. We stuck the little kids in my boss’s suburban, that he graciously allowed us to use for the event, to stay dry and warm, and they were literally the best angel kids in the world. We pulled away from the campsite, and, in spite of the whole ordeal, made plans to be back.

Then we started on the winding road home and I realized I had not remembered to take dramamine. I was immediately carsick for two hours.

It took us two days to unpack and a full week for all of our stuff to dry out in our garage, hanging over ladders and chairs with fans blowing. My niece said our garage looked like a homeless encampment, and I can see it. Aaron asked me if I was turned off from camping now, and I said no, the opposite. If anything, I love the Hoover family more than ever and want to go again. My heart welled up the whole time as I watched our family work together and play together.

But next time we are setting up our own toilet tent, in the woods away from everyone, and it will be fully staked down. And there will be graves dug with a sign that says “Reserved for Sunny”.