In days of ole
When knights were
bold
And toilets weren’t
invented,
They left their load
Along the road
And walked off so
contented
I woke up before the alarm this morning thinking about a
book that I received for Christmas a number of years ago. It was called “How To
Shit In The Woods”. I have no idea why I would wake from sound sleep thinking
about a book that is essentially an instruction manual for taking a load off in
the forest. Quite frankly, I don’t want to remember the dream sequence that led
to this particular thought.
The book deals with all aspects of this unpleasant but
necessary topic. It wasn’t too many years ago that all of mankind had this
rudimentary knowledge. The book covers technique, how and where to dig a hole,
what to do when you can’t dig a hole, diarrhea, how women can pee without
filling their boots, feminine funnels and wilderness alternatives to toilet
paper. I am sure that I was given this book as something of a joke, but it is
really an informative and enlightening font of information.
Thankfully, in this day and age, we are seldom out of walking
distance from clean and sanitary facilities. The modern toilet is credited to
Sir John Harington who came up with the concept and first working prototype in
the 16th century, not Thomas Crapper as we would all like to believe.
You really have to go out of your way and have lost voluntary control of your
bodily waste functions to need the information in this book if you live in a
city.
I was caught a few times when I was a mailman, and there
were a few times when I was backpacking when this kind of information was
invaluable. I still get beads of cold sweat on my forehead when I think about
the time I had to walk a half mile to the nearest toilet, taking two steps at a
time and clenching my butt cheeks together after every step.
I remember once when I was hiking the West Coast Trail I had
to make use of the inter-tidal toilet (beach) in the worst way. There was
nothing but beach as far as the eye could see in either direction, so I took
off my pack, dropped my shorts and squatted on the beach. Even though there was
no one for miles around, I developed a kind of performance anxiety. There was
no way this was going to happen! It was silly really, but I eventually had to
go into the forest and brace myself against a tree. I don’t know why I felt
that way; perhaps fear of a rogue wave or the desire not to get crabs. I just
know what eventually worked.
I hope that tomorrow morning I wake up thinking of breakfast
or things that I need to get done before Christmas. With any luck I will dream
of sugar plums…
Looks like Barney pooped on a beach.
ReplyDeleteMmmmmmmm...mmmmmmm Good!
DeleteGo Barney go!