You know it’s
really cold when the vault toilet blows frigid air up through the seat onto
your rear end! We awoke one day in Joshua Tree National Park to see a quarter
inch of snow on the ground and to hear a cold wind blowing. Because we postpone
adding anything to the blackwater
tank as long as possible, we dashed across the way to use the campground
toilet instead. It was not a pleasant experience.
The range of
toilets in primitive campgrounds is amazing. In Canada we once found a simple
pit toilet that had whitewashed walls and a bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase
on the shelf. Then there are the horrendous ones I don’t need to describe.
Conditions depend mainly on the campers rather than on campground owners; only
an ignorant person or slob steals toilet paper or leaves it on the floor, fails
to clean up any messes, tosses trash in the toilet, or leaves the lid up on a
vault toilet.
Because the
conditions are unpredictable, I always prepare for the worst. I take along some
toilet paper and a soapy washcloth or hand sanitizer to clean my hands. (It
would be nice to take bleach and paper towels, too, but that would raise hob
with the decomposition.)
Of course, a lot
of these problems can be avoided by going to an expensive RV resort that has
bathrooms with real plumbing, but usually we prefer cheaper, less formal places—even
if it means taking a chance on the toilets. Besides, you haven’t lived until
you have had your butt frozen!
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