Ep. 31: Camping Catholes, and Pooping in the Wilderness

How to Poop Like a Pro in the Wilderness (And Other Bathroom Adventures)

Spiders, Kids, and the “Big Chungus” Incident

In home bathroom news, my wife encountered a monstrous spider hiding in the bathroom sink overflow thingy—think legs wider than an Oreo. When she screamed, I had no choice but to admit: this was definitely a certified big spider.

And then there’s my son, who walked in on me using the kids’ bathroom and yelled, “Dad has dropped a big chungus!” Nothing like a four-year-old announcing your bowel movements to the entire house to keep life interesting.

Camping and Pooping: The Great Outdoors Edition

As summer winds down here in the Pacific Northwest (finally cooler weather—hallelujah!), folks are squeezing in last-minute camping trips before the rain sets in. So naturally, Privy has to tackle the biggest camping question of all: How the heck do you poop in the woods?

Camping might seem simple—people once lived in tents, so why not? But modern camping evolved when city folks started escaping the hustle to find nature, often via boats floating down the Thames (pronounced “Temz,” I’m learning). One pioneer of camping was Thomas Hiram Holden, who biked and camped across Ireland—basically the original outdoor influencer.

Pooping Options in the Wilderness

Now, you could rough it old-school style, or you could invest in one of the thousands of camping poop gadgets out there. From five-gallon bucket “toilets” (think potty training seat meets wilderness) to pop-up privacy tents that scream I’m pooping here, there’s something for every level of camping commitment.

My advice? Don’t stress the fancy stuff. If you’re worried about privacy, just take it into the trees—nobody’s gonna see your “bing bong” unless they’re actively looking for it, and that’s a whole other problem.

The Art of the Cat Hole

If no toilets are around, it’s time to dig a cat hole. Not to be confused with actual cats, these are 6–8 inch deep holes, about 4–6 inches wide, dug at least 70 paces (roughly 200 feet) from water, trails, and campsites. The goal? Bury your business without leaving TP behind (toilet paper doesn’t break down fast and can harm wildlife).

Pro tip: pre-dig your cat holes before the urge hits, because nobody wants to be scrambling with a shovel at 2 a.m. in the freezing dark when the baked beans are calling.

Ladies, There’s a Gadget for You Too

For those who prefer standing to pee, there’s a device for that—though, full disclosure, I still don’t quite get how it works or attaches. But hey, I’m a dude; some mysteries remain. The important part is that everyone can find a way to stay comfortable and hygienic in the wild.

Hunter’s Anecdotes to Keep You Afloats: Poop Stories from the Field

Growing up in Montana, hunting trips sometimes involved “field mishaps.” Like the time I squatted just wrong and ended up with poop on the outside of my pants—great for stealth, not so much for success.

Or the legendary camp toilet made from an old lawn chair perched over a hole, where aim was everything. Bonus points for the time a buddy’s sleeping bag caught fire near the campfire—because nothing says camping like surprise pyrotechnics.