[READ] How not to pee when camping
Reasons why I hate being a woman #3,728
Squatting is always interesting, isn’t it? It’s like gambling just without the fun… And with added public nudity. You just never know what the end result will be but you always stay positive, hoping for the best.
Over the course of the Larapinta Trail (5 days trekking through the Central Australian desert) I’d begun to learn several tricks to avoid getting my urine on my pants or feet.
For the women still needing enlightenment it’s best to try to prop yourself up between two rocks or wood. The pee will drop between the rocks and you’ll avoid splashing it on your feet. Try to tighten your pants too, so they don’t hang in the way.
Anyway, look. I obviously need a lot more practice in the nature-peeing sector. I’m definitely no expert.
Maybe I’d let my guard down thinking I’d mastered the art of squatting, but on my last night I had a bit of an accident. I propped myself between two perfectly spaced rocks, one foot on each.
I was wearing a lot of clothes, it was cold out there! Wearing a lot is always a gamble, anything could get in the way and I knew this. So I scrunched up my jacket, tightened my pants around my legs and let loose. And pointed my head torch towards my nether regions, just to check…
Goddamnit! My neck scarf had dropped out from under my jacket and was dancing around in my pee-stream. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. So I sat there and just watched it.
Slowly my mind was trying to come up with ways I could fix it, but all my ideas were quickly extinguished. Moving the scarf with my hand would mean dropping other pieces of clothing and risking pee on my hands. Pulling the scarf up through my jacket would wipe pee on everything else. There was nothing that could be done. I just had to wait until it was all over…
Meanwhile my girlfriend was up near the tent looking back at me. All that she could see was me staring at my own pee, the shadow of my ass illuminated by my head torch. She called down to me in a joking manner: “stop checking yourself out, you weirdo”. But little did she know the true extent of my current dilemma. I couldn’t even bring myself to reply.
Immediately after I carefully took off all my top clothing, while bending at an angle that would ensure the scarf didn’t infect any other pieces of clothing during the serious operation.
Pee-scarf successfully removed, I considered burning it. But it was my favourite, warmest scarf. And also no fires were allowed here anyway. Instead I laid it on a rock and poured water over it from our critically low supply. I then tied it to the side of the tent to dry.
Being a woman really sucks sometimes…
Make me feel a bit better about myself, tell me a reason why travelling as a woman is awesome!? Comment below 🙂
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