Hello from Florida, where we’re spending the winter months with family. While here, we’re catching up on some posts we’ve been thinking about for some time. This one answers the perennial (and somewhat embarrassing) question: “Where do you poop?”
Our beloved Ford Econoline, Stevan, is a lot of things: cool, retro, quirky, colorful, functional– even “vaguely menacing” (or so we’ve been told). But “roomy” it is not.
Our little van is more “backpack” than “luxury yacht,” designed to enable Dan and I to live outside as simply as possible. We enjoy a no fuss/no muss lifestyle. And we love it that way. So it should come as no surprise that we do not have a toilet onboard.
In this post, we’ll delve into the somewhat embarrassing world of vanlife, um… waste. We’ll explain our decision not to include a toilet (or bathroom) in our van build and how that decision has — er, (bed)panned out over two and a half years living full time on the road. In short, we’ll try to answer that perennial question: “But where do you poop?”
A Necessary Room?
“I could never live without a toilet.” We hear this all the time. Friends, family, even perfect strangers, draw this line in the van.
With gusto.
And we get that. When we started planning our nomadic life, we weren’t sure we could live without a toilet either. Before finalizing our build, we researched all sorts of options: Composting toilets, cassette toilets. We even thought about installing black tanks for a hot (stinky) minute.
This post isn’t going to go into much detail about van toilet options. But if you want to check out the options, there are a gazillion posts about van life toilets out there. (This one is pretty thorough.)
Short answer is, we did our research and none of the “real” toilet options felt right for us. Our van is on the small side for full time living — especially for two people and a big shaggy dog. And there were a few bulky items already in our necessary column. We planned to carry our backpacking gear, work related tech, and clothing for all seasons.
Our van would be packed even without the toilet. What to do? We decided to go without…. at least during on our six week “summer shakedown trip.” If we wanted “bathroom” of some kind, we figured we would add it to our build before we left home for good.
On our shakedown trip, we spent six weeks in the Midwest, circumnavigating Lake Superior, boondocking and camping in small parks and national forest campgrounds.
Did we miss the bathroom? Nah.
And just like that, we decided we didn’t need a toilet after all.
It’s all about Perspective
The decision surprised us too. But it shouldn’t have. After all, we arrived at van-living after many years of tent camping and backpacking. Nobody carries a toilet on the trail. And few carry one in a car camping situation either.
You “go” in the wild (using Leave No Trace practices, of course) or use the “facilities” (usually pit toilets) where you camp.
If we had downsized our way into vanlife from an RV, perhaps we’d have felt differently about the bathroom situation.
Comfort is relative, as is need. We couldn’t travel without our books, for example. They are our comfort and our luxury. And we’ve devoted a lot of space to them in our teeny van. But a toilet? Not so much.
Fear is the Pits
I’m not gonna say that ditching the toilet was a slam dunk. In the beginning, I was a little afraid of pit toilets. In my experience, they were super-gross, stinky, fly infested…. Ugh!
I’d give those ubiquitous beige structures the evil eye and hold out as long as I could.
As it turned out, our shakedown trip was at the very end of COVID and we had a supply of masks stored in the van. I took to wearing one when I visited the pit toilet. Maybe it didn’t do much, but it sure gave me the psychological distance I needed.
It also gave me a chance to relax and see that — for the most part — those grungy pit toilets of the past are no more. Most of the ones we’ve seen in national forest campgrounds and other spots are clean and relatively odorless. (Hope they stay that way as the services we rely on are cut to shreds.)
National Forest Service campgrounds are uniform in every way — even down to the “PLEASE DO NOT put trash in toilets, it is extremely difficult to remove” sign. Dan likes to joke that the the pit toilets are all portals to exactly the same place. It could be…. At any rate, Camp hosts and forest crews do a terrific job of keeping these toilets from being, well, the pits.
In our experience, the toilets to avoid are the plastic “port-o-potties” (Ugh!) and those random pit toilets that are in local parks and busier areas. There have been a few that definitely deserve the bad rep.
But, as with so many other aspects of van living, we found that pit toilets were just part of the deal. A few minutes per day in a pit toilet is a small price to pay for the freedom to travel where we want and experience so many wonderful wild places.
In addition to pit toilets, we avail ourselves of bathrooms in coffee shops, libraries, and gas stations. It’s not hard to find one if you are in town.
“Going” in the Wild
Yep, this is a post full of funny euphemisms.
If we are in wild places with no bathrooms available, we “go” in the wild. This may seem like an atrocious thing to have to do, but really, it’s not. After all, we’re arriving at this juncture after many years of backpacking and wild camping. We understand that our perspective may be a bit “out there” for some, but we are doing our best to share our real van life experience… and here it is.
We have a “bathroom bag,” a simple string backpack that has all we need to “use” the wild without leaving a mess. Our bathroom bag contains a folding shovel, a roll of toilet paper, wet wipes, hand santizer gel, and a roll of dog bags (to hold used toilet paper).
We head out into the wild, dig a hole at least 6 inches deep, do our stuff, bury it, and pack out our paper and wipes in the plastic bags. Really, it’s not so bad at all.
I think the fear of wild pooping is much much worse than the reality. It’s beautiful out there. Consider this option the bathroom with a view. (Many backpackers take photos of their morning “views.”)
This may seem to be an unusual choice, but we humans set ourselves apart from the rest of nature in so many ways. We need a reminder now and then that we are — under all the social and cultural trappings — just grubby little creatures living out our lives on a big blue marble in space.
Pooping in nature is one of those reminders. So why not be a little “wild”?
Cash and Carry
“What about the other options?” you ask. Why not take along a cassette or composting toilet?
To our way of thinking, there are a few good reasons not to “van life” with a toilet.
The first is …. gross?
However you do it, if you have a toilet on board, you are carrying around your poop and pee. Why would you do that if you don’t have to?
Having a toilet on board doesn’t exempt you from grossness. You have to empty it into a pit toilet or gas station toilet or somewhere. If you have “black tanks” (a euphemism if we’ve ever heard one) you have to pump the poop you’ve been storing under your van into an underground tank full of other people’s poop.
We just don’t want to do that.
Our second reason for not carrying an on board toilet is space. We have very little space, and we don’t want to devote any of it to a toilet. We’ve seen some ingenious solution to the toilet/space issue. A cassette toilet can slide out, or double as a seat, or sit between the front seats of a van like a little table. But we are packed up pretty tight already and there just isn’t any extra room.
Composting toilets are intriguing. They’re (relatively) odorless and easy to use. But they are big(ish) and require venting to the outside. And we are loath to cut any unnecessary holes in Stevan. Also, they are expensive and take up space. AND you still have to empty them… just not as often.
So, no. We decided to go without…. or almost without.
“The Bucket”
Here’s an embarrassing disclosure: We have a bucket aboard for emergencies.
The bucket is on the small side, with a tight-fitting lid.
95% of the time, it’s our trash and recycle bin. But 5% of the time, it makes us “self-contained”… enough to stay in a parking lot in a pinch at least.
We pee in the bucket on the rare occasion that we’re overnighting in a public place and there are no bathrooms available.
We don’t love the bucket. But it is a practical solution to a (rare) issue. If we were into stealth camping or needed to stay in towns more often, we’d probably rethink our aversion to cassette and composting toilets (which, as far as we can tell, are just fancier versions of our trusty old bucket anyway).
“The bucket” lives behind the passenger seat when we are driving and outside the van beside the rear tire or bumper when we are parked up somewhere.
More embarrassing than peeing in it is the fact that we accidentally leave the bucket behind kinda often…. with our recycling and trash bag inside. We’ve managed to lose a lot of great buckets that way– at least four of them in two and a half years of travel!
Luckily, we haven’t forgotten it in a totally wild spot (yet). But several campground hosts have probably cursed us out (for good reason) upon finding our bucket sitting alone in a former campsite, full of trash and recycling.
And on Milo’s last vet visit, we were so distraught, we accidentally left our bucket behind in the vet’s parking lot.
The bucket also doubles as a foot rest and extra table. It even helps with Dan’s Zoom sessions on occasion.
Exploring Options at the Florida RV Supershow
A few months ago, we visited the Florida RV Supershow in Tampa. We were eager to see the insides of all those fancy van builds we’d seen cruising down the highway and also the small trailers, which seem almost feasible at times.
While at the RV show, we explored hundreds of different van set ups, most put out by big RV companies. All of them had toilets, many even had dedicated “bathrooms” and showers.
Did it make us rethink our set up or push us to order up a new set of wheels? Um… nope. Kinda the opposite.
This came as a bit of a surprise to me. I expected to come away from the RV show a little envious of those folks in the sleek expensive vans with headroom… and (as it turns out) tush room, too.
But so many of the show vans felt packed to the gills, with one narrow walkway inside lined with every possible thing: large fridges and ovens and microwaves and closets and….. bathrooms. It felt a little claustrophobic to us, and just…. extra.
So, we left Tampa with a new appreciation for our simple, low-budget van with its real-wood interior, quirky design, bright colors, and shelf full of books.
We even came away with an appreciation for our humble bucket, which takes up so little room, has multiple uses, and can be moved outside or under or wherever it needs to go.
Hike Your Own Hike
In the backpacking world, “Hike your own hike” is a common expression, meaning “do it the way it works for you” rather than comparing your journey to that of others. Even on the same trail, no two people hike the “same” hike. Each has their own pace, carries their own stuff, enjoys different aspects of the experience.
When talking about toilets in vans, it’s hard to come up with a family friendly expression equivalent to “hike your own hike.” But the idea here is the same: Find out what feels most comfortable for you and do it.
In the end, that’s what we did, foregoing common van-bathroom advice and doing what worked for us. We are fine with that decision, even if it leads to a few embarrassing questions now and then.
So, if you’re living in a van or planning to do so, our only toilet advice is “make the decision that feels comfortable to you.” After all, you only live once, but you poop a lot more often than that.
