When nature called, or yelled as it did after chili cheese dogs, the routine began by grabbing the machete, wielding it around unruly like, stuffing a roll of toilet paper under the arm and strutting off into the woods with a curious grin.
The machete was a duel or truel use item. Not only did it provide an air of manliness to our journey it made us look bad ass in front of beach infringers. The machete made quick work of breaking down wood for the fire and most importantly it was a marvelous poop shovel.
As the night was winding down, and the chili had time to corrupt my innards, I found myself headed straight for the machete which was lodged in a stump of drift wood on the beach like Excalibur.
Because of the cool that the ferns and trees provided far up and off the bank of the beach, I thought it would be a perfect place to make compost.
It’s an odd moment there, squatted over a hand dug hole, looking down pondering such deep philosophical equations as; “I should have dug a hole #1 and a hole #2”, before you realize mosquitoes are going to town on your balls and ass.
The natural reaction would be to shoo them away with a swatting hand, but no, the risk is way too high that your hand’ll catch the drizzle over an undug hole #1 or even worse you’ll miss and squash a nugget against a cheek, this is no good. In such situations survival experts and natives alike recommend a good dousing of OFF pre-poop excursion which allows for an unobstructed hands free evacuation zone.
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