How to Poop in the Woods: A Beginner's Dignified Guide

Here's the question you've been Googling at midnight, embarrassed: how do you actually go to the bathroom in the woods without being gross, getting caught, or wrecking the forest? Good news — there's a standard method, millions of campers use it, and it's genuinely dignified once you know the steps. By the end of this page, you'll never have to wonder again.

First: check whether you even need to

If your friends booked a developed campground — most state parks, national park campgrounds, and private campgrounds — there will be a toilet. It might be a flush toilet, a pit toilet, or a vault toilet (the little concrete box with a hole in it), but it exists. Look at the campground map when you arrive and note where it is. On your first trip, this is the most likely outcome, and it's worth saying plainly: you may never need this page at all.

The cathole method below is for when there are no facilities: dispersed camping, primitive campsites, long hikes away from camp, or that middle-of-the-night emergency. Your experienced friends have all done it. They just never explained it, because it felt too awkward to bring up. Consider this the explanation they should have given you.

Peeing is easy; pooping takes a method

Learning how to go to the bathroom while camping means separating the two jobs. Peeing is straightforward: walk away from the tent and the cooking area, find a spot at least 200 feet (about 70 paces) from any stream, lake, or spring, and go. That's it. Don't pee directly into small ponds or streams — urine carries salts and nutrients that affect water chemistry. On durable ground (rock or gravel) rather than fragile vegetation is best, since animals are attracted to the salt in urine and can tear up plants to get at it.

Pooping needs more care, because solid waste can spread illness and contaminate water if it's handled wrong. The method is called a cathole: a small hole you dig, use, and bury. The Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics — the authority on this — sets two numbers you should memorize: the hole goes 6 to 8 inches deep, and it sits at least 200 feet from water, trails, and camp. Shallow enough for soil microbes to break waste down; deep enough that animals don't dig it up.

Your bathroom kit: three things, about $10

You don't need a "camp bathroom kit" from a gear catalog. You need three things, all cheap:

• A trowel — the little orange plastic ones (like Coghlan's Backpacker's Trowel, usually around $4–5) weigh almost nothing and dig a proper hole in about a minute. You cannot dig a 6-inch hole with your heel. Don't try.
• Toilet paper + a ziplock bag — bring a small amount of TP in a bag. The second bag is for the used paper, which you'll carry out (explained below).
• Hand sanitizer — the travel bottle you probably already own. Use it after, every time.

Borrow or split these with a friend if you want — but honestly, a trowel and a bottle of sanitizer are under $10 total and last forever. Our beginner camping checklist includes these in the safety section so you don't forget them at home.

How to dig a cathole, step by step

Walk your 200 feet (70 paces) from water, trails, and camp. Pick a spot with soft, dark soil if you can — a sunny spot decomposes waste faster. Then:

1. Dig. Use the trowel to dig a hole about 6–8 inches deep and 4–6 inches across. Set the dug-out soil in a pile next to the hole; you'll need it back. (Six inches is deeper than most beginners guess — measure with the trowel's blade or your hand span until you've done it a few times.)
2. Do your business. Squat over the hole. If balance worries you, lean your back against a tree or a large rock — nobody is watching, and stability matters more than form.
3. Handle the toilet paper. Best practice, per Leave No Trace: pack out used toilet paper in a sealed bag. It grosses people out to think about, but double-bagging in a ziplock is odor-free and it's what the ethics guidelines actually recommend, because animals routinely dig up and scatter buried paper. Where local rules allow, burying paper in the cathole is acceptable — but packing it out is never wrong, anywhere.
4. Fill and disguise. Use the trowel to refill the hole with the original soil, tamp it down with your foot, and scatter leaves, needles, or twigs over it so the spot blends in.
5. Sanitize your hands. Trowel, sanitizer, done.

Two things to never do: don't burn toilet paper — people have started serious wildfires this way, and never bury wet wipes, even the ones labeled "compostable" or "flushable." They don't decompose in a cathole. If you bring wipes, pack them out.

When a cathole isn't the answer

The method has limits, and knowing them is part of doing it right. In alpine areas above treeline, the cold soil barely decomposes anything — many such places require you to pack out all solid waste in a special bag (called a WAG bag). Desert areas with hard, dry ground may not allow a real 6–8 inch hole; the same pack-it-out rule often applies. And on river trips, some jurisdictions require packing out waste to protect the water. When in doubt, check the rules for the specific area — the campground or trailhead kiosk will say it plainly if catholes are banned.

One more reassurance: if a real toilet exists, use the real toilet. Catholes are a backup plan, not a preference.

The dignity part nobody talks about

Here's the honest secret: everyone is self-conscious about this, including your experienced friends. The trick isn't some advanced technique — it's a routine. Go in the morning before the group is fully up. Take your headlamp if it's dark. Tell someone vaguely where you're headed ("taking a walk toward the ridge") so nobody worries, and take your phone out of your pocket beforehand. Within a trip or two, this stops feeling like an ordeal and starts feeling like brushing your teeth — a thing you just handle. You asked the question, you learned the method, and you're doing it responsibly. That's dignified enough.

Want the bigger picture on doing no harm outdoors? Our campfire safety and Leave No Trace guide covers the rest of the ethics that keep campsites beautiful — and if you're camping near water, our camping water treatment guide explains why the 200-foot rule protects the water you'll be drinking from.