Porta Potties: The end is near

Resslin' Around, by Casey Ressler

They stand tall, for everyone to see. Their highly visible green sides are noticeable by all those who pass near them. They call to the weak like lighthouses calling to lost sailors in the night.

In almost all cases, they are the beginning of the end of something good.

They are Porta Potties.

"Oh, they are so convenient," people say. "What better way to provide a service than to have Porta Potties at a large event," they'll tell you.

I agree with them on that point -- at large events like football games, festivals and fairs, Porta Potties aren't the most evil thing in the world. But get them out in the woods, and they are the Devil in a large, square, smelly plastic hut.

A few years ago, a certain campground was a favorite among me and my friends. Right near a stream, it was easy to get to yet somewhat secluded, and not many people knew about it. During the king salmon season, we camped there every weekend -- sharing the area with other people looking to get outdoors and have fun for a few days.

Three weeks passed, and we went back during the silver salmon season. There it was -- a giant, ugly Porta Potty, sitting right there at the center of the campground.

It really was the beginning of the end.

A few weeks later, a road was cut right through the same place my tent used to be. Then, a ramp was built to get down to the river.

Not surprisingly, a few weeks later, the place was a zoo with cars, vans and people looking to party with music blaring all night, rather than camping. I've been back three times since then, and on two of those occasions, it has been the scene of all-night parties, drunk teen-agers and what seems to be the headquarters of the NRA, with all that shooting going on. All because of the introduction of the Porta Potty.

Since expansion is inevitable in this area, I concede that since the place is on the road system, it was only a matter of time. But when they start throwing portable toilets up on the river beds off the road system, we have a problem. That's the case on the Deshka River, where a Porta Potty basically asks every passing boater to stop by and come on in.

My wife thinks I don't understand. "You're a guy, and guys have it easier with that sort of thing," she tells me. I agree, men do have it made when it comes to that. Sometimes convenience isn't the most necessary thing, however. That's why they call it camping. If you aren't into camping, stay at home, where I'm sure there is a very plush bathroom facility. Maybe even one with Sports Illustrated nearby, if you're lucky.

The message is a simple one -- to save the woods, go in the woods.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor. He has a phobia of outhouses, Porta Potties and other scary places.