Toilets, or the lack of them have always been a bit of an issue on some of my longer walks. Back in September 2012 a slight toilet emergency had me thinking about some of the lavatory related close shaves I’ve had in my walking career.
September 7 2012
When I set off this morning for my Riverside walk it was sunny but still quite cold so I wore my hoodie to keep the morning chill out. Typical me, despite all my preparation, putting a bottle of water in the fridge first thing, I still managed to leave it on the kitchen worktop, so I had to pop into the Tesco Express on the way and pick up a bottle. They make a fortune out of my forgetfulness.
When I got to the river all the swans were lazily paddling around the little jetty looking hopeful that someone would come along and throw them some bread. Unfortunately for them, it was just me, a few runners and the ubiquitous dog walkers. Funny thing was, it seemed like tiny dog day down there because every single dog I saw was small enough to pop into my little rucksack. I don’t know where all the big dogs were, perhaps there was another park somewhere filled with great danes and dobermans but, to be honest, I was glad it wasn’t the park I was in. Big dogs without leads are my worst nightmare. They seem to see anyone walking fast or running as something to chase and I’m not that fond of being chased by huge slavering dogs.
By the time I got to Woodmill I’d warmed up nicely and had to tie my hoodie round my waist. I’m not sure how much of that was the sun warming up and how much was the fast pace I’d set myself, either way I was glad I’d stopped and grabbed that bottle of water. The second leg of the river was dotted with fishermen. I’ve never seen the attraction myself but it seems a popular sport along this stretch of river. I often wonder if they ever catch anything. No matter how closely I peer into the green, weed strewn water, I’ve never seen a fish.
There were no swans on this stretch of river today, just ducks of every kind. I wish I knew what they were all called. Perhaps I should get a duck book and find out. There were a couple of women running with babies in those fancy pushchairs with the big front wheel and two men trying to deflate an inflatable boat. But other than them and the fishermen I was alone on the river. I walked as far as The White Swan and turned back. I could have gone further but Commando wanted to go and see Bard as its his birthday this weekend and we had a present and a card for him. On the way back I concentrated hard on my walking form, really thinking about my posture and how my feet were hitting the ground to get the maximum speed.
When I got back to the jetty, I was pleased to see a toddler and his father throwing bread to the swans. At least their waiting wasn’t in vain. I also needed the loo, must have been the bottle of water, which I’d nearly finished by this point. Did I mention I have a bladder the size of a pettit pois? Luckily, there is a toilet just up the road at The Triangle, because it’s about a mile home from there. There used to be proper toilets, a real brick building with steps a ladies and gents sign and loads of toilets inside. Nowadays it’s one of those new fangled metal cubicles where you pay your twenty pence and the door opens. I hate them. I always think I’m going to be sitting there peeing and the door is going to open, or the automatic cleaning thing is going to start and I’ll come out covered in froth and water. Thankfully that didn’t happen today.
Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m always needing the loo. Maybe it’s because I drink a lot of water I don’t know. It can’t even be blamed on my age because I’ve been the same since I was a child. Obviously when going on a very long walk this can pose a bit of a problem. On my normal route I know where all the loos are and I use them, except the space age one at The Triangle which is just for dire emergencies. Thank heavens for the ones at The Swan Centre, they’re a real life saver. When I was doing the Moonwalk training there were long stretches when there were none at all. After Eastleigh there wasn’t a loo to be found until Winchester which is more than seven miles!
This situation led to some rather hairy moments I can tell you. I had to find convenient bushes and quiet places where I could improvise and I spent quite a lot of time looking round for them as I walked further afield. There was one time, in Twyford, when I found a promising looking little cut way so I walked up it a little way, looked around to make sure I was all alone and did what I needed to do. Just as I had pulled my Lycra walking shorts up a middle aged woman and her young granddaughter came round the corner. That was a little too close for comfort I can tell you. As it was she must have wondered what I was doing standing in the bushes off the path looking rather red faced and guilty. On the other hand, she may have been doing the exact same thing round that corner out of my sight.
There was another place, at the beginning of the walkers path close to Winchester, that seemed to be built for the purpose. A crumbling ruin of a wall stood drunkenly on either side of the path and it was quite thickly wooded, making it an ideal toilet. The first time I used it as such I came out of the woods to one side of the path and nearly bumped into a man coming out the other side. The man looked at me and smiled a little shamefacedly and I grinned back and said, “maybe they should put signs up, gents one side and ladies the other.” We both had a bit of a laugh about it.
During the moonwalk itself they do provide toilet facilities. I queued for over twenty minutes at the first one though. With my bladder I’d have been walking it the next night too if I hadn’t spotted several people in a shrub bordered car park and cottoned on to what they were doing. Another walker noticed it at the same time and we looked at each other quizzically.
“Are they doing what I think they’re doing?” I asked her.
“I believe they are,” she replied, “mind if I share this toilet with you?” and with that we both went into the car park, pulled down our shorts and peed right next to each other. I never saw her again but I wonder if she ever told anyone about it? For the rest of the walk I had an eye out for likely peeing spots and I’m pretty sure everyone else was doing the same. I passed very few such spots that weren’t crowded with squatting bra wearing women. I imagine London smelled a bit strange the next day with tens of thousands of women using every bush as a public convenience.
Toilets, or the lack of them, are always going to be a problem on those long walks I guess, actually sometimes even on shorter ones. Still, I’m getting quite good at the discreet dash into the bushes type loo breaks.