About Going, a flash series, part 3

 Lastly, another flash memory of going involves one of my favorite places, an undiscovered gem—until I discovered it.

I went camping at Newport State Park Beach in Door County, WI with some girls. I’d never been before but was fortunately prepared—we had to either cycle or walk in a couple of miles—so we loaded down bikes, bungee-cording plastic bags to racks and handlers and the frame in order to get back to our reserved spot. Once there and set up, I looked around. No toilet block, no visible outhouse. So I held it for a very long time.

The next day became critical—where does one go? The ranger had assured us there was a facility, but not one I recognized. I wandered away from our campsite early morning, the sun was newly hatched, and there were birds and a family of raccoons on the trail, coming back from all night foraging. I found what I thought was a deer track back into a meadow and there at the end was a partial wooden fence blocking a lone toilet. A wooden box with a hole above a hewn pit. In a covered container was toilet tissue, protected from the elements and mice who like to shred the paper for nests. Okay, I settled in. And, as I sat there a deer wandered into view. Wildlife abounded around me in the quiet. It was better than reading material, it was nature all around. It was one of the most relaxing and ambient shits I’ve ever had.