My dear reader.

When I first decided to try long-distance hiking I was horrified to learn that I would need to use a cathole: a self-dug hole in the ground in which I would then bury my own poop.

Research taught me that these holes need to be 6-8 inches deep and 4-6 inches in diameter. I could not quite visualize those dimensions, and so part of my preparation for that first long hike involved repeatedly unrolling a thin measuring tape to familiarize myself with how deep and how wide I would need to dig my little pit in the earth so as to responsibly bury each and every shit.

When it came time to dig my first hole on the first morning of my first long hike, I was surprised by how long it took to get it right. 6-8 inches didn’t look like much on the measuring tape, but using my small, lightweight trowel to dig deep enough and wide enough was more difficult than I’d expected, especially in such hard-packed dirt. And I was supposed to do this every single day now?

Well, maybe I don’t need to make it quite so deep, I negotiated with myself. Surely it doesn’t matter that much?

And so for a few days I dug holes that were more shallow. It was easier. It took less time. Except no, that’s not quite right, because while the digging itself was quicker I then spent hours and hours feeling awful about it afterward.

No one knows, I reassured myself.

But that wasn’t true: I knew. I was absolutely clear on the right way to behave in this situation, and I was equally clear that I had made the wrong choice simply because it was easier to do so, and no one was watching.