By Terri Ferran
We just got back from taking a youth group to Lake Powell. The camp ground we hoped for was taken by the time we got there (first-come, first-serve) so we ended up in the improved campground that was about a mile from the water. We were disappointed at first, but soon found it boasted a huge plus—flushable toilets! Any who have camped with teenage girls know what a boon “flushies” are to a campout.
We found out that teenage girls aren’t the only ones attracted to “flushies”. When the sun went down and the automatic lights came on in the restrooms; a myriad of flying creatures were attracted to the brightness—gnats in particular. By the time dawn’s early light came, the toilet seats and sinks were covered with gnats.
As I read Rebecca’s post from a couple of days ago about the gnat flying up her nose, I realized that gnats not only penetrate the occasional nasal septum; they also encroach upon that inner sanctum of campsite survival—the flushable toilets.
These tiny insects took on gargantuan proportions as the girls tried to figure out how they would be able to use a toilet covered with gnat masses, or floss and brush using a sink infested with flying insects. They seemed to forget that they were MUCH bigger than the gnats, had access to toilet paper, and were each equipped with opposable thumbs suitable for operating the flushing and faucet mechanisms. Being one of their fearless leaders, I demonstrated how easily they brushed off, flushed down, or washed away. I’m glad I didn’t realize the danger I was in at the time of having one fly up my nose!
I thought boating accidents, rattlesnakes and dehydration were the biggest things I had to fear at Lake Powell. Gnat-urally I will protect my nose by holding my breath—something I already learned at the non-flushable toilets!
Or, in the future, I could only engage in my preferred brand of camping—a condo in Park City!