The commode was usually set up in an out-of-the-way spot, like behind a bend in the river, for example. It consisted of a large ammo can with a nice decorative toilet seat perched on top. Besides the roll of TP, there was also a container of powdered bleach that you could sprinkle on top of your deposit. To ensure there weren't any accidental intrusions, a bright orange flotation pack was hung near the "doorway", which you took with you to the Crapper. When you were done, you simply hung the orange pack by the doorway on your way out.

Of course, you are by a river, and the perfect Crapper location does not exist. More often than not, it is shielded from the campsite, but facing out onto the river. Consequently, more than once, a raft from a competing tour company would come swinging around the bend in the river, toting a full load of camera-packing adventurers. This never happened to me, but apparently, when something like this happened, the orange flotation pack came in handy to cover your face if you didn't feel like waving.

The ammo can was relatively heavy, so it usually stayed put. The "deposits" also served to provide ballast, to crudely put it. However, the first night was incredibly windy, with gusts of fine sand pelting you from all sides. For one individual, who shall go nameless, one particular gust of wind actually caused the mostly empty Crapper to tip over while he/she was in the act of "cleaning up". Clearly, I could imagine this individual saying with pants around their ankles, while crouched in the middle of a sandstorm. Clearly, this is unacceptable.

The flip side of the coin was when the crapper got too full. On our last day, an extension to the Crapper was deployed, adding several much-needed inches of height. By then the mound of communal turds was so high you had to shake the ammo can to get the contents to settle. I shudder to think of the 6 days that were left on the trip, after we left.