Picture this – A brisk but sunny winter’s day, a not really very young lady writer sets out in her majestic 1996 Toyota Starlet across the winding hills of the Waitakere Ranges in hopes of answering the deep questions of existence; what is life/death? Who isn’t working and has time to fish on a Friday afternoon? Will those people stab me in the face and eat my organs? Will the public toilet on hand be a master piece or a nightmare?
All questions we have asked ourselves over the years right?
I drove over the ranges to look for a specific bathroom which had been suggested to me by my excellent and gorgeous co-worker Jacqueline. The people I work with are so amazingly supportive of my often ludicrous pursuit of toilets that I am given fabulous leads for gross or wondrous bathrooms on a frequent basis not to mention other info, articles, links and books etc.
Jacqui had come across this toilet while fishing with partner in the gorgeous and tranquil waters of Cornwallis Bay, which helped in answering my earlier query relating to my possible murder by scary beach walkers. I was not harmed in anyway during my visit to this sheltered and mostly uninhabited corner of our region.
So why all the Hillbilly, chainsaw murder puns Lucy? Well just look.
How is this not the most classic looking death cabin? I mean if someone was going to murder you with the intention of later wearing your skin as a flesh coat, could you not just see that going on in this little hut? Coz I sure as shit can.
Add to the rapey/murder look the pungent smell of death and you might come close to the full picture. Well perhaps not the smell of death per say but definitely the smell of nasty rotting long drop/self composting toilet times. Believe me the smell was what stuck with me long after I was back on the winding road out of the ranges.
It is urmm, characterful, to use a real estate term.
Two toilets, one which was apparently disability access but seemed to lack any railings or grips for said disabled person if they so require. The doors were the most interesting bit. They weighed a ton and had very hard strong springs which snapped back and caused the door to smack you on the ass as soon as you walked inside. Not great for little kids or someone who is perhaps a bit drunk.
The toilet it’s self as you can see consisted of a wide pipe with a seat attached to the top, no barrier between you and the months of festering ‘night soil’ below. I have to say I got in and out VERY quickly. It was dark, no lights and smelled like the seventh level of hell. Not a place you’d want to panic or hide.
But at least it had water and soap.
Cleanliness : 1/10 Nope, just nope.
Interior : -1/10 See above plus add smell and darkness/possible doorway to hell.
Exterior : 7/10 The only place it shines, the setting is gorgeous and obviously no one would give a shit if you parked pretty much anywhere as long as it didn’t upset the fishing. Bit of a treck to find tho, but that added to the charm of the day.
Safety : 2/10 Only because I know someone who is nice and has used these facilities do I feel at all safe here. The crazed paranoid I’ve-watched-too-many-horror-movies bit inside me spoke louder than anything else so I didn’t linger to be skinned or be made to squeal like a piggy.
Snugglitude : 1/10 Given only for the nature and setting. Nothing for the toilet at all.
Total : 10/50