This column by CL founding editor (and legend), Ann Vanderhoof, first appeared in our Apr/May ’92 issue.
Outhouses aren’t just buildings—they are the stuff of cottage lore.
Almost every cottager with a privy has a good tale to tell about it. One of my favourites comes courtesy of a phone-in radio show I was a guest on a couple of years ago. The host and I were discussing the joys and problems of cottaging, and a gentleman phoned in and told us this story. (He never specified whether it fell into the joys or problems category.)
One summer night, a member of his family headed for the outhouse, carrying one of those flashlights where the light attaches the big rectangular six-volt battery underneath. While he went about his business the flashlight rested on the bench, illuminating the outhouse interior. But somehow—while he was pulling up his trousers, perhaps, or swatting a nosy mosquito—the flashlight got knocked into the abyss. On subsequent trips that night, outhouse visitors were greeted by an eerie glow illuminating stuff better left in the dark (and scaring the pants off those who weren’t alerted to the situation beforehand).
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Another of my favourites is a cautionary tale for anyone relocating an outhouse. The protagonists in this story had dug a new pit because the old one was full, and had moved the old building to its new location. They thought they had covered the old pit adequately, heaping on lots of fill. But the neighbours’ dog was an ambitious sort, and had no aversion to digging deep. One afternoon, Max (a long-haired beast, by the way) was found rolling ecstatically in the accumulated excreta he had unearthed. Relations with the neighbours weren’t quite the same for a while afterwards.
I discovered a wonderful book (wonderful if you’re an outhouse fan) that recounts more great backhouse tales. Entitled The Vanishing American Outhouse, it’s a collection of privy plans, photos, poems, and folklore. Author Ronald S. Barlow describes a popular Fourth of July prank in his hometown: dropping a giant firecracker down someone’s privy, leaving the owner to figure out how the mess got on the ceiling.
The book also includes—among the wealth of other trivia—a collection of outhouse-related postcards (with lines like “Drop all your cares here”), photos of unusual outhouses (such as one made from half a boat), and historical tidbits. (Royalty in the Middle Ages used goose feathers—“still attached to a pliable neck”—instead of toilet paper. And in the Victorian era, “concerned mothers” would routinely remove the female undergarment sections of mail-order catalogues before relegating them to the outhouse.) Barlow also tells us that the name “privy” comes from the Latin privus, or “private place.” He then goes on to cite the following terms as others that can be “effectively utilized when seeking an outdoor toilet”: one-holer, two-holer, donnicker, pockey, loo, easer, throne, closet, cloaca, head, vault, dooley, willie, johnnie, biffy, post office, and White House. “And finally,” he reports, “our Canadian neighbours to the north call it, among other things, the back forty, auntie, or the House of Parliament.”
Whatever you call it, the outhouse remains part of cottage life. We dedicate this to its humble joys: its reliability (it never breaks down), its ambience (it’s the original room with a view), and its folklore.
Can you still build an outhouse today?
Yes! A properly built outhouse can be a great solution for an off-grid cottage or to support your wastewater system when you have extra guests.
If you’re thinking of building one, you don’t need a permit, but there are some code requirements, says Sandy Bos, a building inspector with the Township of Muskoka Lakes. The superstructure must be made of weatherproof materials, have a solid floor, and the door must be self-closing to prevent any unwanted visitors. Each toilet seat must be attached to a bench or a riser, and, if you have kids around, it may be a good idea to add a second, lower seat to make it easier to use.
You’ll want to make sure you have lots of ventilation. This means building it in an open area that allows air circulation, having screened vents in the structure, and adding a vent that leads from the underside of the bench to the top of the structure, which adds airflow to the pit and prevents odour buildup. The floor should be slightly graded to facilitate the flow of water you might use for cleaning. To prevent contamination, build the pit sufficiently above the high groundwater line and away from wells, bodies of water, and your property line.—Annie McKenzie
Should I just get a composting toilet instead?
Composting toilets require frequent emptying and cleaning, so if you often have a lot of guests, you might need an outhouse anyway, says Bos.
It won’t need much maintenance and won’t break down (and the same can not be said for most things at the cottage).—A.M.
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