Can we harness the power of the tramping hive mind to uncover New Zealand’s top toilet? And is a soft-close loo lid going, well, too far?

n January the world of tramping toilets changed forever. 

The Backcountry Trust (BCT) installed a soft-close toilet seat on the thunderbox at Taruarau Biv in the Ruahine Range. 

Since then, whispers in huts have posited that a soft-close loo lid is, well, simply too much. Too luxurious for the bare bottoms of our nation’s trampers. Too posh. 

Yet others say it’s about time; this is just the drip before the flood. Soon, they say, as they bang their fists on plywood hut tables, soft-close lids will become an everyday necessity in backcountry bogs.

You see, this is a highly controversial 35km/h corner on the highway of our Kiwi tramping culture, to be navigated carefully lest we slide, loo roll in hand, off the road entirely. 

I was alerted to this fancy-pants addition to the Taruarau loo while staying at Shutes Hut, just when the BCT workers were shuttling in and out to the biv. I’d arrived with a beautiful German friend who’s a fan of the ‘Freikörperkultur’ movement (you can look that one up on Google, but I suggest using a personal phone, not your work phone, or at least steering away from the ‘images’ tab). We bathed in the famous Shutes Hut spa and retired to the hut scantily clad, leaving clothes out front to dry in the sun. Along came the helicopter and blew away all our clothes, and we both learned an important life lesson. But that’s a story for another day. 

Anyway, it seems fitting that the Taruarau Biv, with its tip-top thunderbox, is only just up the hill from Shutes Hut, with its naked German spa and lack of clothing. Perhaps we have uncovered a corner of the Ruahine Ranges that is more ‘progressive’? 

BCT North Island project manager Megan Dimozantos said the thunderbox makeover was a bit spontaneous. “It needed more work than we had originally planned. It was fancy enough that we commandeered a third of the dining table to replace the existing top. When [volunteer] Jason pulled out a soft-close lid, I thought ‘this will be controversial’, but I’ve warmed to the idea. No reason why the discerning tramper or hunter can’t enjoy a bit of comfort while using one of our best thunderboxes.”

So, of course, it got me thinking about the qualities inherent in an excellent backcountry bog. I have pioneered a rating scale of one to 10, in the hopes that, as a nation, we might be able to flush out the country’s most lavish longdrop. 

First we need to disregard all those modern-day round, green, fibreglass DOC affairs. Sure, they are practical and cost-effective, but they are undeniably soulless and as such can never hold a true place in our hearts. 

The scoring system

Placement: Is it too close to the hut or too far away or perched on the edge of a precipice or glacier; exciting, yet riskily windy? One point. 

Wildlife: Is the fly-to-spider ratio correct? Does it release a devil of midges when the lid is lifted, as if the Antichrist itself were inside? One point. 

Authenticity: Is it a proper old-school long drop with distinctive characteristics or features? Out of two points. 

Cleanliness: I’m told this is next to godliness. Clean bog, clean soul. One point. 

Views: What can you see from the loo while you’re on it with the door open, and is it epic? Two points. 

Literature: Are there any stacks of Wilderness back issues to be read? Bog-related poetry on the walls? Two points.

Features or functions not mentioned but potentially game-changing: One discretionary point. 

Submit your top toilet to Wilderness with your rating out of 10 and any commentary on why it’s Aotearoa’s best bog. Together, let’s harness the hive mind to lift the lid on some gems for backcountry bottoms. 

I haven’t made it up to Taruarau Biv yet, but am reliably informed that the thunderbox is top-notch and there are views over Pohokura Station and the Taruarau River. Put it on your tramping destination list today.