Here’s a fun story by my friend Greg Breining, an outdoor writer in Minnesota, from today’s New York Times, about shacking up in a cabin — but “forgetting” to tell his wife how primitive it was.
I once spent a long weekend in a New Hampshire cabin so remote we had to cross-country ski in, with all our belongings and food in huge packs on our backs. The only water was snow we melted; the only heat from a woodstove, the only illumination from propane lamps.
And, yes, an outhouse. Brrrrrrr! It was amazing fun and Greg beautifully captures why.