Nobody Likes Poop on the Poop Deck

Part of the joys of living aboard a boat is that you carry your own things - water, food, supplies, tools, fuel, and, of course, your own shit.

As well as the shit of anyone else you have had on board, from friends and family to colleagues, a gospel choir, and B.B. King's daughter, who crashed a party we had several weeks ago, cleaning out the cooler and taking with her the last sad can of unwanted Budweiser before she left.

We have been hauling this shit in a tank beneath the v-berth for almost three weeks now. There is no alarm to tell us it's full, no polite voice to warn us it's time we pumped out: no, you know the shit tank is full when it starts to overflow.

Now, rational people that we are, nobody want to reach this point. But it's not always easy to estimate just how much shit has collected in the tank until you start to see a gurgling when you flush the toilet. There are two manual heads on board, so you pump a handle to fill the bowl with water, which often creates a suction that pulls the waste down into the tank. But you cannot always rely on this method to suck out your waste, which I learned shortly after I started dating Mark.

Early in a romantic relationship (hell, maybe even after 20 years of marriage), women may be squeamish about having a bowel movement with their new love interest in the next room. Particularly if that next room is separated by a paper-thin wall aboard a boat. I just couldn't do my business if Mark was around. But one morning, I awoke to find he had already left for work. I got ready for work in the usual way, but when I flushed the toilet, it wouldn't go down. I kept pumping the handle while the bowl filled with more and more water, till I was certain it would overflow. I panicked, petrified that Mark would come home from work to find shit soup in his bathroom. I ran to the galley for a plastic cup and knife. Carefully, I ladled the liquid down the bathtub drain. (Later, I learned that "grey water" from the sinks goes directly out of the boat. You're not even supposed to let the Chicago River water touch your skin, so it's not like I did major damage, but still....) With the knife, I chopped the waste into smaller bits and tried to flush again - no suction! The bowl filled with more water. I ladled more out until, mortified and late for work, I closed the lid on the toilet and left. I called Mark from my office and warned him that the toilet was clogged. He later told me that by the time he got home, the bowl was empty - but who knows if he was only saying that to save my pride.

I was terrified of the toilet after that, and only used it in emergencies. Of course, a weekend on a boat can summon an emergency, and several weeks later I ran into the same situation - this time with Mark on board. I closed the toilet lid and called for him. "Don't look inside - just tell me what I need to do." He came into the head. "You're not doing it right," he said. "You have to push the lever down to flush it down - the way you're doing it just pumps water in."

This crucial lesson became part of the tour I give new guests aboard Mazurka: throw your toilet paper in the garbage, pump the handle, push the lever down, pump some more.

By now Mark and I have gotten past the embarrassment of bowel movements; we've graduated to pumping out the waste together.

Pump out is a two-person job, and one you can only do with someone you truly respect. First, you must find a pump out station, which any respectable marina offers. You will know it by the big white box, the yellow and black striped hose. After tying up to the dock, attach the end of the hose into the sewage outlet port in your boat - on Mazurka, it's on the port side near the bow. (Mark once mixed this up with the fuel intake port, but that's another story...which won him the River Rat Bonehead award for the year.) Make sure you attach the hose into the sewage port before hitting the green button on the white box. This starts the suction, and you will feel the sewage pumping out. Some hoses even have a clear window so you can see it coming out. Pour bleach down the heads for good measure. If the sewage tank has overflown, you will need to pump out the bilge in the bow of the boat, too. Use lots of bleach.

An important final step is to make sure you shut off the pump before disengaging it. Chris, one of the few women I know who lives aboard a boat, once made the mistake of pulling out the hose before shutting it off; City of Chicago shit spewed everywhere, and covered her from head to toe. She dropped the hose and stripped off her clothes right on the dock, then high-tailed it to the shower, leaving a trail of shit along the way. "If you live on a boat," she warns, "one day it'll happen to you, too."

I believe it, with the inept and drunken boaters I see pumping out at the end of each weekend. I heed her warning every time I get ready to push that green button.