We were in the Canadian wilds. We'd paddled up the Little Madawaska River for a couple hours without seeing any other canoeist or hikers since our campground. Loons dove in the water near us; we'd passed a swimming beaver; there were frogs the size of our fists; we ducked under fallen trees as we paddled past. Ahh... the wilderness.
The river opened up into the next lake. It was ten times the size of the lake where we'd set up camp. We could see the road which ran through the park. It traveled alongside the lake, about two miles from the mouth of the river where we were.
Suddenly, we passed a boat ramp. How odd, we thought. no boat trailer or car was in the small gravel parking lot and grass grew between the pebbles. Then, we came to a picnic table along the beach. Curiouser and curiouser. We pulled in by the picnic table in order to stretch our legs and eat our snack lunches.
Our young boys spotted an outhouse back in the woods. Again, how odd to have such a sign of civilization in the wilds. They suddenly "needed" to go. I looked around at all their tree choices, and shrugged an "okay." My husband and I stood on the shore watching the waves on the large lake and taking in all the beauty and wonder before us.
Then, from the woods behind us, came a "ker-flush!" It took a moment to identify the sound. There were no sinks, but the outhouse in the middle of the wilderness had a flush toilet. Surprise! Guess we weren't as far away from civilization as we thought.