Bathroom Confessions of Kilimanjaro
The truth about peeing and pooping on Africa’s tallest peak
Climbing Kilimanjaro isn’t just about altitude, grit, or even the summit sign photo. The number one question I got about the trip was one very practical, very real problem: where and how do you go to the bathroom??
I thought I was prepared. I brought my EllaPee funnel, a stash of toilet paper, wet wipes, and even hand sanitizer clipped to my pack. What I didn’t realize was that when hydration is the name of the game for acclimatization, bathroom moments would become the rhythm of my trek.
The Toilets of Kilimanjaro
At the gates and bigger camps, you get squat toilets: a hole in the ground with slippery floors and a door that sometimes locks (if you’re lucky).
But one of the main reasons I booked the tour operator I did (ClimbKili) was that they include a private toilet at no extra cost. Instead of sharing the squat toilets with the whole camp, our group of 3 had our own “toilet tent”—basically a plastic bucket with a seat and water pump. It was emptied each day and carried by a crew member whose official job title was toilet engineer. We bow to him in gratitude!
But when you’re tucked into your warm sleeping bag, unzipping everything and crawling hands and knees out of the tent to the toilet in the middle of the night isn’t ideal. That’s where the pee bottle came in.
Yep. Just me, praying my tent-mate was asleep, my EllaPee, and a plastic bottle set aside specifically for urination!
Peeing on the Trail
On the trail itself, it’s “find a tree or a rock and go.” Sounds easy until you realize:
There aren’t always trees (hello, moorland and alpine desert).
Rocks aren’t always big enough to hide behind.
Your female urinal can betray you. I found that out when it backfired into my pants once.
By the end of the trip, peeing in full daylight while praying no one rounded the corner became second nature.
Diarrhea Diaries
Then came Day 3: my stomach revolted. Liquid diarrhea. Multiple times. At one point I was clenching so hard on a steep section in hail that I genuinely thought, “This is it, I’m going to shit my pants on Kilimanjaro.”
When I finally found a rock to duck behind, I let out a sigh so loud I was surprised it didn’t echo. Imodium became my new best friend.
Soup, Snacks, & Stomach Roulette
The food didn’t always help. Cilantro soup was served almost every night, and by the end just the smell triggered my gag reflex. On days when I could stomach a little, the combination of soup, pasta, and altitude was a dangerous gamble.
There’s nothing like shuffling to the toilet tent at midnight in freezing temperatures, headlamp on, hoping your oxygen doesn’t drop with every squat.
What I Learned
Imodium is gold. Bring it. Use it. Thank me later.
Practice with your pee funnel. The mountain is not the place for trial runs.
Don’t count on privacy. Embrace the awkward wave when someone accidentally rounds the corner.
Thank your toilet engineer. That person is truly the MVP.
And most importantly: bathroom moments are universal. Every climber, no matter how strong or fast, has a trail-side confession.
On Kilimanjaro, the mountain humbles you in many ways—altitude, cold, exhaustion. But nothing humbles you quite like squatting in the rain, headlamp bobbing, pants around your ankles, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. But the mishaps are what make the story uniquely your own, and build a bond between you and your fellow climbers unlike any other.