Once out riding I had a very sudden urge, in a lightly wooded area, so I had to dash for the nearest tree which was in fact a small sapling, only a few yards from the fire road which in turn was about 200 yards from the car park and hence very busy. Managed to get the cargo bay doors open and all that came out was a rather large pile of something that looked like light brown wet concrete. It stank to high heaven, and all I could do was bury it in a large pile of ferns and leaves. Which was also all I had to wipe with!
Another time was when we'd walked out to somewhere in the Peaks (I forget where) to go climbing, but due to scheduling and public transport limitations me and my mate's mate were camping near the crag. Problem was, it was in the middle of a huge flat moor with not a single tree to be seen. I also had the customary small plastic trowel to dig with, but it was not in any way up to the task of cutting through the tough grass cover so I had to find a small stone, pull it up and go in the recess, my white buttocks shining like a beacon in the evening sun to anyone within a mile's radius. The stone of course would not fit back into its hole with my huge turd in there so I had to squidge it down in an attempt to cover it up, which was not pleasant!
Alpin's German story reminded me though - on our first day trip round the mountains when we lived there, there was light patchy snow on the ground, and we pulled over to a layby to go down to the river and have a little explore. A few yards from the picnic tables I trod in a HUMAN poo and a pile of bogroll. FFS this is the middle of the picnic area! What is wrong with you?