We were parked at our favorite spot in the Ozarks for two weeks when it happened. Middle of the night, second week, and the black tank sensor started screaming at us even though we knew it was only half full. We had already moved the rig to the dump station once during that stay, which meant unhooking everything, driving across the park, waiting in line behind four other rigs, and then setting up all over again. That frustration eventually led us to discover RV composting toilets, which completely changed how we approach boondocking and extended stays.
That was the moment.
Not the first time a sensor lied to us. Not even the tenth time we had to break camp early to dump. But standing there at 2 AM, staring at that blinking red light, we realized we had spent three years working around a system that was supposed to make RV life easier. The black tank had become the thing that dictated where we could camp, how long we could stay, and how much we dreaded every dump day.
We started looking at RV composting toilets the next morning.
The idea sounded strange at first. No water, no tank, a box that somehow turned waste into something you could throw away in a regular trash can. We read reviews from people who swore they would never go back to a black tank. We also read reviews from people who tried RV composting toilets for six months and gave up because of humidity problems and constant maintenance.
What finally convinced us was talking to a couple at that same campground who had a Nature’s Head in their Airstream. They had been using it for years on both their RV and their boat. They told us they never thought about dump stations anymore. They emptied a bottle into rest stop toilets and tossed a bag in the trash every few weeks.
That sounded too good to be true. But we were tired enough of our black tank to try it anyway.
What’s Actually Happening Inside That Bowl (And Why It Matters More Than You’d Think)
The first time we opened the solids compartment after a week of use, we expected something awful. What we found instead was a container full of what looked like damp potting soil mixed with coconut fiber. No smell. No visible waste. Brown material that could have come from a garden center.
Turns out the whole system depends on one thing: keeping liquids and solids separated.
Most RV composting toilets have a diverter at the front of the bowl that sends urine into one container and everything else into another. The solids mix with coconut coir or peat moss, and a small fan keeps air moving through the compartment to dry everything out. The liquids go into a sealed bottle that you empty every few days, depending on how many people are using the toilet.
This separation is what kills the smell. When urine and feces mix together in a traditional black tank, you get the chemistry experiment nobody wants. Separate them, keep the solids aerated and dry, and the whole process stays surprisingly neutral. We have had our composting toilet parked in full sun in Florida summer heat, and the only time we have ever smelled anything was when we forgot to turn the fan on after a shore power outage.
The term “composting” is a little misleading, though. Real composting takes months. What actually happens in the solids bin is more like dehydration and the start of decomposition. By the time you empty it every few weeks, the waste is not finished compost. It is dried material mixed with coir that you bag up and toss in an approved trash receptacle. Do not use it in your garden.
Our Two Favorite RV Composting Toilets and Why Everything Else Fell Short
We tested three different models over two years before we found the two that actually work for us. The first one we tried had a diverter that required perfect aim every single time, which became a problem in the middle of the night or when the rig was not level. We gave up on it after four months of constant moisture issues in the solids bin.
The Nature’s Head is the one we kept. It costs $965, which is not cheap, but it has been in our rig for over a year now with zero problems. The solids compartment is big enough that we can go three weeks between empties when it is the two of us. The crank handle on the side agitates the material inside, which keeps everything mixed and aerated. The fan runs on 12V and pulls almost no power. The diverter works for both of us without requiring gymnastic precision. We have used this toilet in freezing temperatures in Colorado and in 95-degree heat in the Keys, and it has handled both without complaint. The build quality is solid. The lid seals tight. If we were starting over, we would buy this one first.
The OGO is the other one we recommend, especially if you want to avoid the manual crank. It has a built-in electric agitator, which means you press a button instead of turning a handle. The liquids container lasts about 25 to 30 uses before you need to empty it, and there is an indicator light that tells you when it is time. The capacity is rated for two people and up to 50 uses before you empty the solids. We have not used this one as long as the Nature’s Head, but the people we know who have it say it is bulletproof. It costs about the same as the Nature’s Head, maybe a little more depending on where you buy it.
Everything else we tried or researched fell short. The Cuddy worked okay in warm weather but had serious problems in winter when it was installed in a cold part of the rig. The Separett gets great reviews from some people, but the price is higher and we did not see enough advantage to justify the cost. We looked at DIY setups with urine diverting inserts that cost under $50, and while they might work for some people, we wanted something that looked like a real toilet and did not require us to engineer the whole system ourselves.
The Maintenance Reality: What We Actually Do Every Week (And What We Thought We’d Have to Do)
We thought maintenance was going to be the hard part. Turns out it is easier than dealing with a black tank ever was.
Every three or four days, depending on how much coffee we are drinking, we empty the urine bottle. We take it to a rest stop bathroom or a campground toilet, pour it out, rinse it with a little water, and put it back. The whole process takes two minutes. It is way easier than finding a dump station, and we can do it anywhere there is a regular toilet.
Every three weeks or so, we empty the solids bin. We line a trash bag with a biodegradable bag, dump the contents in, tie it up, and toss it in an approved trash receptacle. We have never had a bag break or leak. We have never had anyone notice what we were throwing away. The material inside looks and smells like potting soil, and once it is bagged, it is invisible.
After we empty the solids bin, we add fresh coconut coir. We buy it in compressed bricks, soak one brick in water until it expands, squeeze out the excess moisture, and dump it in the compartment. One brick lasts us about two months. We keep a spray bottle of vinegar and water in the bathroom, and we wipe down the bowl and the diverter once a week. We do not use bleach or any chemical cleaners, because mixing bleach and urine creates chloramines, which can cause breathing problems in a small enclosed space like an RV bathroom.
That is it. No hoses, no dump stations, no sensors lying to us, no driving across a campground in the middle of a stay. The maintenance we do now takes less time than hooking up a sewer hose used to take, and we can do it without gloves or holding our breath. We have found that this simplified routine fits perfectly with our overall approach to boondocking and off-grid camping, where simplicity and self-sufficiency matter most.
The Honest Stuff They Don’t Mention in the Marketing
The urine bottle fills up faster than you think it will. If you are used to a black tank that you empty once a week, switching to a bottle that needs emptying every few days feels like a step backward at first. We got used to it, but it is still the most frequent task.
You cannot put toilet paper in the solids bin if you want to extend the time between empties. We keep a small trash can next to the toilet for paper, and we empty it into the regular trash every couple of days. Some people hate this. We got used to it in about a week.
The diverter does not work equally well for everyone. Anatomic differences matter, and not all diverters are designed with that in mind. We have talked to people who had to switch models because the diverter in their first toilet did not separate liquids and solids effectively for one person in the household. If you can, try before you buy, or at least make sure the return policy is solid.
The fan needs to run all the time, or at least most of the time. If you are boondocking and watching your battery levels closely, that 12V fan is one more draw on your system. It is small, but it is constant. We have never had a problem with it, but we also run solar and have plenty of capacity. If you are tight on power, factor that in.
Emptying the solids bin is not horrible, but it is not invisible either. You are handling a bag of dried human waste. It does not smell, it does not leak, and it does not look like what it is, but you still know what you are doing. If that idea makes you uncomfortable, RV composting toilets might not be the right fit.
Before You Buy: The One Question You Actually Need to Answer
Forget the marketing. Forget the reviews. The only question that matters is this: do you camp off-grid more than you camp with full hookups?
If you spend most of your time in RV parks with sewer connections, RV composting toilets do not make sense. You are paying $900 or more to solve a problem you do not have. But if you boondock, dry camp, or stay in places without hookups for more than a few days at a time, RV composting toilets change the entire game. We have stayed two weeks in spots we used to avoid because we knew the black tank would not last. We have skipped dump stations entirely on month-long trips. We have more grey water capacity now because the black tank is gone, which means we can stay longer in places with no services.
If that sounds like your kind of camping, try one. Rent a rig that has one installed, or talk to someone at a campground who uses one and ask to see it. Do not buy based on reviews alone, because the experience is too personal and too dependent on your specific rig and camping style.
We are never going back to a black tank. That night in the Ozarks was the last time we moved our rig to dump.
