I chose my location as if I were urinating: a secluded spot away from a water source. I didn't take any measures to hide or cover my mess. Should I have done so in the ecology of the Pacific Northwest forest lowlands?
The process was messier than over the toilet, even taking into consideration my lack of cleaning supplies and tissues. (I hadn't anticipated needing to change my cup on the afternoon hike, so I didn't have so much as a spare tissue in my pocket. I rinsed my hands with water before heading into the undergrowth, but that's it.) Maybe this was because the cup was overflowing by this point, or maybe blood just looks more shocking when it's splattered over a surface and not tidily in the toilet.
The hand movements are different when squatting in the woods, too. I kept wanting to move my hands in order to dump the cup, fold it and insert it, but the easiest motions would drip over my pants. So, it was awkward, but totally doable.
Afterwards, I wiped my hands on swordfern and mosses, then rinsed them again with my water bottle. As I retrieved my dog and sweatshirt, my hiking partner remarked that a cup sounds much more convenient when out like we were, as there was nothing to pack out. She's very unlikely to switch over, but she's still intrigued by the idea.
We're going backpacking this summer. It will be nice to not have to worry about scheduling around my period or packing (out) supplies!
But next time, I'm bringing wet-naps at the very least.