Finding water when the camp has none
Of the 11,746 camps mapped on this site, 7,904 — right at two in three — have no drinking-water point anywhere inside the ten-mile scan we run around them. Four in five have a named creek, river or lake close enough to list by name. Both of those are true at once, and that is the whole problem: there is usually water near your camp. There is very often no drinking water. Plan against the second number.
Dry is the design, not a gap in the data
The Forest Service says it in one line on its dispersed camping pages. Mt. Hood's: “Dispersed camping means no toilets, no drinking water, no metal fire rings, and no trash service — and, therefore, no camping fees.” Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie opens with the same sentence. That is the trade you are making, not an oversight. And don't assume the developed campground down the road bails you out either: BLM's own summer camping guidance tells visitors that “most BLM developed campgrounds do not have potable water, so remember to bring plenty of water.” Potable is a tested, regulated word. “There's a spigot” is a different claim, and a weaker one.
So the water decision happens in town, not at camp
The practical consequence: before you leave pavement, know where your last certain fill is and how many days the tank you drive in with actually buys. For rate, the desert parks are the blunt ones — Arches tells visitors “The park recommends that each person drinks 4 quarts or 4 liters of water per day.” That's a gallon a person a day, in the desert, for drinking — before cooking, before washing a dish. Cooler, wetter country is kinder to you, but the arithmetic is the same shape: gallons a day × days out, plus the margin you'd want if the road out turned bad. The town run note covers batching the rest of the resupply; how I think about a rig covers jugs versus tanks. This is dry camping whether or not anybody calls it that.
The tap that exists may still be off when you get there
Water systems get drained so the lines don't freeze, and the units publish that plainly. Idlewild Campground on the Malheur National Forest: “Drinking water is available only during warmer months; water will be shut off from early to mid-October until mid to late May or early June depending on temperatures.” The Dakota Prairie Grasslands: “Drinking water is usually available from hand-pump wells or seasonal spigots, but is turned off during winter,” and, right after it, “Always bring extra water, especially outside of summer—hand pumps are disabled in winter.” Notice that Idlewild won't commit to a date — it says depending on temperatures. The on/off dates vary by unit and by the year, so the only place to get yours is the managing unit's own page for that site, read close to the trip. Cold-weather camping has more on what freezing does to your water clock.
“Not mapped” is not the same as “not there”
Our drinking-water pins come from open map data: somebody has to have tagged a spigot before we can show it to you. A blank scan means we don't know of one within ten miles — not that a ranger station, a town park, or a campground hydrant isn't sitting there untagged. It runs the other way too, which is what the sibling note on water on public land is about: a pin is a claim someone made, not a source we filled jugs from. Either way the authority is the same and it isn't us — the managing forest's or field office's own recreation page for that site, or the ranger district on the phone. Reading your camp page spells out where each instrument on the page stops.
The creek counts — but only after you treat it
Water you find is water you make safe. The Park Service's line is the one to keep: “Water in a stream, river or lake may look clean, but it can still be filled with bacteria, viruses, and parasites.” Mt. Hood's dispersed page says the same thing as an instruction — “Treat or filter any drinking water collected from streams/lakes or bring water from home.” On method, CDC is worth quoting rather than paraphrasing. Boiling: “Bring water to a full rolling boil for 1 minute. If you are at an elevation above 6,500 feet, boil water for 3 minutes.” Filters: a filter certified to NSF 53 or 58 “will remove parasites if it is used properly,” but “It will not remove viruses or all bacteria,” and CDC's flat warning is that “Most portable water filters do not remove bacteria or viruses.” Tablets: “Chlorine dioxide tablets can be effective against Cryptosporidium if the manufacturer's instructions are followed correctly” — which means the instructions on your bottle, including the wait, are part of the treatment and not a suggestion.
The catch: being near the water has rules, and the number moves
Once you're planning to camp within walking distance of a creek, a setback applies — and it is not one national number. BLM's camping guidelines say “Camp at least 200 feet away from water sources.” Mt. Hood's dispersed camping page says “Camp at least 100 ft. away from streams, rivers, and lakes.” Same country, two agencies, two answers, and individual units go their own way on top of that: Bears Ears National Monument's dispersed camping sheet doesn't give a water distance at all but does require that you “pack it in, pack it out, including human waste,” and that any in-canyon camping on Cedar Mesa be permitted through recreation.gov. Human waste has its own setback — Mt. Hood: “dig a hole 6 inches deep at least 100 feet away from any water source” — and BLM asks for 6 inches or deeper, away from water, in the same breath. Take the biggest number you find posted for the unit you're actually in. The stay clock varies the same way, which is what stay limits is for.
Carry water to the dishes, not the dishes to the water
That's practice, not a citation — but it follows straight from the rules above. If the agency wants your tent 100 to 200 feet off the shoreline and your cathole 100 feet off any water, then washing up in the creek is the one habit that undoes all of it, and it's the reason so many good spots eventually get closed. Haul what you need back to camp, and put grey water and food scraps where leave no trace says to. If you're carrying tanks rather than jugs, dumping grey and black is the other half of the same clock — and a dump station is the only right answer for the black.
The honest summary: for most camps on this site we cannot tell you where the water is, only that we didn't find any mapped. That's a real gap in the data and I'd rather say so than paper over it. What it costs you is one decision made earlier than you'd like — fill in town, know your rate, and treat anything you didn't carry in.