The Best Both Ways
A couple of months ago, a friend offered us a place to stay in his motorhome to visit The Naturist Society’s Western Naturist Gathering for 2015. It was being held at De Anza Resort a wonderfully relaxed desert hideout with amazing hiking opportunities. He had always wanted to go and it would be a first experience for his new girlfriend with social nudity at a resort. We took him up on that offer.
The Naturist Society has been at the vanguard of naturism and naturist’s thought for decades. It has had a major influence. Each year, the organization has regional gatherings to promote naturism, coordinate actions, educate, and promote the organization. The Naturist Action Committee (NAC) and the Naturist Education Foundation (NEF) have grown out of this. I’ll get into this more, later. What I want to convey, is that these gatherings are not only fun, but informative. There are many highlights. One finds oneself sitting next to and conversing with the who’s who of naturist action. The organizers of the WNBR events in LA, accomplished authors, heads of naturist organizations and people involved for decades are in attendance. They present workshops and lectures amongst pudding fights, dancing and hiking forays. I don’t think that people know what they are missing. When it comes to a theater near you…GO! Continue reading
DF gave me some feedback the other day. She thought that in the Penaleno Mountain post that there was too much TMI and my attitude was a bit aggressive. I gave that some thought, as it was aggressive ad undertone of resentment would rise up here and there. Since it is an early post on the site, where I am introduced to some of you, I thought I might explain its context. I am usually less flamboyant.
There has been a website forum that I have been contributing to since the early 2000’s called “The Secret Naturist Society.” It had fifteen years of accumulated posts, a wealth of wisdom and knowledge about naturism, the art of stealth naturism, and much more. It was a great place of camaraderie on the web between a group of “secret” or free range naturists. I had trip reports posted there going back ten years. With all of this, which accumulated for fifteen years, you might imagine the sense of loss that we felt when the site crashed, like a shipwreck our international group of old friends were suddenly all cast adrift.
I found out that a new host had taken over as a buyout of the system. New rules were put in place. These rules demanded no “adult” content. Our naturist forum was deemed “adult.” The two week notification was sent to an email address that was not frequently monitored. Everything was lost.
We washed ashore a few weeks later, at Karla and Stuart’s Free Range Naturism site’s forum. Slowly the crew reassembled and discussed where to go next. There was a general and genuine grief process going on inside of most of us. The site had been a regular part of our lives. It was like a small town having a general store where the locals will congregate around the potbelly stove. It was gone like a tornado had hit.
The fact that it was gone in an unjustified heavy handed fashion and reasoning, made the event even more unpalatable. Our content was not “adult.” It was naturism. The human body is not “adult.” It is natural. It is a part of everyone and anyone no matter what the age. We had been devastated by a very sick attitude manifested in a cold corporate policy. This is something that could happen to any naturist website, the promotion of body freedom, any natural and free expression of an issue important to all humanity could be swept under the carpet and disappear with the first amendment.
So, with this repression, this persecution of my spirit, I was feeling angry. I was feeling defiant. I felt a need to stand up for my human rights and not take it. I felt kind of aggressive and less tolerant that week. As time goes on, you may read my posts from years back and these will attest to a more usual personality.
Perhaps this anger, or sense of injustice, is something that is necessary for all of us to produce action and change. If you remember in that revered flick about Mahatma Gandhi, Ben Kingsley as Gandhi is thrown off of a train in South Africa for being “a darky” in the white section. As he sat there with his bags about him in the dirt, he could have taken many different actions. He turned this energy, which had been presented to him, into the action that he is famous for and upset an entire empire. He could have taken it, accepted it, or sit in his predetermined place. He took an exceptional path instead. Following these passions has made admirable people and great change throughout history. There is a choice to accept, react in a mediocre way, or seize passion.
I was stimulated to create this site that had been brewing inside me. To show others that there is a range of freedom that they hadn’t conceived, a different solution, I’ve accepted my task. I’ve harnessed the energy AND I’m going to have fun with this. When others change their practice and range and their humanity is further liberated, the naturist movement’s momentum will grow. In the meantime, with each post, I’ll feel some justice and freedom.
Incidentally, I’d like to invite you to visit http://www.freerangenaturism.com/index.htm and join in the conversation of the “forum” section. This where I do most of my conversation about this site and free-range naturism as a part of the group. It is informative and fun. I’m Jbee over there.
The Pinaleno Mountains are in southeastern Arizona. The mountain reaches 10,720 feet (3,267 m) in height. We had been scouting the area for free range use for two years. Posts of those adventures will follow this in time.
The weather here is weird and difficult to predict this year. All week we had had to vacillate between three locations for our three day weekend. A nude body appreciates as nice a weather as can be had. It’s good to have alternative contingencies. The White Mountains would be warmer, but better chance of rain, The Verde River would certainly be warmer, but maybe too much so and the rain forecast was flip flopping. The original destination, the Penaleno Mountains promised cold weather, but no rains. This is June and the dry extreme heat still wasn’t yet happening (oh, but the next week, it did arrive, everyday over 109F!).
A pair of friends called and just happened to have a trip up in the Penalenos planned. They wondered if we would meet. The weather prediction on Thursday was showing us 60F’s and lows in the upper 30F’s, not good nude weather in the shade of a forest, but we went for it. The rest showed more rain and this place was at least clear.
Last week, DF suggested a camping trip as she had a Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday off. I jumped on it. We decided on a place very special to me in the world, that I had never shared with her, and hadn’t visited for a few years. It is a relatively thin canyon with steep rock slopes and cliff walls. The walls are peppered with caves. It’s as though giant woodpeckers have visited. Many of these were whittled out, then used for homes and protection in a prehistoric time in Arizona. I have climbed up toward a few that looked unapproachable, only to find hidden passages to them. A rope or ladder was probably used to climb up and into some of these the rest of the way. The valley floor is a forest of multiple trees which is a stop off for over two hundred bird species during the year. I have stopped, closed my eyes and just listened at times hearing 6 or 7 different distinct bird calls in a short minute’s time. The walk has many trail areas lined with ferns and grasses and unusual plants and flowers. Through it a crystal clear stream meanders. This dry time of year it would disappear at places leaving just rocks, and then reappearing once again later. The rock cliffs are beautiful pink, yellow, orange, red generally highlighted by multitudes of other colors and the greens of lichen. They drop refuse down into the canyon floor, giving amazing color to the pebbles under the crystalline waters.
Middle May 2009
I picked up Df at the airport Monday night. She told me that she had Tuesday off, too. At the crack of dawn, we decided to drag out of bed and go see the Ironwoods. The Ironwoods have come in bloom in the last week and this week has got to be the time to see them at their best. Ironwoods are about the size of the mesquite and palo verde trees. The palo verde are masses of bright yellow blooms. An ironwood blooms in a mass like that, only the colors are generally lavender. They range from white to deep purple. They are even more impressive than Washington D.C. cherry blossoms. The trees are generally 2-400 years old. It is awe inspiring to behold a 6 to 800 year old tree that has survived. They aren’t particularly massive and are often bulldozed in mass by illegal cavalier developers. There are only two intact Ironwood ecosystems left on the planet.
They sometimes go by the name ‘Ol Smokey because of the gray bark. Looking down on the “forest’ of them in bloom today, I saw that they do look like smoke amongst the other greens. They have dark green foliage during most of the year. Continue reading
Waking up Naked in the Rain
There’s a rain around here. I had heard it last night outside before bed. It sounded a little louder this morning, loud enough to wake me. There was only a slight chance for it in the forecast. It is a surprise.
Looking out the window, the colored concrete and granite rocks are wet just outside the door. “Did I get that window up, that one with the slit that lets the heat out when the truck sits in the sun?” I step out. As I make my way to the driveway to where my truck is parked, there are a few drops and lovely fresh air. I pass through the porch area where everything is dry. There is a light curtain of water coming off of the roof. I step through. It slaps my shoulders and there are a couple of wet spots now in my scalp. I go on.
I have made my way into the drive. “Yep, windows are okay.” It feels good to be naked and barefoot, waking up by this warm summer drizzle.” This is as good as stretching in bed, just being aware and cozy, peeling each layer of cover away as the feel of it all flows through, but this is certainly quicker.
“What’s that?!” Down the drive a couple of hundred feet, next door, I hear it. “Is that a car coming up the drive?” What’s going on at Robyn’s house?” “Could that be rain over there?” “It is rain!” I’m standing in the driveway. The sandy loam is wet and gritty on my barefeet, like a beach. “No rain here, plenty at the end of the driveway, plenty next door! “
“Is it coming my way, or just making a visit down there? Perhaps I’ll”…I hear it moving. It is loud. It is a hard rain falling. It is creating a rustle in the mesquite trees, as the water drops through the weave of branches and small leaves, with a welcomed violence. There is sound of dancing as large dollops break up, split up, dropping to the next position and then the next, downward all in mass. There is a pounding on the sand and a sudden realization that the commotion next door is big heavy drops.
“Could it be a hail?” The first few clues randomly address my vulnerable flesh. It begins to pelt me, but these are soft and warm as they mash, now frequently, on my skin, skin that knows subtle differences. Skin knows the temperature of the air, how fast the breeze carries between the drops, how many drops per square foot, which way does this come from and how quickly. How long will it stay? Does this stuff get cold?
A rain blanket drapes over me, engulfing me with sound, activity. The mind wants to run. Should I tense up, or retreat from the coming shock. It remembers the shocking chill of hard rains past, the body tenses and turns toward shelter. In a moment, this body knows and out of someplace very quiet it adjusts and puts the mind at ease. Realization appears quickly and a calm and sensual exploration begins, this is so very nice. What a treat, naked in a warm summer’s rain.
By the time that I have reached my front door the little storm has passed. I’m awake, aware, sleep is done.