…we were trudging up a steep rough incline rock to rock, step by step. The altitude and exertion were making DF sick to her stomach. My legs were getting shaky from the climb. We had seen no water near the trail and no place to stop and camp.
It had been 112 plus all day. The intersections, filled with heating asphalt, fueled by car exhaust and many hot motors add another ten, and more, degrees. It was something that we call “Way too Hot.” I had many errands to run, requiring clothing. The little rice rocket’s air conditioner, wasn’t kicking out as it should. “A bad time to have an air-conditioner go on the fritz,” I thought. It was discovered that the air conditioner wasn’t broken. It wasn’t going bad, The Freon wasn’t low, no leaks. It just didn’t have the capacity to handle that kind of heat!
The hot water comes out of cold water taps. Cars designed to operate at the extremes of weather around the world are not able to keep up. It’s way too hot. Naked bodies are the answer to clothed bodies that don’t function and that’s the message a naked body gives. Run for cover, it’s way too hot. Clothed hikers, with limited senses, or some might say no sense, coming out of their air-conditioned buildings, expecting a user friendly environment. A turkey in an oven is basking in a “dry heat.”
Can you imagine the police sent to arrest someone for being nude on a day like this? The officers are in their black uniforms, full body armor, leather boots and utility belt. The patients are running the asylum.
This Phoenix heat, this Yuma heat is near record highs. It is not typical Tucson weather. It has been dashing well laid out plans.
So, this is summer solstice and official Nude Hiking Day, a time for celebration. I have been looking for ways to do both, but this extreme heat just keeps dashing plans.
Friday afternoon we are on our way to the Pinaleno Mountains. At the base of Mt. Graham, 9300 ft. is the trailhead for Ash Creek. A tough hike, but worth the effort, or so I had read.
Please indulge me before we get to Nudestock. Carnuding across Arizona and California, there is a perception, a projection, but how far from the truth is this? How different from the trek across country as young “freaks” on their way to a rock festival in 1969 is this?
“The desert is in bloom now,” I silently hear myself say, as I walk into it on the stealth path.
I keep my head down mostly, watching each step; I know that a rattlesnake could be lounging under a bush next to the trail. I had cleared the brush just enough to allow enough sight to leave no places for that to happen. That was a need for its construction. This was a good test for that objective.
Watching the ground, I take inventory of the flowerings.
A Dainty Pin Cushion in Bloom
They are not quite as abundant as I expected. The tunas are forming on the prickley pear. The tiny leaves on the paloverde are turning color ready to fall off, making way for the masses of yellow flowers that contrast so beautifully with the turquoise blue clear sky. There is not much evidence of the rains that came a few days ago. It is dry, but definitely not parched. Animal tracks and pieces of cholla and prickley pear have made it back into the trail like litter. I take note that this is something else to watch for, as I take each step with care and awareness. The pink fluffy blooms that had delighted me earlier are all but gone, replaced by another group of flora. The brittle bushes that I had trimmed back, now are covered with bright yellow florescence, spanning out into the path.
Brittle Bush on a Hill
They brush my leg, or my leg brushes them in their caressing way, as I pass through. Continue reading
The Free Range Naturist 