By the time we got to Nudestock, it was….

Summer 2013

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?

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REMEMBER; Left clicking any photo will size it to the screen.

We were off on an adventure in hostile territory. The entire distance to the next reservation, a safe haven, would take us through a region where, if we were discovered to be who we really were, could lead to dire consequences. Out in the wilds there is a culture dominated by a most peculiar society. Their culture requires particular costuming at all times. If discovered in our usual decoration, we could be imprisoned, scorned or worse. Our kind was simply not tolerated or understood. Eyes would flash wide, if we were sighted. We would not be allowed to sit at the same lunch counters. We would not be allowed in restaurants. We would be refused service, just because of our skin. Any officer of their law in this territory would assuredly, without hesitation confine us, just for being who we are. It is an alien world, where authority has no tolerance. A dangerous culture where our kind could be apprehended imprisoned and treated with disgust. This is a place where we were considered nasty, vile, unwholesome, even unholy vermin on the earth. We, just being ourselves, could be considered an affront to their Gods and then dealt with swiftly. They show no tolerance for the diversity that nature intends among her peoples. We would have to disguise ourselves in the peculiar garb of the locals, to make them think that we were of them. During every moment exposed without our costumes, a heightened alert had to me maintained, least we be discovered. We had to be careful as to not create suspicion. It is a dangerous road indeed out to the coast and we were braving it alone.

We were careful not to reveal our true nature as we moved through the desert western region. It is a wild and vast land that we crossed. The area is thinly populated however. We were generally able to see the possibility of confrontation in the distance, giving us the advantage of being able to adjust and then avoid it. Vigilance was maintained. We had to be alert for the roaming patrols looking for aliens and infringements on their commonly misplaced sensibilities. Disguise was kept at hand to cover our identity at a moment’s notice, even while in the vehicle, itself a version common to the culture. We only stopped when necessary to acquire provisions for the long journey. We donned our costumes, imitating and conforming to social mannerisms, to not let them know who we were under our garb.

The region is divided into two states with a common tribal identity. The border is protected for commerce, but in particular, detection of aliens. We quickly covered our natural nakedness in our disguises, put on our best accent, smiled and were passed through without suspicion.

In the mountains we arrived at our goal, a large retreat of liberated lands, where local authority is much friendlier and less primitive. What a relief to mingle among our civilized fellows, unthreatened, unencumbered, relaxed and out of a state of hyper alert. Here we found safety, acceptance, tolerance, and freedom to our natural selves. To walk, talk and dance nude without fear. Perhaps one day, sensible civilization will come to that troubled wild expanse, but not soon.

No, this wasn’t Afganistan. This wasn’t the Wild West trekking through “Injun Territory.” This ain’t 1969. We’re on our way to De Anza Resort from Arizona for Nudestock!

Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs….

Signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs….

We set out Thursday morning for Nudestock, three days of music and some southern California time. The trip there is all interstate highway, and no “It wasn’t closed, man!” It wasn’t a half a million freaks. They did sell about 300 tickets and booked the place full. There was a swimming hole and skinnydipping going on.

The trip was of course done nude. The intolerant description above is largely imagination from fears. It does represent what was at risk. The odds however, were solidly in our favor. I took a sample of passing and passed vehicles, to see if anyone ever looked over to see the nude couple cruising next to them. DF chuckled and stated, “That guy looked” as we passed a semi trucker. Nobody looked, but him and maybe some other truckers, whose eyes I couldn’t see because of the angles. NOBODY all the way out there and back. I noticed that each time that I passed, or was passed, that I didn’t really turn my head until the instant that they were parallel with us and then soon ahead of us. We could only be noticed with fast glances at best…except the truckers. We were in a very low Honda Civic and couldn’t see into most of the other vehicles. There were just heads, people watching their driving, spaced out on the scenery, or asleep. It was too easy.

We only got off of the interstate to gas up (Yuma has cheaper gas than over taxed California) and a quick lunch and two restroom breaks.

We were stopped by the Border Patrol at their check points (Flashback: These were deemed unconstitutional back when Nixon tried them in 1970, why are they allowed now?). There were inspectors waving us through. Later, in a window in San Diego, I saw one of those Japanese cat banks, with one paw up. This one had an electric arm that moved back and forth, just like the Border Patrol officer. I thought to buy one and give it to the guy to save him injuries from repetitive motion. Anyway, each time DF would don a dress and I would put my boxers over my lap. Each time, again I would moan about the doubling of the Border Patrol and twice as many of these silly intrusions, but it must be factored in that they weren’t there to catch carnuders, just illegal aliens and bad fruit.

In Yuma, we stopped to share a veggie footlong lunch at a Subway in a strip mall. We had dressed in the parking lot and were sitting at our table. It was very hot outside and a stupid time to wear clothing. Some sauce spilt on my pant’s leg and I commented, “Well, if that was my bare leg.…!”

On our way to a nude event, in a nude resort, nude, we found ourselves in a particularly nude perspective.  We were resenting putting on stupid clothes, and in a perfectly legal world, we could both be sitting there sanely in only in flipflops, if that. The attitude between us was radical this day, but then again, it made sense. We are to be spending a few days nude at a place where it is entirely acceptable to be nude just like that, we know what that feels like, and this would be just a little different, in a more perfect world. If we could, on a hot day like this, I suspect that we might…might, take the sensible option. These silly inhibited feelings of being the only one naked, are actually just that. People look, and go back to minding their own business. People are mostly self-absorbed. What is all of the Brouhaha about anyway?

So we got to De Anza, enjoyed the pool, and went up on a nearby rock face to watch the picturesque sunset.


After that, in the quiet dusk, we took a little walk around the neighborhood (it’s kinda like a little town) arm in arm. We checked out what people have done with their little cottages and yards…naked. A wave greeted us here and there from someone sitting nude on their porch. Maybe with the lights on we would notice a naked person through a curtain-less window. Are we Peeping Toms?

Like a small town

Like a small town. A piece of De Anza


Friday, we decided to go into San Diego and maybe Black’s Beach. My bad right shoulder has somehow decided instead, to become a bad attack of sciatica in the right leg and hip. I had been doing many things for it. But, finally I had to accept that I wasn’t going down that steep hike to and from the beach and back.

It was getting late after we had had a seafood lunch at Joe’s Sea Food. We decided to stroll along Mission Beach, clothed. We had been carnuding through La Jolla for a while and when we got to the hurried valet, I told him. “Hey, I need to get dressed.” I just had a shirt over my lap and my eat out clothes were buried in the back in luggage. He was used to beach goers changing out of swimsuits and didn’t bat an eye to the predicament. He had us park, get changed in the car and then took the keys to rearrange his lot. At first DF was disappointed, because she had not brought a swimsuit, but evening was coming, the water was pretty cold and her short skirt and a shawl were perfect for sunset walks on the beach.

I hadn’t been on a clothing required beach in many years. I checked out the swimsuits to see what beach fashionites were really wearing there. They were generally about the same size bottoms as years before, but more like lingerie. Covered behinds, but not hiding much. There was an occasional thong. The choir knows what I was thinking, a stranger in a strange land…when in Rome…what’s the point of….

We had been lost in the La Jolla coastal hills, trying to find a freeway entrance to return to base, when we saw a couple getting out of their car to visit a home. I stopped as DF waved down their attention. The very nice people gave us complex directions. All the while I was sitting there with my shorts draped across my lap. My hip was showing and the guy kept glancing down, apparently trying to figure that out.


We returned to the resort for the last half of the first band, windows down, naked and ready to dance.  Anyway, the music was wonderful, and we danced until midnight. We walked home under the thick magnificent Milky Way that stretches across the sky in its most evident way.

De Anza Rocks are Fun

De Anza Rocks are Fun


Saturday, was not a freerange hiking day. The music started at noon and three bands went on until midnight. In the afternoon, we lounged and did most of our dancing, swishing in the refreshing outdoor pool. There is the cooler outdoor pool near where the bands played, a large indoor slightly warmer pool and a nice hot Jacuzzi. People commented that we were “cute dancing together,” and they “had fun watching us dance.” We get a lot of that. Apparently our weekly fun has developed into a notable rapport together. Upon that realization, I felt a little awkward for a short while on the dance floor in front of the bands, because I realized that a couple of hundred people were watching us dancing barefoot all over and being entertained by our movements. Up until then, it had been just between us. Well, the self-consciousness shook off quick enough. Just imagine the audience is naked.




A playground of solid rock to run, dance, and climb.

On Saturday night there were an inordinate number of people, especially women in various states of dress. The tie-die tee shirt that DF had bought me lasted all of about five minutes. It was hot and I just couldn’t see being dressed at a nude event. DF had hers on as costume for a while, but had since taken delight in pulling it over her head on the dance floor and tossing it aside with abandon. She looked around and complained, “I thought that this was NUDE stock!” She went up to the lead singer during break and asked that an announcement to that effect be made, but the clothed singer wasn’t comfortable with doing that. Oh, well.  At midnight, we hit the Jacuzzi, relaxed and strolled to the room under the incredible stars.



Sunday, we were still in bed when the scent of medical marijuana came floating in from the neighbor on the shared porch. I closed the window (I stopped smoking in 1978). Later, I mentioned the young bud Afganee to him as we relaxed on the porch (amazingly, I could still identify the strain’s scent thirty-five years later). He has extreme issues from a car wreck. I believe that the plan was supposed to be Sativa during the day, Indica at night, pills in-between. The times since Woodstock seem to be the same, but different.


There were only three vendors. Two sold meat products. The third was primarily a kind of head shop merchant.  Curiously, according to the vendor, the most popular item was a glass pipe shaped like a penis! That seemed more…well, Woodstock like. The last act was a solo in the afternoon. I should mention that all of the acts were top notch quality, from the San Diego area. They did mostly cover songs, primarily from that Woodstock era. This last guy was wonderfully talented. It was laid back and he did some requests. During the end, there were two small naked brown bodied children running around behind and around him, just like a scene from the movie. He gave them the mic and they sang their ABC’s real cute.

Dance in the Desert Air

Dance in the Desert Air

Sunset in the desert hills was an event.

Reminding us that nothing is static in the wondrous universe.




We had a lovely dinner, relaxing together and watching the newest episode of “Naked and Afraid.” Then, we currashed!


Monday, my leg was improving with stretches, massage and pills. Perhaps the dancing helped to rattle the system loose. I was determined to get off of property and hike as far as I could. We set the alarm around sunrise, had a blueberry/banana smoothie and took off, content to return before checkout, and missing the heat of the day.


We got out about three miles into an area that we hadn’t been, before turning back. There is no cell phone reception except right next to the office. We use cell phones for watches. We had only the sun and our senses for a timepiece.

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We discovered a hook up with a four-wheel drive trail and many of those wonderful weird rock formations.

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Many animal tracks, including a mountain lion, were in the sand. DF saw a deer and we encountered an unusually long tailed horned lizard.


At one point on the way back, DF was compelled to go down a side wash. She had a “feeling” about it.


There was a strange rock structure in the wash and I found a definite vortex energy presence. I have no idea why. We discovered a slight bell dome and a quartz crystal layer next to it. There could be something in the dome, an artesian structure, or an underground crystalline cave, as these things tend to happen, but whatever, but it sure felt good to stand there. Things happen in the desert when in touch, in tune, natural, and aware, if you let them.


There was no high natural energy at the top of a hill that we climbed, but we did get some cell phone reception. When we got the cell phone time, it was later than we thought, so we marched back, to pack and check out.


We carnuded all the way home. We stopped at that rest stop in the great sand dunes to leak. It was one hundred and teens hot and hit like a furnace when we got out of the air conditioned car. I threw on a pair of boxers to broil in as we walked to the restrooms. DF looked overdressed…and was…in a small light sundress.

Later back in Arizona, we stopped at another hot rest-stop. Two women looked at me strangely, for my lack of attire. They wore long dresses. I thought, “Why are you looking at me like I’m strange?” “You’re the ones dressed in this incredible heat.” I had been in the company of nearly all nude people for a few days. Nude becomes the norm in that much time. I have certainly felt weird being dressed in similar circumstance in the past, but this day, it actually looked strange to see the other people in clothes. It was foreign and WHY are these people wearing clothes? How very weird!





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