This something that I wrote that The Naturist Society’s magazine “N” published a few months ago. It is some prose, hoping to bring the reader into an pleasant naturist’s event:
Eyes closed. The whiter quartz formations are cooler and at times refreshing on a warm day. The darker rock gives warmth after a dip in the cold pond. The grooves can fit a body’s form, cuddling and supportive. The water has sculpted a glassy smooth surface. Pores in the rock can suck moister from the pores in the skin. The wet skin sticks to the smooth stone, as if being kissed by Mother Earth as she holds her child against her. A gentle breeze channels through the chasms of body and stone, choreographed by the moment.
Eyes open. Above this cradle, a towering natural pyre of multi-color granite meets with hues of turquoise celestial depths. Formations of clouds give shape to imagination, passing by in a gentle, slow parade.
The sound of a bird of prey sailing above, a breeze, and then the calm profound silence of the canyon. All sounds are amplified. Even in silence there is vibration.
There, is a silent vibration….
This is the conclusion of the previous story, Part I. I have to suggest reading that first. It explains things. Find it here:
I sleepily wander out the open door. There, I find DF bent over the elegant white barrier gazing out. This is looking to be a beautiful day.
We watch the others on the beach below. We are covered only by the rail at crotch level and she comfortably with her arms. There is some distance. Others see, but we are not seen. We are sort of invisibly nude in public.
It used to be that gringos could drive down to Rocky Point, stay in a bungalow, or find a campsite at Sandy Beach and be in a sufficient space to carefully skinnydip. Now, these spots are under high rise hotels and have a resort atmosphere.
I had been looking at satellite images and making inquiry for a few months, wondering if I could get back the sense of freedom that Mexico used to offer. DF had mentioned a desire to head south and suddenly everything fell into place, including the weather. It is a long drive the through the Sonoran desert to Puerto Penasco/Rocky Point and then we had yet another hour, or more to attain our goal, which was a beach villa in a remote enclave.
DF had taken Wednesday off to celebrate Fat Tuesday later. We want another beautiful day hiking. I had been curious to see what was on upstream past our more usual Redington Pass haunts for quite a while. I had checked the trail and topo maps. I had studied the google satellite images. I had been on my way there when I fell and messed up my leg months ago. This was going to be a fine mid-70’s F day with a little breeze.
We arrived about 9:30am, so the air was warming up well. I decided to go with no back up clothing. I wanted to feel the just liberation. I enjoy the lack of something to carry. I wanted to feel like I had thrown myself into nature shedding the unnatural impositions of man’s law. This was mid-week and there was only one more car parked there. I took off the shirt that I was wearing and placed it in the 4runner. DF wore her standard short sundress to disrobe just down the trail, She was not feeling interested in my plan to lighten the cumbersome clothing requirement.
A Continuing Series
Wednesday, May 13th, 2015
I’d been this way just a few days before. I knew that I was likely to see the javelina.
Today, along the trail there are incessant gnats and flying pests. I stop to wonder if the swarm has attached to me, the tastiest morsel around, or maybe a population boom occurred in the immediate area. I feel a light breeze gracing my body and they are floated away.
It is very warm, in the high 80F’s and totally exposed to the sun. I feel the heat on my back and shoulders. Many prickery pieces of cactus have been carried, or have blown into the trail. Large barrel cactus hooks, pieces of prickley pear and fallen balls of cholla are a hazard for the exposed foot. I keep my vision mostly down to avoid these dangers, only occasionally looking up to the dry abundance of spring blooms turned into seed.
The air is clear, as I stop to gaze across the valley. I first look through the bright yellow paloverde trees, which are now covered with a mass of small flowers. They contrast so well with the bright green of the interspersed mesquite. This leads my eye further to the magnificent 9000 ft. mountains, all in deep dark green with highlights of exposed whitish grey granite. On some of these, there are still a few spots where the glitter of running water can be seen. These are distant mountain streams, or springs seeping out of cracks in the rock and then down the sloping faces.
Behind the mountains are towering white cumulus clouds. A bank of a weather front of these white puffs sits in the south. These contrast with the many wisps of alto stratus and hues of turquoise blue. It is busy up there.
Yellow Mass of Palo Verde