We are excited to be headed out to De Anza Naturist Resort again. 
There will be a day trip to Black’s Beach. We leave in the morning after a rain has passed. A double rainbow is starting our day. How could anything go wrong?
In the summer of 2008, DF and I went out to De Anza naturist resort, during the ANRR Convention. This presented some first for DF. She had not spent so much time around other people without clothing. We wore nothing, but shoes, for the five days. Like the last time that I was out there, we drove out nude. We had only the towels we sat on to cover with. We draped the towels at the Border Patrol stops and to drive through fast food. We wrapped them around or DF slipped a sundress over her at rest areas and gas stops to get around.
September 2003 (Before DF)
Last Friday night we came home from dinner. The moon was full and straight up in the sky. We thought it was getting cooler and started off with just in case clothes. I wore a sweat jacket and she had a thin summer dress to cover her legs and a zip-up sweat jacket. We figured if one of the neighbors came driving by, I could move behind her and if they stopped we could hold a conversation. We wore sensible footwear for a desert trek. I live in the foothills of a local mountain range. There are trails and the neighborhood dirt roads, about a half of a mile to the trailhead. This may be the last warm full moon that we have this year.
We are driving 4×4 up into the Tortolita Mountains to the old windmill, once again. This had been the launch point to our hike to the county line, earlier in the month. I had acquired some new information about some petrogyphs that I had looked for, now, 15 years.
We leave home nude, but when we arrive at the windmill, there is a mountain biker there. We drive through and pass the windmill on the trail. DF covers with her dress draped over, but in the rear-view mirrors, I see him heading back following us. We finally park off of the trail and he still is approaching. DF puts on her sundress and I place a bag of pretzels between my legs and draped a pair of shorts over my crotch for good measure.
He comes up asking about a loop trail. I explain to him that it is a mistake on the map and doesn’t exist. Instead, I direct him to a well-used trail out to the county line, that I happened to know about (yup, that’s the one) AND he is now going away from us.
The Free Range Naturist 