Dawn…it’s colored peach again.
We meet our neighbor from the next room next door. He has offered us a tour of what he describes as a particularly special place, to him. He guarantees that we will thank him profusely, once we make our visit.
We’re supposed to have a mostly cloudy day today. We’ve run out to Tortolita to get my mail. My friend called to tell us that the desert was in a full bloom after the rains.
In January, we had discovered a well-groomed surprise trail. I have now seen satellite photos and heard where that trail goes. Although it is not on the maps, we were told that it can be used to traverse the Tortolita Mountains to my usual and familiar territory. It would be a sort of back door. I’ve looked at the topo maps. Those images and knowledge of the terrain tell me that we will end up near a familiar area, but it seems to disappear at a point. I don’t know why and I have never come across this trail in my hiking.
We’re to embark on a nude exploration. I suspect that we will see no one else out there.
DF and I spend the early afternoon in our quarters, sleeping and listening to the pound of the waves on the beach. After siesta, we take care of our bills and slip on some light clothing, she a thin dress and me a sarong. We plan to have a snack and walk nude on the beach for sunset.
We stop at a familiar restaurant. It is still too early to open. We’ll come back later. A block up the street there is another place that we know. We have a torta filled with baked veggies together.
We snap a few pictures along the way and then take the first alley to the beach, stopping at the end to disrobe. It is liberation to drop all and wander out onto the public beach. We pass a few kindred souls. Dogs play, frisbees are passed and soccer balls bounce. Everyone has an activity.
The ocean sneaks up on us a couple of times and recedes, leaving the bubbling tiny holes of crabs. We take opportunities to capture photos of the sunset and our joy.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. We’ll know when we get there. As far as we can, I guess.”
The sentiment is returned. We stroll off free ranging naked hand in hand.
I’m looking at property in the Tortolita Mountains and DF and I decide to take a hike while we’re out here. There is a nice little trail that leads up to a cliff face, not very far and relatively quick.
We have been this way before, but not this fork.
This is January. It isn’t bad, but any light breeze might be chilling. We keep some clothing on at first. We are looking across the valley, up at the Catalina Mountain range where at 9000 feet, there is a solid snowcap. DF is getting over a cold and tells me that she isn’t ready for anything too strenuous.
Snow-capped Out There
It has been raining and the creek is flowing. The deep sand is soggy and we sink in. It clings to our shoes and makes the round smooth creek rocks slippery. The silence is continually broken by the sound of crunching and grinding, as we trudge through.
On Thursday afternoon, the day before we left Zipolite, the lesson was surrender and accepting what is. The airline called and told us that we’re going to be here an extra day. We’d have to roll with the punches so to speak. The news didn’t sit easy for DF. She had invested in plans to participate in class to help people with autoimmune problems on Sunday. The lesson, although difficult to swallow, was like the waves teach, to be here now.
So, we spent some time hanging out in the surf getting bent around by the waves and discussing the lessons as they metaphorically, came to us.
The Free Range Naturist 