Monthly Archives: April 2021

Miller Canyon Base Camp



I’d heard the watch go off this morning at seven. Who cares…

 …It is still early this morning. I’m startled by the weighty step of somebody big, just outside of the tent. We focus to identify the sound of whoever is tussling the leaves. He’s walking on two legs around our tent. I try to be as quiet as I can to not let the intruder know that I am awake and alert. I slide my hand toward my pistol. Whaoh there!  It’s only a turkey.

We try not to giggle too loud, fascinated by the nonchalant behaviors of a wild creature. I whisper, “Sure sounds like somebody is out there.”

 I recall last night, just before sundown, there was a big black turkey and a pal digging through the leaves. There are lots of those bugs that we saw yesterday, the black ones with white polka dots, who are mating.

We stretch and unzip the tent. I’m feeling gratitude to be here. The smells, the fresh air that falls from high on the mountain, the divine peace and solitude that comes from the thick coating of silence is out there beyond the passageway.  I must reverently crawl on my knees to reenter this monumental church. I stand, take a deep breath and stretch some more.

Through my sleepy eyes, in a delightfully simple state of mind, I see a squirrel with big ears that curl up and then in like a bobcat. Black tips, it eyes me back. It probably can sense who the more alert one of the two us is. We begin the chores, me breaking camp and DF digging through the truck putting breakfast together. She has collected a wild mint to enhance a morning tea.

As the sun filters through the foliage, it warms us, until naked becomes perfect. A hiker family catches us in our abandon. DF is behind the truck. I use the door and turn my back to them. Butts aren’t actually illegal to see. My exposure doesn’t really concern me, and apparently they have little concern, too. We’re excited to return to Miller Canyon on the other side of these mountains.

Crossing the great divide and up Miller Canyon:

 “Ya know, I don’t remember this road being so bad on the way in?”

As we lumber down the bouncy dirt conveyance, a deer crosses the road.

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Heard at the beach and by the pool…

“So I’m at the beach with this log of sand stuck in the crotch of my swimsuit. How am I gonna get it out without looking weird?”

“I don’t know, but the way you’re walking sure looks weird.”

“I almost lost my suit in that last wave.”

“I know, I saw you trip and fall getting it back up.”

“I’ve got this floss thing running up between my butt cheeks cleaning out places where it shouldn’t be.”

“I have to adjust this thing, again and again, or else it looks sloppy and my privates pop out. Dang thing sags off and has to be pulled back up constantly.”               

 “When I dive in, it begins to fall off. Then, while I try to swim, it needs readjusted.”

 “ I hate the way that these straps are digging in to the tender skin below my breasts.”

“I end up with these weird looking tanlines like a painted on bikini.”

 “I’m too old to be seen wearing a two piece.”

“Well, it at least covers the important parts”

“Breast don’t all look like that? Do they?”

“Oops, the girls are falling out again.”

“Do you have any idea how much this thing costs? No way I’m not gonna wear it in the water!”

“Don’t ya hate when that white part gets out from under the textile and burns pink. Then, the fabric starts to rub it sore?”

“Oh that suit is so ‘80’s. She looks like such a prude.”

“Do you know skin cancer often happens where the textile garments move and the skin burns?”

“Am I really hiding any part of me in this clingy, skimpy thing?” Sometimes, ya gotta wonder, ‘What’s the sense?’”

“What do you do with that cold wet dripping glob of fabric when you’re done with it?” “Have you tried putting that slimy damp contraption back on?”

“These trunks are sure clammy after a swim.”

 “At the beach… it’s true grit.”

“Dude, Check out the side boob on that one!”

“OMG! I am facing rejection, because I look the uncool fool. My suit is outdated!”

“Don’t sit down, you’re all wet.”

“Ah crud, now my chair seat is wet, too!”

 “GAH! It squished down and out when I sat down!”

“This suit is clinging in my butt crack. Now, I’ve got to spread my legs and pull it out in front of everyone.”

“I’m ashamed how my natural body looks.  I think that some people just shouldn’t be seen.”

“It’s like I feel ashamed because someone sees the truth and I’ve been living a lie.”

“Ever have your baggy suit float up looking like a jelly fish tutu? Talk about traction slowing down a swimmer!”

 “’But they’re sexy’, ya say?” “But then, are you not soliciting sexy attention?” “Maybe you need to make up your mind.”

And Down the Coast

“Come on folks! Let’s just get naked. It’s natural”…

…”Look Mommy! He’s not wearing his. Can I please take mine off, too?”

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In Homage, Rocks:



We’re heading down south to gather some rocks and enjoy our naturism along the way.

We love rocks.  They give us so much in a practical world and even delineate our paths guiding us along many a trail. With every excursion into nature, we are compelled to collect a few “special” rocks. The collections gather along the lengths of or homes, around flowers and plants and decorations at entrances. I study them individually, like I would creative art, mediation, God’s art.

Taking rocks home, I fall in love, I turn them into gardens in and of themselves. I enhance the vegetation with them, Zen-like.

I have memories of one rock that is a nice big lug with perfect grooves for placing butts. We perch high atop it, views in every direction, imbibe its colors, the lichen. We’re entertained with its texture and color.

I have found place of grounding and magic on my Havarock in Tortolita. It is like an old friend. It’s coming home.

With rocks, we dam the waters, and build structures that will last forever. They contour the waters of the streams, they give us history and geology. The roads made by the lust of miners looking for those special rocks are now our trails.

We use them like our ancestors, as tables and a nice clean unencumbered place to rest. I find grooves in them in special places. These were used to grind corn and grains, or paste and paint, long ago.

Someday, These will Decorate a Fireplace

We search for the best rock along a trail and know it to be more than choice. Although inanimate, they give us goals, driving us on and directing us. Memorable formations are landmarks.

Rocks are earth. They are reminders of the ages and our short time here. They are endless colors and shapes. There are trillions and never the same.

There’s a geologist inside me that tries to figure out just how this specimen came about. Always, I have a puzzle or mystery to attempt to solve.

DF likes the heart shaped.

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