From Lake Willoughby, we have reservations for “New Discovery Campground” at Ft. Dummer and driving down to past Brattleboro, Vermont
We’re on our way to Connecticut, to the Solair Resort and it will take more than a day to get there. Stopping off at this cute camping spot on the way will be convenient.
At the campground, we aren’t as lucky this time. It is a nice campsite, but for mosquitoes and difficulty maintaining casual nudity. We are perched up on a hillside. There is some view through the trees, but I soon realize that a trail next to us leads down the hill to the public toilets. This more frequented conveyance will destroy our privacy. I turn to DF in resolve, “Ya get what Ya Get.”
Three times during our stay, the same woman walks by. Like Murphy’s Law, just as I get out of our tent nude to stretch in the morning, when I try to change next to the car, when I’m pitching the tent inside the lean-to, she happens by. She probably figures that I have been naked our whole stay. I wasn’t even bold, or trying to stay nude, as usual. It was just the luck of the timing. I ponder that maybe, I just might as well have stayed brazenly nude. It wouldn’t be illegal. I would have been hidden from the other campers and their kids up on the ridge….
On the way out, we don’t stop to check the rest of the facility’s grounds, so there is nothing to report, except the fun way that they made planters out of old hollow stumps.
We’re on a mission to arrive early in the afternoon, as per our hostess’ wishes. We stop by our “outfitter”, Trader Joe’s, for provisions as we head through Massachusetts.
The Resort Community:
Solair is easy to find in a beautiful part of the country.
It is right on the border of Mass. and Conn. Part of the property is even in the other state. It has been here going way back to the days when Nudism was a new thing and people were escaping the city to try this new Avant Garde answer. I get the sense of the attraction to people who congregated nude here, back in 1934.
We announce ourselves and are met by our hostess. Guess who surprises us but our good friend Dan. We’re pleased.
After being escorted to her camp and getting arranged and reacquainted, it is tour time.
The grounds are filled with trailers, cabins and in-between, placed along roads that meandered in a few different directions. Our hostess is living here in a tent this summer, getting a feel for it, before she decides whether to buy a place. She shows us the breadth of available real-estate. For second homes this strikes me as a wonderful place. People are nodding and waving with smiles and we see couples getting together for various activities. I can see why she is in consideration.
There is a lake with a good sized sandy beach. Adjacent to that is a huge ramada that has a dance floor during the summer. The clubhouse is a large two story building with a game/entertainment room, jaccuzzi, sauna, a good sized pool and a large gathering hall with a considerable dance floor.
The restaurant is active.
All of these amenities, but the attraction I have is the beach and that lake.
We get in the water to find that it is pleasantly refreshing. It is peaceful and calm. We visit the pontoon island, and take it all in, as we visit.
Down the beach, there is a dock. Parked there, is a good sized Viking boat complete with a dragon head at the bow. It is at least big enough to send a Nordic king out on in flames, during his funeral. It has Dan and me intrigued. Before I know it, we are launched and sailing with Dan at the ores.
I have to get into the act. My inner Viking is out for a bolt.
It is a fun little nautical excursion on the lake.
Our hostess has an appointment at home and we will stay alone while she is completing her trip. Dan is here only for the day. We all go for a drive in the New England countryside to find a restaurant that they know. It is worth the drive. The thing is, we find, is that the drive is worth the drive.
During dinner, it starts to sprinkle. Soon, a torrential downpour dumps on us at sunset. As we return, the roads are dangerous.
They are off, and we’ll sock ourselves in, to await her return. We’re looking forward to the dance Saturday night in the big pavilion. The band is supposed to be very good and very fun.
After the storm and lightning for a good part of the evening, the next day gives us more rain. This is yes, a damper on our plans to stay a few days.
As our stay continues, it does break to drizzle between rains. We end up driving to the clubhouse, at times jumping deep puddles. We will make the most of it.
It is pretty good in spite of the weather. Wi-Fi is in the clubhouse to catch up with the computer. We make frequent trips to the jaccuzzi, to the sauna…
We hit the warm pool, which is sensual during the cool sprinkles.
We sock in all day and into the evening.
Cold, there is no hiking on the trails. We visit and then get involved in the library, which is being extensively renovated, by friendly nude volunteers. We find times for short walks, between showers. There’s a small waterfall with meditation garden built around it.
It is a reprieve. I feel a sense of being grounded and more accepting.
We have dinner outside on the deck with its awning back at camp. The next day is more of the same, but it is now starting to get colder. We must dress at the naturist resort, when we’re outdoors. The weather forecast turns for the worst, soaking Saturday night’s dance, and beginning to rain on our plans for Sunday in Massachusetts with friends at a music fest. As a Thoreau aficionado, I’m excited about a visit to Walden Pond, something I have wanted to do since my teens. We have been looking forward to visiting with friends.
There has been too much rain and we have been chased out of several wonderful situations. When the weather turns cold, it is like on the cold days of Tucson during the winters. We look at each other, mill it over and throw in the towel. This isn’t our bargain.
I text our friends and let them know that we’re going to make our escape. The satellite images show that western Pennsylvania is clear and on the edge of this creeping and never ending crap. We call friends in Penn. and get invited. We’re going where the weather suits our clothes, or I should say lack thereof.
We’ve been out about a month and after these rains, I have now worn nearly all of the few clothes that I brought at least once. Solaire is a place that I could spend weeks in. It was a grievous disappointment to not be able to enjoy it and our friendships thoroughly. Four or five days of rain in a row, might as well be 40 days and nights to an Arizonan, but an added winter’s cold with no end in sight, too!
I spend a lot of time on The FreeRangeNaturist.com forum, if you have any desire to discuss naturism.
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