It is a Birthday. It begins casually, leading to a brunch on a sidewalk café in an eastside strip mall. The food is good, but all of the hanging plants and wrought iron won’t escape the fact that we’re eating in their big parking lot.
Afterward, I use a door panel and the other cars next door in that parking area, to get out of my pants and into my hiking kilt. With the addition of toe shoes, I’m nearly ready.
We are near the base of scenic Mt. Lemon Highway, a long meander up into the Catalina Mountains. It starts in desert and finishes in alpine conditions at 9200 feet. Our destination is a beautiful 20 mile drive from the restaurant.
About half the way, we pull off into a familiar small parking lot on the side of the road, at around 7000 feet. This was the trailhead for our Lower Bug Springs Trail hike a couple of years back. With birthday celebrations in the order of our day, we have decided to do this shorter easier trail in the compressed time that we have. DF wants to feel nature, the solitude, the sensual nudity and be in touch with a grounding spiritual experience. It is her day, her celebration.
The pool of water feels perfect for me, as I swim about, lighted by a full moon in a clear sky. The bottom of the pond is dark with algae, no longer reflecting a turquoise sky. My skin reflects the moon’s glow, that lunar white, in contrast. My nude body is sharply exposed in the dark water more than in daylight. There are the sound of crickets and a distant trickle of water flowing into the pond. I hear nothing else, just the calm.
Only small ripples from my body can be found anywhere in the waters and I put an end to that. Glassy, the moon and sky reflect in the water. There is a sharp bright glowing white polka dot with glistening Jupiter at its side.
At first, I think that I have found one of those large bubbles of warmer water that are discovered out in the pool, but this one is the source. As I near the hot mineral springs tub, about ten feet out, there is a path of warmth. I am at the end of the tail.
A week ago Saturday, we got back from a month long cross country road trip to DF’s mother’s 100th birthday gathering in Georgia. We traveled through New Mexico, the Panhandle area and Missouri getting there, stopping off at some fun spots to hike walk and visit. On the way back, we took a couple of weeks traveling down into the south. We crossed Texas and the Big Bend area. We’ve got stories to tell about hikes, canuding, sailing, beaches, resorts, retreats and more adventure as naturists to last some months to come.
I have several personal projects that must be accomplished the next 6 weeks or so, which have to do with money. Then, there are many pages of notes from the trip to preserve and a couple of thousand pictures that I’m sorting out. With being very busy and also that aforementioned catching up to do, I’ll still do my best to get some quality posts out each week. Some may be smaller projects.
Carnuding II
Several years ago, I posted an article about “carnuding.” It is time for an update. I’d like to invite you to revisit the first article here:
There were a few useful insights in the comments section of that article
“Carnuding” simply means driving, or riding in a car while nude. Since that article, DF and I have logged in about 13,000 miles nude and incident free in just two cross country road trips. We have also driven nude to and from every one of the short adventures in the stories given here. We often don’t get dressed driving through town, unless getting dressed, or undressed, at either end is a hassle. It is just practical, or sometimes liberating. It has been all incident free…just sayin’.
To be accurate, we carry a cover-up just in case of an emergency, or spontaneous change in plans. A cover is easily placed in a lap to avoid breaking laws. Most often just a wad of cloth across the lap will do. DF has to cover breast in this state, Arizona.
DF has logged less carnude mileage than me, because the seat belt eventually gets uncomfortable when nude. I’ve seen wadded up clothing and pillows under her straps. Also, because of the additional requirement of covering her breast, just a top covering may be used.
All in all, few look and few of those would care. Someone might enjoy a giggle. If some weirdo were to get upset, which hasn’t happened, it is a great deal of trouble for them to take action.
Generally, people are busy driving, seeing the sights, or looking for a McDonalds
During the long drives, I am very grateful to not be bunched up, perspiring in a hot pair of pants. I feel comfortable. When we slow down and the windows are open…we’ll isn’t that part of why people buy convertible cars… to feel the air?
At stops, I have taken to wearing a light Velcro linked kilt. It slips on and off easily. Often, I just wear a kilt as I sit down and undo it, casting it to the side to remain nude. I’m simply and casually at ready to pull it closed with no effort. DF with a light sundress, can place it over herself and be legally covered and slip it on quickly at public stops and get out of the car.
I have gotten a few snickers and double looks from people in small towns when wearing a kilt, but have enjoyed many many more compliments and accepting inquiries. Once at a truck stop in Oklahoma and once standing in line in a store in Fort Davis, Texas during our trip, did I hear an insulting verbal remark, by someone whose opinions I neither respect, or care anything about. It is my comfortable world, even if the fashion sense might be seen in a Walmart YouTube video. I figure that a light Hawaii shirt with the kilt, probably won’t interest the girls, but there are other options that some will be attracted to.
In addition to comfort, Carnudling can make a mundane trip feel more adventurous. If you are out for a sense of freedom, or a getaway, being nude in the car will add to that. It adds a whole new dimension when an intention to stay nude is added.
Being bare as much as you dare on a trip, outside the car, will also raise the bar. Your photography will certainly not get boring. Just be careful, think ahead, and have a backup plan.
For years, I’ve been experimenting with barefoot living. I’ve pondered what the Native Americans in this region did with their thousands of years of experience. How did our naked ancestors work it out? How is it possible in various terrains, to be chasing down prey on foot? How does a body naturally adapt?
It is healthier for posture, locomotion, knees, etc., but what about all of those abrasive, sharp, or biting pieces along the path one takes. I could get by in a forest, generally, especially if my feet were conditioned to be used bare foot, but what about the spiny hot desert?
Traveling in the desert barefoot is just pressing your luck. It is not if, but when, catastrophe happens. I have had short discomfort on one end of the scale. Prickers and sharp rocks happen. The other end of the scale was being laid up for six weeks from a deep toxic cholla thorn embedded in just the correct nerve.
An elderly friend with no feeling in his feet, was under home healthcare because of the first degree burns that he unwittingly sustained one afternoon. He was in his garden in his backyard, on concrete and rocks, while barefoot. He just didn’t realize that his flesh was literally broiling.
So, how did the ancient locals do it?
The Native Americans around here all have had important cultural traditions in long distance running for hunting, sport and travel.
I visited the University of Arizona a couple of days ago. I found the evidence. While most Native cultures around here were pretty much nude, there were shoes to protect feet, at least while running hundreds of miles across wilderness desert.
Living in a grouping of huts, gathering shrubbery carefully, squatting for seating, all may be done naked all over, but there are times when that just isn’t practical.
I was pleased to find this exhibit. It confirmed many questions that I have been carrying about feet. This is a far cry from the rubber tire treads huarache shoes of the Tarahumara of today.
The practicality of the weather and a distinct lack of cloth to be found has brought the general conclusion that clothing wasn’t a daily occurrence. Skins and cotton were available. Evolutionary adapted dark pigment helped protect the locals. My experience over decades has shown me that wearing clothing is ridiculous most of the year.
The first eight chapters of the barefoot living series can be found in the table of contents. The publishing date is there, just look it up from the archives listing on the side of the main page.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
We have been visiting/hiking the ‘ol walking trails in the Tortolita Mountains, northwest of Tucson, where I used to live. Now, we are going to investigate the strawbale home that I built and the destruction of habitat where my stealth trail and Havarock sat. Both near the spot that Javalina kept as a safe home. I know that a road and building pads have been introduced. I don’t know how extensive.
The series in this website“My Private Place for Naturism” is about my experiences in this place.
The Free Range Naturist 