Parksland Retreat Center Pt.I

This is a section in the To Georgia and Back Series. It is out of sequence. It had to be delayed while waiting for “N” magazine to publish the version that I wrote for them. Their policy gets it first. This is an expanded edition with more photos to match this website’s format.

Thursday September 15th, 2022

We’re in the backwoods of northern Alabama. Life here feels like something essential…

…The stream continues to slowly flow by, all around me. 

As I sit, I can feel the density of this rock. This one is solid, smooth like steel. It has no grain. It feels fundamental and secure.

This is a place of wisdom, a place to sit, to just be. It drops hints into my mind while I’m not looking. It teaches, “Just be here.”

A leaf falls from a tall tree, down on me and then the rock, whose world I have been invited into.

 A voice comes out from inside of my being, “Thank-you.”

At Parksland Retreat Center. there is a half of a mile of this stream running through the forest’s canyon. There are dozens of acres of solitude, surrounded on three sides by the Talladega National Forest. My mind has associations of the 40 years since I was last in this state. I hear from inside “Alabama Getaway”,” Sweet Home Alabama,” “What we have here is a failure to communicate.” I think of “Easy Rider” and rifle racks, as I drive down the interstate. Times have changed.

After wandering nude in the small sedan, through increasingly rustic back woods, we find the name of the street to turn off onto written by hand and unofficially, on the back of a stop sign at a quiet shady intersection. The directions become clear from here on, as the pavement becomes chip-seal and then graded dirt, and lastly a trail sprinkled with gravel into the woods.

We arrive to find a parking lot at the rustic gate and see that there is no vehicular traffic after this point. There is nobody about but a small troop of black chickens minding their own business in the brush.

We’re early, having traveled from Georgia and forgetting the time zone change. We decide to explore, after all, we’re expected and there is a compelling joy of free nudity after a week amongst the textile world.

We follow the system of trails through the forested hillsides.

Most of these lead downhill. Amongst the tall straight trees there are several 15 foot diameter bell tents set for a glamping atmosphere.

Nestled in the trees, a wooden sitting porch accompanies each one.

Each white domain is obviously set to maximize privacy.  I think that this can be a place of sojourn.

We decide to take a spot at a remote camp at the far end of one of the trails. It’s next to the stream. There is a bio-diverse path wandering past this campsite. We feel pretty much on our own here. Something feels safe about it.

The water looks still, glassine, yet a tiny trickle is heard upstream. We look down into the depths of a verdant reflection. It shimmers on occasion.

This is Eden-like.

As we wander about the campgrounds, we hear a vehicle on the ridge up above. It is the owner, back from a shopping trip before the busy weekend arrives. He is as naked as us, as we greet each other. He calls his paradise “clothing optional.” He feels it only fair that people shouldn’t be told to wear clothing, but in turn, nobody should be told not to wear garments. It reflects a live and let live in peace atmosphere that he seeks to emanate.

Tomorrow, we will explore the two miles of ridge-line naturist trail, by walking on the forest path through our camp. Maybe, we’ll find one of the other trails in the National Forest. But today, we’ll get to know our host. He is a man, who has happily simplified his life and quit his day job. Thoreau said, “A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.” He is that embodiment.

On the top of the ridge hill, we again pass through the greeting sign over the drive. There are no cars; just those few black free range chickens wander in the brush, enjoying their lives. A few steps into the still of it all, it is like walking into a small town, an enclave.  

There is an array of solar panels to the left and to the right a kiosk with announcements and a map.

A kitchen building sits with comfortable seating and a fire pit is setup for a group.

A shower stall stands with an endless hot water heater. It all feels just very relaxed.

Organic and sustainable are key descriptions in practice. He tells us how volunteers stay here and work on the projects. A small cabin sits on the hillside. There is a community that comes and goes. There are guests that eagerly come back again and again. Everyone we will meet this weekend exhibits a friendly smile that expresses a delight to be visiting this Appalachian Eden. 

On the other side of the hill, there is a trail that leads to “the swimmin’ hole.” We make our way down to this other section of the stream.  We are told that there is a deeper pool, deep enough to take a dip.

On the way we inspect a sojourn wooden cabin that is available.

It is comfortably appointed.

We prefer our open sky net tent next to the stream.

It is little wonders that make a forest special.

This one has colorful glistening rocks that have to be compared to abalone. Each one can be imbibed like a piece of fascinating art, a jewel with its own character.  They sit beside the trail and they glow from beneath the water. 

The light is directed by a huge cathedral-like canopy of Alabama pillars, tall and straight, like a schooner’s mast. Beams shoot through shadows, spotlighting the verdant foliage. There are flat rocks to rest on and take in the sun’s warmth.

There is more, but we’ll visit that later. For now, we make our way up the steep hillside to the car. We need to pack our camping set up down the other side of the hill and make ourselves to home.

The stream meanders by, a flat sheet, with occasional ripples of a single bug. Water hits the golden hews of a stream floor, glowing of flat sheet rocks arranged in various sizes.

The slightest breeze is followed by the errant brown leaf. A bird calls, or a cricket. There is a special calm. It is peaceful silence not to be heard, but to be felt. It is between. It is permeating everything, including my inner self.

I notice the effect, as I play a few licks on my guitar. When I stop, it seems to amplify the calm silence of the forest. I play a riff and stop the vibrational sustain of the strings and there it is. My music is a disturbance, a discord to the concert all around.  It is better to just sit, be, and notice.

There are places to sit out in the creek. Bedrocks that have been waiting here for a billion years for the stream to uncover them. They feel solid. I can feel the density of this rock. This one too is solid, smooth like steel. It has no grain. It feels fundamental and secure.

We will take turns sitting here several times during our stay. It is idyllically naked. Bare feet slip into cool waters, wet and dry is sensed as bare bottom meets warm stone and cool splash marks. Then all of that comes into balance.  I feel the earthy vibrations, the constant subtle change, a gentle motherly comfort and the lazy pace of life on an abundant summer’s day.

In the morning, I hear raindrops seemingly falling from a blue sky. There is humidity up in the canopy. A small burst of air sets dewdrops alight.

The light flows through the canopy onto the gentle stream, an idyllic haze forms above the water. Sometimes, I see a rainbow.

It looks like something that I played in as a boy in Virginia, a place of crawdads, fish, sunning and splashing. It is a delight to wander the trail along the creek. Glistening green leaves are like thousands of emeralds. On the opposite side is a grotto-like wall, with layers of rock hosting dripping green plants, lichen and moss.

This retreat can be found on Hipcamp. Google map works, but I might note again that the notation for Germany Road is quaintly written on the back of the stop sign at that intersection.  I suggest that you make your calls before you get there and then just turn it off and forget about the rest of the world.

The next two parts of this tale, a hike and a sauna and lots of pictures.

I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

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