White Mountain Retreat: Pt10: Carnero Lake

2023-07-08

During the summer of 2023, we spent a month in retreat, glamping in the bell tent in a wilderness area of the Arizona White Mountains. We hiked or walked each day. This was one….

We have been out in this forest by ourselves for long enough to feel very comfortable nude. Nude is our norm. However, each evening we’ve bundled up, or lit the wood burning stove in our glamping bell tent. Often we’ll just cuddle in the luxury of a cozy bed. The need for clothing has been caused by an onslaught of determined mosquitoes just before each sunset, which necessitate textile armor from head to toe. Generally, things have been lovely enough that most of our time has had no consideration of coverings, save the shade of a friendly tree.

During our stay, we might have only seen a quad, or an ATV passing during the day, enabling us to roam freely and unconcerned. However, the Fourth of July weekend crowds are upon us. This day, we will find ourselves heading out into the more populated areas, but still determined to stay nude. We’re not here to have hassles, which are unlikely; we’re not here to be seen. We may use stealth tactics to stay out of sight. We just want to explore in the pleasant natural state that we have become accustomed to.

We’ve decided which direction and route that we’ll head. Somewhere, there is a canyon from Carnero Lake’s drainage. We’ve been there before, but I think there is a new road that has been illegally carved out by quad and ATV enthusiast, which will bring us into the area from a different route.  Right away, about 50 feet down the forested road, we are hearing ATV’s or quads. We listen to ascertain where they are and which directions are they headed? It is convenient to get off of the road and take an old cow path through the forest that we had found on a previous walk.

The noise approaches us and as we stand behind a tree watching, three ATVs lumber up the rock bumpy ditch of a road. A cloud of dust floats all around them. These vehicles are quieter than most, but still the forest quiet is filled with the disturbance of their roar all around. It is felt. It drowns out any natural sounds and tranquility. It is alarming to us and certainly to the wildlife.

We stand naked, hidden in the shadows and watch in nearly plain sight. They wouldn’t expect anyone to be here. With the next bumps, the deep shadows, the noise and the dusty fog of it, they are unaware of the nature and naturists around them.

Listening, when they have met the intersection down the hill, we know that they are going away from our planned route. They have come from where we will be going. After their passing, we walk back to the road. We can walk faster than in the deep forest’s fallen trees and debris.

We soon find the illegal trail/road that winds steeply down the slope to the little canyon where “A” Camp was during the Rainbow Gathering back in 1996.

I know where I am.

This leads to a maintained official road.

Traveling pleasantly along the well cared for red rock road, we come upon a barbed wire cattle gate. Rather than dealing with the tight webbed contrivance, I see that we can probably just bypass it by walking through the natural forest and through the creek. We begin to follow the fence, when the bouquet of mountain roses graces our olfactory senses. It is wonderful.

We stop to stick our nostrils to the blooms. Being careful for the barbs, we bend forward and also stay aware of our behinds. Without clothing there will be awareness, no snags, or surprises. We are protected by our lack of protection.

There is a disturbance, more loud vehicles are coming. We are off of the road twenty feet so and a few steps more, places us behind a couple of large trees. The roar stops at the gate. There are two vehicles, conversation and discussion, as we stand watching unbeknownst to them, but only a few feet away. They decide to grapple with the gate. They wrestle with it with gloves. They pass through and again wrestle with it until it is closed.

I find myself tapping my foot as I wait. I have to question why I am still standing in stealth and considering what consequences movement and being seen might have. On the other hand commando sneaking has an element of sport to it.

We finally can continue, finding our way around green mush where water has created deep slush. There is hidden mud under a verdant groundcover and tall grass.

We can feel our way around this ponded section of a creek. There is a sunny open field on the other side. As we cross the field, a quicker ATV comes around and down the road. DF has a small pine tree for cover. I don’t have time to do anything but squat and hope that he keeps his eyes on the road as they pass. Unfortunately, the tourist slows down right there. He quickly notices me and looks confused. He obviously doesn’t comprehend, a naked squatting man in the field in the mountain forest. But as if reading his mind, I realize what this must look like and the only normal explanation for a squat with no pants in a conventional mind. He puts the vehicle in gear and leaves me to my apparent personal duties. I’d never thought of that excuse. It happens to hikers and campers that someone happens along at the wrong moment. I’ve been out three days and seen no one, but at that precise moment, here they come out of nowhere….It’s been Murphy’s Law.

We cross onto the road, using its smoother surface, passing the remnants of a landslide.

We then cross, heading straight up the other side of the canyon to escape into the trees. We need more elbow room away from what is beginning to feel like a 4^th or July parade.

Hidden in the tall trees, we sit amongst the pines, gazing down at the road that we just crossed.

The shade is welcomed.

We won’t be bothered by mechanized interruptions. There is no trail, the slope that we climb along is steep, the ground loose. Footholds are found on the volcanic rocks that have slid downhill from time to time, until we find a trampled animal trail.

It is difficult to see the other side of the canyon and the bottom is cluttered. I have to use my senses to make an educated guess out of old memories and surmise our position in the canyon. Eventually, a short cliff of volcanic rock cuts us off.  I need to find a way up it, before I’m sure, but I’m thinking that I had seen this from the top down years ago. DF stays below, while I scout around.

I find a way to climb up the rough vertical wall. I’m pretty sure that this is the way, and soon enough, I’ve discovered that it is.

I invite DF and give her a hand up the sharp wall.

We travel across an open field of dry grass and scattered stones. It takes us up a gentle rise to a vantage point. In the distance, sits a familiar landmark mountain, the trench that encases the water from Carnero Spring and the field that I once created a temporary labyrinth in during that long ago Rainbow Gathering.

To our right lies Carnero Lake.

We scan for any activities on the other side of the lake. There are several trailers, campers and ATV’s. We see no people are out amongst it.

There are no fishermen on the lake, but then we see that there is movement by small figures on the shore. If we see them, they can see us, but we are probably not large enough to be seen clearly nude. If we’re going to get closer, we’ll probably need coverings.

We walk closer, becoming more distinguishable. It feels very naked walking on an open plain in plain sight. Then in the shade of a small lone pine, we take the time for cloth.

I have a t-shirt and DF has a button-up dress shirt.

We’ll look clothed enough from this now shorter distance.

The water is pleasant, but the bacteria from the upstream cattle grazing have been polluting the spring. The obvious result is lots of algae.

The small lake would be much less navigable for the fishing boats because of this and the ample grass that has grown in with the lilies. It is less than half the lake that it once was. We walk along the shoreline. I look for a link to a road that I have seen on satellite photos at the north end of the water’s body, which might be a future hike.
We walk onto a small peninsula to explore and try sitting on a boulder under a small tree. We attempt to identify and photograph the local birds that feed on the lake.

This used to be a solid body of blue water. There are small ducks floating amongst the reeds.

Soon enough, after a snack, we retreat back from where we had approached the water, once again finding the gentle rise.

We get gratefully nude once again as soon as possible. Clothing just doesn’t seem right anymore, even just at shirt. I am pulling off my t-shirt as I walk. If any of the figures across the lake might identify me as a totally flesh body, it would be of no consequence. Nobody would follow us into the deep forest. We drop into the creek’s bed where the mechanical water drain is located. We are once again hidden from the lake by the rise that dams it.

From here, we can follow the small canyon back. It is a place that when we first discovered it years before, we called, “Where fairies live.”

It is a bit drier right now. The monsoon has yet to arrive, but this is still charming. Slowly, we make progress. There is no trail. The stream of water makes mushy wet areas to walk around, or through. We use rocks to hop and climb over. Bushes are plentiful. Some are scratchy pine. We find good use of the cloth that we have, to handle the encumbrances, using it like gloves.

We have to tread carefully to step around and through some of the obstacles, to get to a free space where we can walk a bit further, until the next obstacle. But it is nature and we are immersed and close and interacting with it, naked, close enough for smell and know each contour as we step, careful not to break mash, or scrape away life. When we reach the road we take a break and DF does a small prayer as the sunshine beaming down through the trees heats her body.

Here is a short video of the more populous area where we roam and which we have yet to have to get dressed to walk in. We did have to stop camping there and the triangle marks a spot that was filled with quads and gun shots during that 4^th of July week. I haven’t been there when the aspens are bare like this one from May. I don’t have any affiliation with the drone handlers that published this, but I’ll thank them.

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

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