Grasshopper Point


When our granddaughter’s camping trip with us was cancelled, our plans evaporated. We had an invitation in Prescott as a backup.

As we leave home in Tortolita, we are given a sendoff by a new neighbor. A young tortoise is passing through on the front patio. It is small, cute, but now big enough to be established. We make an offer for the tortoise to house sit and take off.

As more backup planning, I have made a completely different itinerary based on the current weather patterns. We now plan to be doing day hikes in the Prescott area. With this Friday off, we set out for an old stomping ground of mine, one that I hadn’t visited in decades, Grasshopper Point, up by red rock Sedona.

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Camping Solo on The Lemmon


I took off to the woods. I needed a reprieve, to be as one, to pay attention to the here and now. I needed to smell pines, deal with what is in front of me and be natural. I went up to a familiar secret spot. I knew of a flatter spot up on the hill above. I envisioned myself there, legs crossed next to my tent, eyes closed meditating, fool on the hill, centered, grounded, myself.

There is something very different about camping alone in solitude.

I grab my backpack, shoes and a sarong wrap out of the back seat and head around a hillside. One hundred feet off of the road, I’m done with the sarong and smelling pine air.

I find the spot, but it isn’t at all flat. I begin a search of the whole area for something better. There’s a quarter mile, or more, around here and this is going to need to be it?

I find a spot hidden behind some trees, but something isn’t just right. I want to be able to leave my stuff, and just walk away. This has been envisioned as stealth camping, but hidden in plain sight. It doesn’t fit. Somehow, I’m attached to that vision on that hillside.

I leave the search to make do at the original objective. Continue reading

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More About Redington Pass


Redington Pass missed out on its monsoon rains this year. It has been a sad and befuddling experience to arrive and to find naked people sitting in the shade and waiting for water in the rocks.

There are times of drought, in Tucson. There are mini-climates in this area. An entire region is sometimes flooded and next door there is drought. The Rincon Mountains didn’t produce the cascades to flood the canyon. There was some rain, but it only produced ponds and no flow. Where a black wall of water used to roll in everyday like clockwork, extremes have taken over.

I’ve been looking at some old pictures of Redington. They are of DF and me back in 2009 and 2013. I also found a couple of incomplete stories. Since Redington has only been given a lush spring, another story to come, I’m going to piece together some memories.

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What’s in your Pants?

What are Nonylphenol ethoxylates (NPEs), Carcinogenic amines, Phthalates in plastisol prints, Organotins, perfluorinated and polyfluorinated compounds (PFCs)? They are poisons, toxic stuff, dangerous chemicals found in clothing around the world. These are hormone-disrupting and cancer associated. These are listed as “hazardous chemicals.” They are in the water near places where clothing is manufactured, poisoning the workers and the poor. There are many chemicals in the process of making clothing and these are but a few.

Green Peace did a study of clothing samples a few years back. All of these chemicals were found in the clothing sold to us, the big brands, the trusted brands, the expensive brands, popular brands, not just some flukes.

Not surprising, but how about the loads of these discovered in children’s clothing? You know how cute those babies look all wrapped up in a bundle with little teddy bears in pastel colors. Yup, loaded into baby’s clothing. These were found in twenty-five countries and regions.


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A Prayer

I’m taking another writing and creating my own meaningful prayer.

This post isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Every so often, I just like to take a moment to share with those that understand as I do. Please, bear with. It’s my spiritual thing.

Over the years I have come to the conclusion that suitable clothing should be worn for activities and that if the suitable clothing is not to wear any, then that is what should be done.

The prayer:

I have often found that being naked is a humbling experience. There are no clothes that can make me anything other than who I am. I am simply a being, created by God as an expression of the universe, whose purpose is to find, and do, whatever I have been created to do. I embrace my being.

Being natural is a tool that can direct me towards the source of inner peace, which is a sense of, or relationship with God.

I will allow the humility that being naked makes me feel, to direct my heart to the only One that can satisfy my deepest, most desperate desires.

I am not a freak when I am naked.  I am meant to be naked. I see the desire to be naked and natural, as a desire to embrace my God, my source, my direction, my place within a greater presence.

My nakedness promotes and reclaims a relationship with the divine, a relationship with fellow human beings, and a relationship with the world, the blessing of gratitude.

So, thank-you dearly.



not to misguide you, Nudie News isn’t a specifically religious site. It contains a variety of takes and topics. There is a bundle of good nudist/naturist reading there. I just need to give the publisher his deserved due and my personal appreciation. He republished the original article.

The article that I just used for inspiration to express this personal expression is “My experience Being Naked” by Timothy Yach. It is on the following page link. It is a different take, with Bible quotes and references to “him.” I think that it is a good work. I appreciate the much of the sense if it. You can go there and scroll down to find it.




NEXT WEEK: After a public interest article, we’ll head back into 2009 and revisit one of my favorite timeless places. There is much more to come.



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In Observance of Desert Flowers


The monsoon has been different, coming out of a drought, odd weather patterns and lastly some late spinoff from a couple of Mexican hurricanes. The desert is now back to green, especially the last couple of weeks, so we have decided to see what these rains have created for us up in my Tortolita hills.

We take off in the truck Saturday morning through the neighborhood, sitting on our clothing, a sundress for DF and a bath wrap for me.

We drive as far as we now can and park in front of a new gate.

We begin our walk, me with wrap in hand and DF with the dress hanging on her waist, just in case. It is a relatively short trip to the wash that we have decided to explore, just a couple of football fields uphill. We will be less likely to see others up the wash except a possibility of local neighbors.

It is looking very beautiful.

This is a story to pay homage to the desert flowers of the monsoon season. I don’t know if I have mentioned this before, but DF is a trail name. It stands for Desert Flower. She deserves some homage, too.

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Two Ghouls in the Night

Near Samhain, A Dozen Past:

I’m wrestling with an old memory, from early on in our relationship. DF and I had a bet, or some kind of an arrangement together, that had DF obliged to do whatever I came up with. I can’t remember how that came about. I wish I could, because it worked out pretty well.

I wanted to create a thrill for her, something that she probably wouldn’t do otherwise, a stretch. Out of the air and out of the box, I dreamed up this escapade.

We each have calf length dark woolen cloaks, like the medieval days. Out on a peninsula, along the Rillito River Park, there is a henge. It works; the Solstice light comes through a hole in a monument and beams across the circle to another. It creeps up and aligns perfectly with another hole each solstice. In the bronze plaque marked center of this perfectly laid out astronomical, astrological toy, it is so perfect that the sound distorts.

The asphalt jogging trail runs around it approximately 40 ft. away.

I instructed DF that we would be leaving wearing only these two ghoulish capes and dark shoes. She had no idea what I had in store. This was about trust…somehow.

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Hidden in the Woods

I have a special spot. It is not well known, nor frequented. Its access is easy.  It is comfortable, trees tower above, grass and mountain flowers carpet the ground among pine needles.

I make sure not to make tracks, or develop a trail. I make sure to not let anyone on the highway see me enter the forest. Sure people find it, there is actually a path worn through it.

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Hutch’s Pool: Part II



Day II:

It is very pleasant to open sleepy eyes to overhead gnarly oak trees above my head. The overcast that has been clinging to these high mountains has melted away. I remember the full moonlight from the night before. A grey moonlight, that I thought might keep me awake, didn’t stand a chance after such an active day on the trail and climbing around through and over the plethora of rock formations. DF lies beside me. I turn my head as she turns hers. Her eyes are peaceful.

The waterfall sound of the creek rushing through the boulders, washing away its channel through the Earth continues on. A few birds call out. A turtle dove, or “tortolita” coos. Nothing wrong here. We stretch.

I’d forgotten the foam mattresses, which keep the air mattresses from sliding, but we agree that we slept well, even though not tight spoons as usual. We’re ready for a wonderful day, a celebration of life, a birthday. The sun is nearly exactly where it was the day that I was born. This old tree is shading us today.

We are thinking about heading back today. We have put off the decision and brought extra food, just in case. We are feeling the effects of our first backpack foray of the year, a groan here and there. The day and circumstance are beautiful. We would have to leave early to make the 4:30 shuttle, or walk another four miles on pavement. We have appointments the following day and would have to get up and away early….

I ask myself, how would I like to spend my birthday? Pushing a timetable, or making the most of now and putting strife aside?

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Hutch’s Pool: Day I


We arrived for the first the shuttle at Sabino Canyon Visitor Center. We had had to wait out the weather.

There had been a nearly full moon the night before to walk up to the last shuttle stop. It can be a beautiful hike, but for the asphalt for miles and breaking rules about pitching a tent. We decided that for the five bucks to ride the shuttle, we would ride past the tourists, enjoy the views and be fresh. The tourists will be gone sooner, and we will be on the trail and free.

We are heading up to Hutch’s Pool for a night or two. I have a Birthday to celebrate in proper attire. I want to be with my favorite friend and enjoying my favorite activities. The pool is a favorite, about four miles hike for us. There are clouds over the Catalina Mountain range this morning, but the forecast is sunny. The grey covering is beginning to dissolve as the sun breaks through.

We place our packs on the back seat of the shuttle and listened to the descriptive recording along the way, as we watch the beautiful canyon pass by. The driver is friendly and helpful. I think back years to the last time that I had ridden the old shuttle and the driver’s voice had been our guide. Each one had had a different personality and enthusiasm. This recording sounded like one of those typical Disney movie narrators.

I was surprised as this recording mentioned plans for a dam a few decades ago. It would have killed all that fans out below Sabino Canyon and bury the rest of this wonder under water! Fortunately the funds dried up, so the water didn’t and the catastrophe was averted.

I watch the familiar places pass and remember my first trips up into this canyon. We used to be able to drive up and park on the side of the road before the shuttle. Hidden behind the giant boulders, we would drink cheap wine, smoke and skinny-dip. These days, 1.3 million visitors each year populate our old playground.

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