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A continuing diary of a stealth naturist’s hidden trail: 2015-03-10

Kindred Spirits Share a Space

The Spring weather is here, Low 80F’s with sun all of this week. I decided to celebrate and do the walk and then sit on “The Rock”,” Our Rock”,” Contemplation Rock” (you don’t have to contemplate, it’s a place to just Be). It seems that a special destination deserves a special name. I slipped on my VFF KSO’s, so I was feeling the more barefoot experience on this walk, as I continued.

I notice the amount of prickery things that have blown back onto the trail. I do notice a few chewed prickly pear cactus. This could mean any of many critters, but then an arm/pad that I had hacked off and thrown off of the trail had made it back to the middle of my route. This wasn’t any rodent. This was too heavy for one to move. I proceed, but notice no tracks. The surface is hard. It is rocks and it is dry. I have swept the sandy area and this should give me clues, but none materialize.

I arrive at THE Rock; I mount it and lay back. I listened to the constant buzz, the sounds of early spring. I also hear a strange noise in the little valley, next to me. Then, that noise again. It might be a woodpecker, but it is a bit quiet. I haven’t heard any woodpeckers tapping at saguaros lately. I figure they are a seasonal activity. I spend my time, noticing the temperature of the rock and the comfortable breezes passing by.

I finally stand up and survey. The trail currently passes through 30 to 40 feet of exposed area. I could make it better, more clandestine. There is a way to step through, on top of the other boulders strewn in a formation with THE Rock, but going the other direction. I had been ignoring it, contemplating the possibility of a rattler encounter in the crevasses. I see a clear area past that. I carefully step through, reassessing the passage. It is possible to stay high enough to most likely avoid the mentioned possible hazards.  My route links up to a clear area and then meets with my current trail on the other side of the ridge. Perfect. I’ll trim back one prickly pear and I’m good.

The rocks that lead away.

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In this article, I’m going to make the assertion that there are many practices of naturism which deserve the equal protections of any religion, or spiritual pursuit. I think that we all need to be protecting each others rights, no matter what our religion is. I’ll be attempting to demonstrate this opinion, to create a better understanding. It needs to be put out there, somewhere.

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2016-04-02

We get up early Saturday, after finishing our late night last minute packing. We have to drive through Phoenix on the freeways, finding our way to Cave Creek Road. I’d never been this way, nor knew anyone who had. All that I had was the view from google satellite and some instruction to the petroglyphs and ruins from my son.

We are beginning a four day back road exploration in the Verde River area known as Bloody Basin. Bloody for the red rock there. We are looking for naturism with water features and shade trees, free range playgrounds.

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2015-03-14

I had been out been out Silverbell Rd. on the other side of Ragged Top Mt., with my son, niece and her husband last weekend. I hadn’t been out that way before. Actually none of us had.

The Silverbell Mine has created a huge scar there. All I can say positive is that the mountainous piles of rubble that have buried the landscape have some beautiful color in them from the geology that they have uncovered. Directly on the other side of the road, however, there is a beautiful pristine desert which stretches for miles to the west and into the Tohono O’odham Reservation.

As we toured slowly on this very rough back road, we began to see desert blooms, bluebell, desert poppies, and others congregated in fields amongst the larger desert plants. It was quite a show at places. The rains this year had been good to us all. We had continued on to the old Redrock smelter and then circled Picacho Peak, just to explore. There were fields covered with orange glowing mallow. I hadn’t seen masses of this before. The desert blooming was just getting started.

Picacho Peak in the distance.

I told DF about this and invited her out Friday night to my place for diner and a movie, so that we could get an earlier start Saturday morning to see the display. That morning, we pumped the gas, cleaning the windows real good, stripped in the parking lot and headed out on the long road west to the Ironwood Monument desert.

Ragged Top

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A continuing diary of a stealth naturist’s hidden trail:

Early Spring

I took a stroll out the stealth trail just before lunch today. I sat on the boulder, cross legged and closed my eyes, just to listen and be. Perfect. Quiet save for bird songs.

I decided to go ahead and cross through the raw desert to the jeep trail on the way back. I hadn’t seen any signs of human activity. I wanted to do some running for exercise on the graded road. On the jeep trail/road, I noticed a small feature. It was the skin of a very small young snake, no more than a large worm. The first reptile of the year. It will be an early spring perhaps. Perhaps this young one is but a fluke, an ignorant child. I’ll keep heads up from now on, not to step on any surprises.

The trail is ready for use. The snake hiding spots are now all away from the footsteps of the trail. From here, I’ll only record a running diary of our naturist experience in this wonderful bountiful desert.

2016-03-20

We rolled over the crest of Gates Pass on the skinny mountain road to witness vast Avra Valley stretching out before us. On the other side of this expanse, at the southern end of the Ironwood National Monument, we saw our destination. Just a few bumps, these small mountains would begin to rise in stature as our journey continued closer to them. Amongst this lies Cocoraque Butte, a sacred spot, filled with ancient petroglyphs.

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A continuing diary of a stealth naturist’s hidden trail:

Nothing is static in the universe. Adjustments must be made. Sometimes for the better, sometimes it is just time for a new direction when things are too stale.

Yesterday late afternoon, I took a walk out the jeep trail and up the hill. My intent was to check the overlook nearby and double check any views from that road and area. There had been traffic, but hassling with my wrap skirt as it bounced around off of my neck as I jogged, wasn’t necessary. Nobody was there as usual.

My observation discovered that my little gulch, where my favorite rock sits, runs to a drop off, creating another little gulch, which misleads others. It appears that the thing ends. My rock is in a hidden valley. That’s why the animals are staying there.

At the end of the road is a small cleared flat area to demonstrate that it could be a building pad. To the southwest, it looks across to a ridge. On the other side of that ridge, my trail goes over to reach the sunning boulder. This overlook is not likely to be occupied for a long time and infrequently. All I have to do is check over there just before going over the crest, and then proceed in view for 20 or thirty feet, then knowing that it is clear. The trail is out of sight from there, crossing a pretty purple quartz playground. This exposed few feet is on the adjacent property. If seen, maybe a, “Did I just see that?” could be murmured. It is a low risk.

Today, the winds disappeared, so I took my broom out there and shoved rocks out of the trail’s way, finalizing the route. After the next rain and some wind, it should only be noticeable to me. The piles of rock along the side shall be nearly natural looking. Where I left it most obscured, I use slightly distant larger landmarks for direction. I am using the old “sweep the tracks away with a broom” trick to hide the trail. It was very popular in the old westerns and Boy Scout lore. You gather a bundle of shrub, or stalks at one end, and voila, a broom.

This project reminds me of TV/internet preppers with secret stashes, and campsites who need access to deliver supplies and travel without leading someone to their hidden lair. The ol’ broom sweep makes that trail disappear in seconds. Having no plans to elude police, packs of roving marauders in the apocalypse, or live as survival in the wilderness, finding myself using these tactics amuses me. It is something new, fun and interesting to do nude, enjoying the weather and getting tan, and secretly.

The trail is full of observation of the changing desert; examples of its amazing diversity and wonderment are along the way.

Back at my property, I pondered where I might put a barefoot running trail, as I watched the sun set.

Early November 2013

The last trip report told about the numerous potentials in the Pinaleno Mountains; too many to explore in just one day. This will become a huge playground for us. I have topo maps of the northern base of the mountain and I wanted to look at the potential for the trailheads and camping. Perhaps we might hike down a canyon from top to bottom. We had to hurry back to arrive at our friend’s place in the foothills of the north face. We needed light to orient, unpack and then have dinner. The arrival timing was perfect. A lesson in congeniality awaited us….

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02-2015 A Continuing Diary: Getting Intimate

The undergrowth is seasonal, and these rains during this season have made it nice and green in the Tortolita hills. There are the places that act as a protective mother and nurture plants. The vulnerable young saguaros during the first five to 10 years require a mother. These safe places hide the bunnies, quail and most everyone else. The most prolific, the “islands of life” are under the low branches of the mesquite and palo verde “trees.” I don’t even think about destroying, or even hassling with going through those masses. They are precious. Other than these, there is undergrowth under any shady place that has accumulated the treasure of soil.

An Island of life near the trail. This mesquite and hackberry began the nurturing of this saguaro well over one hundred years ago.

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Early November 2013

Our excursion was to check out trail-heads and terrain for next summer’s hiking in the Pinaleno Mountains, aka Mt. Graham…and have some fun.

Friday about 9:00pm, after shopping, dressed, I arrived at DF’s place. Stripping, I declared a commitment, if possible, that that would begin the total liberation from clothing for the next three days. Okay, one stipulation, maybe a cloak or something for the frigid temps at 10,000 feet, and maybe getting gas, and maybe…practical nudity.

I finished the packing, resolutely naked in the driveway, under the cover of darkness. A bag and food cooler would be all that would go out to the truck in the morning, for a quick and early start.

Mexico, Texas and Beyond

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