I had spent some time learning to pack the faltboot (a canvas/vinyl kayak) for a camping trip aka expedition. No not into the untamed wilds, but to explore Apache Lake. Apache Lake is north of us, another lake formed by a dam in a canyon which also formed the famous Roosevelt Lake, which is upstream. Roosevelt is huge and popular. Apache Lake is less easily accessible, much smaller, more rugged and fewer beaches.
I’m going to publish a series of articles about going barefoot…all over, all over. These will be in between and distinguished from the Trip Reports. Some will be informational. Some will be experiential. I have been experimenting with bare feet for several years now. There is much that I would like to share and hopefully benefit the reader. These will appear from time to time. Presently, some are written, some outlined, some in pieces. I’ll attempt to keep each short.
I awaken early, I expect a chill, but the sun feels warm. We have had three days with intermittent nice soaking rains. The humidity is up. There is silver crystalline dew on all of the fresh tall grasses, which have grown up from the monsoon. I put on my huaraches to be minimal and take off, in a purposeless state, just experiencing, thought nor plan isn’t an issue. The thin leather sole gets wet and soft, conforming to the rocks. I stare at a set of flowers in the trail. There are clover-like balls coated with moister and glistening in the morning sunlight. They are filled with prism colors. With these, are daisy-like structured flowers, rich purple with a bright canary yellow center. The dew has these coated, too. It gives them a glassy look.
I had been too easily distracted for my licensure studies and decided to take time away from the “to do” list and other fun, to just camp and study. The solitude of the Pepper Sauce Canyon area had been scouted and affirmed a couple of weeks before. The weather has been steadily windy and often dusty and the temps would be in the nineties F. Up in elevation on the back side of the Catalinas, ten degrees can be chopped off of that, giving perfect eighties. Because DF and I had taken that day trip, I knew exactly where I would go.
Southern Arizona is the confluence of several ecosystems. It houses a grand plethora of biodiversity. One reason for this is its sky islands. There is no horizon here, only yet another mountain range. These mountains can be over 10,000 feet high. They host Alpine regions. One can begin in a summery desert in Tucson and drive up the Mt. Lemmon Highway to the top. The seasons change with the elevation. Summer turns to fall and then winter, in less than an hour. A vast mineral wealth is indicative of the diversity of geologic features. This is what we live in. This is why each trip report that we share with you is unique. Naturism is interaction with nature. Naturism, its pursuit, its spirituality, is enhanced by natural beauty and diversity.
The following is a link to a video, which better explains the diversity and abundance. Perhaps, this will give your imagination a taste and keep you coming back each week.
We were still recovering from the big outdoor party that we had put on. It had been a project to put together. It was way fun, all night. At 5:30am, we were watching the turquoise blue of coming daylight. It was rough, when we were getting up again, a short few hours later. We had to feed those who stayed and then clean up. It was busy, hauling borrowed lawn furniture back to its owner, tearing down the band equipment, hauling drums, on and on and then, preparing for the trip in the morning to Peppersauce Cave. Chores done, we collapsed.
The Hot Springs had been fun a few weeks before, but we felt that we had just toured it briefly and wanted to spend some more time there. The opportunity arose to spend a Saturday and Sunday there. We needed to get our tarp/net tent arrangement honed, learn its quirks and try it with the new camping quilt, before heading off for an extended stay the following week.
After a not so early start, we arrived on the property. All of the nice spots were taken. There was a larger crowd this time. Then, there, sitting before us, was the spot next to the swimming pool, under mesquite trees, unoccupied! It seemed too good to be true. I pulled in and we began to set up the tent and lunch. There were already a few people skinny-dipping in the pool. We recognized a couple of women from the previous trip. One possible reason that the spot was empty occurred to us, as we realized that the mesquite tree was bleeding its black sap. We had to arrange the tent placement accordingly and back up the car, but it was working out. The ground was soft and the area clear.
Pond from the Campsite
Carnuding, driving without clothing on, derives from the term canuding, which is to use a canoe nude. I’ve mentioned this quite a lot in previous posts. Indeed, most of our trips have included driving to and from destinations nude. I haven’t given much detail of this aspect of what some might call a part of the “craft” of the free range naturist.
Because it feels good to get out of clothing. During a long trip, the clothing in the crotch area gets bundled up. There is lots of heat that builds up, heat is then trapped and many bacteria flourish. TMI? This is why it feels so good to slip clothing off and feel the air rejuvenate a body. This is one reason why one can feel cooler on a hot day by removing that last, although be it small, piece of clothing at the mid-section. This is why many women wear their short skirts up when driving, and perhaps you’ve heard their comments about the flow of air-conditioning’s vents. All of the body is more comfortable. The sense of freedom and natural sensuality that one enjoys without clothing at home, or outside, can be enjoyed in a moving vehicle. It is healthier. On a longer drive, the comfort is relaxing.
There is a special joy driving down a back road, windows down, sunroof open and the wind whipping all over.
“Bucks Like a Willys in Four-wheel Drive”
Friday afternoon, we set off to visit the Hot Springs. We had a long weekend invitation, but DF had to attend a workshop early Sunday morning in Tucson. We had been curious about this place for years. It is usually for retreat groups. This was a more casual group of friends arranged by a Phoenician a few times a year. We thought that we would just check it out, but ended up thoroughly enjoying ourselves.
We awoke late the next morning, 8:30am. We both had had a rough night’s sleeping for a part of the night, but awakening into this wonderful tall grass and flowers all around us, cool clear mountain air and trees, started us out with delight.
We had just visited the Blue River down Juan Miller Road and decided to spend our remaining time back up in the alpine ecosystem of the White Mountains. See “Into the Blue River Valley parts 1 and 2” and before that, “Someplace South of Greer parts 1 and2.”
As we traveled up the 666 highway among magnificent vistas and pines that afternoon, there were many camouflage uniforms all along the road. On the drive the day before, we had encountered maybe six or eight vehicles in the entire seventy miles. Today there were battalions of these guys. One red truck had a pair of antlers attached to a deer in the back of his bed. I found out later that bow hunting season started that Friday. That explained the guilty looks on those young men’s faces the day before. They were out jumping the gun. Everywhere, they were unpacking, sitting, driving slowly, and watching. One white P/U had even stopped dead in the middle of the curving highway and waved us to pass!
Stopping for a break and a look at the map below Hannigan’s Meadow, we began looking for a spot to camp. It was already four and we had no plan. We continued down the trails, hoping to get lucky. These jeep trails wandered through meadows bordering stands of forest on hillsides. Some of the stands had burned four years earlier and others were untouched.
The Free Range Naturist 