August/September 2015

I take a walk in the desert.

I slip on my fivetoe KSO’s. The rain has stopped pouring in wind swept sheets. I will listen out at the edge of my property for flowing water in the desert. If none, I will take a stroll through my desert stealth/nature trail. When I open the front door, I notice that it is sprinkling. As I begin my walk, it starts to rain again. This time, it is very different, a calm pour, no winds, and warm large drops. What a treat, naked in the rain again.

I see no flow of water, and hear no sound of the creek running in the distance. I take the stealth trail. The path is soaked, the sandy soil bloated and soft. My shoes sink deeply into this, sometimes three or more inches, leaving what looks like barefoot tracks. A community of red ants have taken over a long section of my trail, a length where it had been trail before my construction. I do my best to avoid disrupting them, but accidents happened. I hear the drops of rain splashing on the nearby plants, as is my own experience in this body. Often, I hear just the crunch of my feet on the freshly disturbed washed clean sand, as my foot intricately, grinds through it. The sun comes out, the rain stops, the sun comes out in just this spot where I walk. The humidity nearly instantly changes from cool to a steaming, like any tropical jungle. But this is a desert.

I stop to survey the distant vistas all around me as I stand on a knoll. I am suddenly startled by a cactus wren taking flight just a few feet away from my head. Looking in the alarm’s direction, there is a cholla cactus, and in its masses of prickly branches a new looking nest sits.

I make my way to my favorite sitting rock, a place that I call Havarock. I stand and then I sit cross legged, just listening, just watching, just imbibing the fresh air and its effect on my physical being. Do I hear the creek below? I stand, but I can’t be sure.

Another sprinkle begins as I near home from my excursion. I can’t seem to get enough of this.

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2010-03-14

It rained! Spring is on and the Tortolita Mountains beckon. When it rains in the desert the waters flow. They don’t stay around too long. Everything is changed for a day or so. After a long drought, rain is a joy.

There is no dust and the bouquet of Spring air is invigorating. The temperature seems perfect.

There is a car parked at the base of the hill. There are hikers up there someplace.  We decide to be cautious and wait to get undressed. We climb up the steep trail about a half mile to where a wash crosses the road. As we ascend we take in the vista of Mt. Lemmon to the east. The rains in Tortolita had shown up as snow on Mt. Lemmon, a mile higher.

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2009-05-24

This something that I wrote that The Naturist Society’s magazine “N” published a few months ago. It is some prose, hoping to bring the reader into an pleasant naturist’s event:

Eyes closed. The whiter quartz formations are cooler and at times refreshing on a warm day. The darker rock gives warmth after a dip in the cold pond. The grooves can fit a body’s form, cuddling and supportive. The water has sculpted a glassy smooth surface. Pores in the rock can suck moister from the pores in the skin. The wet skin sticks to the smooth stone, as if being kissed by Mother Earth as she holds her child against her. A gentle breeze channels through the chasms of body and stone, choreographed by the moment.

Eyes open. Above this cradle, a towering natural pyre of multi-color granite meets with hues of turquoise celestial depths. Formations of clouds give shape to imagination, passing by in a gentle, slow parade.

The sound of a bird of prey sailing above, a breeze, and then the calm profound silence of the canyon. All sounds are amplified. Even in silence there is vibration.

There, is a silent vibration….

2016-11-13

This is the conclusion of the previous story, Part I. I have to suggest reading that first. It explains things. Find it here:

Sunday Morning:

I sleepily wander out the open door. There, I find DF bent over the elegant white barrier gazing out. This is looking to be a beautiful day.

We watch the others on the beach below. We are covered only by the rail at crotch level and she comfortably with her arms. There is some distance. Others see, but we are not seen.  We are sort of invisibly nude in public.

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2016-11-12

It used to be that gringos could drive down to Rocky Point, stay in a bungalow, or find a campsite at Sandy Beach and be in a sufficient space to carefully skinnydip. Now, these spots are under high rise hotels and have a resort atmosphere.

I had been looking at satellite images and making inquiry for a few months, wondering if I could get back the sense of freedom that Mexico used to offer.  DF had mentioned a desire to head south and suddenly everything fell into place, including the weather. It is a long drive the through the Sonoran desert to Puerto Penasco/Rocky Point and then we had yet another hour, or more to attain our goal, which was a beach villa in a remote enclave.

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2015-02-18

DF had taken Wednesday off to celebrate Fat Tuesday later. We want another beautiful day hiking. I had been curious to see what was on upstream past our more usual Redington Pass haunts for quite a while. I had checked the trail and topo maps. I had studied the google satellite images. I had been on my way there when I fell and messed up my leg months ago. This was going to be a fine mid-70’s F day with a little breeze.

We arrived about 9:30am, so the air was warming up well. I decided to go with no back up clothing. I wanted to feel the just liberation. I enjoy the lack of something to carry. I wanted to feel like I had thrown myself into nature shedding the unnatural impositions of man’s law. This was mid-week and there was only one more car parked there. I took off the shirt that I was wearing and placed it in the 4runner. DF wore her standard short sundress to disrobe just down the trail, She was not feeling interested in my plan to lighten the cumbersome clothing requirement.

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A Continuing Series

Wednesday, May 13th, 2015

I’d been this way just a few days before. I knew that I was likely to see the javelina.

Today, along the trail there are incessant gnats and flying pests. I stop to wonder if the swarm has attached to me, the tastiest morsel around, or maybe a population boom occurred in the immediate area. I feel a light breeze gracing my body and they are floated away.

It is very warm, in the high 80F’s and totally exposed to the sun. I feel the heat on my back and shoulders. Many prickery pieces of cactus have been carried, or have blown into the trail. Large barrel cactus hooks, pieces of prickley pear and fallen balls of cholla are a hazard for the exposed foot. I keep my vision mostly down to avoid these dangers, only occasionally looking up to the dry abundance of spring blooms turned into seed.

The air is clear, as I stop to gaze across the valley. I first look through the bright yellow paloverde trees, which are now covered with a mass of small flowers. They contrast so well with the bright green of the interspersed mesquite. This leads my eye further to the magnificent 9000 ft. mountains, all in deep dark green with highlights of exposed whitish grey granite. On some of these, there are still a few spots where the glitter of running water can be seen. These are distant mountain streams, or springs seeping out of cracks in the rock and then down the sloping faces.

Behind the mountains are towering white cumulus clouds. A bank of a weather front of these white puffs sits in the south. These contrast with the many wisps of alto stratus and hues of turquoise blue. It is busy up there.

Yellow Mass of Palo Verde

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2016-10-03

We had come down from the Bradshaw Mountains to escape the predicted cold and rain. This spot in the Agua Fria National Monument had been recommended to us by a gold panning enthusiast a couple of evenings before. We have found comfort in the warm desert in a Mesquite bosque. Tomorrow we will venture through the bottom of the Black Mesa Canyon.

We had stripped our warm night clothing off as the night progressed in our cozy tent. It felt good to not feel the uncomfortable cold of the nighttime mountains, to snuggle together naked and warm.

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2016-07-29

FRIDAY:

Up and alive a 6:45! There’s a large wispy cloud formation changing the light to something like a slight overcast. Naked, I walk out into the large meadow, being careful to stay in the warm sunlight. It was cold last night, but things are changing fast. Standing there, I put my hand up to block the direct glare from my eyes. I glance down the fairway-like meadow toward where the Rainbow Gathering had been. The rays are going through these unusual clouds, creating a small circular rainbow over the site.

As I return, DF is up and gathering her wits. We take a stroll to the springs arm in arm, with cameras in hand.

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2016-10-02

Back to the High Forests

This is the next part of the Free Range Naturist gathering in Dewey Arizona.  After deciding to split up, Ken and Amie head for dinner. Duane , DF and I are off to find a campsite before dark. The beginning of the tale and background to this, can be found here: https://thefreerangenaturist.org/2016/10/07/free-range-naturist-gathering-pt-1-a-trip-report/

We don’t know where we might end up, nor what opportunities might appear. We had abandoned a very good campsite in the forest this morning. These mountains are crowded with campers on weekends and we certainly can’t be assured of a spot. The following morning, our plan is to explore the head waters and the upper Hassayampa River.This is that tale.

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