Posts Tagged With: Arizona

2020 Zipolite: Natures Dance

Feb. 2020

 

Nature’s Dance:

Great angular blocks, layers and deposits form jagged cliff sides. Beyond, a tunnel has taken several millennia of carving with the pressures of a funnel to create. Waves of white foam wash through at high tide, torrential and potent, but they are slow, very slow to make a mark.

Among the dark wet rocks are chutes and whirlpools. Great waves are constantly changing their intensity, their track and their tack.

Submerged rocks can be clearly seen, exposed by a tidal current and then again, under masses of foam and crystal assure blue.

We wander down the beach in among the daily ritual of sunset, the rolling crests of foam form their pipe-like tunnels. Soon, they will be streaking across the deep shadows, making their own glow in the din with the moonlight and stars. Tonight, the lights of the Hotel Nude will provide a yellow hue, creating golden waves in black waters reflecting diamonds in dark skies.

Still endlessly hitting those cliffs and outcroppings, those chutes of water pound and thunder. Sometimes, they fan out, spraying higher than the spouts of great whales. A salty cloud of mist forms and we see it float to the sandy beach.

Where a rock sits exposed, launched by the power of a wave, grand fountains shoot high in remarkable swirls and twists.

They scatter and then return to the soft more quiet brine, now in their time, they are stretched out below.

We stand in the back splash from a resting power that has been spent on an assault at the sandy shore. Again and again, we hear thunder and power as nature plays and dances.

Drumming His Prayer

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A Sunday Drive

2019-09-29

 

Back in the day, there was a national pastime called the Sunday Drive. The big three would have billboards advertising a well-dressed family, just out of church, cruising in one of their tail-finned shinny chromed sedans. Gas was cheap, life was looking up.

It’s Sunday and we’re going on a picnic cruise down through Baja Arizona along the west side of the Huachuca Mountains. Our ride is a tight little Honda Civic, not a historic floating boat from yesteryear.

We’re just down the road and it’s about 11am. I’ve been sick and felt pretty bad the night before. There is no telling what this will bring to me today, but…I’m stir crazy and determined.

We grab some eats from Trader Joe’s. With DF at the wheel, I get undressed, as we head out of town. I tell DF of my notion of the obvious, “Everything, even sick, can feel just a bit better when the clothing comes off.” Naked and making myself at home distracts from my insides and brings my attention to my outsides.

We take the winding scenic drive down through to Sonoita. On the map it is just a small black spot at a crossroads of lines. It is charming all along here. Its rolling hills are hosting vineyards and white board fences more and more, as the years go by. It feels kind of like a drive through gentrified California countryside.

The grasses are green and the trees small. Every so often, a stream crosses the road and there is usually a taller shade tree at its side.

Down further, California turns to Kansas. Straight dirt roads go to the horizon.

Today, the sunflowers are as high as the speed limit signs. If we were in Kansas, they would say that the snow this winter will be as high as the sunflowers, but this is Arizona. It doesn’t work like that here.

One inviting hacienda on its acreage gives over to the next. Continue reading

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Sonoita and South, Huachuca Mountains, Miller Canyon

2012 Monsoon Season

We’re reminiscing back to 2012. It was a maiden cruise in the 4×4 that I had just purchased. One thing that I didn’t have for this was my camera. DF’s camera bit the dust soon after we left. It had been acting up. The result had been a picture-less report. I recently pieced together some illustrations and…better late than never:

 

DF and I are waking up at her place on an open calendar Saturday. Lying in bed looking out the window at blue skies and sunshine, I just feels right, “What the heck, Let’s just spontaneously go down to your old a stomping grounds in the Huachuca Mountains. Down there are some spots I haven’t visited in twenty or thirty years and some areas where we have never been.”

We now have this 4×4 truck, so there is no stopping us. We pack up some food, tank up and everything else happens to be all ready to go. I don’t have any clothes, but the “needing to take special care for” light colored ones, that I wore when going out and dancing last night. BUT then, if we play it right, we aren’t going to need clothes anyway. I do have my leather huaraches. That’s good, Arizona can be rough on bare feet.

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Spring at Redington Pass

Spring 2019

Redington Pass is always such a pleasant little trip. It is only a half of an hour carnuding from Central Tucson to the trailhead. It feels like getting away from everything, leaving the pavement, the urban structures are miles behind.

We park just off of the road. The quality of the space is first come first serve. Usually, I can park right next to the trailhead in my 4×4. There’s a hill with a gulley there that most vehicles don’t dare. This spot gives me a clothing optional access to the trail.

Of course, I go for the more liberal option, but at times, there can be others around. We don’t want to upset the opposition. The now, clothing mandatory area’s trailhead is just a couple of hundred feet down the road. There can be textile sensibilities within view. You just never know with people like that, how that they may react. We all want to be left alone.

Generally, we are free, especially on weekdays. I have learned to take something like a sarong to protect my shoulders, in case we want to stay longer than planned. If my ability to relish my freedom is impeded, it is only a very short 50 feet or so to the first sign and I’ll have that sarong around my waist. There, we are enough out of sight to get completely comfortably nude.

I feel the pleasant sense of liberation, knowing that I don’t have to dress. My nudity is accepted, a norm and not a surprise to anyone. Everyone is pleasant, whether they chose to dress on the trail, or not. There is nearly always a friendly greeting, or a smile. From that sign, we are in liberated territory. Life is as it more ideally could, or should be.

I smell Spring. I’m grasped by the air and sun. A breeze comes by and I swish it in my hand. I am of this Earth.

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Fossil Creek: Exploring the Sites

2019-09-18

We are camped next to the Verde River, about a mile’s walk from the Verde Hot Springs. Today, we have a parking pass for a spot on Fossil Creek, which is up the hill on our way home. We plan to explore the entire Fossil Creek area as best that we can and then take our spot and enjoy the blue green waters. Yesterday’s foray downstream at Matzatzal was beautiful, so we expect more wonderment.

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Fossil Creek: Matzatzal

2019-09-17

We are camping in the designated campground of the Verde Hot Springs. We have a parking pass for Matzatzal, a designated spot along Fossil Creek. We’ll have the serenity of a clear mountain stream. The spot should be all to ourselves and no intrusions expected.

We awaken to the gobble of a turkey in the morning….

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The Verde Hot Springs

2019-09-16

Our destination is the ‘ol hot springs on the Verde River. The plan is to spend three days with a couple of side excursions into Fossil Creek’s sweet riparian area.

I am gambling, but thinking that odds are in my favor. After being extremely sick the week previous, I figure that I’m left with just a little recovery to deal with. The hot springs and subsequent skinny dipping in blue green waters in the mountains near here will be my healing.

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Verde Hot Springs: Back in the Day

We went down to the Verde Hot Springs a couple of months back. I thought that I’d first review a bit of history to warm up to that tale.

In the mid-nineteen seventies, we used to head up to Flagstaff on the weekends to party with Tucsonans at Northern Arizona University. You’d find me in a pearl snap stomper shirt, Levis and custom Stewart Boots.  I might be accessorized in a fun western hat and a buckle belt. I identified as something we referred to as a “cow-pee,” or “cow-pie,” a laughable contraction and pretty much a cross of a cowboy and a hippie. Please, refer to the “Outlaw” crew of Waylon, Willy and the boys. It was, I suppose, a thing in the day, even without associations with horses and cows.

Back in the Day

Skirts would fling high, as we spun with young women in the intricate entanglements dancing to the electrified local country swing music.

We were not being “naturists” per se. We were college aged. Our antics could be a tradition of a group shower with sometimes 6, or more, making a coordinated dance in a tub meant for one soaker. It was better than packing phone booths could ever be. It took a genuine team effort, a trust with a level of intimacy to make it work. Friends were having fun.

View from the Verde Hot Springs

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New Years Day 2014

We got a late start after a late New Years Eve…of course. When we began our drive up into the mountains, it was around noon plus thirty. The goal was to visit the petroglyphs that we had been to once before:

https://thefreerangenaturist.org/2017/09/08/in-search-of-tortolita-petroglyphs-a-trip-report/

It is winter time and the rattlesnakes are asleep with most of the local reptiles. We can bushwack, step over rocks and climb without fear of disturbing those fellows. The vegetation is more sparse and easier to see under and move around when naked. It is a time when I’ll survey the 55 saguaros that grow on my property and revisit terrain that is too dangerous at other times.

It sounded weird to us as the radio told us the date was in 2014. The reported temp on the radio was 66F downtown as we slowly plodded our way up the 4×4 trail, which has been severely eroded. We weren’t sure what to expect for wind-chill, but the forecast was eight miles per hour at most. To a delight, as we parked and exited the SUV, I was stunned by the absolute surreal silence about us and the warm sun on my nude body. We were in the heart of the Tortolitas.

As we ascended the mountains, a guy on a mountain bike had switched places with us twice, but he was soon going another way. The place was obviously all ours. We had been concerned because people’s New Years Day outdoor activities can detract from our elbow room.

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Checking out Bear Wallow

2019-08-14

I’m in the Catalina Mountains for a couple of days. I’m on a retreat, a retuning.

I slept in the forest on a hill last night in nude seclusion. After a warm filling breakfast, I’m on my way to a more frequented trail that will lead me to Bear Wallow. It is Wednesday, the middle of the week and I don’t expect many people. I think to just leave all coverings and take risk in freedom, but I’m not absolutely sure what I will find. I don’t want to have my nudity keep me from an adventure into a new place. My journey shall be open ended. I opt for a sarong. I roll it up, place it on my shoulder and use it as a cushion for the straps for my water bottle bag and camera.

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