Posts Tagged With: body positive

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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Pondering Boundaries

Intrinsically, there is nothing wrong with being seen, or seeing others without clothing. It is nude, which is a natural state. I must sometimes remind myself that it is the others that find it wrong. It is the others whose reaction to this nude body defines it to be other than what it actually is. It is the others, who put context onto it, feel fear, feel lust, see sex, project false intents, or want to use it for their own purposes. It is not their body, nor their business. It is my body, my personal space, my identity, my God given vehicle.

What someone projects is not the fact. The body is simply a physical entity. Continue reading

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Grasshopper Point

2019-08-23

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

2019-08-13

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

2009-ish

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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