We’ve decided to just hang out, taking it easy today. We can get things in order, have a nice meal. It has been a lot of travel for several days. We’ve found a good place to just enjoy for a time. When it seems right, we have walks to look forward to, long and short.
We’re new in the neighborhood. A neighbor stops by, a curious ground squirrel visits in the fresh morning sunshine that beams in our camp’s clearing. He hasn’t gotten around to the huge red object beyond him with its the strange smell of rubber. He heads first to the strange dome shaped contraption caging us humans. This might be a first for the tiny young critter. It shows no fear, coming right up to the net tent’s side wall, close to my face.
I lie sideways, awake, newly opened eyes adjusting to the light. I’m a bit surprised by the local greeter. The eyes placed on each side of its head, tell the direction of its vision. It stands up on hind legs, as we exchange staring looks with each other. It seems that we are each wondering, “How far will the other go?” I wonder how close this encounter will be, once my resting body moves.
The diminutive student of the world retreats to a nearby log. I later find debris there. It shows that it has spent quite a bit of time there, chewing on pine-cones.
As the morning passes, I sit in my chair, read and put some time into looking out to the far distance and the foreground, listening, smelling, taking note of my circumstances and my relationship to it all.
A grosse slowly strolls through camp, not ten feet from my feet! I’m acknowledged, as it lumbers. This is a bird the size of a very large pigeon, a small chicken, enough for dinner! Yet, it acts like it has no concept of human behavior. I’m a stranger, just another animal, not a predator, as I sit and observe. I’m being treated to a sight not ruined by the treachery of man. I’m a part of a gift delightfully received. I’m free to experience the uninterrupted observations, a close up of nature, the feathered arrangements, the critters movement and actually my sense of comradery and trust between species.
After breakfast, we’re heading up the trail past the barriers into forest behind the ridge that we’re camped on. We’re just planning to see what we find and to move freely.
We take nothing, expecting to see no one. DF has a small towel to comfort her shoulder strap, maybe to sit down on at some point. We desert rats always have some water, not knowing how far our adventure may continue. Stripped down, there is an additional sense of freedom and sensuality.
NOTE: I have divided this story into three parts. It may feel a bit long, maybe not. I’m still in the middle of computer issues and change over. I was able to get this done without blowing up the old computer. Looks like I’m changing over to Mac soon and hopefully, I’ll learn that quickly. So, I apologize for any delays.
Continue reading
We’ve just left Kodachrome State Park in southern Utah. We wander down a two lane highway through little Mormon towns and settlements. This is beautiful country where green pastures and creeks pass through colorful hills, buttes and mountains.
Each farm has an old homestead house. These are the remnants of standardized homes provided for pioneers by the church community, when they would settle an area. These early shelters are still there for memory and identity.
This valley has the meandering Pariah River running through it. It is currently only a small creek maybe six or eight feet across. We’re heading to the mountains instead of more slot canyons. It is too hot for DF and maybe me, the diehard. A temperature of 83F was nice, but well into the 90F’s with little or no shade is uncomfortable. Perhaps another time, we did get a late start this year. There is another concern, fire. We smell the smoke which is emanating from the west in a towering cloud. There is a fire out west and we’ll head north-ish for cleaner air.
Off of a bend in the main highway that connects the local towns, we find the dirt road that leads up a canyon to higher elevations. Supposedly there are pine trees and cooler temperatures. I’m tired. There is a creek running along this route, which is encouraging. I find a small rough road, a two track jeep trail that is running through tall brush and trees to something, perhaps campsites.
Eventually, it leads to the base of a “North Creek Reservoir’s” dam.
Driving along the bottom of the dam it stops at a fine camping area. We are delighted by the good fortune. We park under the tree’s shade. Through a thicket, there is a creek. The only sound that we hear is its calming trickling waters.
After a sigh and a deep relaxing breath, we get out and walk around. Down a trail at the end of this kind of a road, there is running water out of a concrete shoot from the reservoir. The creek is the excess water from the small lake.
There is a second small dam here and this presents us with a small swimming hole. This coupled with the shallow mountain creek, may cause us to stay a couple of days. We take note of the colorful river rocks under the clear mountain water.
The trail coming in was rough, winding and tight. It would discourage most drivers. We would hear a slow lumbering visitor with plenty of notice. This spot is looking very good.
Continue readingAfter so much time in the outback, arriving in Blanding, Utah had been the shock of civilization. The quiet little town was quite a contrast to the solitude and elbowroom of the uninhabited mountains. It felt hectic to go from store to store, preparing for the next leg of our journey, get a camp set up, shower, pay bills and hear the news on the phone and internet. Civilization, with all of its convenience, by comparison, seemed stressful.
Today, we no longer awaken under the call of birds breaking the silence, the peace, or the pleasant smell of a forest. We’re in a trailer park, amongst monstrous vehicles, with the footsteps and chatter of elderly anonymous tourists, our friendly neighbors. They are moving in less than perfect health, but content, leashed to their small dogs, smiling with waves to fellow assumed Good Sams. I pack up our sleeping quarters and compliment the owner on the tidy grounds, as we leave.
We travel south, through the increasingly more desolate and surreal lands. The last vestiges of civilization are crammed into the thin canyons with the highway.
In iconic rock faced valleys are monuments to “Indians” and offers a stay in conical teepees within a luxury resort.
Along the way are a restaurant and a local cross between a convenience store and a very small general goods outlet. I make sure that I slip out to pump the last available gas, probably for a long long time.
It seems that here, people need to make a buck with what they have available, or they’re retired.
Two hours down this road, ancient Canyon de Chelly sits. It is a bigger, more complex grouping of ruins, which were a part of systems of a very different civilization.
We are understandably traveling every bit of naturally naked, save the walls of the SUV.
(To see the rest of this post, you’ll have to find the “2” and click the page turning button, below.)
All the while, as we lumbered along the thin winding graded roads that traverse the Manti-La Sal National Forest and from the canyon lands of the south, Blue Mountain was an imposing landmark. Today, it has been a goal to be met…or maybe not….
The ancient mammoth formed out of volcanic magma has been a home, hunting ground, and water source. Its height has collected seasonal rains and snow, producing springs around the base for millennia. It has been called sacred by peoples. It looks likely to harbor camping sites under the cover of trees. Still dark clouds threaten.
To see the rest of this post, you’ll have to find the “2” and click the page turning button, below.
Reluctantly, after a few days, we leave our retreat in the mountains. We have decided to cross the Manti-La Sal National Forest in one day, but having the option to stop off in any paradise that attracts us. The trip was 36 miles here and there will be 36 more miles, maybe more. This time, all of the roads are winding, graded dirt roads, marked with small signs with numbers in an unknown wilderness.
There is something, that is very much here, on top of the bear. Amongst the miles of the forest of trees, hills and mountain tops, there are views across the canyon lands below. We investigate a few trailheads, which lead down into even more remote canyons with their ruins and surprises and sense of adventure. There are other places we note for a possible camp, if we feel like it, sometime. There is that wonderful exploratory sense of the mystery around the next bend and one bend leads to another.
We drive out to the road and then it meets the actual main route, which is one of many that web their way through these mountains. A series of these links will have us on the other side of the mountain range in the Blue Mountain area.
To see the rest of this post, you’ll have to find the “2” and click the page turning button below.
We’ve been in this lovely spot, just content. There is nobody around to impose on us. The weather is pleasant, blue skies are above the canopy of the local trees. No bramble, just grass and pine needles to walk comfortably upon with naked feet, no threats, no concerns. We are living with no clothing needs, not even shoes in camp, or to stroll down the two track trail that leads off to the main road. We call it the “main road,” but it is only a sometimes graded walkway that ultimately, in five days, we see only three cars drive by, once as they pass and once as they leave.
A walk seems right once or twice a day, sometimes short through the forest. Sometimes we’ll gather up a couple of bottles of water and walk further in our moccasin-like toe shoes. During the longer walks, we’ll have a cover-up tucked under a shoulder strap. The covering may or may not be wise, but just in case. It is just something for sun protection, to sit down upon, or the off chance, actually nil, that someone might drive by and be a problem. I could suppose in an emergency, it might be a warm covering, or a tourniquet. It might be something to distract, or armor against wild beast attack. It might be wetted to cool, or clean a wound, or brush off dust, or mud. It might be many things, but in all likelihood, being natural and vulnerable, naked in nature is none of those experiences and a piece of cloth can be done without.
You will most likely have to push the button marked “2” to get to the next page.
The Starship Enterprise has just landed on Earth in the year 2063, while chasing and destroying a Borg ship. Both have transferred back in time to get there. In a missile silo, they have contact with an old spaceship, one that Picard has seen at the Smithsonian centuries later. He places his hand upon the metal outer sheathing.
Data (the man made man): Sir, does tactile contact alter your perception of the Phoenix?
Captain Picard: For humans touch can connect you to an object in a very personal way, Make it seem more real.
Data gives touch a try in his usual curiosity.
(“Star Trek VIII: First Contact”)
Touch does make something real. There can even be a compulsion to reach out and touch someone. People get touched emotionally. People pinch themselves to make sure that they are not dreaming.
Touch is our nature and our birthright. When we touch and are touched by the world, the world feels more alive and real.
By just removing clothing, the entire experience of the planet becomes greater. To step into water nude, or to feel a gentle breeze across the entirety of the body, the heat of the sun, and to be entertained with all of the associations, the messages and knowledge of the moment through the body and sensitivity of the organ called the skin, we are more alive. Again, this is a birthright. To take this away is a wrong.
The holidays are making time difficult to find, so as to publish the stories of our journey through the Manti La Sal National Forest. Progress has been made, although slowed, but sure. The photo is from that drive. A passing cloud is felt, as well as seen.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
© The owners of TheFreeRangeNaturist.org as of the year 2015 declare. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to TheFreeRangeNaturist.org with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
This morning, I lay in the tent watching fast clouds. A thought pops up. Ute, a tribe that I always associated as one of the plains tribes. This is Ute-ah, Utah! Duh! The evident finally occurs to me. There is a rich history of the Ute.
Another restful day, we find that the trail across the road from us is a road to another look out. We walk down it maybe halfway, just to enjoy the morning, carrying nothing, unrestricted, unscripted. Even the flip flop shoes come off at a point in the road. We’ve decided to walk it all…later.
We’re up here in Manti-La Sal National Forest, in the Bears ears National Monument. The morning has been casual, late rising, reading. We have a breakfast, then it is time for lunch.
A boy, a young buck scampers around, only about 50 feet away from camp. He decides to have a green snack and stops. This isn’t the female who directed us to this spot in the woods last evening. This guy is decorated with emerging antlers. We stand and watch, then, moving quietly, easily; we grab cameras. This gentleman is fearless.
We snap a few as we creep forward. He backs away eventually several feet to match our move. We know his boundaries.
Relaxed, after a restful afternoon, we decide to walk.
The Free Range Naturist 