Just so you know…Part 24, Lake Shelbyville, was published out of sequence, by the fingers of a sleepy naked guy on a couch. Once it is done….
We’re looking for a secluded place, a spiritual experience, fewer people, certainly no crowds, solitude. I figured that it would be up here in this part of Michigan, as I remember it. It feels down right crowded today, in the height of the summer season. Things have changed. There is plenty of countryside, but it is all private lands. People are packed in otherwise.
The public lands are near. Big Bear Dunes, again as I remember, are fun and there may be a spot just south of them, down the coast of Lake Michigan, where people don’t go, much.
As a teen, just being out after curfew was prohibitive, but we did it. I’m just flashing back here, as I write, remembering walking late at night down the middle of Mingus Road in Michigan with my girlfriend and dropping my shorts, all that I wore. It was rock star lack of underwear. If it was cool for Mick, then cool for me. The experience felt outrageous and the next step in my evening’s liberation.
It was freeing to do something “crazy.” Jumping out of constrictions, out of conventional uniform, was an increment of “crazy.” That was a part of hippie garb back when. It was different and naked was just one more bold step.
On the way in to visit old friends in Battle Creek, that is while we were lost with a GPS and the wrong address, we passed by Turtle Lake Nude Resort. We made up our mind to stop there on the way out. I’ve been curious for a long many years. It is big enough to have rock festivals. The sun’s out for now. Online, it says that there’s a dance Saturday night.
In New York, we visited the neighborhood that DF grew up in and walked to her old school. She with her brother described every house and who lived in them a long time ago. Memories flood in sometimes. I’m about to have a similar experience, filled with reflections on influences, time, life and values.
In the late 1960’s I lived in Battle Creek, Michigan for a time. I still have friends, the guys in the ‘ol gang that one calls brother. I got the opportunity to get back, to have a visit and look at some of my roots.
We’re escaping the continuing New England storms, by driving straight for our friend’s farm in Western Pennsylvania.
We get in the car in the rain, sad that we have lost our plans to the weather. We have lost days at this wonderful resort, swimming and dancing to the bands, also a bluegrass/blues fest, my dream of decades to visit Thoreau’s Walden Pond. Even more than those, spending more time with our free ranging New England friends.
Our feelings are less a new adventure and more an escape, like some kind of naked refugees from a flood, crossing the waters to wash up in the warm sunshine.
From Lake Willoughby, we have reservations for “New Discovery Campground” at Ft. Dummer and driving down to past Brattleboro, Vermont
We’re on our way to Connecticut, to the Solair Resort and it will take more than a day to get there. Stopping off at this cute camping spot on the way will be convenient.
At the campground, we aren’t as lucky this time. It is a nice campsite, but for mosquitoes and difficulty maintaining casual nudity. We are perched up on a hillside. There is some view through the trees, but I soon realize that a trail next to us leads down the hill to the public toilets. This more frequented conveyance will destroy our privacy. I turn to DF in resolve, “Ya get what Ya Get.”
Three times during our stay, the same woman walks by. Like Murphy’s Law, just as I get out of our tent nude to stretch in the morning, when I try to change next to the car, when I’m pitching the tent inside the lean-to, she happens by. She probably figures that I have been naked our whole stay. I wasn’t even bold, or trying to stay nude, as usual. It was just the luck of the timing. I ponder that maybe, I just might as well have stayed brazenly nude. It wouldn’t be illegal. I would have been hidden from the other campers and their kids up on the ridge….
On the way out, we don’t stop to check the rest of the facility’s grounds, so there is nothing to report, except the fun way that they made planters out of old hollow stumps.
We’re on a mission to arrive early in the afternoon, as per our hostess’ wishes. We stop by our “outfitter”, Trader Joe’s, for provisions as we head through Massachusetts.
The Resort Community:
Solair is easy to find in a beautiful part of the country. Continue reading →
We were last up on Mt. Lemmon in the spring of 2020. We hiked down to Lemmon pools and explored on through the Wilderness of Rocks. It was early in the Covid lockdown and we got surprised by around 35 other hikers on a trail that rarely saw anyone else. We just had to grin and bare it, having brought no clothing along with us.
The next day, a bolt of lightning hit the mountain range and burned with little control for over a month. Every day, we watched heart broken, looking up to the flames above, from Tucson below, tasting and smelling the smoke. The Forest Service maps reported that a huge area, something like 120,000 acres went up in smoke. Our favorite spots were hit, one by one.
We finally got the gut fortitude to return and assess the damage, as it applies to us on August 27th of 2021. We found there, that the historic extra wet monsoon rains have left the entire region is in hews of green. Trails are getting overgrown. After a year and a half long drought, it is stunning.
We expect much of our forests to be gone, but from the look of things, the desolate aftermath of a forest fire has been replaced by a mass of bush, grass and shrubs. We have heard reports of abundant flowing water!
The hiking trailheads along the road have been closed to hiking, due to the extra year of drought that led to the fire’s fuel.
We begin the 21 mile drive up the Catalina Highway, from 2500 ft. to 9200ft.The saguaro studded lower hills are great, as if nothing had ever happened. I remark that maybe nothing did happen here.
We know that Lake Willoughby’s free beach is on the south side of the lake. It isn’t difficult to find they say. We drive past, we drive back. We ask a guy by the side of the road, “Where’s the nude beach? “
“You’re here.” His further directions are “Keep to the left, of the left.”
The parking lot is full. We are lucky to find a spot near the entrance, or just off the road. We get out of our little Honda and slip into kilt and sundress.
We haven’t gone but a few feet and are walking with probably a bit of an aimless expression. We ask a guy (yea, again) to make sure.
“I’m heading there now. You can follow me if you like.”
He’s local and tells us that he comes here “all of the time.”
As we had wandered lost, we had seen a beach right next to this. We saw it filled with people, but they were all in clothing. It looked like this was the case here, but as we arrive, several people assure us with their own example.
The local Good Sam finds his local friends and we smile a parting, walking on to explore. We are out to find our niche and to get a better idea of where we are, and what goes on.
Morning: We’re packing out, filling the little civic. Before people get up and around, we manage to grab a few pics to document our stay. It is peaceful in the morning light. No ripples and no voices, but for the call of that loon.
We walk the running track for a section and pass a nude man up on his roof. I have to stop and ask about the attachment of the built up roofing that most of the trailers have here. From up above he explains detail. He’s most friendly, for a guy with a busy chore.
We bid an affectionate goodbye to our hostess at check out. She runs this place with heart and a constant smile.
There had been a change of plans. We had heard about a place called Black Island out in Lake Champlain. There, supposedly, we can camp and wander nude with no repercussions from anybody. A couple of days like Robinson Caruso got dashed. When I looked into a visit, it would take extra travelers to justify splitting the exorbitant expense of the boat rides out and back. Topping that, the weather is getting iffy.
Alternatives abound in Vermont? There is a hike recommended not far down the country road.
At the old airport campground, we’re up early to clear out. Barking dogs, loud generators, flies and mosquito attacks have us making record short time packing up.
It will be a long drive, up most of the length of Vermont, today. State Route #7 goes slow through little towns filled with charm. It will be great to take refuge at Coventry Naturist Resort, later this afternoon.
We’re going to try our hand at the resort’s nude 5k run tomorrow.
I’ve heard that Coventry dates way back. It is one of my goals during this trip to visit a classic New England naturist resort. I’m curious to get a better idea of what the environment was like, that the early nudists were attracted to.
The Free Range Naturist 