We have been visiting/hiking the ‘ol walking trails in the Tortolita Mountains, northwest of Tucson, where I used to live. Now, we are going to investigate the strawbale home that I built and the destruction of habitat where my stealth trail and Havarock sat. Both near the spot that Javalina kept as a safe home. I know that a road and building pads have been introduced. I don’t know how extensive.
The series in this website“My Private Place for Naturism” is about my experiences in this place.
Most of you may realize that about two years ago, I moved back into Tucson proper from my desert home in the Tortolita Mountains. Today, DF and I went back for a visit and to hike into the mountains. We’re hoping that it will feel fresh for us.
It is mid- February, so the desert is just coming out of winter. However, thanks to climate change, today the higher 70F’s have hit with an absolutely cloudless sky. It is a perfect day in Tortoltila.
“I found being naked to be a humbling experience . . . There were no clothes that could make me feel like I was anything other than who I am: A being created by God, whose purpose is to find, and do, whatever He created me to do. . . Being naked isn’t a means of attaining inner peace. But: Being naked can direct a person towards the source of inner peace: God. . . What I will do, is allow the humility that being naked made me feel to direct my heart to the only one who can satisfy my deepest, most desperate desires. . . you’re not a freak or a pervert if you want to be naked. God meant for you to be naked. . . I see the desire to be naked as a desire to return to God — a desire to reclaim the relationship with God, the relationship with our fellow human beings, and the relationship with the world, that was lost as a result of Adam’s and Eve’s sin.”
There’s an initial shock to sitting down into the water with the contrast of the sun baked rock.
The body lays back, taking in the creek water and pressing up onto the warm smooth granite surface. This baked rock is under part of the body, but some of it is submerged in the cool stream.
A small whoosh makes itself noticed, as cool water and wet body meet and make their peace. They work together until comfort arrives.
Laying in the rise of a rock is a contrast. The sun’s above, but cool water is below and around. It laps at my waist. There’s a splash, just a tiny drop really and it’s cool. It tickles my belly and my chest. They are just other bodily spots coming alive in surprise, a pleasant surprise.
A part of my naturism is the act of being nude and natural in a natural environment. How might the consciousness of a person who lived in more primordial surroundings full time, take form? We have natural senses, more than our civilized living allows us. Nudity greatly helps to bring that out, allowing the exploration of the less encumbered life.
When I’m nude, a better sense of my surroundings is had. I see with my skin. I’m in the moment more. This is meditative. These are the skills of a hunter/gatherer, an observer. There is less mental clutter to get through in a more silenced wood or desert, instead of the alarm from traffic, sirens, and loud people with their distractions. It is no wonder that consciousness is fragmented. It’s like shuffling through a house buried in unknown clutter.
I’m out there not as just a nude, but a naturalist as well. I want to know what the beings of the natural world know and how they know it. I want to see wildlife, observe, smell, follow their lives by what they leave as clues in the greater puzzle. If I can see through their eyes, some of their awareness, as opportunity arises; there can be change in my own perception of the whole.
There are also those often reported experiences of animals showing less of it, or being without fear of the nude human. Be it smell, the look, the vibe, the way that nakedness moves, or what; animals often act more comfortable around a nude human. Perhaps, it appears a different species than the clothed one, who murders and takes so much.
(please, be sure to check the stories of Redington earlier in this month’s posts)
Today, there is much less water than just a few days before .
The thing about Redington Pass is that there is little norm here. The water doesn’t always flow. There are often times of drought, when only pools can be found, and then those times pools turn to puddles, when life clings on, waiting for the next rain.
We were expecting more water today, because last night there was a nasty storm on the east side of our valley out by Barb’s house. She told us that it was like a “hurricane” for hours. That’s just over the hill from where we stand.
We saw on the way here, that two familiar mesquite trees are uprooted. Sand is all over the roads where water was flooding. A concrete block wall was knocked over, creating a pond in someone’s enclosed backyard. Water rushed in, but couldn’t rush out, flooding like the entire backyard was a swimming pool.
Apparently, there was no storm here at the pass. There is no evidence of flooding.
We’re at Redington Pass again. The Monsoon is extra wet and we can’t resist this place. Today, we decide to take the high road to avoid the crowds and make better time toward the upper part of the flow.
The vegetation has grown thick here. So, having come nose to nose with rattlesnakes along here before, extra caution is taken. I wouldn’t want to disturb anyone’s daily beauty rest.
We descend the last tall steps into the bedrock bottom of the canyon.
There appears to be even more water since the rains last night. This place changes daily, when the rains come.
Off to the side of the main channel, a feeder stream is flowing with fresh rainwater. I try the little waterfall and sip a drink!
Another year’s gone by. It is another July anniversary of TheFreeRangeNaturist.org.
Seven years have rolled on since I got fed up and decided to take a stand about some issues of body freedom and started this website. Those seven years have documented highlights, passed on passing thoughts and accumulated bits of some kind of personal evolution.
I had notes from around 100 old stories at the start, which I had written for The Secret Naturist Society Forum. These had been mostly written during the previous seven years. I figured with that and a few new posts, I should run through a year, or two. I’d make my point and that would be that. Maybe I’d leave the result out there as a monument, or a “how to” book of free ranging liberation. Maybe, it could change a few lives, make them more. Maybe, it would take off, changing many lives. How would I know?
I soon found myself not only refurbishing those old posts, but DF and I were having a great deal of fun with the project. As time went on, our photography was improving and I was also seeing entertainment in my experiments in writing. Our frequent hiking/camping trips were being enhanced by the dimension of reporting our trips and people were enjoying the tales. Time went on; we looked back, looked around and looked forward. We saw memories, more fun and good living.
They say that one needs to use imagination to manifest something.
There has been drought. Now, a month, or more of excessive heat. Did I mention drought?
Last year, we arrived back in Tucson into the results of an historically wet monsoon. I remember those days. Our vacation seemed extended, by playing in the flow of the water in Redington Pass.
It’s time for monsoon again. It isn’t a consistent event, anymore. So maybe, it’s time to manifest this year’s fun by revisiting last year’s. Rain dance anyone?
Casually, we make the twenty miles, or so, to drive across town and the width of the Tucson Valley. The more urban Tucson fades into larger home lots and fewer strip malls. Tanque Verde Road begins its two lane up and down dips through the lush mesquite desert.
Fresh flowers from rains are abundant. Frequently, natural gardens appear where different species cluster.
The trail down into the canyon is surrounded by a verdant garden. The path has become overgrown. The gardens of flowers reach out to brush against our nude bodies. The color and variety is compelling. I have to stop along the way to admire it all.
The roar of the waters below us, echo up to our ears. Our sense of excitement grows.