I wrote this article/story for a recent issue of “N” magazine, the quarterly for The Naturist Society Foundation.
Life Among the Killer Bees
What seems so many years ago, the news carried frightful stories of “KILLER BEES!” We braced for the dangerous, murderous, aggressive immigrants invading our borders from the south. The product of a South American lab experiment gone awry in 1957, it would be only a matter of time when these fearsome bees would destroy our native populations and their natural diversity. No one, especially our children, would be safe outside. There was fear.
In those years, I lived peacefully in my quiet strawbale house in the beautiful desert foothills of the Tortolita Mountains, near Tucson. Daily, I walked out my door to wander nude, observing the seasonal changes, in bliss or meditative appreciation, out into the pristine 80 acres of neighboring hills and mountains.
…There is a disappointing discovery. DF confesses a tragic mistake. She has forgotten the chocolate! Alarm, disbelief, the signs of grief engulfs our mood, “No! Not the chocolate!”
Our traditional savory dessert, snack, treat, will be missed. Everything is better nude and the same may be true of dark chocolate, but since the damage is done, we will just accept that. There are plenty of other blessings. The moment is simply and completely, lovely. I’m tempted to shout out, “tar-rad-ged-dee,” but my tongue is stuck hard in my cheek.
We have a chore before breakfast, to filter water. I didn’t check the water filter before we left, and discover that it is clogged. This is a very serious threatening issue! We can only boil water and there is but one small fuel canister. Clean pure water is quite a hassle when boiled with a campfire, when our only pot is a small titanium vessel. For us to have assuredly safe water for our return hike, this old school method just will have to be utilized…but, not now, later.
The article “Ultralight Path, which I published here on November 8th, 2024, was first published in “N” magazine, a couple of months previous. As we sat reading and browsing through the magazine’s pages, we saw the images of ourselves as sort of the poster children for naturist backpacking. A revelation then hit hard; we realized that we hadn’t been actually out backpacking in a couple of years! We felt a bit hypocritical. We have been four wheeling into day hiking situations and luxuriating at the hot springs mostly. Taking in our own sales pitch, we realized that we were missing something, too.
When our planned trip into the Blue River region got delayed, an apparent solution presented itself to us. On our hiking bucket list, was the re-exploration of the Lemon Pools on Mt. Lemon. Our last visit ended the day before the entire mountain went up in flames, back in 2020. We have been reluctant to go back because of the chance of having our hearts broken by the sight of the destruction.
Last year, looking down from above and into that valley, it had looked mostly untouched. It has been about four years and we figured that the dense brush should have had a chance to return…
…The first ten minutes are a steeper slope up at around 8700 feet through Marshall Gulch. I’m feeling that I have a challenge in front of me. We’re in thin air and haven’t had this size of a bulk to carry in a while. I’m beginning to feel out of breath. When I inquire about DF, she mentions that she is feeling a bit “wobbly” with her pack.
As we walk, our bodies are illuminated by the dominate reflected colors.
I snap photos as yellow and then pink light make our skin change its hew. In amongst the cover of a group of young trees we pass through a room of lavender and stop. There is a still warm air in here, and a scent identifying the local species. It is a unique space.
Politics create grief, sad, anger, anger, sad. We have been struggling. We needed a break, if not the cure, which is to get naked and get bowled over by nature. We needed to find what is immediate, get away to “it” and find perspective. It just so happened that in the Fall, leaf changes are happening and we had set aside the time to re-experience that splendor months ago.
These photos tend to speak for themselves. Instead of a more usual story with pics, this may be more pics with a story. I’ll often just pepper this short story with photos in a mostly random manner….
The last issue of “N” magazine had a couple of articles in it authored by me. This is one. I’m adding several extra illustrative photos that weren’t in the magazine:
I have a friend that produced a video documenting 69 different arrangements for wearing sarongs. As clothing, they can be elegant or practical.
Borrowing a phrase, “But wait, there’s more!” I use mine as a multi-use addition to my ultralight backpacking and nude hiking outfits. It is a constant companion. It may not slice, or dice, but probably can give duct tape a run for its money as an all-purpose problem solution. The following is a short list.
A sarong is light and folds up into nothing, so it’s easily packed out of the way. It is often all the clothing that I need, and I can wrap it around my waist as I get from the trailhead parking out into the sticks. When hiking nude, if the need comes, it is a quick cover-up. It can be a covering for a female hiker, too.
The last issue of “N” magazine had a couple of articles in it authored by me. This is one. I’m adding several extra illustrative photos that weren’t in the magazine, here.
An Ultralight Path for Nude Hiking
Defined as two naturists, DF and I love to immerse ourselves in nature, our bodies as naked as possible. We value the added sensual exploration and awareness, the oneness, the spiritual augmentation, and the liberating sense of freedom. I like to experience the body’s natural instincts, the way it steps and climbs in so many ways, and across the seemingly infinite myriad of nature’s make up.
Several years ago, we began hiking the deserts and forests of Arizona nude. There was a period of inhibition and fear. We walked with wraps in hand, shuffling for cover when someone approached. In stealth, fully listening, we smuggled our naked bodies through uncertain terrain. We got more comfortable as time brought more experience and through our dialog with similar-thinking people. Realistically, on the trail, one to four oddballs out of one hundred encounters may object. Personally, we have had more people inquire and then spontaneously join our nudity than give us dirty looks. We comport as ourselves and others act similarly.
We also, found a plethora of options and strategies to have an abundance of natural treasures all to our clothes-free selves. We started by hiking further. I bought a four-wheel-drive, and we were able to drive and camp away from people, and to then walk further into unencumbered natural states.
We became more enthusiastic with what we were experiencing, realizing health benefits both mental and physical. The more we hiked, the more the passion for being nude amongst nature captured us. We began to discover more of what was hidden in the wilds, and thirsted for it. We felt overwhelmingly blessed, standing naked in the middle of the astounding and awesome.
The monsoon has been different, coming out of a drought, odd weather patterns and lastly some late spinoff from a couple of Mexican hurricanes. The desert is now back to green, especially the last couple of weeks, so we have decided to see what these rains have created for us up in my Tortolita hills.
We take off in the truck Saturday morning through the neighborhood, sitting on our clothing, a sundress for DF and a bath wrap for me.
We drive as far as we now can and park in front of a new gate.
We begin our walk, me with wrap in hand and DF with the dress hanging on her waist, just in case. It is a relatively short trip to the wash that we have decided to explore, just a couple of football fields uphill. We will be less likely to see others up the wash except a possibility of local neighbors.
It is looking very beautiful.
This is a story to pay homage to the desert flowers of the monsoon season. I don’t know if I have mentioned this before, but DF is a trail name. It stands for Desert Flower. She deserves some homage, too.
I have a special spot. It is not well known, nor frequented. Its access is easy. It is comfortable, trees tower above, grass and mountain flowers carpet the ground among pine needles.
I make sure not to make tracks, or develop a trail. I make sure to not let anyone on the highway see me enter the forest. Sure people find it, there is actually a path worn through it.
It is very pleasant to open sleepy eyes to overhead gnarly oak trees above my head. The overcast that has been clinging to these high mountains has melted away. I remember the full moonlight from the night before. A grey moonlight, that I thought might keep me awake, didn’t stand a chance after such an active day on the trail and climbing around through and over the plethora of rock formations. DF lies beside me. I turn my head as she turns hers. Her eyes are peaceful.
The waterfall sound of the creek rushing through the boulders, washing away its channel through the Earth continues on. A few birds call out. A turtle dove, or “tortolita” coos. Nothing wrong here. We stretch.
I’d forgotten the foam mattresses, which keep the air mattresses from sliding, but we agree that we slept well, even though not tight spoons as usual. We’re ready for a wonderful day, a celebration of life, a birthday. The sun is nearly exactly where it was the day that I was born. This old tree is shading us today.
We are thinking about heading back today. We have put off the decision and brought extra food, just in case. We are feeling the effects of our first backpack foray of the year, a groan here and there. The day and circumstance are beautiful. We would have to leave early to make the 4:30 shuttle, or walk another four miles on pavement. We have appointments the following day and would have to get up and away early….
I ask myself, how would I like to spend my birthday? Pushing a timetable, or making the most of now and putting strife aside?
The Free Range Naturist 