Posts Tagged With: nude Utah

10 Years!

It’s the anniversary. I started this website 10 years ago with one hundred and eight of my previous trip reports from a deleted forum that I participated in. I spruced them up and published them here and added new as our nude life unfolded. There are now hundreds of newer posts. So, where do we go from here?

I still have several reports from our Utah trip last year. I now have even more from the month that we recently spent in Utah this year. We just returned home Saturday. There are stories of trips and trails in Arizona that we have been to between the longer jaunts and before. I have several thoughts and articles that are drafts, which have been sitting around. So, there are already months of The Free Range Naturist.org material to share with readers.

A Morning on Mars

The visitors to the website are consistently arriving in higher numbers. Thank-you, we’re glad people are enjoying our content. We hope many are being inspired and getting about naturally.

So, I mentioned that we just returned this Saturday from Utah. Apparently my scheduled content has worked out. There are still a couple more to come, pre-posted, if we had returned home any later.

We arrived a few weeks later this year and were hit by the heat that comes at that time of year in the desert and by smoke from a fire west of Bryce National Park. This fire burned for the entire journey, as we traveled north away from it. We were still affected by the smoke into higher cooler elevations and the travels back.

We did manage to get into a fun Utah slot canyon and had a major part of Goblin State Park all to ourselves in spite of the desert heat. We visited mountain trails nude in places with names like Hell’s Backbone.

We camped and climbed at nearly 11.000 feet at a Lost Creek in the height of a super bloom.

We visited with friends and made new ones in beautiful Torrey near Capital Reef National Park.

We found freedom while overlooking grand vistas, including the Grand Canyon’s North Rim. Sadly, we had lunch in the impressive 90 year old wood timber grand lodge there, just two days before it burnt to the ground. Our remote ideal nude campsite and trails were isolated from news and we escaped unwittingly, 30 hours after the evacuation of the entire North Rim had happened. We were just in time. The forest was seen burning less than two miles down the road in the other direction, as we headed east through thick smoke and the odd light given by a dark orange mid-day sun.

Despite the sad drawbacks, we had several delightful adventures to share and share we shall, as time goes on, here at the TheFreeRangeNaturist.org.

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.

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Drive to Lake Powell

Bears Ears XXXI

2024-06-03

We have a tip that a good stay might be White Canyon or Farley Canyon, which are out and off of the highway to Lake Powell. The distance is just far enough to risk the drive and still get back, if things don’t work out. The dice rolled, we’ll see if adventure is afoot.

The drive reveals a vast darker red landscape of buttes and occasional hoodoos.  It is desolate. The burgundy soil yields only a green plant only every several feet in contrasting greens.

There are a few landmarks.  Jacobs chair is falsely identified by us and then a even more obvious mammoth statue peeks out behind a distant hill. As the road passes, the naked monolithic peak is revealed. A broken butte, a gargantuan chair fit for a gigantic king, or a maybe a God.

The road is lonely.  Very few cars, maybe five in total pass us. Lone compadres on a lonely Mars-like planet wave back shared humanity. A pack of three motorcycles, roar freely across “America.” Easy rider custom Harleys replaced by outfitted Japanese cycles and awaiting hotel rooms. 

Down a long long hill, a spot in the road becomes a lone sit-on bicycle. It has small flag to remind fellow voyagers that they are not the only ones out here and to watch out. It is slow going for the pedalist up the seemingly endless hill, then two more are seen climbing the same incline.

When we cross a bridge over the Colorado River canyon, we know that we have come too far and missed our turnoff. I turn the SUV around and we slowly go back across the old steel bridge, looking down into the depth of the canyon below.

Heavy rains are welcome down in thirsty Arizona, Nevada and the California farms. We can see light rain fall from threatening clouds in the distance, but it doesn’t appear to be making the descent to the ground, only misty trails hang out of the cloud’s base. There is still a chance that this could build up and roaring  thunder storms could change all of this. The dammed Lake Powell we’ve read is at pitifully low levels.

We find the turnoff on the way back. There are signs this way, but none coming from the other direction. We now know how we missed our turn. The turnoffs are all just dusty little dirt roads through a parched desert. We are trying for Farley Boat Landing.  At the end of this graded dirty trail there are facilities and offered camping, but there is no longer water in sight! Water is nowhere for miles! It is all closed down. We get out. Might we go ahead and camp here anyway? It appears that it could be all ours, a nude campground.

 Facilities

We wander across the sandy fields of a former time.

There is a serine spiritual sense to this place. We decide to wander with only cameras in hand. Naked, we feel this place. There is a special flow of form, the still quiet, the sense of the infinity and mystery, even hidden presences. There is solitude and safety in the bare world’s order and our skin reflects that, an interface.

Someone had collected various “special” rocks and laid them in a circle on a hill. They felt this sense too.

There is overcast, rain is falling but not meeting the ground, but for a handful of pleasant drops on bare shoulders, refreshing, sparse, a polite tap to remind us how special it is to walk in the these bodies in the world, as generations through millennia. “I felt two. No, three, now.”

She has yet to be hit, and then reports two for herself. We have no forecast far out here on this dry boat launch, no cell phone, no weather report, just sight, speculation and luck.

We consider that it will likely be hot here tomorrow and decide to camp closer to tomorrows hike. The trail to the legendary House of Fire and then off the beaten path into the canyon passed it.

Got to be Sacred Space!

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.

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Bridges National Monument

Bears Ears XXX

2024-06-03

I awaken to sunrise, calm, peaceful, I feel the dawning in the world around me. The alarm goes off at 7am, but I’m already alert and out of bed, I pack up camp. Not an ordeal today, just a routine in an orderly system. We take fresh morning air, stretch and eat, then we leave around 10am.

I check at the ranger station asking about any need of permits. None are needed. There’s an okay for fires in the mountains. No restrictions, no problem. They know nothing of the dead calf that we found up the road yesterday afternoon. We tell them about the illegal artifacts at our previous campsite. They’re concerned and take notes. Something with the word “Tortolita” comes up as DF and I browse maps. The Forester perks up. It’s a small world. We have a common friend in Tortolita.

Down the road the road-kill calf is gone and so is its grieving mom. Sad, yet it is good to know that things continue.

We’re off to the canyon park loop drive in Bridges National Monument. I pull up to the Visitor Center hoping for better details.  I’m surprised that the facility is closed so close to Memorial Day. I peak into the window at the dark lobby. In the reflection, the parking lot is empty behind me. Might as well stay undressed! I’d been told that I’d get free wifi at the front door, but nothing comes out of the ethers there. The toilet rooms are open and clean. It feels liberating and comfortable, but a bit extra naked, wandering around a public area like that nude.

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This Month

This month, we’re going on a tour of a yet undecided series of pieces of American nature, we shall be very busy being au naturel, bare, bottomless, disrobed, mother-naked, nude, raw, starkers [chiefly British], stripped, unclad, unclothed, undressed, in the altogether (or the buff, or the nude, or one’s birthday suit, or the raw) and gloriously stark naked.

Thought We’d Try Mars!

Unappareled (or naturally appareled), unattired, unclad, unclothed, ungarbed, invested, disrobed, suited, bare, naked, nude, stripped, denuded, peeled, unveiled, uncovered, wholly not veiled, arrayed merely and merrily in the sunlight and such under the moon and stars.

Unadorned, but not caparisoned to decked out, rigged out, or tricked out, not vested, we shall strive to be decent, exposed, unabashedly displayed, revealed, disrobed, unprotected, unadorned, undecorated, unembellished, unornamented, earthy, elemental, homey, natural, honest, modest and unpretentious.  Being cleaned, austere, Spartan, stark, minimalism shall allow us to immerse in our habitats.  Our moments shall nearly always be properly unbedecked, improperly attired (or properly attired?), bare, bared, bare-skinned, unconcealed and relishing every place in every moment without a stitch.

We shall be roving, meandering, roaming, nomadic, errant, drifting, traveling, straying, itinerant, rambling, trekking, and prowling; drifting, in a gadabout, gypsy, knockabout, nomadic way. We’ll be nakedly vagabond wanderers. We shall be Free Range Naturists!

I have several scheduled posts lined up for continuity while we are gone. Some tales shorter, some long, will be peppered amongst a series of thoughtful shorts. I hope that they entertain, until we return with a host of new tales to add to our list of the yet published.

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.

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Fish and Owl: Bears Ears XXIX

2024-06-02

I’m continuing our series into Bears Ears National Monument in southeastern Utah. We’re looking for places to bivouac, set up camps near destinations and then get earlier starts on hikes.

We couldn’t leave our last camp soon enough because of gnats and the afternoon heat.  The harsh part of Summer isn’t far off. The plan is to situate in higher elevations and the better weather, climbing to suit our lack of suits. We’ll need a place to stay to get an early start near a trailhead, which leads to a ruin that we intend to explore.

A camping spot is found near a very fun old wooden bridge.

The solid old conveyance is filled with character, there are trees for shade and a dry creeks ambiance, maybe cool air will flow down the wash as evening passes.

The spot should suit our needs, but now we need another spot in proximity to Bridges National Park, our hike for the morning. Fish and Owl sounds like a good spot. There is a Ranger Station nearby. Our information is sparse at this point and they will help.

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Monarch

Bears Ears XXVIII

2024-05-31

We’re here in Bears Ears National Monument in southeastern Utah. We have backtracked to Monarch, where we think the Monarch Canyon trail is, after getting misdirected and lost.

An old peaceful looking, Santa appearance of a guy is walking down the two track road with a tall Gandalf-like walking stick. Perhaps Santa is on vacation. He smiles and affirms that we are in the correct spot.

At the trailhead, the off duty wizard has a fun little trailer with a generator humming.

We stop for lunch. While we munch, the New Mexican couple show up. We’re glad that they are not still wandering lost. They comment on the two oddly placed pieces of wood that showed us the way out. They too are grateful. (See the previous post: “LOST Looking for Monarch”)

We slip down the steep sandy slope which walls the riparian area where called the Comb Wash flows.

We let them go ahead, so we can follow at a distance nude. We will take our time and make more distance from them, as we go along and better savor the trail.

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LOST Looking for Monarch

Bears Ears XXVII

2024-05-31

Well, sometimes ya get into a skunk of a mess….

We are looking for one of “the Combs” canyons in Southeastern Utah.  This one leads up into the grand Monarch Ruins.

We are not sure today. We have notes and a rough drawn map with some mileage written on it. I have done the math to reverse that mileage, as we came from the other direction. The Buttler Wash Road is just a graded dirt route, not even a good place to take a motorhome, or low sedan. There are several side unmarked two track jeep trails branching off of it. They generally head toward the Comb Ridge, where a significant landmark, or at least a canyon can be seen in the distance. Today, we’re not so sure, but we’ll try the most likely candidate, by my reckoning.

When we arrive at the end of this dirt road, there is no apparent trailhead, but as we are eating a lunch snack, a couple with New Mexico plates pulls up in another slot in the overgrown desert bushes. We slip on some coverings and casually stroll over to ask them if their information shows this as the way to Monarch. They give the affirmative. We are encouraged, but in the back of my mind, I can’t see that they have any resources better than ours. They are going off of an internet website on a cell phone. None the less, we decide to tag along, safe in numbers.

They think that a trail down a steep slippery sandy slope is the route. I’ve seen these slots in the sand made by cattle and have doubts, yet we will allow ourselves to defer to them. They seem to know where they are.

I get more doubts at the bottom of this 20 ft. drop-off. The trail is like a tunnel through the thickets.

When I start to have to bend over, it gets suspiciously like a cattle trail, just at about a cows back’s height. Still, this is better than any route that we have found, so far.

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Pillow Rocks

Bears Ears XXVI

2024-06-02

We’re in Southeastern Utah, camped out near the Butler Wash, alone and free.

The sand around camp is cool and refreshing on bare feet. Soles meet mat-like substrata. Sound and wind is dead still. The Sun is still behind a hill to the east. The light of dawn tells us that the golden glow is nearly ready to burst out, as it rises. In time, there is a slight breeze, a push by the new warmer air, a micro-warm front. I hear the cottonwood trees rustle lightly. Across the valley, the barren ridge is taking on the luminescent colors of the sky.

Then I notice that rumble in the air in the distance. Will it build, or will it occur and go away. I decide to let the mind quiet. With that exercise, the wind also quiets, once again. I smile at a little voice inside, “Purr-fect.”

Last evening, we took a walk to see where this road leads. It brought us to a surreal landscape on the ridge on top of the cliff to the south of camp. On the way, we saw some other unusual geology on the side of the road and later, from above, it became evident that that was a part of a field of other different unusual forms.

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Surreal Mystery

Bears Ears XXV

2024-06-01

We had been up early, hiked the canyon and visited the Fish Mouth cave and ruins, here in southeastern Utah. Visiting the ruins was enriching. Afterwards, we spent the heat of the day, relaxing and resting from our excursions.

The afternoon was spent listening to the sound of insects, while we rested and waited for the air to cool off again. The sun has been getting more and more uncomfortable in the afternoon. The desert is getting hotter. Without clothing, this warmth feels good, but as the seasons change, it will become to feel like too much of a good thing.

We now know that this being comfortably naked in the heat of the day won’t last long, because the Weather Service says that it will get hotter Thursday.

When the time comes, before dinner, we have decided to explore the area around camp and the road behind us. For miles around, there are no other people. None have been seen driving on the so called main road, all afternoon. It is a desolate looking conveyance which dips so much that it is a motor homes nightmare. There are pockets of deep dust that would swallow the tires of a conventional sedan.

Main Road

We are around a half mile back on a tributary to that that appears to go to nowhere in particular. There is no concern to keep nearby cover-ups around, let alone any clothing. We can go for an unburdened walk as far as we care without concerns.

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The Actual Fish Mouth: Pt.2

Bears Ears XXIV

2024-05-31

We are on a hike, exploring ruins and the cave in Fish Mouth Canyon in Bears Ears National Monument in southeastern Utah. Part 1 is here:

The Actual Fish Mouth

We have arrived at the second ruin site of the hike and it looks extensive. Among it, there are a series of granaries in a different style of construction. 

Smoke soot blackens the ceiling of the overhang that has sheltered these communities’ efforts since the beginning.

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