Posts Tagged With: the free range naturist

2020 Zipolite: Natures Dance

Feb. 2020

 

Nature’s Dance:

Great angular blocks, layers and deposits form jagged cliff sides. Beyond, a tunnel has taken several millennia of carving with the pressures of a funnel to create. Waves of white foam wash through at high tide, torrential and potent, but they are slow, very slow to make a mark.

Among the dark wet rocks are chutes and whirlpools. Great waves are constantly changing their intensity, their track and their tack.

Submerged rocks can be clearly seen, exposed by a tidal current and then again, under masses of foam and crystal assure blue.

We wander down the beach in among the daily ritual of sunset, the rolling crests of foam form their pipe-like tunnels. Soon, they will be streaking across the deep shadows, making their own glow in the din with the moonlight and stars. Tonight, the lights of the Hotel Nude will provide a yellow hue, creating golden waves in black waters reflecting diamonds in dark skies.

Still endlessly hitting those cliffs and outcroppings, those chutes of water pound and thunder. Sometimes, they fan out, spraying higher than the spouts of great whales. A salty cloud of mist forms and we see it float to the sandy beach.

Where a rock sits exposed, launched by the power of a wave, grand fountains shoot high in remarkable swirls and twists.

They scatter and then return to the soft more quiet brine, now in their time, they are stretched out below.

We stand in the back splash from a resting power that has been spent on an assault at the sandy shore. Again and again, we hear thunder and power as nature plays and dances.

Drumming His Prayer

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A Sunday Drive

2019-09-29

 

Back in the day, there was a national pastime called the Sunday Drive. The big three would have billboards advertising a well-dressed family, just out of church, cruising in one of their tail-finned shinny chromed sedans. Gas was cheap, life was looking up.

It’s Sunday and we’re going on a picnic cruise down through Baja Arizona along the west side of the Huachuca Mountains. Our ride is a tight little Honda Civic, not a historic floating boat from yesteryear.

We’re just down the road and it’s about 11am. I’ve been sick and felt pretty bad the night before. There is no telling what this will bring to me today, but…I’m stir crazy and determined.

We grab some eats from Trader Joe’s. With DF at the wheel, I get undressed, as we head out of town. I tell DF of my notion of the obvious, “Everything, even sick, can feel just a bit better when the clothing comes off.” Naked and making myself at home distracts from my insides and brings my attention to my outsides.

We take the winding scenic drive down through to Sonoita. On the map it is just a small black spot at a crossroads of lines. It is charming all along here. Its rolling hills are hosting vineyards and white board fences more and more, as the years go by. It feels kind of like a drive through gentrified California countryside.

The grasses are green and the trees small. Every so often, a stream crosses the road and there is usually a taller shade tree at its side.

Down further, California turns to Kansas. Straight dirt roads go to the horizon.

Today, the sunflowers are as high as the speed limit signs. If we were in Kansas, they would say that the snow this winter will be as high as the sunflowers, but this is Arizona. It doesn’t work like that here.

One inviting hacienda on its acreage gives over to the next. Continue reading

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2020 Zipolite: A hike in Cometa Preserve

2020-02-25

 

We’re in Zipolite Oaxaca, Mexico

Dawn…it’s colored peach again.

We meet our neighbor from the next room next door. He has offered us a tour of what he describes as a particularly special place, to him. He guarantees that we will thank him profusely, once we make our visit.

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2020 Zipolite #7 : A Romantic Dinner

2020-02-25

 

We’re in Zipolite, Oaxaca, Mexico.

DF and I spend the early afternoon in our quarters, sleeping and listening to the pound of the waves on the beach.  After siesta, we take care of our bills and slip on some light clothing, she a thin dress and me a sarong. We plan to have a snack and walk nude on the beach for sunset.

We stop at a familiar restaurant. It is still too early to open. We’ll come back later. A block up the street there is another place that we know. We have a torta filled with baked veggies together.

We snap a few pictures along the way and then take the first alley to the beach, stopping at the end to disrobe. It is liberation to drop all and wander out onto the public beach. We pass a few kindred souls. Dogs play, frisbees are passed and soccer balls bounce. Everyone has an activity.

The ocean sneaks up on us a couple of times and recedes, leaving the bubbling tiny holes of crabs. We take opportunities to capture photos of the sunset and our joy.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. We’ll know when we get there. As far as we can, I guess.”

The sentiment is returned. We stroll off free ranging naked hand in hand.

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2020 Zipolite #2: Look Ma, No Hands!

There I was no sh…

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2020 Zipolite #1: A Morning in Zipolite

I have been away. I have been on a beach writing. I have much to catch up with. The stories of Zipolite will not come at a usual pace, and most will not read like my more familiar “Trip Report” format. I’ll probably just use the material like salt and pepper sprinkled into my list of other free range wanderings. This is the first, a haphazard #1, in a series.

At About Sunrise:

DF has run off to a yoga class with a new acquaintance. I don’t follow instructions well. Keep me out of a ballroom dancing class. I stay behind to my own devices.

I take my sarong down to that gentle slope which falls to the waves, where they hit the beach.

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Sonoita and South, Huachuca Mountains, Miller Canyon

2012 Monsoon Season

We’re reminiscing back to 2012. It was a maiden cruise in the 4×4 that I had just purchased. One thing that I didn’t have for this was my camera. DF’s camera bit the dust soon after we left. It had been acting up. The result had been a picture-less report. I recently pieced together some illustrations and…better late than never:

 

DF and I are waking up at her place on an open calendar Saturday. Lying in bed looking out the window at blue skies and sunshine, I just feels right, “What the heck, Let’s just spontaneously go down to your old a stomping grounds in the Huachuca Mountains. Down there are some spots I haven’t visited in twenty or thirty years and some areas where we have never been.”

We now have this 4×4 truck, so there is no stopping us. We pack up some food, tank up and everything else happens to be all ready to go. I don’t have any clothes, but the “needing to take special care for” light colored ones, that I wore when going out and dancing last night. BUT then, if we play it right, we aren’t going to need clothes anyway. I do have my leather huaraches. That’s good, Arizona can be rough on bare feet.

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The Verde Hot Springs

2019-09-16

Our destination is the ‘ol hot springs on the Verde River. The plan is to spend three days with a couple of side excursions into Fossil Creek’s sweet riparian area.

I am gambling, but thinking that odds are in my favor. After being extremely sick the week previous, I figure that I’m left with just a little recovery to deal with. The hot springs and subsequent skinny dipping in blue green waters in the mountains near here will be my healing.

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Verde Hot Springs: Back in the Day

We went down to the Verde Hot Springs a couple of months back. I thought that I’d first review a bit of history to warm up to that tale.

In the mid-nineteen seventies, we used to head up to Flagstaff on the weekends to party with Tucsonans at Northern Arizona University. You’d find me in a pearl snap stomper shirt, Levis and custom Stewart Boots.  I might be accessorized in a fun western hat and a buckle belt. I identified as something we referred to as a “cow-pee,” or “cow-pie,” a laughable contraction and pretty much a cross of a cowboy and a hippie. Please, refer to the “Outlaw” crew of Waylon, Willy and the boys. It was, I suppose, a thing in the day, even without associations with horses and cows.

Back in the Day

Skirts would fling high, as we spun with young women in the intricate entanglements dancing to the electrified local country swing music.

We were not being “naturists” per se. We were college aged. Our antics could be a tradition of a group shower with sometimes 6, or more, making a coordinated dance in a tub meant for one soaker. It was better than packing phone booths could ever be. It took a genuine team effort, a trust with a level of intimacy to make it work. Friends were having fun.

View from the Verde Hot Springs

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New Years Day 2014

We got a late start after a late New Years Eve…of course. When we began our drive up into the mountains, it was around noon plus thirty. The goal was to visit the petroglyphs that we had been to once before:

https://thefreerangenaturist.org/2017/09/08/in-search-of-tortolita-petroglyphs-a-trip-report/

It is winter time and the rattlesnakes are asleep with most of the local reptiles. We can bushwack, step over rocks and climb without fear of disturbing those fellows. The vegetation is more sparse and easier to see under and move around when naked. It is a time when I’ll survey the 55 saguaros that grow on my property and revisit terrain that is too dangerous at other times.

It sounded weird to us as the radio told us the date was in 2014. The reported temp on the radio was 66F downtown as we slowly plodded our way up the 4×4 trail, which has been severely eroded. We weren’t sure what to expect for wind-chill, but the forecast was eight miles per hour at most. To a delight, as we parked and exited the SUV, I was stunned by the absolute surreal silence about us and the warm sun on my nude body. We were in the heart of the Tortolitas.

As we ascended the mountains, a guy on a mountain bike had switched places with us twice, but he was soon going another way. The place was obviously all ours. We had been concerned because people’s New Years Day outdoor activities can detract from our elbow room.

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