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Why Oh Why? “Never?” “Uh-uh.” “Not once?” “Nope.” “Ah yes. Now how about today?” I smiled. Where I come from it’s taboo. It’s labeled as a counter-culture; a flower child, a hippie, a youth in the presence of a rebellious act. Those who do could easily be looked down upon, or they easily could not. But by any means, it is universally restricted with only a few designated, well fenced-off and signposted locales often deeply out of view over the edge of a cliff or down at the entrance of a wild gorge.

Nude Camping and The Stories of a Newfound Nudist

Camron Karsten
2006-10-07 13:21:15

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environment. Around the three of us, scattered about the sun-beaten sand outside the walls of shade under the cypress tree, bodies were everywhere. They were in their full like the island’s spring wildflowers, like full ripe watermelons, like garden fences in bloom with a rich array of bougainvillea, like imported mangos and pineapples smelling sumptuously sweet in the pantry’s darkness, like the sun overhead and the day’s budding experience.
“Ten languages,” I repeated, catching a barely conscious feeling of true envy. Presently, the scene before me overtook it.
Large, small, thin, fat—your average, lack-luster descriptions. But the more I observed the more resolute they became—distinct and unique to the individual. Rotund, sleek, timid, boisterous, profound, perky, ballistic missile, kempt and unkempt, Rosetta, hairy, beastly hairy, a gorilla, quaint, flabby, jaw-dropping, creased, stiff, free,
wilted, sagging, bald, elephantitis, reduction, slender, small and pitiful, youthful, firm, free and free again. The list, like the languages, rambled on in my head.
“So,” I began after chatting and allowing the eyes to wander, “Would you mind if I join you?”
An hour later I was back with my pack on my shoulders and clothes on my back.

And? The Return

“Ah yes,” Kirsten said. “Now how about today?”
Unpacked and pitched, I lingered near Kirsten’s tent. The meltemi winds blew, sending branches in a tango of heated tempo. Sand often flew horizontally. We shaded out faces and braced our loose possessions.
Kirsten recalled a story she heard on the news of a group of young children who were arrested in America. They were around the ages of five and during a hot summer’s day, the children discarded their clothing while playing in the sprinklers of their front lawn. Free, happy, youthful and full of innocence the kids frolicked until a police squadron pulled up and arrested the youths. They all went to prison.
“Is this true?” she ruefully questioned, looking to me for relief.
“No. No way. It’s not

Tough fishing locale

that bad. Young kids run naked all over the beaches, especially in their own yards.” I remembered when I was young running in the nude, uncaring, feeling the freshness of a breeze combing the whole fleshy body, like bathing in a bath. It’s a weightlessness and a freedom. I presently thought back to the older gent on his freedom swim and those around us, basking—free; swimming—free. That feeling never left me, ingrained deep in a personality returning to that youthful freedom. I am here today thanks to this.

The next thing I knew, all off with the clothes! The robes, the shorts, the shirts, the bikinis, the bras, the socks, sandals, the underwear and boxer briefs—the piles in the sand! No more. Kirsten walked by me, as I lay wet in the sand after dipping luxuriantly in the Libyan Sea. “So, that was it? You didn’t even have to think about it?”

“They say, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans.’ I’m on a nudist beach. Do as the nudists.” It felt good. I was home with my fellow freedom-seekers. She left and returned to the shade of the cypress, leaving me be with the others basking in skin, sun and sand.

With a beach full of naked people, there is nothing to worry over. People are about as exposed with all their physical qualities as one can be. I recall the list...And what’s funny, as I forget the number of hours and days passed upon this nude beach, my tent hidden under the shade within quick leaping footsteps across the sizzling sand, at last I have found a place where it feels normal to be in the nude and where it feels funny to be clothed. Indeed, a return to youthfulness. Thank you fellow nudists! And may we camp together forever! HA!