The following stories are the personal writings of Jim Tighe {RiverNude} These writings are the property of Jim Tighe and The Nudist Life and are not to be used in any form to include copying, without permission, and no use of the photos.
My Naked Dream
Discovering The Freedom of Being Naturally Naked
By Jim Tighe, RiverNude
Many of us have experienced some type of “naked dream” at one or more times in life. Often, people tell of dreaming that they’re giving a speech to a large audience, shopping in a busy store, walking along a crowded sidewalk, or crossing a busy street, only to realize that they’re naked, while everyone else in the dream is fully clothed. I’ve had those kinds of dreams, too. For most people, discovering that they’re naked in the dream is a shocking and frightening idea. In their dreams, they usually panic and try to find a way to cover themselves or to run and hide. When I have dreams in which I’m naked, it always seems perfectly natural to me, and I just go about whatever I’m doing in the dream, without much thought about being naked.
When I was young, however, the idea of being naked didn’t seem so natural to me. Back then, I always had the impression that being naked was wrong, or shameful. Secretly, I sometimes experienced a desire to get out of my clothes and just be naked, but I always felt that my parents wouldn’t approve. Looking back now, I’m not sure that would have been the case…but that’s another story, for another time.
My childhood “naked dream” was a bit different, and it was a very persistently recurring dream. To set the scene of my dream, I’ll describe a central and favorite part of my young life, the school playground. When I first started having this dream, I was in my early grade school years, first and second grade. Our first through fourth grade classes were held in two identical buildings, one parallel to, and behind the other. First and second grade were held in one building, with two classrooms, each. Third and fourth were arranged the same, but in the building behind the lower grades’ building. Both buildings had large playgrounds in front of each building, with age-appropriately sized playground equipment on each. The playgrounds were mostly sandy, almost like a beach.
In my recurring dream, I was always on the first and second grade playground. There were two small buildings at the edges, one was used for storage, and the other was the music class building. Other than those buildings, the playground was open and unobstructed, with a clear view across the football field. Whether we were playing on the swings, slide, or monkey bars, or just running around playing some game, everyone was in view of everyone else.
In real life, I had lots of friends, and we all ran and played together. Recess, to us, was the reason to go to school in those years. There was never any feeling of exclusion, and I always felt perfectly comfortable interacting with everyone.
In my dream, I was always on the playground, totally naked. I was always sitting in the sand with my bare legs and feet spread out in front of me, leaning back with my hands on the sand slightly behind me. I always had sand piled over my lap and behind me, so that my “private parts” and my bare behind were covered and out of sight. My clothes were nowhere in sight, and they were never in the dream at all. In the dream, I never learned how I came to be naked, or how I had gotten to that spot in the middle of the playground and covered myself with the sand. Likewise, I never learned how I got out of that situation. For the entire dream, I sat there naked, watching my clothed friends run and play all around me. It felt awkward, because I was bare above my waist and from mid-thigh to my bare feet, and everyone knew that I was naked. Nobody ever said anything to me as I sat there, they just went about their play. It made me feel left out, because I couldn’t get up and go play with my friends. I just wanted to get up out of that sand and take off running after them, playing and having fun like they were, except that I’d be naked and they wouldn’t be. But I couldn’t do it…I had no choice but to sit there naked while they all had fun.
My naked playground dreams never moved to the third and fourth grade playground, but it continued for a long time, nonetheless. There were changes, in that I watched different friends doing different things each time. But my role never changed. I was always sitting naked, covered by sand, and unable to get up and play because I had no clothes.
Sometime later in life, around my early teen years, I began to act upon the occasional urges to get out of my clothes and be naked. I’d never heard of naturism, although I had heard a little about “nudist colonies”. I didn’t really know why, but I just wanted to get those clothes off and go do normal things. But, for a very long time, it seemed to me that I was the only person in the world that wanted to be naked while doing all the “normal” things in life. For that reason, I kept my naked adventures a secret from everyone else.
Some of my first naked experiences included going to the horse stable, hiding in the hay storage stall, and getting naked. Later, I remember being naked and sneaking out of the house in broad daylight to walk in the horse pasture. I still remember stepping naked through that barbed wire fence as my pony and horse watched. Standing there naked in the sunshine, petting them seemed so natural!
Soon, I started sneaking down to the lake late at night, getting undressed in the shadows of the dock and slipping into the water to skinny-dip. The first few times, I only swam around within the dock area. But before long, I was swimming naked across the cove to sit naked on the dock of an unoccupied weekend cabin. During one of these secret swims, I realized that under a full moon, my naked body was clearly visible, even under water. At first, that made me a little nervous, but soon I learned to enjoy being exposed by the full moon.
Over time, I gradually became more confident, and my nude adventures became better and better. My urge to be nude grew stronger as time went by, and I experienced more things without clothing. I was learning that being nude really was natural.
Discovering naturism and becoming more open about it has been a long journey for me, and I’ve enjoyed it immensely. Over time, I’ve learned that there are many people like me, who embrace the natural state of our bodies, and now I know that I’m not the only one.
Now, I am free of my old “naked dream”, and the dream has changed and come true. Now, I no longer sit naked in hiding while watching life go by in clothing. Now, I enjoy being nude among others, whether they are nude or clothed. I’m more open about my nudity and my body. Photos of me, naked and named, are posted on several internet social websites, and I’m happy to see them shared by others. Some people might be mortified to find themselves posted naked online by someone else. For me, finding out that someone has posted photos of me, totally naked and including my real name, is the ultimate compliment. The sand is no longer piled over me to hide my nakedness.
No longer forced to bury my nakedness in the sand, I am confident in being naked for everyone to see! Finally, I am free to get up from the sand and walk through life, naturally naked and unashamed in view of the whole world!
***Author’s note: By freely sharing my story, I hope to encourage others to discover the freedom of being naturally naked and unashamed! I’d be happy for you to share my story, my photos, and my name wherever you’d like! You can reach me at RiverNude@yahoo.com .
Jim Tighe
RiverNude
Anza-Borrego Afternoon Hike
08 November 2023
By: Jim Tighe, RiverNude
“Most of my wandering in the desert I've done alone. Not so much from choice as from necessity - I generally prefer to go into places where no one else wants to go. I find that in contemplating the natural world my pleasure is greater if there are not too many others contemplating it with me, at the same time.” – Edward Abbey (Desert Solitaire, 1968)
As an over-the-road truck driver, I am often blessed with opportunities to hike some pretty awesome places. Although my work situation doesn’t lend itself to long backpacking hikes, it does present some interesting shorter hikes that are often overlooked. While I don’t often find myself on popular trails, I often have the trail to myself. Many of these opportunities happen to occur on weekdays, further reducing the number of people on these trails. Happily, these factors often mean that I can hike nude in places that most wouldn’t think possible.
California’s Anza-Borrego Desert State Park is a beautiful and remote area, comprising over 600,000 acres of pristine desert wilderness. The park gets its name from the Spanish explorer Juan Batista de Anza and “Borrega”, a Spanish word for sheep. The area is home to the Peninsular Bighorn Sheep. Although the state park is not officially designated as being a nude hiking area, California’s Cahill Policy makes hiking nude in remote areas at least somewhat legally acceptable, as long as nobody is offended. To be “nude in public” does imply that the “public” needs to be present to witness the nude person. It’s pretty difficult to offend someone who isn’t there, after all.
Anza-Borrego is also home to the legendary Borrego Sandman, a white-furred relative of the Pacific Northwest’s Sasquatch and to Fouke, Arkansas’ Boggy Creek Monster. (Check out the 1972 movie “Legend of Boggy Creek”, which was filmed near my home.)
Having stayed at the DeAnza Springs Resort in the past, I’m fairly familiar with the southern reaches of Anza-Borrego. The resort is located near Jacumba Hot Springs, CA, adjacent to Interstate 8, and borders the southern-most part of the state park. It was a wonderful place to “base camp” while hiking nude into the state park. Until recently, the resort was the largest (land area) nudist resort in the U.S., but the new owners have recently deemed it a “clothing required” establishment.
A dis-used railway, known as the Carrizo Gorge Railroad, intersects Interstate 8, near Jacumba Hot Springs and the DeAnza Springs Resort. Although the railroad has existed for over a hundred years, it has been plagued with many tunnel collapses and other geographical difficulties, giving it the nickname of “The Impossible Railroad”. About seven rail miles north of I-8 is the Goat Canyon Trestle, which is the longest wooden railroad trestle in the world. The trestle was constructed to by-pass some of those collapsed tunnels. The railroad is also home to a mysterious “spook light”, which allegedly caused a fatal train crash between I-8 and Goat Canyon. This has given the railroad the additional moniker of “ghost railroad”. Like virtually all railroads, this one is private property, with signs to show it, and being on the railroad is technically trespassing. It’s likely that enforcement is primarily for the sake of liability protection for the railroad, and to discourage vandalism and theft. Many hikers and mountain bikers frequently travel the railroad despite the risk of the occasional fine. If you go, use your own judgement.
Returning from a trip to Anaheim, CA, I parked my truck at the little truck stop at Exit 73, the same exit as for DeAnza Springs and Jacumba Hot Springs. Carrizo Gorge Road hand-rails I-8 and ends at DeAnza Springs’ property boundary, where the private road begins. There’s a small parking area there, which shows up on Google Maps, although there have been reports of being ticketed for parking at this spot. DeAnza Springs used to allow parking for hikers inside the resort property, but I don’t know if that’s still the case with the new ownership.
The November afternoon was warm and sunny when I parked, with about three and a half hours left before official sunset. In desert canyon country, true sunset actually occurs when the sun hits the nearest ridge directly west of wherever you are, and there’s not really such a thing as “dusk”. It’s warm and sunny one minute, and then it’s dark and getting cooler fast. That’s one thing on a hot summer evening, but in November, that cool-down is a safety consideration. I knew there were far more miles available than I had daylight to hike, so I checked the clock and determined “bingo time”, the time when I had to turn back in order to reach the gravel road before dark. I intentionally left my headlamp in the truck, lest I be tempted to push my envelope. Besides my Vibram Five-Fingers shoes (VFFs) I wore only a Running Kilt and a sleeveless t-shirt and had no interest in hiking in the after daylight cold desert breeze. The minimal clothing was required for the mile and a half walk on the sand and gravel road before I reached the railroad. I could have hiked the road barefoot, but splintered crossties, jagged iron, and ballast rock of the railroad called for footwear.
Once I reached the resort boundary, I followed a dim trail leading west to the railroad, just 30 yards or so off the county road. Thirty yards of Sonoran chapparal will make one disappear fairly efficiently, so I felt very comfortable getting naked there, even though I was still so close to the road. The westbound overpass of Interstate 8, on the other hand, commands a clear and open view for a half mile northward along the railroad. Even though I would be within the view of the westbound traffic, I decided that was a round-trip mile that I was determined to hike nude. Removing the kilt and t-shirt, I stowed them securely inside my CamelBak and stepped onto the open railroad wearing only my VFFs, ball cap, and sunglasses, bare backside to the interstate traffic.
With the interstate traffic behind me, I started northward along the railroad. For most of the way, there are well-worn foot paths along one side of the track or the other. Walking on the cross-ties is an option, but that makes it difficult to maintain stride, and requires a lot of attention to where the next step needs to land. Of course, since almost every bit of flora and fauna in the Sonoran Desert has the potential to draw blood and possibly inject poison, knowing where your feet are is of utmost importance at all times.
The Carrizo Gorge Railroad has many wooden trestles that span everything from small dry washes to large, deep side canyons. Some of the trestles are in good condition, while others have missing and broken timbers, providing the kind of holes that make the more-seasoned among us think of Wile E. Coyote as he forlornly holds up his “Bye-bye!” sign and disappears into the canyon below. When Roadrunner comes by (and he will), keep your focus on what’s under your feet…and what isn’t.
Just past the northern boundary of DeAnza Springs Resort lies a rail siding where several double-decked passenger cars are parked. The cars have been there a long time, and have become something of a graffiti art show. Squaw Ridge is above and directly south of the siding, and is part of the DeAnza Springs property. There’s a trail along the ridge that offers a high-angle view of the cars. The trestle near the abandoned rail cars and siding crosses Lone Tiger Wash. Uphill to the east is Lone Tiger Falls, where the wash cascades down a series of falls before finding its way past the siding and under the trestle on its way to Carrizo Creek, a few hundred yards to the west of the railroad. DeAnza’s Squaw Ridge trail intersects with a couple of trails that cross Lone Tiger Wash, both above and below the falls.
Continuing northward along the railroad, I came to another dry wash. I didn’t know if this wash had a name, but I did know that there’s a north-south trail that crosses this wash and Lone Tiger Wash as it wanders from DeAnza Springs to a point further north on the railroad. On the north side of this wash is a short trail that winds uphill from the railroad and intersects that trail. To the west of the railroad, this same trail continues to an old railroad work camp. Reaching the trail, I left the railroad and hiked east and up the side of the ridge.
From the railroad, the trail switchbacks its way eastward and up the northern slope of the drainage I had just crossed on the railroad trestle. Although I enjoyed hiking along the railroad, this departure into the undeveloped and natural desert was much more pleasant. The trail climbs gently, with probably a 50- or 60-foot elevation gain over a quarter mile or so, until it intersects with the north-south trail. As the afternoon sun was getting lower, there was a noticeable difference in perceived temperature as I walked in and out of shaded areas. While the low-humidity desert air was still in the 60s (F) and felt good while I was walking and generating body heat, it was pleasing when I walked out of the shade and felt the sunshine on my bare skin again.
When I reached the trail’s intersection with the north-south trail, I came to sort of cairn, comprised of some stacked rocks and an old piece of scrap iron that appeared to be the face of a retired traffic light. Although I wasn’t certain of the origin of the iron piece, I was familiar with it as a trail marker, and was happy for the location confirmation that it provided. At this remote spot, I took the opportunity to enjoy the desert completely free of everything that wasn’t me for a little while. Removing my VFFs, CamelBak, ball cap, and sunglasses and placing them on the iron and rock trail marker, I savored the feeling of being totally naked and free in such a beautiful and rugged wilderness.
** A strong word of caution here: hiking without water in the desert is a risky endeavor. The only reasons that I was comfortable with leaving my CamelBak behind were that I knew the trail well, and I only intended to go as far as the wash, which I knew to be less than a quarter mile away, along a clear and gentle trail. Walking without clothing or shoes is one thing, walking without water is entirely another. If you don’t KNOW, don’t GO!!
Barefoot and totally naked, I started southward along the north-south trail toward the wash that I’d crossed on the railroad trestle. There’s something primal and oddly comforting about being in such an unforgiving and wild environment with absolutely nothing but one’s naked body. My bare feet moved silently along the trail as it gently switch-backed down the slope through Cholla, Yucca, mesquite and all the other desert vegetation, and between rock outcroppings and boulders. With no man-made things to betray my presence, I was able to pass within a few yards of a covey of Gambel’s Quail before they took flight. Even when they flew, they only went a few yards away before settling down again.
Where the trail intersected the dry wash, I turned eastward, or upstream along the wash. In that area, the slope of the wash is gentle, causing the occasional water flows to slow down and drop the sand and sediment they had been carrying. The bottom of the wash is thickly covered with a soft layer of coarse sand that eroded and washed downstream over years. Although water flows are infrequent and brief, the wash is still actually a riparian zone, with thick vegetation growing along its banks, roots penetrating deeply to reach water deep below the surface. Washes like this are also key routes of travel for wildlife, as they know that the vegetation offers shelter and food, and for the predators that seek the smaller wildlife. Some think of deserts as places devoid of life, but nothing could be further from the truth. Spending a few moments at my sandy destination, naked and alone, without the tools of modern mankind, gave me a true sense of being a member of the desert wildlife community.
Sadly, as the late afternoon sun neared the western ridgeline, I knew that I had reached “bingo time”, and that I had to return to what Edward Abbey referred to as “Syphillization”. Passing through the now-darkening areas in the shade of hills and rock formations, I was beginning to feel hints of the coming chill in the evening air, making the warmth of the soil and rock under my bare feet more apparent.
When I reached the trail intersection, I put on my VFFs and other gear and turned west toward the railroad and the setting sun. Instead of returning to the gravel road on the trail I’d used earlier, I decided to remain nude and continue under the interstate overpasses and around the curve of the railroad to a trail I’d seen earlier. That decision would put me in full view of both the west-bound and the east-bound interstate traffic, as well as parts of the gravel road as I walked naked along the track, but my desire to stay nude outweighed my concern about being seen. As I traveled along the railroad, I began to see rabbits coming out of the brush to start their nightly routine, taking their chances on being seen by a hungry raptor or a fox. That was one risk I didn’t have to consider as I walked so near the interstate and watched the cars and trucks driving past, knowing that some of those people were probably watching me…even if I was seen hiking naked, at least I wasn’t likely to be eaten by an interstate traveler.
Reluctantly, I put on my Running Kilt and t-shirt, bid adieu to the elusive Sandman, rail ghosts, and bighorn sheep, and moved quietly through the brush, back toward the gravel road and my truck as the last of the sunlight disappeared behind the western ridges.
Gold Prospecting in Deep Creek Canyon
By Jim Tighe, Rivernude
Through the San Bernardino National Forest of Southern California, Deep Creek
meanders its way from near Lake Arrowhead northward toward the Mojave River, near the
high desert town of Hesperia. Deep Creek’s cool, crystal clear water bubbles along gently during
the summer months, gurgling over granite boulders and silently caressing small beaches formed
of decomposed granite and sand. Cattails and cottonwood trees line its narrow shady riparian
oasis, contrasting boldly with the sunbaked high desert chaparral just steps above the creek
channel. Many small tributaries feed the creek during the area’s infrequent rainstorms, and
several geo-thermal springs bring pure mineral water to the surface, which ultimately finds its
way to Deep Creek. The most well-known of these springs is a group known as Deep Creek Hot
Springs. Winding along the creek, sometimes a few hundred feet above it, and occasionally,
along its banks, is the 2650-mile Pacific Crest Trail, which stretches from Mexico to Canada.
While I was stationed in California in 2009, I took every opportunity to hike Deep Creek
Canyon. Over several camping and hiking trips, I had hiked part of the Pacific Crest Trail, and
explored the canyon and the hot springs a few times. My step-off point was Bowen Ranch, a
privately owned property that borders the National Forest, about an hour’s hike from Deep
Creek Hot Springs. Undeveloped and wild, the ranch blends well with the surrounding
landscape, and provides a primitive camping area accessible by a winding dirt road, about
fifteen miles from Hesperia. The term “Forest” can seem a bit misleading, as the only trees in
most of the lower Deep Creek area are sparsely scattered Junipers and Joshua Trees. Still, the
area is ruggedly beautiful.
Parts of California are known for gold, typically found in and around creeks, and several
well-known gold prospecting streams lie within a short distance from Deep Creek. On previous
trips, I had seen a lot of Pyrite, also known as “Fool’s Gold,” along the creek bed. Pyrite and gold
often occur in the same areas. A friend that had done some gold prospecting told me that the
creek might be worth a try for gold and loaned me some books and a prospector’s pan. I
wanted to get away for the weekend and do some camping and hiking and thought it might be
fun to try something new, so I loaded my gear and went in search of California gold.
Before leaving my tent site, I made a check of my gear…three liters of water, food for
the day plus a little extra, knife, camera, shorts, etc. With my pack secure, I put on my socks,
boots, hat, and sunglasses, strapped on the pack and started for the trailhead. The morning was
sunny and already getting hot, but the air still felt good. I made my way down the trail from
Bowen Ranch to the junction with the National Forest Road, turned east for a couple hundred
yards, then back south on the trail to Deep Creek Hot Springs. From Bowen Ranch to Deep
Creek Hot Springs, the hike was about two and a half miles, losing around a thousand feet of
elevation as it twisted down to the creek. At times, the trail was like a maze between boulders,
with only a few yards of visibility along the trail. Other times, the trail clung to the steep
hillsides, with unlimited views for miles. Most of the trail bed was decomposed granite, but
there were a few places that I had to climb down short stretches of jagged rock. There was no
shade along the trail, other than an occasional bush that offered only enough shade for one
hiker and one rattlesnake. The sunshine and fresh air felt good on my skin, so I left the shade
for the snakes and continued on. About half the way from Bowen Ranch to where the trail
meets the creek, grand views of the canyon came into sight. Sparkling in the sunlight, Deep
Creek meandered five hundred feet below, its green ribbon of vegetation boldly defining the
creek’s path, its clear water reflecting the blue of the cloudless sky.
After about forty-five minutes of brisk but un-hurried hiking, I reached the little beach
where the trail meets Deep Creek, at the hot springs area. Across the creek and about fifty feet
above it was the Pacific Crest Trail. I planned to hike northbound along the PCT, but had to
cross Deep Creek to get there. There was no bridge at the crossing, so it was either rock-
hopping or waist-deep wading. With the temperature around a hundred, after the hike down,
the cool creek looked inviting. I took off my boots and socks and un-slung my pack, so I could
carry them all high enough to stay dry as I waded across the creek. Setting the boots and pack
down, I decided to take a break there, and cool off before hitting the trail again. The water was
so clear that I could see the bottom in the middle of the twenty-yard-wide creek. Small fish
darted around the rocks and grass along the water’s edge.
Looking at that water, I thought how wonderful it would feel to just get naked and
skinny-dip right there, with only the cool water and warm sunshine on my skin, then to drip dry
afterward in the desert sun with the warm breeze blowing across all of my skin. But I simply
could not get naked. There were several other people on both sides of the creek, swimming,
sunning on rocks, and soaking in man-made rock tubs filled by the hot spring water, but the
mountain creek beckoned to me, and my decision was made. The truth is the reason that I
could not “get naked” was because I already was naked. Taking off my hat and sunglasses, the
only things I still wore, I stood completely naked on the little beach, with the sun shining on
every inch of my body, in plain view of everyone there. Nobody cared. Some of them were
naked, too. Nudity is well accepted at Deep Creek Hot Springs, Bowen Ranch, and on the trail
between. In fact, I had been completely nude since arriving at the ranch two days before, and
had made the hike down to the creek wearing nothing but socks, boots, and hat.
Wading slowly into the creek, I savored the cool sensation of water on skin, letting my
body adjust gradually to the temperature as I got deeper. At the deepest point, standing waist-
deep in the middle of the creek, the gin-clear water did nothing to hide my nudity. Stretching
out, I swam slowly up and down the creek for a few minutes, letting the water flow over my
body with no clothing to interfere. Occasionally, I had to pause or change course to avoid
bumping into another swimmer. Some wore bathing suits or shorts; some wore nothing at all.
Many of those soaking in the tubs were nude, and both nude and clothed people mingled on
the rocks and beaches. After a few minutes, I waded back onto the beach to retrieve my gear.
After getting “dressed” again in my hat and sunglasses, I picked up my pack and boots, waded
across the creek and sat on a rock to put on my socks and boots. Strapping on my pack, I
started toward the Pacific Crest Trail. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt a little odd,
like a few people were staring at me as I walked up the hill. I guess I did look a little
odd…nobody else there had a prospector’s pan on their pack.
A couple miles northbound from Deep Creek Hot Springs there stands an arched bridge,
where the Pacific Crest Trail crosses the creek. After making my way down a long switch-back, I
crossed the bridge and explored some old rock walls and structures on the other side of the
creek.
Near the old rock wall and structures, the creek tumbled across a few small waterfalls.
The sound of the water gurgling over the series of falls, along with the cooling effect near the
flowing water, made for an excellent spot for a rest break.
After my rest break, I crossed back over the Pacific Crest Trail bridge and headed south
to try a little panning at a tiny tributary that I’d found a short distance from the bridge on my
way north.
Where the trail crossed the little stream, I turned and followed the water upstream to a
little glen, which had some shade, big flat rocks, and soft sand along the creek. Shedding
everything again, I sat down on a rock in the shade and dug in my pack for a granola bar and
Gatorade. After the snack, I stretched out on a huge boulder for a rest. The feeling of the place
was absolutely spiritual. The cool, rough texture of the ancient granite against my bare scalp,
back, butt, arms, legs, hands, and feet made me feel truly grounded to the natural world as the
breeze rustled the cottonwood leaves overhead and birds chattered in the brush. Off the main
trail, there was little chance of anyone interrupting this little slice of heaven, and I felt more
relaxed and natural than I had in a long time, lying there surrounded by nothing but what God
had created, as naturally as He had created me.
After my respite, I un-tied the gold pan from my pack to check out the settled sand and
grit below a few of the rocks in the tiny stream. I found some tiny frogs, aquatic insects, and a
few interesting rocks, but no gold. I really wasn’t disappointed. I looked at the sun, gauged the
hours of sunlight left and decided to move on.
Heading southbound along the Pacific Crest Trail, I passed from full sunshine to deep
shade as the hills blocked the direct sun. I soon reached Deep Creek Hot Springs again, and
veered off the trail, past the hot spring and beach area, and along the creek itself. About fifty
people were scattered along the little beaches, in the shade of the trees nearby, and around
the springs. As before, some were clothed and some were nude. I exchanged greetings with a
few as I passed through the group. Littered with small boulders, some of which had been rolled
over the years to rest where they sat until the next big flood moved them somewhere else, the
creek bank was a maze of vegetation and rock. Still, it was easily passable, even with bare skin
fully exposed. The decomposed granite was like coarse sand underfoot, and the trees and brush
made it feel cooler along the water’s edge. I stopped a short distance from the hot springs area,
far enough away to enjoy the peace and quiet, at a spot where some big, rounded boulders
lined the creek’s edge. The foliage dampened the people sounds and blocked the view of the
activity downstream. Not that I was concerned about being seen, after being naked for a couple
days, hiking several miles that way and passing numerous other hikers, as well as swimming and
walking among the crowd by the springs. In fact, in my little spot along the creek, my nude body
was clearly visible from above to all hikers on the trail above the opposite side of the creek as
they traveled between the springs and Bowen Ranch. It didn’t matter to me, as long as I didn’t
have to hear them chattering away, and as long as they weren’t interrupting the peacefulness
of the place.
Setting down my pack, I “stripped” again, leaving only my hat to block the sun from the
top of my head. I hunkered barefoot and naked on one of the rocks, blissfully scooping grit from
the creek bottom and idly swishing it around in the pan. After a while, the sound of a helicopter
approaching echoed up the canyon. Flying slowly along the creek, just above the treetops, the
helicopter cruised right overhead, and directly above the hot springs. Making a loop, it flew
slowly back over my spot again. I could clearly see the occupants’ faces as they looked down at
me. I just waved to them as they passed and continued down the creek.
Giving up the quest for gold, I tied the pan back onto the pack, and then went for
another swim. I decided that I’d stop for a soak in the hot springs before heading back to camp.
I carried my boots, rather than putting them on and taking them right back off minutes later.
The coarse sand felt good between my toes and under the soles of my feet as I walked along
the creek. Setting my gear down, I found a spot in the largest pool, known as “The Womb”, and
settled into the hot, flowing water. I chatted with some of the other soakers while letting the
water relax my muscles. In peaceful harmony, clothed and naked soakers enjoyed the late
afternoon together as the sun approached the ridge to the west, apparently unconcerned as to
what the others wore or didn’t wear.
As the sun touched the ridge, I climbed out of the pool, took a last dip in the cool creek
water, and carried my gear across the creek. I sat on a boulder by the water’s edge, so that I
could rinse the sand from my bare feet before putting on my socks and boots. Tying my boots
as I sat there naked on the boulder, I reflected on the day. I hadn’t found any gold, but I didn’t
care. My bare skin had gotten a little more golden-tanned, and I’d re-connected with the
natural world once again. I turned and started the uphill hike back to camp as the sun slipped
behind the ridge and shadows began to cover the creek. The cooler evening air felt good on my
bare skin after the day’s heat.
My campsite was on an open, high point, facing the west with an unobstructed view in
all directions. As I reached my camp, the sun was just beginning to set behind the far-off
mountains. Wildfire smoke from the “Station Fire”, burning near La Canada Flintridge, was
visible in the upper atmosphere, even this far away. Appreciating the destruction at the fire
site, I also had to appreciate how the smoke enhanced the colors of the desert sunset. After
putting away my gear, I stood naked and barefoot in my campsite for a while taking in the
awesome scene.
Pleasantly tired and ready to relax, I settled naked into my folding camp-style rocking
chair. From there, I had the front-row seat with a fifty mile view as the high desert shifted from
day to night…nothing but the wild desert, the vast night sky, and me, all just as God had
created.
Hiking Naked Without Clothes
By Jim Tighe, RiverNude
Originally Posted on Naktiv.Net
April 20, 2023
We naturists like to say things like “There’s no feeling of freedom quite like being out in nature in our natural condition of nudity!” And that’s the truth. But the naked truth of the matter is that there is an even greater sense of freedom than we often experience in nature. Typically, when we’re naked in the great outdoors, that is, away from home, a nude resort, or some other nude-friendly haven, we usually have some type of clothing, a sarong, or something tucked away in a pack, over a shoulder, or otherwise with us. This practice gives us a sort of “safety net”, since we know that even though we’re happily nude, we can quickly cover ourselves, should we unexpectedly feel the need to do so.
That greater sense of freedom can be experienced, if we can muster the confidence to leave everything that could be a cover-up behind us and venture forth into the natural world with nothing but “us”.
My first experiences with this commitment to naked freedom occurred at Deep Creek Hot Springs, in California’s San Bernardino National Forest. The area is, and for decades has been known as a nude-friendly environment. Both clothed and nude hikers roam the trails, soak in the hot spring pools, and relax along the creek. Even some of the clothed visitors will get naked once they’re at the springs, to enjoy the hot mineral water and cold creek water on their skin. Only a few hikers hike in nude from one of the adjacent trail heads, and almost all of these will still carry some form of cover-up with them, just in case.
During one of my early visits to Deep Creek, I was camped at the Bowen Ranch, about three miles, and a thousand-foot elevation loss from the hot springs. The ranch was also nude-friendly, and I was comfortably nude around camp, as well as on the trails. I was one of the few that hiked nude from the trail head, and I also hiked the adjacent section of the Pacific Crest Trail nude, as well as all over the riparian zone along the creek. But even though I was comfortable being nude all weekend long, I still had a pair of shorts in my day pack when I left camp.
One evening at camp, I decided that I’d step…a lot of steps…out of my comfort zone. I’d already been nude since arriving the day before, and I’d been hiking nude and enjoying the springs and creek all day. Back at camp, I’d ditched my pack and other gear, rested a while, and enjoyed a couple of cold beers. That may have boosted my confidence a bit. The sun had gone below the western mountains, but there was still plenty of light in the open desert. Totally naked, barefoot, and with nothing but a water canteen, I set out for the hot springs. By the time I’d left the ranch and walked about a quarter mile, I came to the Forest Service Road that separated the upper desert from the side canyon that led down to Deep Creek, I was feeling a little unsure of my decision. From that point on, there was one narrow trail leading along the exposed slope. The trail offered absolutely nothing to hide behind. I’d be in clear view from hundreds of yards away, and anyone…EVERYONE…that I met along the trail would be able see every inch of me, and there wouldn’t be anything I could do about it. With only a slight hesitation, I stepped through the trail gateway and padded down the sandy trail.
By the time I reached the crest of the final descent to the creek, I’d already met a few hikers. I was the only one that was nude. Nothing more than casual greetings was exchanged as we passed on the trail. Still feeling very naked, I reached the top of that final hill. Another few hikers were almost to the top, so I waited to let them pass before starting down the steep trail. One young man, fully clothed, sweating, head down, was plodding up the hill. When he was right in front of me, he stopped suddenly, very obviously looking me up and down a couple times, from my bare feet to my face, with eyes wide and an expression of surprise. I thought this would be the moment I’d been dreading…a confrontation with an outraged clothed hiker…and I was totally incapable of covering my naked self! Then, he said it…loudly…” You hiked all the way from Bowen Ranch down here…like THAT??? YOU ROCK
DUDE!!!!” His smile showed his extreme admiration, and my confidence soared! With a friendly goodbye, he continued toward the ranch.
Feeling very comfortable in my skin, I started down the hill. After lingering around the creek and springs until after dark, I started the long climb back to the ranch and my campsite, feeling extremely naked and extremely free. That experience has lingered with me ever since, and it surges back to me every time I leave everything behind and step out onto a trail with nothing but my skin.
That was in the late summer of 2009. When I got a chance to visit Deep Creek in 2011, it had been almost two years since my last visit. Unlike 2009, when I was stationed in California, this time, I was only there for a short time. I had the chance to go to Deep Creek, but only for one Saturday. I had no camping gear with me, so I planned to arrive at about first light and stay until dark, to make the most of the opportunity. I decided that making the most of the day would mean spending the entire day nude, with no safety net.
Arriving at Bowen Ranch early that October Saturday morning, I got out of the car, stripped off everything, and put it all inside the car. Taking only my camera in its case, and a large bottle of Gatorade, I locked the car and hid the key. A moment of hesitation…what if someone searched and found the key, stole the car, and drove away? I’d be stranded, totally naked, with no clothes, no phone, no money, no ID…nothing. Pushing the thought from my mind, I turned and started toward the trail head by the ranch fence.
The weather was perfect. The sun was just climbing above the mountains, the sky was clear and blue, with only a few high, wispy clouds. The desert air was warm, but still very comfortable on my bare skin. The desert floor, sand and rock, was still cool beneath my bare feet. I could see down into the canyon a bit, as I walked toward the edge of the open plateau, totally naked, carrying only the bottle of Gatorade in one hand and my camera case in the other. No hat, no sunglasses, no shoes, and no clothing. Not even a day pack covering a portion of my bare back.
As I began the descent toward the canyon, I knew that once the sun climbed higher in the sky, the temperature would climb to over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. After that, without as much as a hat for shade, it would be impractical, and even unsafe, to hike and climb back out of the canyon along the exposed slope under the blazing sun. Once I was down in the canyon, I would need to stay there all day long, until the sun began to dip below the western mountain tops, providing some shade on the trail as it climbed along the eastern slope. Being a Saturday, and before the cooler weather of Autumn settled in, there would likely be dozens of other people on the trail and around the springs. I was committing myself to being totally and irrevocably naked and exposed for the entire day, no matter what happened and no matter how many others I encountered. At the cluster of hot spring pools, along the creek, there was a pipe jammed into a crevice that discharged hot, clean spring water. Because I carried only the bottle of Gatorade, I would have to refill the bottle from that spring pipe several times during the day. It was the only source of safe drinking water around, and it was in the center of all the activities and people that would visit the springs that day. There was no escaping the fact that a lot of people were going to see a lot of me…ALL of me…through the course of that day, and I would be utterly exposed to them all, with nothing I could do about it.
After about an hour and a half of walking in the morning sunshine along the exposed slope, I reached the crest of the final hill. This was the point the hiker had said “You rock, Dude!” almost two years before. Now, instead of a quick trip before dusk, and a return in the dark, I was about to start down the hill in the early morning, to spend all day in my naked situation. There was no turning back now. Down the slope my bare feet carried my naked body. When I went around the last curve in the trail, I looked down and saw the little beach, the creek, and the hot spring pools. There were already a few people there, and most were clothed. Across the canyon, I could see a few miles of the Pacific Crest Trail as it snaked along the opposite slope. I could see up and down the canyon for more than a mile in each direction, catching glimpses of Deep Creek sparkling in the sun as it weaved among the trees of the riparian zone. I could see everything from the trail as it descended along the bare slope, and everyone in that expansive area could see me as I strode down the trail in the bright sunshine.
Although I’ve spent many days hiking many miles nude up and down Deep Creek canyon, that day was one of the most enjoyable I’ve experienced. With no clothes to think about, no shoes to put on my feet, no pack to hoist onto and off my back, I wandered as freely as a wild animal, feeling only fresh air, sunshine, soft vegetation, sand, rock, and water on all my skin. When I wanted to cross the creek, I just kept walking until I was swimming. When I wanted to soak or swim, I just put down the bottle and camera and got into the water. When I needed water, I simply walked naked through the crowd and filled it at the spring pipe. It was so simple, so natural, so liberating to have so little with me that wasn’t “me”!
If you’ve never experienced being totally naked and free like this, I whole-heartedly recommend that you give it a try someday! I don’t believe you’ll be disappointed!
Nude Beekeeping
by Jim Tighe
Originally Posted to Naktiv.Net
April 23, 2020
https://www.naktiv.net/nude-beekeeping/
After several years of wishing, I finally started my new hobby of beekeeping last year. Wishing to give the bees the most natural environment possible, I chose to use “top bar” hives, after doing a lot of reading online and in books. Last year’s bee colonies were a great learning experience, complete with successes and failures. Both of my two colonies started the 2019 season well, building good honeycomb and harvesting lots of nectar and pollen. Unfortunately, one colony absconded late in the summer, for reasons yet unknown. The other colony kept working through the early Autumn, and seemed as if they would do well during the winter, but didn’t make it through the coldest months.
I started out using a protective beekeeper’s jacket, veil, and gloves, as most apiarists (beekeepers) do. Although the gear worked very well, it quickly became uncomfortably hot as the weather warmed up in late Spring. Trying to stay as cool as possible, I usually wore only a pair of loose-fitting cargo shorts, with no shirt under the jacket, and I was usually barefoot. Bees would occasionally brush, and sometimes land on my bare legs, without incident, and I quickly became very comfortable about it. The thought occurred to me that if a bee crawled beneath the legs of my shorts, it could become trapped, become defensive, and sting, but it didn’t happen, so I kept wearing the shorts.
My gloves are thin leather, with long fabric cuffs and elastic bands that overlap the jacket sleeves. Though they’re very good at protecting me from stings, I soon found that it was impossible to feel bees if they wound up between my fingers, or between any part of my hands and any parts of the hives. This presented a crushing risk to the bees, which in turn led to defensive stinging. When one bee stings, it emits a pheromone that alerts the other bees, causing them to also become defensive. When a honeybee stings, it will die, so it quickly became apparent that the gloves were a potential risk to several bees at a time. And, of course, the gloves are hot, just like the jacket.
I started working without gloves, and found that besides being more comfortable, I was able to handle the hive parts, tools, etc. with greater dexterity. I also found that if I placed a bare finger on a bee, I felt the bee before doing any harm, and it would usually just wiggle out of the way and continue its business. If I placed a finger, or hand in a bee’s way, the bee would often simply walk across my fingers or hand, continuing along its way.
Soon enough, as with many other activities, I decided to try working with the bees while nude. Online, I’d read some articles and seen some pictures and videos of people interacting with bees while nude. Having a few wild bees around me, and even landing on me, while I’ve been nude has been a very common experience, given the fact that I spend a great deal of time nude outdoors. Still, I must admit that the first time I opened a hive with tens of thousands of very active honeybees inside; while wearing nothing at all, I was a bit unsure about it! But I did it, and the bees simply kept right on doing “bee stuff” …working on their comb, buzzing around me, landing on my bare body for a walk-around inspection, and simply doing the things that bees naturally do.
It’s been said (quite often, in fact) that I’m “crazy”, usually when someone sees or hears about some of my activities. Is nude beekeeping safe? Or am I just taking crazy chances? I cannot say for sure. And I am not recommending that anyone else try interactions with bees while nude. That’s something that everyone will have to decide about on their own, if it interests them. Anyone with an allergy to bee stings should NOT try nude beekeeping, as it could prove quite dangerous. Having been stung on many occasions in life, with no bad consequences, I’m relatively confident that I’m not allergic.
For myself, I find that, as with so many other things in nature, the human body was created to harmonize well without man-made inventions. The naked human body apparently seems perfectly natural to bees. This year’s two new colonies started their nude-human interactions early and seem to regard my naked body as simply another part of their natural environment. It might seem odd, or even unnerving to some, to have a few bees landing on literally ANY part of their naked body, but I’ve come to regard the experience as totally natural, as well. After all, I’m simply hanging out naturally nude with several tens of thousands of my closest friends, who are also naturally nude!
The Healthy Embrace of Nature
By Jim Tighe, RiverNude
Originally Posted to Naktiv.Net
May 16, 2021
https://www.naktiv.net/the-healthy-embrace-of-nature/
Last weekend, I was blessed with the opportunity to hike and explore along the Stillaguamish River, near Arlington, Washington. It was a beautiful day for a four-mile walk, even though much of the route was in public view and required that I remain clothed. Fortunately, as with many public-access areas, the “public” doesn’t wander too far from the parking area.
Soon, leaving all the human visitors behind, I watched a Bald Eagle soaring over the river, and several ducks foraging in the shoal water as I walked. As soon as I reached the sandy beach, and left most of the river’s gravel bars behind, I removed my 5-Fingers shoes and continued my hike barefoot. As the sand played out, I reached a quiet and secluded stretch of dirt trail that wandered alternately along the river, through the woods, and past the back edge of an alfalfa field that was being cut.
A long-time believer in the health benefits of “Earthing”, I savored the naturally healing connection between Earth and bare feet. From coarse river sand, the trail changed to cool dirt in the shade of the woods, mud as it dipped into the low areas along the river, through grassy hills, to leafy loam as it meandered among the hardwood forest beside the alfalfa field. The physical and mechanical benefits of walking naturally barefoot were apparent as sand was brushed from my feet by grass, mud squeezed between my toes, then fell off as my feet padded along firmer soil, muscles adapted to the contours of each step, across rocks, up and over logs, and through shallow water. Man-made footwear would have filled with sand, accumulated heavy mud, become soaked, slipped, bumped, and tripped among these variations. And, it would have blocked the natural flow of energy that occurs when bare soles meet bare Earth.
At the far edge of the field, I reached the end of the out-and-back trail and was confident that I was the only human in the wooded area and along that stretch of river. The sunshine and shade, as well as the cool breeze and the foliage brush, beckoned my bare skin to mingle in their naturalness. Removing my clothes and laying them aside, I wandered freely along the river and among the woods. My physical, even spiritual connection with nature drained stress from my body. The sun’s warm energy alternated with the coolness of the shady woods as they both embraced my nakedness. I began feeling renewed, energized, relaxed, and truly grounded in nature.
As with so many good things, my naturally nude time came to an end. Reluctantly dressing again, I picked up my 5-Fingers and padded along the trail, back toward “public”, back toward the rat race of “civilization”. Trickles of cool, clear water and coarse river sand cleaned my feet, so that upon reaching the rocky area, I sat on a piece of driftwood and easily brushed the last remaining sand from my feet before putting my shoes back on. Although the remaining walk lead along a dirt road with several parked cars and a mile or so of pavement before crossing a state highway, the encroachment of civilization couldn’t overcome the feeling of balance and rejuvenation that I had gained by joining nature in my natural state of being.
Naked In The Garden
World Naked Gardening Day, 2025
By Jim Tighe, a.k.a. “RiverNude”
Springtime, at least for the northern hemisphere, is finally here! With it comes one of the most popular days for naturists and nudists, World Naked Gardening Day, on the first Saturday in May. This year’s WNGD will be celebrated on Saturday, May 3rd.
Founded by Mark Storey, consulting editor of “Nude & Natural” magazine and Perma culturalist Jacob Gabriel, World Naked Gardening Day was originally celebrated in September of 2005. WNGD was moved to the first Saturday of May in 2007. The founders’ intent was to create a worldwide event that would be owned by nobody and enjoyed by everybody, with the goal of embracing body freedom and acceptance.
Regarded as the father of permaculture, Bill Mollison describes permaculture as “a philosophy of working with, rather than against nature; of protracted and thoughtful observation rather than protracted and thoughtless labor; and of looking at plants and animals in all their functions, rather than treating any area as a single product system.”
Although permaculture is not a designated focus of WNGD, as an aspiring Perma culturist, I do find it interesting that Jacob Gabriel, a Perma culturist, was instrumental in its founding. What better way to “work with, rather than against nature” than to embrace nature in our own natural, naked bodies, with nothing between us and nature?
World Naked Gardening Day is, of course, a wonderful opportunity for those of us who have already discovered the natural-ness of enjoying life without unnecessary clothing. But, even better than that, it is an excellent opportunity for us (that is YOU and ME) to introduce someone close to us to the simple joy of living in our skin. Many non-nudists have heard of WNGD, and aside from various jokes they may offer, quite a few may have secretly thought about trying nudity on WNGD. We (that’s also US) won’t know unless we openly share the subject with our friends and families!
The handiest thing about WNGD is its utter simplicity. All we really need to celebrate and participate is our body. Well, perhaps some plants, soil, fresh air, and sunshine would be helpful! One need not be an expert gardener, horticulturist, or Perma culturist. Large acreage isn’t necessary. Simple things like potting flowers, cultivating soil, trimming shrubs, and watering existing beds are all perfect for the occasion.
Gardening has been proven by many studies to be healthful, both physically and mentally. Naturism, nudism, and body acceptance have also been proven healthful by many studies. It only makes sense to combine gardening and natural nudity to enhance our physical well-being and state of mind. Working in the soil, in fresh outdoor air, and in sunshine all have many benefits for us. And hey! No laundry to wash after gardening is an added benefit for nature! Naked gardening just keeps on giving!
If you’ve never tried naked gardening, this year is the perfect time to give naked gardening a try! If you’re a veteran naked gardener, this year is the perfect time to introduce someone you care about to naked gardening! Get naked, get out there, and get dirty!
