Tuesday 3 November 2015

NAKED SPIRIT


In keeping with my self-appointed mission -- to educate non-naturists to understand that the state of nudity is the natural state of humankind -- I present here a link to a powerful and sympathetic essay found on tripod.com. The page, Naked Spirit, appears to have not been maintained for many years.  Some of its external links have passed out of existence and it is such a very good essay -- I wish that I had written it ! -- that I worry about its loss should the page itself disappear.


I have provided a link to the essay, and I have archived its entire text against the day it might disappear from its original home and be lost to posterity. Should this come to pass I will post the entire text on this blog.

In the meantime I ask you to read it. It is quite long, very cogent and genuinely moving.  It is well worth the time spent reading it.

Enjoy.

Wednesday 21 October 2015

Greetings fellow Earthlings . . .

My mission on this planet . . .

(Thanks to Bare Oaks and NASA for the borrowed graphics, Douglas Adams for the thought)
. . . is to do my best to educate non-naturists to understand that the state of nudity is the natural state of humankind. There is nothing alien about nudity. The human being, unashamed in the state of nudity is intellectually honest, morally wholesome, psychologically healthy and personally modest. Still, there are many societal taboos against public nudity, even some against private nudity, and those need to be examined and understood before they can be dispelled. How is it that we as a species have arrived at such a pass?

Why naturism?  Naturism is the natural estate of humankind. All adherents of the three great monotheistic faiths, Judaism, Christianity and Islam, adhere to the concept that humankind was created by God, naked and unashamed, in the image of the Creator, and God saw that it was good. While there are many other points of contention within and among these three faiths there is no argument about this issue.

Whether one is an adherent of these or some other faith, or none at all, or whether one believes in Creation or not, there is no argument that we are all born naked. We emerge from the womb, each and every one of us, stark naked. Only later do we discover Versace, Brooks Brothers and The Gap. Clothing, I have read, and have been told, "is what separates humankind from animals." I cannot imagine a more shallow or erroneous opinion. What separates humankind from the other animals is our ability to reason and to make moral judgements. Some such reasoning is correct and productive, much else is quite the opposite.

Why clothing?  There is no doubt about it, clothing has a lot of uses. Clothing is required for protection from time to time but, somewhere in the course of human history, it became a means of demonstrating status and wealth. Clothing is now a means of dividing society into easily recognizable socio-economic strata.

Along with the acquisition of clothing we imbibed the concepts of modesty, shame and human property. Modesty, as it is widely promulgated, is an unnatural concept and shame is society’s means of enforcing modesty. But really, the enforced concept of modesty is just a reflection of society’s acceptance of ownership of one’s spouse or one’s children. Clothing is just a portable version of the privacy fence or the harem wall. The more extreme a society’s concept of modesty, the more vicious its enforcement of shame and the more suffocating its clothing becomes. Men and women are packaged up like so many kilos of meat within impenetrable wrappings. Modesty of this sort is not modesty at all — it is savage pride and a crass display of the very opposite of any sort of modesty.

Modesty is as modesty does.

Nudism vs Naturism . . . is there a difference? To some people this is a "potayto / potahto" matter. For some people the two terms are synonymous; to others they have very different and real meanings.

Someone, I don't know who it was, and it doesn't matter, once quipped that a nudist is a person who likes to be naked, and a naturist is a nudist who knows why. There is some truth to this quip. Self-identified nudists seem to live in the joy of the momentary state of nudity without ever examining their motives. Persons who self-identify as naturists often seem to be at least as concerned with the reasons for social nudity as they are for the fact of it. Does that mean that a naturist is an intellectual nudist? This question may never be resolved because there are almost as many opinions as there are naturists. And opinions are like buttocks, everyone has at least two of them.

In the United States the two terms are taken as synonymous, while in much of the rest of the world there seems to be a distinctly different view of what each term implies. Swingers and other libertines, hoping to legitimize their lifestyles in the eyes of a wider public, often adopt the label naturist in order to fly under the radar and gain admittance to naturist venues. Within naturism nothing could be so blatant a false-flag endeavour as a swinger proclaiming to be a naturist. The basic philosophy of the two lifestyles is antithetical. That of swingers and other libertines is hypersexualized while that of genuine naturists is based on non-sexualized nudity — there is no true middle ground for the two.

Sexualization . . . Americans are both terrified by public nudity and obsessed by sex. This leads to the sexualization of nudity and lends some creedence to the notion that clothing itself separates us from other animals . . . that without clothing we would instantly revert to our animal nature and be copulating in the streets. Possessed of such a thought, so-called "moralists" argue that nudity is immoral, therefore any exposure of bare flesh is sinful, therefore anyone — particularly any woman — who appears immodestly dressed is a slut.

In recent years within the United States — and the trend is growing there and expanding beyond Usanian borders — this sort of thinking has led to the phenomenon of "slut-shaming."  Examples of this sort of "morality policing" within America's school's include alteration of yearbook photos to cover up naughty bare shoulders, the banning of girls from wearing shorts "so that the boys won't be too distracted" and, in one almost unbelievable case, the principal of a school lifting the skirts of female students to ensure they were not wearing thong underwear!  All this is done for the most moral reasons of course.


The only morality in play in these situations is immorality. Any school official, male or female, who is so fixated on young girls and their bodies or underwear must be removed from any position of authority, and any contact with children. Such people fit into the category of sexual perverts and are using their positions to access potential victims.

The overt sexualization of nudity leads directly to the commodification of both nudity and sex wherein, so long as someone is making a profit from either, both are deemed to be acceptable. But at the same time the innocent practice of simple social nudity is demonized. By means of such strange alchemy personal nudity is transmuted into a commercial property.

Different Labels for Nudity 

 In my on-line explorations I have found numerous discussions about what people who like to be naked should be called, or should call themselves. Foremost among these is the discussion of nudist vs naturist which has already been covered above. The great common thread throughout most of these discussions is ignorance . . . ignorance about what, precisely what, it means to be one or the other, or maybe either, or neither as in the case of the swingers. So let us set the old nudist/naturist business aside for the moment and consider a few aspects of the problem.

Do we have to call ourselves something, anything, to set us apart from everybody else? Well, yes, in my opinion I think that we do. The very purpose of language is communication and the goal of effective communication is clarity. Clarity calls for exact vocabulary with shared concepts and definitions in order to get any point across, otherwise we could just squat beside the table, pointing and grunting, until someone finally passes the ketchup. Labels matter. There is nothing wrong and a great deal right about  precise language.

Some object to precise language on the spurious grounds that it "puts labels on people." They put forward the grand statement "I don't like labels" and attempt to sieze the moral high ground, often conflating issues of sexuality with the nudity issue. Others don't object to labels so much as they object to old labels . . . "naturist" and "nudist" are oldspeak and insufficiently cool (dare I say insufficiently "hip") for these young folks pretending to be something like naturists. They advance childish terms such nudie / nuddie as being more in line with their generation. Well, maybe they are, so long as we are talking about a generation of two-year-olds. 

Still others advance the proposition that being nude and being naked represent two entirely different states of being. I would explain the thought processes in this argument but, so far at least, any that I have read have been either nonsensical or self-contradictory. Some of these label haters even shy away from using the actual word naked, prefering instead the childish expression "nakie," as though they fear punishment for using grown up words.

Most of these arguments seem to be coming from people who have never been naked outside of the shower or their bedroom and still live in fear of being seen by anyone except themselves in a mirror. Many of these people are kids who think that talking about being naked is the new cool. How wrong they are. Talking about it without doing it is just another form of masturbation for them.

One neologism that I have some appreciation for is naktivist, a portmanteau word combining "naked" and "activist" which seems to describe at least two separate but related paired concepts: (1) being naked and being physically active at the time and (2) being an activist on behalf of a naked lifestyle. It is hard for me to argue against either of those concepts. I like both of them. The first explicitly champions fitness and implicitly promotes free-range naturism. The second calls for naturist outreach to the clothen, evangelism among the textiles. What's not to like about that?

So, with all this talk of terminology I should stipulate for the record that when I have no clothes on I can be either naked or nude, sometimes even nekkid if I'm talking to an American, but absolutely never nakie, at least not since I was out of diapers. I aver that I am a naturist, and a free-range naturist to boot, as well as a naktivist, and that I am proud to be all three because there are no contradictions between any two pairs.

But you don't have to be a naturist to be naked!  Yes, strange but true, not everyone who enjoys being naked is, or would consider themselves to be, a naturist, a nudist or anything other than just a human being. How did that happen? It isn't so hard to understand.

Different Types and Styles of Nudity

 Although this assertion is wide open to other interpretations there are, in my own opinion, four basic different types of nudity based on with whom it is practiced. These types are: private, familial, social and public.

By "private nudity" I mean one person alone, or at the very most two people who are comfortable with being naked and do it in secret lest someone find out and subject them to ridicule, ostracism or prosecution. If the nudity is restricted to one individual it cannot, in my humble opinion, ever be considered naturism per se. If it includes two or three people who adopt naturist principles and pursuits it is, in my humble opinion, the lowest level at which naturist principles can be said to be practised.

The term "familial nudity" should be self-explanatory. These are most commonly a couple who have elected to raise their children within a clothing-optional household. Sometimes that is as far as it goes. Often such familial nudity will be part of a naturist lifestyle but, like the private naturists, the family keeps their lifestyle secret from their neighbours and co-workers.

Social nudity is usually, but not always, practised by actual naturists who are members of some sort of naturist group, organized or extemporaneous, landed or non-landed. This sort of person socializes with other club members on a regular basis. This is one half of what I think of as real naturism, the social aspect of the group. But social nudity without the adoption of naturist principles is not naturism — more about principles later.

Public nudity is practised by naturists, and others, who are members of a rather more free-spirited stratum of social nudity. These are people who, convinced of the moral correctness of the the naked human body and protected by a suitably progressive legal code, have no difficulty with owning their convictions and circulating freely within clothed society. Participants in the World Naked Bike Ride events come very close to this form of nudity but aren't quite there yet. For many of them their annual participation in a WNBR event is a lark and an opportunity — as part of a semi-anonymous mass — to stick it to society without the danger of legal repercussions.

The first person I ever saw who adopted completely the public nudity lifestyle was a German fellow I met on a tram in Frankfurt-am-Main. It was raining out and I was taking the tram across town — it stopped to take on passengers and he climbed aboard, naked except for shoes and a fanny pack. He folded his umbrella, paid his fare and greeting other passengers he knew, spread a small towel on the vacant seat beside me and sat down. He was carrying a small suitcase with his work clothes in it so that they wouldn't get wet. No one else on the tram batted an eye. We fell into easy conversation and he got off at a stop before my own. No problems . . . would that we could all live in such a situation.

With the unfortunate rarity of the excellent situation I encountered in Frankfurt that rainy Monday, in general terms each of the four styles of nudity can be sub-categorized into four distinct styles. These styles are: at-home, beached, clubbed and free-range.

"At-home naturists" are exactly what the term states, people who enjoy nudity on a private basis within their own home and garden. They are not "naturists" per se unless they engage in social contact with other like-minded people within the same sort of private setting, avoiding more public exposure by not going nude in more public venues such as naturist clubs or beaches that are either naturist or clothing-optional. But to stay within the parameters of being "naturist" they do not stray into the realm of "swinging" where social nudity becomes hypersexualized.

An interesting variant form of the "at-home naturist" is the "away naturist," a person who enjoys social nudity but cannot entertain the notion of engaging in it within one's own community. "Away naturists" tend towards nudity while on vacation in some distant spot where they hope never to meet their neighbours or colleagues from home. Most usually such "away" places are beach resorts so "away naturists" also fall into the next category of naturists.

"Beached naturists" are a rather traditional sort of naturist, the sun-worshipper who goes to the beach to soak up the rays and get an all-over tan. The true "beached naturist" arrives at the beach clothed like any textile beachgoer and only removes their clothing once they are seated on their towel or chaise. Should they be moved to try a dip in the water often they don their swimsuit before getting up and seldom if ever move about the beach while naked. Many "beached naturists" admit that they dislike being looked at, even glanced at, while naked and they often object to other beachgoers going walkabout naked. When I think about "beached naturists" I think about "beached whales," rather out of their element and their comfort zone.

The "clubbed naturist" is one who is quite social while being naked within the confines of an established naturist club or resort. Statistically, clubbed naturists are older and have the level of disposable income necessary to pay club fees. "Clubbed naturists" are very often concerned with their declining numbers and are heard decrying the lack of younger members. Many, though by no means all, naturist clubs are self-defeating in this matter. They claim to want younger members but they then make such younger visitors feel like intruders in a retirement home for naked old folks. In order to attract younger naturists clubs must be attractive to younger naturists. Older club members must be welcoming and they must be accepting of changing fashions such as body jewelry and tattoos because they are badges of the young -- at least for the moment.

Another type of naturist, my personal favourite, is the "free-range naturist" who is, somewhat like the free-range hen -- but not chicken -- free to roam about in the natural environment within being fenced inside of a naturist club. "Free-range naturism" is the polar opposite of the beached or clubbed sort of naturism.


The typical "free-range naturist" is the sort of (usually unaffiliated) naturist who heads off into the wild to enjoy freedom of a different sort. This is the sort of naturist one might encounter by chance on little-used hiking trails, isolated beaches, distant forest glades or at a World Naked Bike Ride event in the middle of a bustling city. Whenever I have met such people they have always impressed me as bring more genuine in their naturist beliefs. Certainly they are less fearful about being seen that those to confine themselves to the naturist clubs and resorts. This is not to say that beached and clubbed naturists are not real naturists. They are. But different people have different tolerance levels for risk and exposure and, frankly, as one grows older, different tolerance levels for exertion and discomfort encountered either in the wild or on the seat of a bicycle in, for instance, downtown London.

Different Reasons for Nudity

Everyone seems to have their own favourite reason.  I believe that the all-time leader in this regard is freedom.  After freedom, in no particular order, come lack of pretense, body acceptance, the natural condition of mankind and equality of station.  Let's have a quick look at each of these in turn.


Freedom . . . many, perhaps most, naturists are by choice a secretive lot. Fearful of disapproval by wider society they may not reveal their entire indentity. As part of this they are prepared to take on a far more egalitarian persona as they bask in the freedom of naturist life.

Naturist freedom is often severely circumscribed, first by laws which proclaim innocent public nudity to be a criminal act, second by the circumstances in which social nudity is most commonly practiced. In this second case the freedom is most usually limited by the high hedges of private gardens and the board fences of naturist resorts. These barriers are raised both to avoid giving offense to rabid moralists and to exclude the eyes and cameras of the perverts within wider society. Having considered this matter often I have concluded that these two seemingly different groups -- the moralists and the perverts -- are either exactly the same sort of people, or that there is significant overlap between the two groups. They are all perverts of some variety.

The freedom of the hedged or fenced compound is no freedom at all, or at most it is the same sort of freedom as that of the prison exercise yard. Naturists confined to approved beaches or private clubs are what a young friend of mine refers to as "beached and clubbed" naturists. What this term evokes for me is the image of a dead whale, not a free-living human being with guaranteed rights within a democratic society. Quite to the contrary the confined naturist is a prisoner of public prudery and false morality imposed by a sick society which rejects its own basic humanity.

Lack of pretense . . . We all wear masks . . . within clothen society we wear full-body masks that are much more our public identity than is the body inside the clothing.  We use our clothing, either intentionally or inadvertently, to advertise our professions, occupations, political or social views, etcetera.  That information is imparted, often misunderstood, by the casual observers we pass in the street.  The state of nudity removes all that.  In order to impart our personal information or our viewpoints we have to actually speak to other people.  We have to engage in social interaction.  Some of us may still pretend certain things about ourselves but, in my opinion, that is harder to do when one is naked.  Also, I believe, there is less inclination to do so.  Our nudity indicates a degree of openness and acceptance that our clothing often denies.

Body acceptance . . . that is something to strive for.  Many of us have body issues.  We think that we are too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short or that various parts of our bodies are not what we might like them to be.  These are serious issues which, in some people, particularly the young, often result in eating disorders or worse.  The advertising industry bombards us with idealized, airbrushed, photoshopped images that usually reek of sex and money in order to sell their products to the gullible populace.  It is small wonder that many of us have body issues.  We see the idealized images and wonder how we could ever compete with such perfection.  These are the sorts of situations that push normal people into a great enough degree of unhappiness that they will undergo plastic surgery in order to achieve the unachievable.  Naturists seem to be more inclined to accept reality.  We are what we are.  That isn't to say that it makes us complacent about fitness.  Most naturists I have met are quite active and try to maintain a healthy lifestyle.  But I've yet to meet a real naturist who thought that she needed to get breast implants to make her into a real woman.

The natural condition of humankind . . . this is an aspect of naturist thought that returns us to something stated above, the fact that we are all born naked.  Most of us were happy little nudists as children, totally without shame about our bodies.  Then we were taught pride, shame and consumerism.  It was all downhill from that point onward.  But let's not flog that horse any further.  If you've forgotten what I wrote above you can find it in the second through the fifth paragraphs.  Take notes, there will be a pop quiz at the end of this blogpost.

Equality of station . . . it is often stated that being nude removes the visual cues of social and economic status and renders everyone equal. In his entertaining and thoughtful blog the Naturist Philosopher has taken issue with this notion and has proclaimed it to be "bullshit." He states his reasons for this gloomy opinion and, although he is correct in some of his assumptions, he is misled by his conclusion. Yes, once the visual cues of social rank and economic status are removed there remain other cues which are independent of wardrobe alone. However, many (though by no means all) naturists are at some pains to conceal or diminish such cues so the aspect of equality, while not real, seems to be apparent. Is this enough? I consider that it is.

But there is another type of inequality within naturism that must be addressed.  The beached and clubbed type of naturist is more likely to belong to one of the incorporated naturist clubs, either landed or non-landed, which hold fast to strict rules about so-called gender balance and exclude single men on the basis of the status of their personal relationships rather than their adherence to naturist principles and the norms of good behaviour.  Beached and clubbed naturists of this sort only want to socialize with other naturists of their own sort. They clothe their prejudice and fears in the fabric of gender balance but they exhibit their visceral fear of single males as though such men were aliens. It brings to mind all of those bad science fiction movies from the 1950s and 1960s wherein the aliens invade but are "only here for our women." Codswallop! Let's give that one a rest, shall we. These exclusionary clubs are the same ones constantly beating the drums of freedom, equality and acceptance, all the while erecting barriers against all three concepts. The clubs' hypocrisy does not go unnoticed by the younger generation which views most such establishments as exclusionary, expensive, restrictive, judgemental and altogether old-fashioned. While such older naturists are constantly worried about the future of naturism and bleating about attracting young naturists they refuse to change anything other than their price point, and then only for special weekends. They would do well to understand that some very basic changes must be made within their walls, both to their philosophy and to their business model. They need to accept that change is evolutionary and inevitable, then take steps to welcome new people and implement new ideas.



Thank you for taking the time to read this rambling collection of thoughts.  I hope that at least some of them have been informative and/or thought-provoking.  I had to do something thoughtful now that the season has turned and a distinct chill has been put on local opportunities for outdoor naturism.  

Oh, and I was just kidding about the pop quiz.

But there is homework . . . Think about what you've just read and why you either agree or disagree with it.  Talk to a friend about naturist ideals.  Evangelize amongst the textiles, debate with the clothen.

Wednesday 7 October 2015

Free Range Naturist Hiking – Part A

A

“A” is for Active . . . Active Naturism or, as Richard Foley would have it, “Naktiv” – but since Naktiv starts with an “N” let’s forget it for the moment.

“A” is also for Autumn.  That is what the season is at the moment and so far it has been a pretty good one.  I would opine that it has been Awesome (because that starts with “A” too, but no one beyond the age of fifteen should be caught dead using that word.

Autumn is a good time for Active Naturism.  Why?  Because there are far fewer mosquitoes, blackflies and other sorts of annoyances.  It is also a time when the tourist count is low and the temperature (17-20 degrees Celsius / 63-68 Fahrenheit) is perfect for strenuous hiking . . . in my opinion.

But . . . Autumn is also hunting season, a time when the well-tanned naturist hiker should curtail activities likely to end with being mistaken for a moose, and shot. It is time to practise safe hiking.  (Safety note: Leave your moose antler hat at home no matter how cute it is.  And your backback, get one that is day-glo orange, or get an orange cover for the pack you have now.)
 


This tends to limit one’s outings to the provincial and national parks where hunting is forbidden.  Here in New Brunswick that means, mostly at least, the Fundy Trail and Parkway and the National Parks.  (Scheduling note: Fundy Trail and Parkway is closed for the season as of 12 October.  Hikers and bicyclists may park outside the gate and enter.  There will probably still be workmen around here and there.)  Take note that neither category of park is clothing-optional.  That aside, they are certainly large enough to accommodate a little free-range naturist activity and I have met other naked hikers in both sorts of parks at various times.

The parks are great for other reasons.  They have prepared trails that are well mapped and well marked.  They have parking and they often have toilet facilities at the trailhead.  And Autumn is great for other reasons.  The air is bracing and the colours are gorgeous . . . well, usually; more about that below.  Just use some common sense, common courtesy and the usual precautions.  If the parking lot is jammed with other vehicles the trail connected to it probably isn’t a good bet.  If you meet someone along the way step off the trail a don’t make a point of exerting your nudity.  Most people I’ve met have never seemed to mind.



An island in the lake at the trailhead

I set off of an Autumn Activity yesterday and headed to one of the national parks.  On arrival at the parking lot there was one other vehicle present, a camper with Québec plates.  I shouldered my day pack, slung my camera and headed off in quest of photos of Autumn foliage . . . unfortunately I had picked a bad day for it.  Once out of easy sight of the road I stripped off and went cheerily on my way and about ten minutes later happened upon the Québec couple stopped by the side of the trail on their return trip.  He was still starkers but she, a little chilly, was shifting into her kit so I just came on the way I was.  We exchanged the friendly greetings of kindred spirits and they assured me that the trail ahead was in fine shape.
The sun-dappled, leaf spangled trail beckons

So it was.  The streams and brooks were still running high but were no longer in spate from the 10 to 17 cms of rain we’d had last week.  Still, you could certainly see where the water had washed over the trail in places.  As for the object of my photographic quest, things were not good.  There was very little Autumn foliage worthy of the name.   Almost all was still green and summer-like, the leaves protected by mutual support within the forest canopy.  True, a few frosty nights had tinted some exposed trees beside the highway and others had shifted into their Autumn wardrobe due to stress, but for the most part the forest was still very green . . . on October 6 no less.  See for yourself:

Look ma, no autumn colours

. . . and in a leafy woodland glade no sign of yellow, orange or red
But all was not lost, it was an excellent day for naked hiking.  Keeping up a good pace I was sweating freely on the upward inclines of the trail and the air was evaporating it to leave me dry and comfortable.  Along the course of the trail these were the only hints of colour to be found, very disappointing:


. . . not much colour . . . not my fault

I walked to the end of the easy part of the trail, about 4.5 kms, the point where the trail loses its prepared nature and plunges downward along narrow and slithery switchbacks, then turned about and headed back the way I’d come.  I was nearly back to the “get dressed” line when I met a couple of hikers, twenty-something guys, stopped to adjust their gear.  Unseen, I slipped into my shorts and forged onward until they registered their surprise at seeing me . . . good thing I wasn't a bear.  They were equipped like an Everest expedition and clad in the numerous layers of PolarTec and GoreTex.  I would have died with that much kit on!  What were they going to do when it got cold?  I stopped and we discussed the trail.  They, wondering, asked if I was cold.  Hmm . . . two solitudes.  I told them “Heck no, usually I don’t wear this much.  Try it some time; you’ll like it.”

I’ll have to go search for Autumn leaves some other day, maybe drive northward somewhat.

Monday 28 September 2015

Calling down the Moon

Last night (27 September), wow!  Full Moon, Harvest Moon, Super Moon, Blood Moon, total eclipse of the Moon.  The only thing missing was an astronomical high tide, but the eclipse makes that impossible – wrong alignment of the three bodies.  Add to the lunar events the fact that we had a nearly crystal clear sky and warmer than usual temperatures – it was 12ºC on the coast, not summer but not bad for the end of September – and you have all the makings of a very good night.

As you can see I used my magic staff to pull the moon down a little early so I could do a twilight shot.
I went off to the beach to watch the eclipse.  Why?  Because the open spaces there give me a long view in all directions and very little artificial light to spoil any photos that I would take.  Despite the good weather I had the place mostly to myself, even before twilight.  Sure there were a few dog walkers on the beach and one person galloping across the sand on a very happy horse but they retreated before daylight waned.  I set up the tripods for my camera and my astronomical  binoculars, unfolded my deck chair and laid out the rest of my gear on a convenient picnic table, zipped up my parka and waited.  

Every now and again I would wander forward to where I had a better view of the beach.  This confirmed that I was alone except for one twenty-something woman who, clad in dark sweats, was promenading back and forth along the beach, always casting a glance in my direction when she passed.  She had an expectant look about her, the sort of look I recognized as “When is this person going to leave?”  I drew my conclusions and the next time she passed we were within speaking distance.  I asked if she was waiting for me to leave so she could go skinnydipping – she hesitated for a moment but then said yes, she was.  I told her that I wasn’t leaving because I was there for the eclipse and intended to do some skinnydipping myself.  I also told her not to worry because I was a card-carrying naturist.  She came forward and asked me to prove it. 

If any of you have ever doubted the value of belonging to your national naturist/nudist organization let me put forward this single encounter as the gold star reason to join up -- the ability to establish one's bona fides.  I showed her my FCN Card -- don't leave home without it.  “Huh,” she said, “So you are.  Hang on a moment and I’ll come up.”  And so she did, thereby providing me with pleasant company for the rest of the evening. 

Indeed I had two aims for last evening: observing and photographing the eclipse and a bit of moonlight skinnydipping.  As it happened the tide was mostly out when I arrived, thereby making it a fairly long sprint from the high tide mark to the low tide line.  But once everyone else had cleared off and their taillights had disappeared we doffed our kit above the high tide mark, trotted across the sand and frolicked in the surf for a short time.  The surf was running at about two feet with a fairly brisk onshore breeze and the water was warmer than it had been in July this year.  Still, given the air temperature, we didn’t linger once we got out of the water.  This wasn’t an endurance event after all, just one done for the principle of the thing:  "Life is short; Play naked."  Let me repeat that:



We quickly regained my astro camp, found that nobody new had arrived and shared out some the coffee and treats I had brought.  The moon was well up at this point and well short of the onset of the eclipse.  That made the sky so bright that it was distinctly blue to the naked eye, even though it shows as black in the photos.  Stars were difficult to see until a few hours later.  I took a few shots of the moon at different heights before the eclipse and some several minutes apart once the event began. 


When the eclipse reached the halfway point we decided to head for the surf again.  It was substantially nearer by this time so we stripped off where we were and went down the slope to the beach.  The surf, along with being nearer, was somewhat larger now, with some waves nearing three feet.  That’s a bit of a shocker when it hits below the belt and travels upward.  It didn’t take us long to get thoroughly wet, then scamper back up the hill for more coffee and cookies.  This time I lit a campfire in one of the firepits to provide some welcome warmth.  Then we settled in to a combination of Moon Watch and Bay Watch as the moon turned from butter to blood.

As the moon was steadily being eaten by the wolf the surrounding sky grew correspondingly darker and soon the stars were shining brilliantly.  The Milky Way was clearly visible and we laid back on a groundsheet with me pointing out the constellations and planets because I had my Sky and Telescope cheat-sheet and a planisphere with me.



Totality of the eclipse arrived at 11:47 with high tide close behind at 11:51 ADT – time for a third and final dip in the sea.  Of course this trip was shorter than the last, and so was the time spent in the water.  It was now time to pack up, drown the fire and head to our respective homes. 

Naturism in theory.  Naturism in action.  You meet the nicest people when you're naked.

Friday 25 September 2015

Rail-lining

Once upon a time, many long ages ago, when Detroit dinosaurs ruled the Earth, this province was chockablock with railway lines.  You could go nearly anywhere in the province by railway and the train staff was usually pleased to stop their iron horse to let you dismount where and when you wished.  People used to go fishing by train, simply telling the conductor what stream they wanted to get off at and that was that.  A returning train late in the day was flagged down and home they went.  These days are gone now, and never will return.  I can do without the Detroit dinosaurs but I most assuredly miss the trains.

This map, adapted from the NB Railway Museum, shows most of the historical NB railway lines

What we have now is a few active subdivisions of the CNR, the NB Southern Railway, too damned few passenger trains, and a lot of abandoned railway lines.  Most of the right-of-way for the lines abandoned during the last few decades has been converted into multi-use trails.  Some, sadly, have been abandoned to nature and it is now almost impossible to follow their course.  However, as you can see from comparing the two maps, there are now a lot of remote trails to hike.

Today's sad remnant

Railway lines make good places for naked hiking, it gives new meaning to the term "train buff."  The rail lines are good for a variety of reasons, first and foremost, they usually run for miles through the middle of nowhere so the chances of being seen and complained about are pretty minimal.  They also cross rivers and streams where you can fish or swim.  Also, being rail lines, they always have an easy grade so hills are at an absolute minimum, making them good for bicycling too.  Those rail lines that have been converted into multi-use trails usually have pretty good going wherever they haven’t been trashed by ATVs.  The lost and forlorn lines are more likely to be trashed but even the improved trails can suffer badly from heavy ATV use, whether from being rutted, or turned into mud holes, or desecrated by litter.  Even so, they are a good bet for all the reasons at the beginning of this paragraph.

Active railway lines are not good bets for naked hiking, not even for shorter hikes.  I DO NOT advocate hiking on active rail lines.  Why not?  Secondarily, because it is trespassing on railway property and some of their employees can get quite cranky about that.  But first and foremost, because it is dangerous.  Railway lines have a bad reputation for being inhabited by great thundering steel monsters that weigh a gazillion tons and simply can’t stop with any degree of ease.  Meddle not in the affairs of speeding steel monsters, for you are fragile and squishy, and they are not.


But . . . if you do decide to hike along an active railway for goodness sake keep your eyes open well in the distance ahead and look behind you every couple of minutes so the train doesn’t sneak up on you.  If you do both these things you will see the train long before the engineer sees you – those four big 200k candlepower headlights cannot be missed.  Then, get off the track immediately, far enough off the track that the engineer can’t see you and worry that you might fall in front of his train at the last minute.   Give him a break, it’s a stressful job.

Also, keep your ears open.  I can’t imagine why anyone would want to go for a hike in the wilds and then plug their earbuds in and listen to their MP3 player.  But people do it; I’ve seen it.  People have gotten run over by trains because of it.  The fact is that many people crank up their music to a level where they can no longer hear something so loud as a train horn -- 90 dB at 152 metres (500 feet).  How stupid is that ?!?!  Pretty stupid, and well deserving of a Darwin Award.

If you go hiking the train tracks (in Canada) a moderately active single line is going to look something like this, with shiny top surfaces on the rails and not much vegetation except a bit of grass or weeds growing on the railbed:




 

However, you are in luck if you know where to find a railway line that is out of use but not decommissioned.  Why lucky?  Because railway tracks still equipped with rails and ties make a very uncomfortable ATV trail so the ATVers go elsewhere.  Therefore hikers can have such rail lines all to themselves.  

Such a rail line is shown below, with rusted top surfaces on the rails and lots of vegetation such as bushes and berry canes growing up between the rails.  Note the encroachment on both sides of the right-of-way and the decrepit ties . . . all good signs.  (Caveat for US readers:  Some active US rail lines look far worse than that shown in the photo below -- don't be fooled by a railway with crappy maintenance.)

No, those signs weren't really there, I added them


If you’ve got one of these lines at your disposal you’re golden.  Check it out on Google Earth so you know what to expect all the way down the line, especially at road crossings, if any.

Most important, have fun!  And watch out for moose crossing the railroad.

Monday 14 September 2015

Blooming Point Beach

Please note, Blooming Point is NOT in New Brunswick; it is in our neighbour, Prince Edward Island.  Also note that this beach is not an official nudist beach but has been used as such for so long that it may as well be.

First, Blooming Point has a really great beach, unspoiled by development of any kind.  It is a red sand beach backed by dunes of moderate height and a large marsh which keeps development at bay.  It is fronted by the relatively warmer waters of the Gulf of St Lawrence.


Satellite photo adapted from Google Earth -- the vignette shows the gap in the dunes at the end of the road

Second, it is really easy to find and to get there.  The down side is that there are no facilities on the beach, so do the necessary before you get there and take whatever you need for a day at the beach.   Note: In 2014 there were some porta-potties at the parking area.  In 2015 they were not provided.  The situation for 2016 and beyond is a crap shoot, pun intended.

How to get there . . .

If you are travelling from Charlottetown you should be on PEI Hwy #2 EAST.  Watch for Hwy #6 on the left and ignore it.  Now watch for Hwy 218/219 on the left.  A short distance in advance of that necessary turn the PEI highways folks have thoughtfully erected a sign indicating Hwy 218 to the right – don’t go there.  As for Hwy 218 to the LEFT they have cleverly indicated it (as of July 2105) with a sign half hidden in the bushes saying “Blooming Point Road” –  turn LEFT there.  Within 1.5 kms you come to a Y-junction of Hwys 218 & 219 – take the right-hand fork onto Hwy 218.  Hold on a minute . . . 

For those of you who are coming from Cavendish or anywhere else on PEI’s north-east coast you’ll likely be on Hwy # 6 or some other name/number for it.  Head for Tracadie and when you get there watch for the junction with Hwy 219 on your LEFT, then follow Hwy 219 to its junction with Hwy 218.

Okay, now that we are all in the same place, follow Hwy 218 ( Blooming Point Road ) for about 7.4 kms to MacDonald Road on the LEFT.  If the pavement of Hwy 218 ends beneath your tires you have just missed your turn – go back.  Follow MacDonald Road 1.25 kms to the ample dirt  parking lot on the right, and a further 0.45 kms to the drop-off area.  DO NOT park at the drop-off area – cars have been towed for that, so don’t do it.  Some of the locals park there but for a 450 metre walk do you want to take the chance?

Are we there yet?

Almost.  The path from the drop-off area to the beach is a short, wide, well-trodden and rising gap through the soft sand of the dunes.  When you get to the beach turn LEFT (textiles turn right) and walk at least five hundred metres before you set up your beach camp.  Usually there will be someone already camped at or near the limit of tolerance so that will be a good marker.  Within the “N Zone” you can usually walk for four kms (one way) to the end of the point.  It used to be a 6.5 km walk but Blooming Point got bobbed in the winter of 2010 when a storm tide cut the end off it.  Early in the season be aware that park officials might close part of the beach during the breeding season for the endangered piping plover.  Please respect the signs indicated the closed area. 

Blooming Point Beach is often quite windy so some sort of windbreak / shelter will make your visit there much more pleasant.  I recommend the SportBrella, a bargain at about 70 $Cdn from most vendors.

Friday 11 September 2015

Cheeseman Beach

Cheeseman Beach is NOT an official nude beach.  However it is used as such by at least a few local naturists willing to make the trek, and because of the trek it is really quite secluded.   Degree of difficulty getting there: Difficult to ARDUOUS, depending on which way you go.

Amenities: Nature, solitude, a fine sand beach and enough space for a comfortable camp above the tide line.  Other than that, nothing.  Anything that you’re going to need must be brought with you.  Anything that you brought with you must be taken back with you.


Wildlife:  On land:  moose, black bear, coyote, raccoons and smaller critters.  In the air: mostly sea birds.  In the water: usually harbour seals, sometimes porpoises and, rarely, pilot whales.

The beach is sandy and largish.  At high tide the water is muddy and very cold.  At low tide the tidal mud flats stretch out a long way and in some places can be somewhat treacherous. Best advice – stay on the beach.  When the tide comes in it comes in fast and often brings fog with it. 
At low tide Frenchmans Creek becomes a small brook and is great for stream walking.

Satellite photo adapted from Google Earth
How to get there . . . 
 
Cheeseman is located on Canadian Nature Conservancy (1) land on the eastern shore of the Musquash (2) Estuary a few kms west of Saint John.  There are several ways to get there, this is the most direct:


– take NB Hwy 1 WEST from Saint John to Exit 112, turn LEFT and follow King William Road to the vicinity of NB Power’s Coleson Cove generating station.  When I say that you can’t miss the station I am not kidding;


– just BEFORE the generating station turn RIGHT onto Burchill Road.  This road is not signed and is to all intents and purposes abandoned.  Drive slowly and slalom through the potholes keeping a careful eye out for oncoming vehicles or moose, one is as likely as the other;


– follow Burchill Road for 2.6 kms to a turn-off on the left where you can park one vehicle only, or go over the hill a bit and there is a crushed rock quarry on the left where you can park hundreds of cars if need be.  Park and walk from either point.  The track into the bush was once Cheeseman Beach Road but was allowed to grow in with alders on both sides; it has been hogged out within the last few years and is once again wide enough for a single vehicle all the way down the hill to the aqueduct right-of-way.  The road shows signs of a few vehicles having passed over it and it is also used by four-wheelers (indeed, what road isn't?) but you’re in the middle of nowhere so you can go naked from this point onward;


– follow Cheeseman Beach “Road” downhill for 800 metres where you come to an open space where the “Aqueduct Trail” forms something of a crossroads.  The continuation of the Cheeseman Beach Road is straight across but, as of August 2019, is grown in with alders on both sides.  Continue onward for maybe 300 metres to where the bridge/culverts used to cross Frenchman’s Creek. (3)  The bridge has been history for a long time and that is why you have to check the tide table before you head off on this trek.  You should only try to ford the creek a few hours either side of low tide; plan your trip accordingly; and 


– once you’ve crossed Frenchmans Creek,
Cheeseman Beach is about 700 metres ahead. Follow the rather more faint trail uphill and beneath the first set of electric power lines.  You then pass through a linear stand of forest where the trail forks.  Take the LEFT fork and after passing beneath the second set of power lines, continue on to Cheeseman Beach.  This may require a degree bushwhacking unless some kind soul has been there before you and cleared the way.  


The other way to walk to Cheeseman is rather more difficult.  Note the red and yellow triangle on the satellite photo above.  This is the trailhead if you need to get out when the tide is too high to ford Frenchmans Creek, you get there by following the RIGHT hand fork of the trail back in forest between the sets of power lines.  The trail itself is the CNC Five Fathom Hole Trail leading from a parking lot near Prince of Wales to the red and yellow triangle.  It is not an easy trail except the first bit of it near the parking lot.  Its total length is about 4.5 kms of rather rough going, not to be attempted in the dark under any circumstances.




The third and easiest way to get to Cheeseman is via sea kayak from Black Beach.  Access to this launch point is via King William Road to the generating station, then follow the signs for Black Beach.  Go while the tide is still running in so you can paddle right up to the beach, otherwise you have to contend with the tidal flats.

(1) For more about the CNC Musquash Estuary property
(2) Muquash is an Algonkian word meaning “muskrat”
(3) Frenchmans Creek was named for the French privateer (pirate) Capt Baptiste who sojourned here with his corvette (pirate ship) La Bonne over the winter of 1694-95, after it was chased inshore by an English cruiser (pirate).  According to local lore, the crew deserted and the corvette fell to ruin and sank.

                           

Thursday 10 September 2015

Weenie Waggers

The charge is often made – always by ignorant people –  that naturists / nudists are a bunch of sex-crazed perverts.  Many non-naturists / -nudists imagine life at a nude-friendly venue as being a constant orgy.  One visit to a real naturist venue should cure our detractors of that notion . . . but it won’t.  They will continue to believe what they want to believe.  They base their opinions on one or more of at least three sources: their own prejudices, their secret desires and the rare reports in the news media concerning some naked malefactor who is almost inevitably described as a “nudist.”  It is too bad that we don’t have a naturist / nudist anti-defamation league that could jump all over such reporting and make them print apologies and corrections.  But we don’t.  So we suffer bad press because of bad people.

I was at the beach last weekend and as the afternoon drew late I decided I had manufactured enough vitamin D, packed up my kit and trundled off up the tide line toward the boardwalk, my trusty beach buggy following faithfully behind.  This was at Kellys so the boardwalk was somewhat distant.  When I reached a point well short of the family beach and had just passed the last nudist beach camp I schlepped into my shorts before continuing.

Not long after, when I was well within eyeshot of the Clothen, I noticed a naked guy had built his little camp far too close to them.  So I angled my course towards him with the idea of advising him that this wasn’t a good plan at all.  We don’t want to upset, shock or alarm the textiles after all.  That is only good sense.  On closing the distance between us I realized that the guy wasn’t naked after all.  He was just standing there with his Speedo around his knees and beating the bishop while watching the textiles.  I have 20/20 (corrected) vision so it might tell you something about the guy that I had to get within speaking distance to see what he was about. “Hey,” I began diplomatically, “pervert!”

The guy, let’s call him Stubby, turned toward me and spoke.  For the flavour of his part of the exchange imagine if you will a pirate with a heavy French accent.  If you have ever seen one of the Bugs Bunny cartoons featuring Blacque Jacque Shellaque you will have the voice exactly so I won’t try to render the words into dialect.  “Har!” he said, “I show you my cock!” 




 I had a momentary flash of the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the French soldier in the castle shouts ‘I wave my private parts at your aunties...’  It was surreal enough to get me going.  I replied “Here now, that isn’t a cock, that’s a weenie . . . cocks are much bigger.”

I’m not sure that he heard me, but I think that he must have.  He stopped, thunderstruck.  Perhaps I had offended him – go figure!  Whatever, he pulled up his Speedo, grabbed his meagre beach kit and stomped off down the beach towards the N Zone.  Maybe that wasn’t the ideal outcome but at least if got him away from the kiddies on the family beach and avoided unpleasant media reportage.  I didn’t report the guy because no good would come of that.  Police response time being what it is he wouldn’t have been caught.  Public prejudice being what it is the naturists / nudists who had been minding their own business on the beach all day would have been held guilty by association.

If you want to find real perverts all you have to do is look within textile society.  Those are the people far more likely to be obsessed with sex and to equate sex and nudity.  




Other than that it was a great day at the beach.

Monday 31 August 2015

Nude New River

 I went hiking a few days ago to explore the potential for stream walking in the upper reaches of the mighty New River.  The New is really more of a biggish stream than a river.  It rises in the uninhabited wilds of Clarendon Parish at the outflow of Adelaide Lake, then wends its way through forest and bog gathering along its course the waters of the Tamarack and several other brooks.  It meanders placidly much of the time but is given to pitching itself violently downslope wherever terrain allows, as it does on several occasions.  Finally it meets tidewater at New River Beach where it flows into the Bay of Fundy through a tangle of rapids and rocks.

My destination was one of the New’s scenes of violence, a set of continuous rapids between two placid pools, a pitch of about eleven metres vertical drop over a run of about four hundred metres, circled in yellow on the satellite photo below.  Being situated more or less in the middle of nowhere the falls’ name, if it has one, isn’t posted for the casual tourist.  I have asked locally and checked with Natural Resources but it seems to be a no-name feature.  For the moment it remains anonymous, a John Doe waterfall.


The head of the rapid looking upstream from Tanners Rocks
I had not seen the place before except from the vantage point of a satellite passing overhead – thanks to the CIA by way of Google Earth – so I chose my target the same way that SAC does, just not with the same grisly intent. The day was fine with high twenties (Celsius degrees of course) and a sky of sun-washed blue only lightly scattered with tiny clouds.  The drive to get there was easy enough: NB Hwy 1 West to Exit 86, then Hwy 175 to Hwy 780, then Hwy 780 for six kms to the crossroads with forest harvest Road #6.  Then it was hidey-ho, onward we go, over the dirt roads to wherever you'd like to goCaveat: Do not head out here with the family grocery-getter unless it has four-wheel drive, you’ll need the extra ground clearance. 

Actually, I halted about 150 metres or so short of the river bank where the road dead-ends.  In truth, it veers to the right and continues, but from that point it becomes more of a marsh than a road.  Beyond the dry end of the road there was nothing but forest, not even a game trail, so I bushwhacked my way through fern, scrub and riparian forest not bothering with a compass.  My ears were leading me straight to the sound of the unseen rapids.  On reaching the bank I found the river running high and fast due to recent rains, but it had obviously receded a metre or so in depth during the last few days.  You could see where patches of sedges had been combed flat by the flood and where the New River had, briefly at least, been twice the width I found it when my bushwhacking brought me to its rocky bank.  I had lucked out and had arrived quite by accident at the comfortably flat rocks near the top of the rapids. These are the only such rocks on the eastern bank along the run of this falls, all the rest are fractured with many exposed sharp edges, altogether not good for lounging or laying out to work on one’s tan.  Therefore I named the big smoothish rocks Tanners Rocks.

Tanners Rocks looking upstream
In my mind I divided the falls into three sections, from the upstream pool to the second drop past Tanners Rocks; then a dogleg stretch ending at the top of a final drop and the final drop itself.  From top to bottom is a run of about 420 metres, encompassing a total vertical drop of about thirteen metres.  

Split Falls looking downstream
I realized immediately that the potential for stream walking here was infinite, at that point where infinity approaches zero.  The New was too full, too deep and too fast for stream walking but it would be a great spot for creek kayaking or rafting with something the size of an Aire Puma.  A full-sized outfitter’s raft would be too big – I know; I used to be a raft guide.  This falls rates a solid Class III, probably a Class III+ because of the narrow channel, quick changes of direction and the near impossibility of either shore rescue or self-rescue.  Until you wash over the left drop of the final drop self-rescue by survival swimming is the sole option.  It is the sort of run that creek kayakers might do several times in a day, just for the fun of it.  But there is a problem with that concept, there is no riverside portage trail to hump your kayak back to the top of the run, not unless you’re a moose.  And the terrain is “difficult.” [I use “difficult” here as a euphemism for several other words that spring to mind and lip, none of which are polite.] There is also the problem of the put-in and take-out points.  Put-in at the upriver pond could be managed by some energetic souls hacking a trail through a scant sixty metres of bush.  Take-out exists nine hundred metres downstream on the left, just at the head of the next rapid and requires a 2.5 km shuttle over quite decent woods roads.  Both put-in and take-out will require humping the boats a couple of hundred metres.
Outflow from the eddy below Split Falls
Okay, so stream walking wasn’t an option here.  That really wasn’t that big a deal because the woods roads in the area make it a great place for free-range nude recreation: driving, hiking, camping, fishing and even bicycling . . . and skinnydipping.
 
Never overlook an opportunity for skinnydipping


And for the naturist naturalist there are many sights besides the flora.  In the space of five hours I saw hares, bears, beavers, moose and a young coyote, also many more frogs than I had seen in a long time.  All of this was free for the looking and free of any other person driving through.  Many of the roads out here are dead ends and that helps.  I walked about twelve kms in all, taking my time, walking in and out of sun and shade and thoroughly enjoying myself.  The only strenuous part of the trip had been the bushwhacking in the first instance and then breaking trail alongside the river.  After that it was a walk in the park, but a park of a very different sort.  The area is not parkland, it is a working forest with few areas unharvested except the riparian strips and inaccessible bogs.  Many areas are in various stages of regrowth and are provide wildlife habitat that old growth forest would have denied.  The ease of access and good footing is provided by all those dead-end harvest roads.  So if you go there consider the positive aspects along with the scars left by forestry and the powerline corridor.

But speaking of parks, a very nice thing about the area is that it is located close to New River Beach Provincial Park.  NRBPP is not a nudist recreation area -- which is really unfortunate but totally expected -- but it does have campsites for your tent or your land yacht, as well as a great saltwater beach.  So it provides a good base camp for your nude explorations of the New River back country.  Enjoy!

Monday 17 August 2015

Reduce, Re-use, Recycle . . . RE-PURPOSE

Wondering what do you do with that old folding golf cart?  Tired of lugging all your beach kit on your back?  One question answers the other.  Re-purpose that old golf cart as a beach cart.  Genius!  Pure genius!


This isn’t my idea but I wish that it was.  On my most recent trip to Blooming Point beach there I was, like some kind of hermit crab, lugging my house on my back.  The combined bulk of a backpack, beach chair and beach umbrella made a substantial and uncomfortable load when trekking down a sandy beach and I was considering just how far I should walk before setting up camp.  When one is oppressed by the weight and bulk of a load and the heat of the sun such decisions are often made sooner than is optimal.  I decided the time and place had arrived, pitched my kit on the ground and set up my beach camp.

No sooner was I done than a brighter light came along toting everything I’d had, plus a small cooler.  (You get 10 bonus points for bringing a cooler to the beach, 50 points if it contains beer.)  There he was, walking along effortlessly, towing his gear behind him on an old golf cart.  Both this and his better-than-average tan told me that this person was a beach pro.  Anyway, he passed on up the beach and set up camp some way farther on.  I lounged in my beach chair, worked on my tan and considered how to source a golf cart and what I might do to convert it for beach use.

Maybe such use of golf carts is common elsewhere, but I’ve been on several different nudist beaches in more than a few countries and this was the first time I had seen it.  And I hadn’t seen them in use amongst the Clothen either . . . maybe I just haven’t been paying attention.  But I have seen beach goers’ stuff strapped onto bicycles and loaded aboard baby buggies and Vermont garden carts.  Once, I saw some guy struggling along the shoreline at Oka-pulco with a wheelbarrow overloaded with two large coolers – the coolers were full of Labatt’s 50 so, les 100 points de bonus.  But c’mon man!  I didn’t want the sort of cart I’d have to bring by truck.  I wanted something I could fold away easily and stow in the trunk of my car.

On return to Textilia I cast about for sources.  Golf shops were out of the question because you just don’t buy a higher-end item and then start cutting it.  So I checked the local do-all store and found that I could have a brand new cart for the small sum of $50 or so.  That isn’t much money but the item on offer had wire-spoke wheels that I didn’t think would last all that well with the tide splashing on them.  As well, it had skinny tires that I didn’t think would float over the sand as easily as I’d like.  After a weekend of doing yard sale walk-bys around the neighbourhood I discarded them as a source, then went online with Kijiji and soon had a few to choose from.  A short drive and $25 later I had what I wanted, a golf cart with plastic wheels and wide tires, barely used, which, considering the pun, was entirely appropriate.

So there is it, no major modifications necessary.  I just removed the score card tablet, rearranged the existing webbing straps, added a few more and voila, a labour-saving device anyone can appreciate.  The test drive at Kellys was a complete success but suggested additional modifications.  Next, I have to lengthen the handle by several inches and alter the footplate to accommodate a small cooler.

Wednesday 12 August 2015

The Nudist Dictionary



The Nudist Dictionary, that’s what the Young Naturists of America web page claims it has.  But the definitions on that website are either inadequate dictionary entries or entirely idiosyncratic.  Some bear little relationship to reality, some are contradictory and at least one is just plain silly.

But this is not a rant against the YNA; far from it.  I wish them success in what they are attempting to do.  From what I’ve heard they have organized some very good events and anything they can do of a positive nature to address the body image issues rife within North American society would be a victory for common sense.

The YNA writer starts off with a questionable definition of nudism borrowed from dictionary.com:  Nudism – The belief in or practice of going nude, especially in secluded, gender-mixed groups for reasons of health.   Then they eschew dictionary.com when it comes to defining naturism and switch to the new Oxford dictionary which yields:  Naturism – The practice of going naked in designated areas.   I take issue with both definitions.  The use of the words secluded and designated reads like the dictionaries are subsidiaries of the AANR and the old model for nude recreation.

Now done with dictionaries, the YNA writer is off into the realms of the upper air to define other terms without adding the important caveat “in our opinion:”
Nudist – A Nudist is a person who enjoys nonsexual nude recreation and social nude activities in sanctioned public locations and / or in private ones.
Naturist – A Naturist is a person who enjoys nonsexual nude recreation and social nude activities with a major focus of interest on those activities that take place outdoors, in nature and/or on public land. This group also believes that Naturism and environmental issues are intertwined.
Nudie – We also understand that there are some people who don’t like labels and especially hate the old world terms of nudist and naturist.  Therefore we came up with a third category for such nude-friendly people – Nudie.


What can I say?  Quite a bit, actually but, caveat emptor, these are my own opinions, your mileage may vary.

Naked (adj) – entirely unclothed (in my opinion hats and footwear don’t count as clothing)



Nakie (adj) (joc / infant) – naked

Nude (n) – (1) a naked person, (2) a work of art depicting (1); also
(adj) – naked
 
Nudist (n) – (1) “an adherent of the cult of the nude” [NOED definition – not very helpful], (2) a person who likes to be naked just because it feels right, moral, comfortable and/or natural and who follows this lifestyle choice, whether alone or in groups with the awareness that nudism is non-sexualized nudity. In my own opinion, a person can be a real nudist and still not be a naturist.  Many people who are comfortable being naked in private or semi-private cannot manage the evolution necessary to become naturists – i.e. social nudists – fully comfortable with being naked in the presence of strangers.

Naturism (n) – “a lifestyle in harmony with nature, expressed through social nudity, and characterized by self-respect of people with different opinions and of the environment.” [INF definition – authoritative]  But naturism doesn’t end there.  Naturism is a house of many mansions: some segments among Christians, Jews, Neo-Druids, Wiccans, vegans, anarchists, teetotallers, fitness seekers, smoothies, naturals, transcendentalists, pacifists and others claim their own patch within naturism but none of them own the term naturist.  Still, it doesn’t stop the uninitiated from getting into arguments about what constitutes real naturism.

Naturist (n) a nudist who ascribes certain societal principles and ideals to being naked as part of a social group, particularly those aspects of the lifestyle enumerated within the INF definition, and who as a matter of principle becomes involved with naturist society.  See above for some of the sub-genres one might adhere to . . . or not.

Nudie (n) – a young person who likes to be naked but who purports to dislike labels (because that is a big deal these days) so, instead of self-identifying with the existing labels nudist or naturist, adopts the label nudie instead, thereby demonstrating a complete non-comprehension of irony

And I’ll toss in this definition of swinger because the ignoranti among the Clothen are often of the opinion that nudists/naturists are constantly involved in orgies of some sort:

Swinger (n) – (1) a label adopted by sexual libertines seeking to avoid the negative connotations of being labeled as libertines,  (2) a person, either married or unmarried, who engages in social and recreational sex with numerous partners, sometimes of either or both genders, often as a form of performance art – in other words, a sexual libertine.  Swingers/libertines are neither nudists nor naturists but sometimes try to infiltrate nudist/naturist society as they do not understand the fundamental differences between the two lifestyles.

Moving along from the tawdry side of things to the sublime:

Free range naturism (n) – according to Stuart and Karla, the very articulate gurus of the genre at http://freerangenaturism.com/  free range naturism is “naturism without walls, away from the fences and gates of the traditional club, set loose to run free in the wilds.”  That works for me.  Free range naturism is naturism wherever innocent public nudity is tolerated or, failing that, wherever you can get away with it.  That can be on an isolated beach, a mountain trail or in the forest, on private or public land, but not confined to private clubs where one must pay for the privilege of being a natural human.  Free range naturism is the polar opposite of “beached and clubbed” naturism and, I’m happy to own, my preferred form of naturism since I was a teenager, rather longer than Stuart and Karla have been at it.  I used to refer to it as free roaming naturism until 2000 when I saw the animated film “Chicken Run” and switched my terminology.  Imagine my surprise when I happened upon a website with the name Free Range Naturism. 

Free-Ranger (n) – a proponent of free range naturism

Free Hiker (n) –  a person who hikes naked

Free Beach (n) – a public beach at which nudity is accepted

Naktiv (adj) – a portmanteau word coined by Richard Foley to promote naktivism, a form of naturism that combines the idea of being naked with the idea of rather more strenuous physical activity than pickle ball.  Naktivism is another take on free range naturism and is perhaps best known for its signature event, the N.E.W.T. – the Naked European Walking Tour.  For more info google “naktiv”




Textile (n) longstanding naturist common coinage for a person who is clothed and who cannot (as yet) make the transition to nudism or naturism [compare with “Gentile” as an outside the chosen people] – held by some to be a pejorative term; also useable as an adjective, e.g. “textile attitudes”

Clothen (n)
[this is my own coinage, modeled on the word “heathen” to denote a person or persons who does not subscribe to a widely held precepts of naturism, as regarded by those who do] a person who is clothed and who cannot (as yet) make the transition to nudism or naturism; also useable as an adjective;  also useable as an adjective in the same manner as "textile"

All this said, this is NOT a definitive naturists dictionary.  The fact is that there isn’t such a thing.  No doubt some people will disagree with my definitions, and that is their right.  Definitions for some of these terms are difficult to pin down in that they are not truly definitive, merely guidelines.  Concepts change over time and from place to place.  In Britain my definitions of nudist and naturist would have more traction than they would in the USA where the two words are most often used as synonyms . . . at least by persons not claiming to be nudies.