While last year was hell for me, I still managed to get away for a bit of nude camping in the middle of it. I needed the break and thankfully the local campground was still open despite the plague.
I wasn’t too surprised, honestly. Despite only being 45 minutes away from me (in a major city) the campground is hardly used. I went there back in 2016 with my kids and we only saw one other set of butt cheeks, wayyyy off in the distance. We had the whole place to ourselves. I figured it was because we were there in October.
Alas, I was wrong.
July 4th was a long weekend for me so I made last minute plans to go camping. On Thursday I called and asked if there was space for camping Friday night. I was expecting that the holiday would mean a rush on sites but I was told “we have plenty of spots, just come when you can.”
I don’t remember exactly when I arrived, but it was definitely before noon. Pulling in I was met with the standard check-in process in an area outside the main gate. The owner of the campground is a bit of an eccentric woman and is never naked. But she’s nice enough. I checked in and started driving towards my campsite beyond the gate. On my way I noticed maybe eight people around the pool. True to most nudist locations seven of them were men and only one was a woman.
I set up my tent and went off to the woods check out the creek. I remembered enjoying the nature trail in 2016 and I wanted to check it out again in the summertime when it was warmer.
The trail leads down to the St. Mary’s River, the border between Florida and Georgia. It’s not much of a river at this point, more like a creek, and super black with tannins. It’s a beautiful spot with a nice sand beach and almost deep enough to swim in.
After a bit of wading I decided to check out the pool and be social. I rinsed off in the outdoor shower (I freakin love those things) and found a lounge chair to relax on. The “crowd” had dwindled down to six people. Most people were kinda keeping to themselves and I followed suit by reading a book.
Eventually I made my way into the pool. It is pretty immaculate every time I go there. Most of that afternoon before the rain is a blur to my mind. I remember people left as the day went on but I don’t think I talked to many of them.
Then the storm came.
There is a huge pavilion at the campground which was a much better shelter than my tent. I took a bottle of scotch, my pipe and tobacco, my book, and my camera under the pavilion and decided to wait out the storm.
After reading for a bit I decided to pace the perimeter of the “building”. I walked and contemplated my existence. All the shit I had been going through hit me like a ton of sand. I prayed. I walked and walked and walked around and around, the wind and occasional raindrop hitting my skin and reminding me how alive I was. I cried. I rarely cry, and with the build up I ugly cried. Sobbing, tears, snot, all of poured out of me almost as heavy as the rain that was falling.
Catharsis is a real thing. My mind was settled after that afternoon. I doubt I would have felt quite the clarity had I been anywhere else in that moment. Naked and alone before God, and reminded of His power by pouring rain, lightning, and thunder.
The rest of the trip was good, I slept well despite the heat and humidity (nude sleeping helps soooo much with that) and went for an early morning swim. I met a guy the next day who went through very similar circumstances and we talked all morning until the eccentric owner chased us out.
If you can, I highly recommend you try nude camping. Even if you are by yourself, the experience can be beautiful. I’ve been back there once with my girlfriend and it was just as relaxing. Maybe I’ll write about that some time.
Until next time, have an awesome nude life!
