The real life stories of a social naturist
Country Experiences: USA
Oregon: Rooster Rock
It must have been just after two in the afternoon when we turned our hired car off Route 84 into the Rooster Rock State Park parking lot. Research on the Internet had indicated that the clothing optional beach at Rooster Rock on the Columbia River, was one of two official clothing optional beaches in Oregon. The large rock edifice, from which the park gets its name loomed up over the river, but if I can remember properly it was on the Washington State side of the river. Taking a sling bag with towels, sunscreen, sunglasses and hats, my wife dressed in a pullover/off dress sans underwear, we set out on the path to the river beach. It wasn’t long before we met other users coming out of the park who told us that the path through the reeds was flooded, muddy and slippery, but passable. We decided to venture on, determined for some all over heliotrophy. In places the path was mid-calf deep in water, there were muddy patches but after a twenty minute walk we came out onto the open field that was the beginning of the clothing optional beach. At first we only noticed solitary men who had taken up sun bathing spots in the seclusion of the reeds. They had folding camp chairs and tables with umbrellas, reading books and magazines. At first they were most alarmed to see my wife, a clothed female, coming into their naked haven. One man actually got out of his chair and ran bare bummed away from us as if we were aliens.
“Take off your dress.” I quickly said to my wife “That will reassure them that we are also naturists and come in peace.” This she did and it worked, for faces of concern turned to faces of acceptance as we were welcomed to the fringes of the nudist area. We realised afterwards that we must have come down the path to the predominantly gay area. Reaching the sandy beach we found that the sand was conveinently scattered with occasional clumps of tall river grass providing both wind and privacy protection. We spread our towels 20 metres from the rivers edge and settled into an afternoon of nude sunbathing and swimming in the mighty Columbia River.
Once we were settled into our “spot” we had time to take in the other naturist groups on the beach. Next to us were a young couple with a toddler child, all without clothes, making sandcastles and carrying water in plastic buckets from the river to fill castle moats. It was wonderful to watch these young naturist parents playing with their child. They were doing what most textile beach goers would do but in the natural nude. It was obvious from their tans that this was not their first naturist outing and certainly not their last. They were engulfed with serenity and totally stress free.
Now in contrast to the above there was a group of about eight late teen boys playing football on the sand in front of us. From their accents we gathered or guessed that they were Russian or of Eastern European origin. Here these guys were with stength in numbers, but all were fully clothed, tee shirts, socks and sneakers playing a ball game on a clothing optional beach on a glorious sunny afternoon! The naturists were unperturbed by them as they were unconcerned by the naked bodies spread across the beach. Every now and then their ball would come to us. On one occasion when one of the boys came to recover their ball from my naked wife, she asked them why they did not take their clothes off and join in the spirit of naturism on the beach. He obiously could not undestand my wife and muttered “Het” and wandered back to the game. They continued to play all afternoon with us walking nude through their game to get to the river for a swim.
The sand beach continued its shallow gradual slope into the clear tanin coloured water. As we were swimming in the shallows there was little risk of river currents. It was funny to be swimming naked in this huge river watching large ship river traffic about 200m from where we were. Boat crews must have been aware of the Rooster Rock nudist beach for they all waved and we waved back.
There was another family group down the beach, it looked like a two family outing with parents and teenage children. It was a summer picnic occasion with the traditional hot dogs, corn on the cob, watermelon with cold beer and wine in copious supply. The parents and boys were all clothes free. The two teenage girls, one from each family were clothed in their bikinis. They were continually being badgered by their family and friends to loose their bikinis and enjoy the freedom of naturism. This did not happen, well not initially anyway. We noticed that during the course of the afternoon the girls were drinking beer and wine and getting very playful and giggily. Eventually they went into the river about waist deep and started a wrestling game. After a lot of mauling and groping each other they managed to get each others bikini tops off, exposing their teen breasts. Ultimately, to the applause of the family/friend group on the beach they removed their bikini bottoms. After that they were totally uninhibited about their bikini-less bodies and played as teenagers in water and on land with each other as well as the other boys in the party. A tick for two more young potential naturists.
A most bizzare procession emerged from the flooded reed lined path to the beach. Various people were carrying large black suitcases whose roller wheels wouldn’t work in the flooded path or sand. There were about six in the party. They set up to our left with a large rock as their backdrop. Soon tripods and reflective photographic screens were being erected. One suitcase opened up and it was a full stocked mobile make-up case, another complete hairdressers equipment. Cameras were put on the tripods. We realised that they were definitely not naturists, but that this was some sort of commercial photo shoot. The model had the atypical long blonde hair, which was brushed couiffed and sprayed in the afternoon breeze. She then removed her blouse exposing her to-be-photographed breasts. The make-up lady touched up her face then used a small camel hair brush to apply a tan coloured blusher between her breasts and other spots on her ample chest. The photographer then proceeded to take a multitude of pictures of this topless model from all angles asking her to turn this way, bend forward, backwards, lean against the rock. All of this was done with abandon, the topless model having been through the routine before without any concern for us naturist onlookers. It must have been a commercial shoot for some girly magazine. She could have been a famous fashion model for all we knew. But surely it would have been easier at another location where one would not have to carry all the shoot equipment through and over flooded reeded paths to reach Rooster Rock clothing optional beach.
We had noticed a young fully clothed black (Afro-American) boy wandering around the beach all afternoon with back pack and obligatory earphones. He never sat down or swam just kept walking among us. He must have been in his twenties. “Was he a voyeur on this nudist beach with a hidden camera?” were thoughts that must have gone through our minds as well as the minds of other naturists on the beach. Late afternoon we reluctantly packed up our towels and decided to maximise our clothes free experience by walking back to the parking lot in the nude. As we got to the reeded flooded path we met the young clothed black man. He walked with us and eventually my naked wife started to talk to him saying how it had been such a beautiful sunny afternoon and how we had enjoyed the opportunity of being bare at Rooster Rock beach. He said that we were so brave to bare all and that he was so envious of our courage. He said that he had been walking around all afternoon with his towel in his backpack, trying to pluck up courage to strip down in public and join the rest of the naked naturists. He said that he was also consciencious of the fact that he was the only black person on the beach and everyone would stare at him. He said he knew no one on the beach and lacked the confidence to do it on his own. He only wished that he had spoken with us earlier on the beach as he could have gladly joined us in that challenging naturist iniation to public nudity. We really enjoyed our afternoon at Rooster Rock state park, especially the opportunity to notch up a nude swim in the mighty Columbia River.
Squaw Mountain Ranch
One of our next naturist stops was a three night stay in a rented self catering guest lodge at Squaw Mountain Naturist Resort. Tucked away in the Douglas fir forests of northern Oregon it was indeed a scenic and ideal isolated location for a naturist resort. Arriving at the padlocked gate we phoned in our arrival to reception who told us the lock combination. A further two mile drive through the forest bought us to the campsite. We were most impressed in that it was the first naturist resort we had been to where the reception staff were also sans clothes. We were allocated a room in the double storey guest lodge with a shared lounge, dining and kitchen facilities downstairs. After unpacking our few textile clothes we stripped and decided to take the forest trail walk. With only shoes and sun hats we set out on the afternoon hike. The trail started at a forest pond, that despite its crystal clear water was not recommended for swimming. Looking between the reeds and waterlilies we saw our first newts in the wild. There was also a snake sunning itself on the grassy bank. We continued up the trail through virgin forest. It was an amazing sensation to be communing with nature in the nude as was intended. The trail opened out of the seclusion of the forest at the top of the hill and despite being all that more exposed on the grassland trail, we were now confident nude hikers. At a grass knolled peak we had excellent views of Mout St Helen’s volcanic peak in the distance and other north west volcanic shaped mountains. As there were no fences we did not know if we had strayed off the Squaw Mountain property and were now walking a naturel on some one else’s land. We were so enjoying our naked hike we continued onwards realising that we had to keep going left and downwards to get back to camp.
A well earned sauna was on the list when we got back to camp to ease aching muscles. What is so enjoyable about naturism is that one does not have to change out of sweaty hiking clothes or swimsuit, but can just take a communal shower in the nude, soapdown, rinse and get into the sauna. After time in the sauna we again showered and went into the pool to cool off then late afternoon slid into the large hot tub that accommodates eight occupants. A Canadian couple who owned a permanent cabin at Squaw Mountain soon joined us in the hot tub. To our amusement they said that they always travelled from their Canadian home town to enjoy the sun and warmth of naturism in Oregon!.
We had arrived at Squaw Miuntain on a Monday for a three night stay. The previous weekend they were very proud to tell us Squaw Mountain had sucessfully hosted the Naturist Music Festival that had been well attended by both musicians and naturists from far and near. That evening we headed to the showers which were an open plan unisex affair with no dividing cubicles. My wife and I had almost finished showering when we were joined by a young single man, tall with blonde hair (confirmed) and exceptionally good looking. If Michealangelo ever wanted a model to pose for another David statue this was the candidate and certainly better endowed that the marble rendition in Florence. It is unusual to get single men at naturist resorts. We left him in the shower and went and climbed into the hot tub which was semi raised on a wooden deck. We were the only ones in the hot tub. The young blonde man finished showering and came over to the hot tub to chat to us. He introduced himself and said that he had been up here for the weekend music festival and had so enjoyed himself that had decided to stay over a few extra days. He was now standing on the deck beween us as we lounged in the hot tub. He must have been about two feet way from us and was busy drying himself with a fluffy white towel. Now taking into account our raised position in the hot tub and his position on the deck in front of us his pelvic area was at eye level for us. He was taking his time in drying himself paying particular attention to drying his penis which was indeed a magnificent specimen. He went on to tell us that he was relatively new to naturism and was enjoying it beyond all his expectations. This while he continued to dry his penis with vigour with his towel. Bear in mind that this performance was taking place not two foot away from our faces. It was evident that his penis was slowly responding to his towelling ministrations. Looking across the hot tub at my wife who was sitting with her breasts above the water I noticed that her nipples were responding to the towelling performance. This young man was obviously getting her aroused.
“You have a magnificent speciman.” I said.
“Yes” he replied “Ten inches when fully aroused.” Now if I ever was to be bi-curious then this young man could have been a candidate. Things were certainly heating up and we couldn’t blame the hot tub. At that point, to break the tension, another elderly couple arrived to join us in the hot tub and she needed help to get in. He joined the two couples in the hot tub. They asked which cabin he was staying in and he said he was sleeping in the back of his van. Walking back to the guestlodge later my wife and I both pondered as to what would have transpired if we had invited this young man back to the guestlodge for beers and dinner. We laughed at the thought and the lost opportunity.
Having enjoyed our naked hike the previous day we decided to undertake another forest trail. Setting out in the direction of the trail head we battled to find where it began and where it went into the dense woods. Our frustration was building when there was a fully clothed man, a resident of the camp, standing on the road ahead of us. My naked wife went up to him and asked about how do we find the start of this woodland trail. He had a long chat with her saying that the trail was very overgrown with wash aways and had not been in use for a few years. While they were chatting I watched in awe, not jealous of a clothed man talking with my naked wife. Not upset by him grazing on her naked breasts, but proud of my wife’s beautiful bare breasts. Thrilled that my wife was a committed naturist who was unphased by being totally nude and talking with a clothed male stranger. I found it arousing to watch her confidence. After the interchange she to said that she experienced an adrenile rush knowng that she was standing in the buff asking a clothed man who she had never met before directions. She wondered if her boby, in all its bold nakedness, had caused the man any arousal. She smiled content.
Bagby Hot Springs
Not far from Squaw Mountain naturist camp, and well worth a visit for their quirkyness, are the Bagby Hot Springs. We drove to the well sign posted car park set in the forest. As we arrived a carload of college boys and girls were just leaving and enthused about the hot springs. “Well worth the walk through the woods.” They all said. The path was well maintained and an easy climb through aristocratic Douglas fir forest. The trees were enormous in girth and height, challenging the redwoods of California. A bridge on the path crossed a mountain river with crystal clear water tumbling over rocks and creating inviting swimming pools. This was about half way to the Bagby Hot Springs. A few toilet outhouses to the right in the forest indicated that we had arrived or were close to our destination. We crossed a small stream coming into a clearing in the forest. A fallen Douglas fir lay across the clearing it’s huge trunk hollowed out to such an extent that it could accomodate about eight adults. This must provide ideal natural shelter in rain or cold weather. There were a bunch of clothed teenagers occupying the hollowed tree trunk when we arrived. They invited us in for a photo opportunity. Hunking down among them we noticed that the air was blue and any remaining wood borers in the old trunk would certainly be high from the marijuana that these kids were smoking. We got out of there quickly before we started giggling. We wandered down to the hot water bathing structures, the objective of our visit. All credit to the Friends of Bagby who build repair and maintain these structures, bath houses and piped hot and cold spring water. This is all done on a user volunteer basis. The first structure was a row of bath houses all made out of wood with a covered wooden porch running along the front. These could easily been from a cowboy movie set. With a creaking wooden door each bathroom had a carved out tree truck as a sit two bath with wooden bung plug, laid on hot and cold water. We decided to leave this treat for last and went down to the next deck terrace. This had three enormous half wine barrels about two metres in diameter and about one metre deep. These are under roof of a large shedlike structure so could be utilised in cold and snowy weather. The end two hot tub barrels were occupied by naked men but we were lucky that the end tub was empty, so my wife and I started to fill the barrel. This required fitting the wooden bung firmly in the outlet hole and letting the hot water, fed by black polyprop pipe, pour into the barrel. Now the hot water was hot, the surface area of the bottom of the barrel large and there was not a cold water supply laid on to the individual barrels. As it got hotter we had to climb out and go to a nearby tap, fill a bucket with cold water and throw this into the barrel to cool the hot water down. We were not the only users doing this as the men from the other two barrels also needed bucket supplied cold water. There was a friendly melee at the only tap with my wife being the only naked woman among the scrum of naked men queing at the tap for hot water. Everyone was wet, got deliberately splashed and some horse play and grabbing ensured with my wife being the prime taget as she tried to push ahead of the queue playfully saying “Ladies first.” At times it looked like a unisex game of rugby in the raw with all the naked bums in the air around the tap.
Now with the large surface area of the bottom of the barrel we realised it would take a long time and many cold water bucket trips to get the barrel to fill to waist deep. As it was getting late we retired to the hollowed tree truck bathrooms where the hot and cold water on tap quickly filled the tub to running over. It was most relaxing to sit face to face in the hot spring tub. Being totally relaxed we decided it was time to head back down the woodland trail to the car park with a definite one last swim in the mountain river under the bridge. The marijuana smoking tree trunk teen occupants had left. Our bodies totally warmed by the hot spring waters we wandered in the nude down the very scenic path passing clothed visitors who were coming up the trail. On reaching the bridge, which was high over the river, we clambered down the bank and found a perfect swimming hole directly under the bridge. It takes courage to go nude, as we all know, but it took extra courage to get into the very cold clear water. Once in the water we swam and soon adjusted to the water temperature. It wasn’t long before we realised that there were people on the bridge watching our cold pool antics, some even taking pictures of our river frolic. Despite our many invitations for them to join us in the river their protestations outweighed the acceptances.
Terwilliger (Cougar) Hot Springs,
The Terwilliger hot springs, often referred to as the Cougar hot springs are located in the Willamette National Forest near Eugene, Oregon. The hot spring flows down a tiered grade, with pools below cooling as they become further and further from the source above. The hot springs were a pleasant drive from Squaw Mountain and presented another naturist opportunity. We drove along the McKenzie River past covered bridges then up a mountain road passing the dam wall. One passes the entrance to the hot springs on the right and had to cross a causeway to find car parking further down the road. We walked back to the kiosk and were asked to pay an admittance fee of US $5 each which we gladly did as these funds go to the upkeep of the facility. The man at the kiosk had a broad Scots accent and told all ticket buyers that they must be aware that the hot springs are clothing optional. The walk up through the forest path was about a third of a mile. There is a roofed shelter where we removed our clothing and hung them on wooden pegs with other user’s clothes. Down a steep bank and we were putting our toes into the top pool which is closest to where the hot spring bubbles out of the bank. This was too hot to start with so like Goldilocks and the three bear’s story we tried the next pool, also too warm, the third pool was just right so we settled in for a good naked soak. There are five pools in total all man-made and maintained. They are not big, probably 10 to 15 feet across. The top pool was occupied by three naked men, the second pool was empty, and my wife and I were nude in the third pool. A mother and daughter of about 20 arrived and they sat in the fourth pool in their bathing suits. We thought that they would relent and join the rest of us naturists in eventually removing their bathing suits once settled in, but they were content in textile. My wife had her arm along the stone dam wall of our pool when she said “Look, a snake.” There on the stones also enjoying the warmth of the hot waters was a snake. We called the others to come and see. The snake was in no hurry to move away so shared the warmth with us, occasionally putting its head to water for a drink. I said to my wife “Being naked in the wilderness with a visit from a snake makes us feel like Adam and Eve.” We felt no sudden urge to find a fig leaf to cover our genitals, nor did we feel like sinners but revelled in our nakedness.
We were joined by another family in our pool. She was a tall young mother with a beautiful trim figure, her breasts full, nipples swollen, as she was still breast feeding her eight week old baby. It was a tight fit in the pool and we were all up close and touching but no one seemed to mind. As with any naturist situation all ice is broken and we immediately started chatting. She was from the area and her family had been coming to the hot springs for four generations to enjoy the clothes freedom. She remembers coming here with her grandparents, she was bought here as a baby to be “baptised” and now here she was bringing her daughter to be baptised both to the hot pools as well as to naturism at its very best deep in the pristine forests of Oregon. I thought this was a wonderful story. We got to hold the naked baby and it loved the soothing of the warm waters, crying when she was taken out to the cooler air. The tall naked mother holding her naked baby look so serene that I was tempted to ask her if I could take a picture of them both. She was happy with the suggestion and at ease being photographed in the nude with her child.
However, the sounds of guitar music broke out attention and picture taking opportunity from the mother and baby. Sitting naked on a tree stump playing his guitar and singing was the young Scots ticket collector who was now off duty and had come to enjoy the waters of the hot springs with us. He said that this was the best job that anyone could wish for. Being paid to collect money at a clothing optional hot spring. Getting into the top, hotest pool he sunk his hand into the hole in the bank where the spring was coming from. He pulled out a large handful of grey clay which he said had amazing properties for the skin. It wasn’t long before we had all smeared the warm grey clay over our faces and bodies. We must have looked like a lost tribe of the Amazon, but there was no ritual dancing around a fire.
Willamettans Nudist Club,
New York State; Empire Haven Camp Park
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