As we continue our travels across America, the story has brought us into Colorado. After a couple of days in the populous areas, we’re ready for some solitude in nature.
I have a strange feeling about Colorado today. It has always been in my mind a free place with many miles of rugged mountain dreamscapes. So far today, it is crowded. As we head west on I-70, the oncoming lane of weekenders returning to Denver can only be described as a parking lot. Cars are stopped dead, three lanes wide, for many miles on this Sunday morning.
People are everywhere. We pull off to have a quick break and have a bite to eat in the only feasible spot, a parking lot next to a gas station and a marijuana store.
Looking up through the car’s window, hope is visualized. We can sit and watch a rather impressive look up into the steep canyon walls, which tower on both sides of the highway. I sense that we will find what we are looking for.
An hour later, there are still people everywhere. The visitor centers are only funnels for the Chamber of Commerce to show people where to spend money. They aren’t there to help hikers. They produce no maps, there are lies and no internet! Colorado feels like a huge tourist trap. CBT and pot seems to be everywhere in every town, everywhere. It is advertised in powder, in drinks, in food and treats.
We do however, feel confident to carnude. At stops, my kilt and a button up shirt, with DF in a sundress, do just fine to walk around in public.
After driving through a huge area, we haven’t found a place to camp, save a trailer park. Our mood in one word is “frustrated.”
For a late lunch and to take a breather from our frustration, we stop to try a Mexican restaurant. Here, there isn’t much else to eat, save pizza.
Sitting next to us, there are four young men drinking beer. We overhear their conversation. It seems that they could have information. We strike up a conversation, intent on inquiry and mention our woes.
“Yea, it isn’t like it was when you could just pull off the road and camp. There’s just so many people that have been moving in.” It isn’t just some fluke. Apparently, things have changed.
They tell us about a canyon that we might try. They had been there and now are going up to a very elevated place to backpack along the Colorado Trail and the famous Continental Divide Trail.
I tell them about our participation in World Naked Hiking Day (WNHD). “It’s a thing,” I tell them as we all smile. They are amused and intrigued.
We travel off of the highway on a well graded wide dirt road. It appears that the tourists are thinning out a bit. It’s the end of the weekend. There is a spot that appears to have some potential.
After all of the traffic and time behind the wheel, I’m feeling stiff, as I get out of the car. I can’t complain about mosquitoes anymore, it is cold again. We are high in The Rockies. The view is magnificent. We stand on a knoll looking out over a wild stream/river to distant green mountains.
There, up higher still, is a series of white water falls amongst the pines. We see the tiny pieces of white foam falling hundreds of feet over each. Binoculars will certainly be out shortly.
We are a few hundred feet from the road, mostly out of view of any traffic.
Where the mountain rises there is a dirt drive. We can see trailers down below. It’s alright, we’ll just relax enough and then enjoy tomorrow.
It is a nice warm night outside. In the tent, it is even warmer. We open both flaps on the tent to better enjoy the view of the many stars. It is a joy to lie there cuddling naked, pillows snuggling our heads.
A Colorful New Dawn:
I awake to a sunrise in the next day’s morning. Golden mountains are soaking in light of the sun. I soak it in, too.
I sit in my chair, once again, picking my little guitar. DF is in a book that her friend in Denver gave her. I write, catching up. We gather firewood and take a short walk.
It is just rest, nothing is on for today. I read with a breakfast of bran cereal, peaches, blue berries and almond milk. There’s just a few camping chores.
The extraordinary views, again and again, return to grasp our attention, yanking it away from whatever we are doing.
Everyone leaves and we find bounty all to ourselves. We walk to the other campsites, just to check them out.
By the riverside, we filter two bottles of water.
Careful. It’s Slippery and Steep.Freely nude, we sense solitude closer to the river and begin to wander along the shore. There is one more campsite, which is way back and looks private. This evaluation holds, only until the discovery of a road and more campsites.
DF is on to the topfree laws. She can’t be nude, but is enjoying the freedom of being around others, going about her business in just some panties.
We decide to go to the creek for a few hours. While placing ourselves in the brush at river’s side, two RV’s come by. We hear them up on the steep dirt tracks. One leaves. I have a kilt to cover up with to leave our private spot.
When we get back to camp, there is a guy with his dog, parked in the next camping spot. He says that he is looking for gem stones. He has a big bag that he has collected in Tennessee. He thinks that he will sell some tonight.
Altitude is evident here. We’re feeling winded on a small hill! It seems to make a day go by in a lazy haphazard flow.
A truck comes down to pick up a trailer that is giving them trouble. After about an hour, or so, he gets it hooked up and manages to pull it up the steep hillside. We remain sitting stealthy nude in our chairs, our backs to the procession driving by.
Today, we are heading back down to the creek. Some may call it a river. We filter out delicious cool water into our plastic carrying bottles. We enjoy guacamole and chips for our lunch.