Fast forward fourteen years, I have survived high school and am beginning my life as a married man. My wife and I were both 24 years old when we married in June of ‘85, and we have our own home and I can now walk about my house naked as a jaybird without a care in the world. My nudist proclivities have been on hold for all this time, but now I have nothing in the way. Except that my wife is not overly interested in being nude and would rather I wear clothes in case her mom or brother dropped in unexpectedly, which was pretty likely since her brother lived next door and her mom very close by. They also had a habit of just walking in rather than knocking. That’s just the way they were and had always done that, probably because they never really left home at that point. They grew up in their grandmother’s house, and then they just moved next door. Her brother put a mobile home on their grandmother’s property behind her house, and my wife had bought a house on an adjoining piece of property. So here we were newlyweds without really having any privacy. To make matters worse, my wife’s grandmother and mother were both prudes when it came to nudity or anything remotely sexual.

Oddly enough, there was only one instance when I was seen nude by my brother in law, early on a Saturday morning. My wife had gone to work that morning and I was off, so I had slept in a little and had just gotten out of bed. I had been sleeping nude for years and I usually put off getting dressed until I was going out. Our front door had a large window in it giving anyone on the outside a view into our living room. He had come to the door and saw me coming into the living room from the kitchen carrying my first cup of coffee of the morning. That was the first time he had ever knocked before entering. I wasn’t paying attention so I didn’t see him standing outside the door, and when he knocked he had turned his back to the door. I put on some shorts to answer the door, and he quickly took care of whatever it was he wanted to see me about and left. I could tell from his demeanor and discomfort that he had spotted me walking around the house nude, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

But in spite of the lack of privacy it was here that my nudist tendency began to blossom; our house was also right against a large tract of forest that was largely abandoned. It was rare for anyone to be on it, even during hunting season. It was also bordered by a county landfill that was soon to be closed, reclaimed and also abandoned. I found that during the warm months I could go out early in the morning and hike about these properties without being too likely to see anyone else. I started leaving for my walks wearing only a loose pair of shorts, so I could take them off or put them on without taking off my tennis shoes. I would enter the woods, walk far enough to be out of sight of any neighbors who might be out and strip them off. In the beginning, I’d carry the shorts with me in case I ran into someone. Eventually I became comfortable enough with the area to hang the shorts on a tree limb and leave them behind. It was simply glorious, walking through the great outdoors completely free! In the cool of the morning the insects were dormant, so the gnats and deer flies didn’t bother me, and since most of the ATV riders were kids and young adults, they didn’t come out until later in the day. I could have the forest to myself, and would hike about wherever I wanted to go with only a pair of sneakers on. But I longed for a companion to share it with. I so wanted my lovely wife to accompany me on these outings, but she adamantly refused to even consider it. She could not understand how going nude in the forest could be such a relaxing, almost spiritual experience; I would try to explain how it felt to be free of clothes in the great outdoors but she refused to hear what I was saying. Since I could not convince her to join me, I just kept going it alone.

Our home was situated on a hillside where a flat area had been carved out to place the house, and our lot extended on up the hill. It was cleared of trees but was surrounded by trees on three sides. There was a trail that led off the upper back corner of our lot into the expanse of forest that I started hiking nude in. I have always loved the outdoors, and was an avid hunter back then. I had been over most of the property before, having hunted squirrel and grouse on it many times. There were many trails criss-crossing the property, mostly deer trails but also quite a few that had been cut by kids many years before for riding dirt bikes. The part nearest our house was relatively clear of underbrush, and except for in the spring when the forest floor was covered with May apple plants, you could walk bare legged without getting your skin rubbed with vegetation. That made it easier to walk about without as much fear of walking up on a snake. Here in Appalachia copperheads are rather abundant so you have to spend a lot of time looking at the ground, keeping a close watch for them. That of course takes away from keeping a close watch for other people who may be out and about.

The trail from our backyard led uphill to an old logging road that had been cut back into the woods for about a half a mile, but had been blocked off from the road to the landfill by piles of dirt that had been pushed up at the entrance of the logging road. Trees and brush had taken over the dirt piles and completely blocked the view from the landfill road, but the rest of the logging road was clear, making it easy to walk. Numerous other trails intersected with the logging road allowing for different routes of travel throughout the woods. Some of those trails were relatively clear while others were very brushy and had a lot of greenbrier growing low to the ground. On my first several excursions out into these woods I was dressed in t-shirt and jeans, with leather lace up work boots for protection from the brush and any possible venomous snakes. It occurred to me that if I cleared back the brush, I wouldn’t need the clothes for protection, so I began taking a brush axe with me and clearing the way. After a few trips out clearing brush, I started leaving for these hikes wearing a t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes. After I had cleared back the existing trails I wanted to use, I would spend some mornings cutting new paths to increase the range I could cover. I spent my weekend mornings doing this combination of hiking and clearing until I had enough trail cut that I could walk for a few miles about the area.

Being that I was an early riser, I would often head out around six AM, long before my wife or most of my neighbors were up and about on the weekend. This project had started in the spring around 1988, and I had spent most of the spring working on clearing old trails and cutting new ones, and I still hadn’t seen another soul out there. I had wanted to shed my clothes completely for these hikes for a long time, and finally one morning I left with only shorts and tennis shoes on, no socks, underwear or a t-shirt to have to try to struggle with if I had to put something on in a hurry. It was a beautiful late spring morning, cool but warm enough to be comfortable. The hollows were shaded as the sun was still low, and all was quiet as most of the neighbors were still in bed or just getting started for the day. Only the birds were stirring, singing their morning songs as they flitted about. There was a light mist rising off the hillsides as I started into the woods, still somewhat dark since my starting point was on the north side of the hill. I walked in about ten yards, then looked back to make sure I was out of sight. I slid my shorts down and over my shoes, carefully stepping out of them to avoid snagging my shoes and tripping. As I stood up, I looked all around again, fearful that someone might be out there that I hadn’t seen. I don’t know why I was afraid, but I was, and I was breathing faster as I started walking, carrying my shorts in one hand as I walked along. Just being naked outdoors in the daylight caused a shot of adrenaline to hit me, and it seemed like every sense was heightened. Every sound was louder, every color more intense and the feel of the cool air or a leaf against my skin more pronounced; I heard a branch break and without thinking literally tried to jump back into my shorts. The hem of one of the legs caught on the sole of my shoe, causing me to stumble forward and nearly falling face first to the ground. I grabbed a small tree to catch myself and the shorts were pulled from my grasp as my foot went down. In a panic I looked toward the sound and saw……nothing. I freed my feet and picked my shorts up and stood there feeling foolish. What was I afraid of? Even if someone did see me, all they would do is laugh. It’s not like they would throw rocks at me, and even if they called the cops I don’t think it would have been a really big problem.

I stood there until I settled down and then started out again. I walked up to the logging road and then went out its full length to a trail that I had cut that went farther into the woods away from my neighborhood. It travelled on out around the head of the hollow, rising gently upward about 300 yards to an old log that lay across a small ravine that I used for a bridge, and then went straight up a fairly steep slope to an overgrown road that led to an abandoned gas well. As I walked along I began to feel more relaxed. I thought about all the time I had spent out here cutting trails and had seen no one else, and reasoned that there was almost no likelihood of meeting anyone. It would be months before hunting season came in, so I would probably be the only one out here until then. After I reached the gas well I rested for a bit then turned to go back. It was starting to warm up a lot and the deer flies were starting to buzz about. They would aggravate you to death when they found you, and their bites are somewhat painful, so I hurried along to where I started. When I arrived back at the trailhead I stopped and just stood there for a while, savoring the feeling of having nothing on between me and nature. It was about ten in the morning now, and the neighbors were out doing their thing, mowing grass and doing other chores. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning to go again, and I slipped my shorts back on and walked out into my backyard to go down to the house. My wife was still sleeping, as she usually did on the weekend. She would normally rise around noon when she didn’t have to work. I made another pot of coffee and contemplated what I had just experienced while planning tomorrows jaunt.

The next morning I awoke a little earlier than usual for a Sunday, and I quickly had a couple of cups of coffee so I could get started. I waited until it was light enough to see and then sprinted up the backyard and onto the trail. It was cool, around 60 degrees as I recall and clear of fog or mist. As soon as I was in the woods I had my shorts off and was trekking up the path to the logging road. Feeling a little bolder I dropped the shorts behind a fallen tree and walked out to the end of the logging road. I started back to where I’d left my shorts as I still didn’t have the nerve to just leave them behind. As I got back to where I’d left them, I felt the urge to go around the dirt pile and walk out into the landfill road. There was an animal path through the brush that led around the dirt piles and out onto the road that was passable but would require care to avoid mutliflora rose and greenbrier canes growing close on each side. I picked up my shorts and then carefully made my way through, listening for any noise. I knew that there was a gate blocking the road at the bottom of the hill and there was also a tight “S” turn in the road just below where I came out of the woods. Small trees and tall brush and weeds blocked the view from the houses below so after listening for a few seconds more I stepped out onto the road and then walked up the hill about fifty yards. I figured I was pushing my luck so I turned back and went back into the woods. Being Sunday the landfill was closed but there was still someone there to keep an eye on things, and I didn’t want to meet him.

I was carrying my shorts with me as I went back out the logging road and up to the gas well, but I wasn’t as concerned as I was the day before and was enjoying the hike even more. I came back down from the gas well, across the log and back to the logging road. Feeling more at ease, I hung the shorts on a tree limb and hit some of the other trails. The way they looped around, I could make my way back to where I’d left them from different directions without getting cut off from them, making me feel safer in leaving them behind. I didn’t get back home until just before noon and was feeling quite pleased with myself, spending about four and a half hours walking around in the woods naked as a jaybird and enjoying every second of it! Thus began my nude weekend escapades, spending every weekend morning that the weather allowed nude in the forest behind my house. As I became more comfortable with being nude out here in this forest, I started venturing farther without carrying my shorts with me, until I had begun leaving them at the point of entry in the forest. I found I truly enjoyed being nude outside, and it was both exciting and relaxing at the same time, if you can imagine that. The only thing that would have made it better would be having a companion to do it with.

Around 1993 or ‘94 the landfill that adjoined the property I was hiking on closed, and the watchmen that had always been there before were gone. I began going onto the landfill property, walking across several hundred acres of cleared land. The road that we lived on went up the hill to the landfill and then there was a paved road through the landfill that went on for a mile farther before the pavement ended and went to gravel. The property was owned by the county and was surrounded by large tracts of undeveloped land that was privately owned. In addition to the paved road across the landfill property, there was about a mile and a half of gravel roads and several ATV trails cutting across the place. There was also a power line right of way that ran across the property that was kept reasonably clear and had access roads to the towers. I would try to get up there by sunup so as to have as much time as possible before anyone else came out. I’d go up the trail to the logging road and then out to the landfill road through the path around the dirt piles. Since I was out in the open it was a much riskier proposition, but it was so nice to enjoy the full sun on my skin. It was glorious walking out in the open air, the morning mist burning away as the sun climbed into the sky, and the birds singing their morning song as the Earth awoke to the new day.

There were a few surprises though. I found that there were others who had started using the landfill for their recreation as well. On a few occasions I heard ATV’s running around the property and took refuge in the tall weeds that were growing along the roads on the property. I should note here that while the land was cleared of trees, being located in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, the landfill was placed in the valleys of several hills, and lines of trees had been left along the ridges so visibility was about a few hundred yards at best. An ATV running fast is noisy enough to give one enough notice to make a dash for cover. Horses are another story, as they don’t make much noise just walking along. You can imagine my surprise as I rounded a bend and was met by a man and a woman on horseback, and me in nothing but tennis shoes. I couldn’t think of anything else to do but smile and wish them a good morning. We were about 100 feet apart when we came into each others’ view, and it was simply too late to take evasive action. I had stopped carrying shorts with me long before, so I didn’t have anything for covering up. It was still very early in the day for anyone to be there on a Saturday so I was pretty confident that I was safe when I ventured out that morning. All I could do was just try not to panic and continue on. My heart was pounding like a drum as we passed on the trail, but I maintained my composure. Looking back on it, I should have known that it was inevitable that I would be in this situation. At the time I honestly thought that I could get away with going nude here without being seen, especially early in the morning, but it was kind of silly to think that I was the only person in the area that would enjoy the solitude of the now abandoned and reclaimed landfill. I think that’s part of what makes nude hiking fun is the excitement of the risk of being seen. As it was it wasn’t that big of a deal. They smirked and tried to stifle laughter as we passed each other, but nothing bad ever came of it. I sometimes wonder if they hadn’t come out there for the same reason I was there, and perhaps did some nude riding after we passed on the trail.

Another time I was hiking there, I went up an access road to a power line tower that was on the very top of the hill. I had actually been up there many times, but on this particular time as I came to the top of the road I saw a tent pitched in the very large clearing. It was still pretty early so I figured the campers were still sleeping. I just turned and went back the way I had come in, and went on to other parts of the landfill to finish my hike. I never saw the campers, and I assume they didn’t see me.

This went on for several years, but I still had no clue about what social nudism really was or how to go about finding out where to go to experience it. Local news stands had stopped selling nudist magazines long before, and I still hadn’t discovered the internet with its boundless troves of information. Life went on, we had kids, and in 2000 we moved to a new house a few miles away. I could no longer just step out my door to go hiking naturally, and it was awkward going back to the old neighborhood and walking into the forest. I continued occasionally trying to get my wife to give it a try but she only grew more determined not to do it. That is still where she stands today. After we had been in the new home for several years I was missing being able to go nude outdoors. We had put a small swimming pool on the patio and in 2006 I started building a privacy fence around the patio. Over the course of a couple of summers I had built enough fence to allow nude swimming and sunbathing, and I would spend most summer mornings drinking my coffee out there, and on the weekends I could soak in the pool or sunbathe until noon or later as my kids and wife are all late sleepers. My wife had no objections to my being nude on the patio, but was adamant that I not let the kids see me nude, and also did not want to join me on the patio, in spite of the fact that there was just as much privacy as there was in being indoors. It wasn’t social nudity by any stretch, but at least I was able to be nude outside. When I would hear the kids rattling around inside, I’d slip into my gym shorts to honor my wife’s request that I not let them see me nude.

In 2002 we got a computer and internet access and I discover that there are many sites on the ‘net dedicated to nudism and quite a lot of resources to learn from as well as to locate places to go. As I educate myself about the nudist lifestyle I begin to look for nudist camps or resorts close to me. Sadly, I find none closer than a two hour drive, but I resolved that I would visit a resort when I got an opportunity. I knew I could not tell my wife because she would not understand, but I had to know what it was like to actually be in a nude social situation and whether I would actually fit in. I still had no idea if I could really do it. Would I turn away at the last second? Would I be comfortable with it? Would I be welcomed as so many websites said I would, or would everyone be suspicious of a single male in the presence of couples and families? Finally, an opportunity came up. In the summer of 2009 I was batching it for a week while the wife and kids went to the beach. Since I’m not crazy about going to a public beach and being pounded by waves, I opted to stay home. I hate the crowds, and besides that there are things in the ocean that think I’m food. But I digress. I had a week of time to do what I wanted without anyone else to change my plans! Now I know that most folks reading this would think I was betraying my family, but I reason that since nudism is in fact all about freedom and non-sexual nudity and that a real nudist honestly believes that it is a wholesome activity, then there is no betrayal. My personal motives were pure, and had nothing to do with any kind of unseemly behavior. That is as far as I will go in defending my decision; There is only so much control I will cede to someone else when it comes to experiencing life’s pleasures, even my spouse.

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