I posted this trip report on Naturist Corner, but as it was clearly a free-range naturist adventure, I am posting it here, too...
I recently decided to join, for the first time, a walk organised by Naturist Ramblers, and when I saw one was taking place in my neighbourhood, it provided the perfect opportunity.
So I joined the group for the Sugar Hill walk near Swindon at the alloted meeting place and as we set off a head count showed there were 21 men, one lady and two dogs.
Many words spring to mind when describing the experience of walking more than ten miles through the heart of rural Wiltshire, naked apart from walking boots and rucksacks; ‘exhilarating’, ‘invigorating’, ‘liberating’ and even ‘empowering’ are some.
But if I have to choose one word to describe the six hours it took to complete the walk, it is ‘surreal’.
Part of me was going on the walk to find out if it really is true that one can do it naked, and even though it was, indeed, a never-to-be-forgotten, life-enhancing experience to feel the sun and the wind all over my body while hiking, I never did quite get over feeling that I should pinch myself to prove all this was happening while I was awake.
Within five minutes of the start we were all naked, and soon Peter, the group’s chairman (who, like the rest of the walkers, was as friendly as one would expect a fellow naturist to be) was explaining that on previous walks on this route they had encountered very few textiles.
No sooner had he said this than one of the walkers ahead turned to make a T shape with his hands, which I took to mean ‘time out’ and I assumed we were stopping to eat our packed lunches. In fact, he was signalling T for textiles, as three hikers appeared on the track ahead of us, and we all reached for whatever clothing we had ready for a cover-up - in my case the shorts I kept in my rucksack.
My dilemma was that, being so close to home, there was an outside chance that I might actually know anyone we encountered, and I did not relish explaining why I was there when nobody, apart from my wife and other naturists, are aware of my tendency to remove my clothes in more conventional naturist settings, let alone in the countryside, a few miles from home.
In every encounter it was either apparent enough that our group was naked, since they got close enough to see for themselves, or because we only wore minimal clothing. One man’s method of covering up was simply to wrap a towel around himself, which I am told one of the textiles had noticed as “strange”.
It wasn’t long before I wondered whether I was a jinx, because in all there were seven or eight close encounters with other clothed people, including hikers, cyclists, two motorcyclists and several farm workers, driving tractors and a combine harvester.
The more experienced walkers took all this in their stride - often literally - although they were less casual when we walked through a cow field and for a tense moment it looked as if there was going to be a stand-off between men and beasts at the gate.
I left the meeting and greeting of textiles to more experienced members of the group, so I wasn’t fully aware of reactions, but none could have been particularly averse, and apart from the annoying need to cover and uncover, it was never going to stop us or cause us problems beyond the embarrassment about the surrealism of it all.
One reaction we got was actually quite encouraging. As we got up to continue the walk after stopping in a field for lunch, two teenage cyclists rode past and one of our group apparently offered an apology to them, presumably because we hadn’t had time to cover up. But their instant reply was: “That’s OK; we don’t mind,” which I thought was a refreshingly mature thing for two young lads to say.
Still affected by the surrealism of it all, I couldn’t help thinking about what all the people we encountered told their friends and loved ones when they got home. I doubt everybody believed their stories of the gang of naked men (and woman) they had bumped into, and they will probably go on telling the story for years, to anybody who will believe them.
I have to say the constant threat of meeting more textiles and the danger that some of them might turn out to recognise me made the walk slightly stressful, although of course the pure pleasure of walking naked and enjoying the view, which was often panoramic across the downs, had the expected de-stressing effect, so it more than balanced out the negativity.
The walk certainly put the nature into naturist like nothing I have ever exprienced before.
Walking progress was slow, especially in the early part of the walk as we waited for one of our party, who had a gammy leg, to catch up, and after he turned back, at lunchtime, the pace was still rather leisurely. This may be because, even at 55 years old, I was rather below the average age of the group, whose youngest member, we discovered, was celebrating his 42nd birthday.
As the walks take place in midweek and because others will require far more of a journey for me to reach the start, it is unlikely I will be able to get to any further walks in this year’s programme, but I intend to get to at least one walk next year, and maybe more.
The first walk proves it can be done, and the second will confirm that the first wasn’t a dream!
But for somebody who has always wanted to walk naked in the countryside for miles and miles, but never thought it would be possible, a walk with the Naturist Ramblers might be surreal, but it’s certainly a dream come true.