November was filled with hot days. It rained only once. Alas, I haven’t done but one significant hike. Thanksgiving, I treaded up into my familiar Tortolita Mountains to find the correct rock to sit and lay and give thanks and look for vision. I was not disappointed, but not a trip report.
I discovered that there are moves to cut people off from that area…but that is local politics. If can get around there naked in stealth, then I can avoid any other hassles.
The rest of the month, I spent with only a few jaunts to Havarock and some jogging when the new neighbor wasn’t at home.
One day, I had heard a backhoe, went to investigate, saw him driving off and the backhoe quiet. He had cleared the road of stray rock. I went for a nude run back and forth on the road. While up on the hill, looking out across the valley, I saw him coming back. This gave me the conviction to cross the raw desert without trail to Havarock from there. It is no straight line, I had to edge past needles and zig zag and back track in the thick desert growth on uneven hillsides.
As I climbed up a hill, there were sounds of large animals. Two razorback javalinas were above me, grunting and groaning and acting challenging in defense of my intrusion. These two boys have gotten huge for javalinas. There was no going back for me. I had to get around a large prickly area to continue, which had me maybe 20 feet from one of them. He backed off and ran away when I didn’t scare to his bluff.
I’ve been of course naked around and in house, and out sunning.
I cut firewood and then hosted a sweat with DF a few days later. A couple of friends came by to sing and drum in the sweat. We all took a walk out the trail as the sun began to set. They are the city folk that I have mentioned in other posts that had seen deer, and javaline for the first time, the last time I was their guide.
This time, we while wandered on the trail, we spotted ten quail on the top of the nearby ridge. A few were calmly sitting on branches of a dead cholla’s skeleton. We stopped cold at the sight, not but maybe a 12 or 15 feet away. Quail are generally more skittish, but they just sat and posed for us, making their sweet quail chattering in seeming discussion, for several minutes. It was a beautiful sight in with the gorgeous color and character in these golden granite formations. Behind them and off to the east the Catalina Mountains were changing color as the sun went down, from golden orange, to deeper orange. It was a magnificent backdrop. Suddenly, something spooked them and they burst into flight simultaneously, fluttering and then gliding in formation into the brush below us, where we had just come from.
We decided to climb up to where they had been on the bare rock surface and watch the world’s display react to the suns warm beams. It was now too late to get to Havarock. We sat quietly atop this ridge, occasionally pointing out something wondrous. Then, as if on cue, three female deer bounded from down by my house. Something was spooking them, too. They are amazing to watch as they jump gracefully from one spot to another over the thick low cactus and bushes. Each would move in the same manner as the one before it, when it would come to the same obstacle, triplets. The city folk, wide eyed, were exclaiming awe.
It is such an incredible world to be in. All of this nature and visual amazement and feeling the rock beneath me, feeling the love for the girl that I was with inside of me, as the air cooling in the shadows crept upon us.
I stood and felt the sun’s beams once more before they departed for the day. Down on the jeep trail by the new neighbor’s house, a woman was following her black dog. They had been the source of the animal’s ruckus that provided our entertainment. I waited, deciding if she might chance to see me up on top of this rise as clearly as I could see her and contemplating if that would matter. She turned away, her back to us, her eyes distracted by her dog. She had missed all of this in exchange for her bond with a black lab’s sense of pack.
We headed back as it was getting dark in the dusk, only the top tips of the Catalinas were capped with the now deep red-orange tint of the sun.
By the time that we arrived back at the sweat lodge, the air had become much cooler. The heat from the cozy sweltering structure was comforting and welcoming on our naked skin. I lit the candelabra; we poured water over the rocks and cedar scent. An Indian keyboarded flute was played, a sweet feminine voice chanted familiar kirtan. I picked up a large plastic water bottle and played it as a drum with its deep resonate tone. Fingers tapped on wood in rhythm.
The reason that a full month with such a wonderful weather has been squandered, is that I took a part-time job which circumstance has made more than part-time. The other factor is that DF’s refugee daughter from Puerto Rico’s hurricane devastation has had difficulty adjusting and has needed most of DF’s spare time and support.
DF’s situation is stressful. Seeing her mother walking naked in her home, her daughter asked, “What are you a nudist?” DF replied, “Yes and I’m usually nude around the house.” The daughter doesn’t like to see her mother naked. DF now has to announce that she is naked, or the daughter acts freaked out. DF is trying to get along. DF was quick to pull her dress over her head and lie naked with me in the sun when she was able to come and sweat. I’m doing my best to be patient. Well, it is her decision to give in her own home.
The last pair of days of this month will be cooler and I have developed a cold and scratchy throat in a body that must now be rested. Perhaps tomorrow, I’ll get out and get vitamin D therapy and feel some warm sunlight while I nurse my health.
