Naked protest

Accidentally naked and protesting

I spent most of my childhood under the age of five without clothes. In my mind, there is a picture I can see of myself as a naked skin, being held up by my mother as I go to the toilet.

I’m still not sure why my dad took that photo, but it gave me at least one naked memory and one explicit situation to think about.

Right now I’m back in my preschool state, naked as a salad with no dressing (get it?). But it wasn’t necessarily my choice, and no, I’m not in the shower, in a bed, in a private room, or changing my clothes…


It all started when we drove unprepared with no destination in mind. We knew we wanted to get about halfway to Cologne from where we were, and we just hoped a campsite would appear at the right time.

The day was beautiful, sunny, and we both felt good after a few days of rest.

Our route changed and changed throughout the day, despite never having to disagree with the Garmin GPS again (in the last blog post), but this time it worked really well for us, with minimal issues.

The day grew older, so we kept our eyes peeled for a place to stay. Surprisingly, we hadn’t seen anything along the way, and now that we really needed something, it just wasn’t there. The sun got warmer as our energy levels dropped. We really wanted to stop. Now,

I gave in and decided that looking somewhere was pointless. We have to camp wild. I could tell Kat didn’t like it, but really, enough was enough, and we had enough water, food, and toilet paper to make it happen.

I found a green spot on the GPS and went there. Kat still had a sour face as I waded through the thick forest looking for a nice place to sleep. Unfortunately for me, and luckily for Kat, the undergrowth was too thick to set up easily.

We kept cycling in the heat until I stopped to stare at a map of the region. We both saw a small tent symbol on the map legend, but even after staring at it for ten minutes, I couldn’t find any blue tents marked on the map. Kat was much more adamant than I was that the little blue tent actually existed.

After an extra ten minutes under the eyes of Where’s Wally extraordinaire, Kat, a deformed little blue tent was found in what appeared to be a wooded area. Nice!

Luckily it was only a mile, so we were there in a few minutes, but again it didn’t look great for us. Where our misshapen tent was on the map, we just looked at a patch of farmland-and I don’t think sleeping among the cabbage fields would make it. Stubborn,

we drove a bit further into a wooded area where I noticed that, above a 4 metre high fence, were what could only be the roofs of caravans. to win.

The only problem was that there seemed to be no entrance. I found a footpath through a heavily wooded area which took us further around the perimeter of the high-walled caravan park. Then we saw the entrance. So much relief.

We rang a doorbell-style buzzer at the 4-foot gate, thinking we might have come across a school camp. If we couldn’t stay here, we could definitely get directions to somewhere else.

A gentleman wearing nothing more than a towel let us into the camp after saying in his broken English that we could stay overnight if we wanted. We followed him inside, having no idea what was coming…

This caravan park was akin to the Garden of Eden; amazingly green, lush, leafy, and exclusive. But that wasn’t the most amazing part for us.

Yes, you guessed it, there were naked bodies roaming around the world without a care, which contrasted sharply with the dark green of the surrounding trees. We were about to spend the night at a nudist, or rather, naturalist, colony!

First impressions

Since it was such a surprise to us, I really didn’t know what to say or where to look. Because of a mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and the pow-in-your-face girl and boy parts that flopped all around it, I felt uneasy about the whole situation.

There were people trimming hedges, people building structures, people showering, sunbathing-everything, just naked. We walked awkwardly through the campground to a marginally private one, not sure what our next step should be.

After thinking for a while, my first thought was to take off my gear. I thought it would be a lot more respectful and probably draw a lot less attention. Kat, exclaiming that I was just an exhibitionist, had to think about it for a while.

I took off all my clothes and started to pitch our tent while Kat giggled in the background at my nakedness.

I felt great and free, if not uncomfortable, attracting nothing but sun rays to every inch of skin on my body. There were no wandering eyes at all; this was normal in Atlanta.

After spending the first ten minutes arranging our gear for the night, I was ready for phase two. The walk from tent to shower Armed with a towel over my shoulder and a toiletry bag, we wandered aimlessly into the centre of the site, hoping the showers would clear up.

A cry and an arm-point from a nearby naturalist led us in the right direction. The walk was long and slow. I tried to be as casual as possible. We found a distraction from our nervousness in the form of guinea pigs hanging out in a pen. This gave us a casual conversation starter with the nearby incumbent owners, giving us the ability to appear normal in this environment. You know, like we’re always naturalists.

We moved on stone to the next distraction, a 14.5-year old Malamute (dog) who will soon break the world record age for this breed. We also chatted with these naturalists for a while—to seem normal again—but I found myself to be Austin Powers in that scene where cleverly placed props cover his manly parts as he walks naked through his workplace.

What I mean by this is that my towel and toiletry bag seemed to be very strategically placed.

The showers integrated quite well with the outdoors—no doors, lots of natural light. This was where Kat planned her integration into the colony by taking a shower with no clothes to put on. We discovered that after a long ride, you have many lines of lycra all over your skin, which I never really noticed until now.

I also found that people can tell when you’ve scratched your ass (gently!).

We sat down in our chairs and brushed off our Brie cheese. We chatted with people as they walked by and understood most, but not everything they were talking about due to our noobness about naturalism.

It seemed a bit sad to keep to ourselves given the circumstances, so we felt a little more confident and went for a walk to visit the guinea pigs and possibly chat with some more friendly people.

We were eventually offered a seat and some drinks after we barely got past talking about the “guard guinea pigs”. We agreed to their offer, and we took with us a bottle of wine that a kind Belgian had given us at our last campsite.

We ended up having a great evening with a bunch of very pleasant people. So much so that we forgot to eat and chat until 1 am – naked, of course.

Would I do it again?

I think I would. The first half hour was pretty uncomfortable, but once you realise that everyone is in the same boat as you, it just doesn’t matter anymore.