Nudist California

California Dreamin

My first visit to Muir Beach north of San Francisco provided several surprises. First, the road there was terrifying (you know what I mean if you’ve traveled it) and second, when I arrived in the parking lot I was confronted by a single nude coed-type bent into the trunk of her car. It made the adrenaline binge of the drive completely worthwhile, and the trip was repeated there and to several nudist spots on Marin for the next three years.

California nudists are some of the warmest people I’ve met. You can walk up to completely nude strangers and begin conversation without fear of rejection. A naked girl sitting alone on a beach towel contemplating the meaning of life while tugging on a cigarette beams an open sincerity to her surroundings that you simply want to be a part of: so carefree and confident, and of course nude. Over the course of my time in California I visited a dozen nudist beaches and found them all the same–like you were attending a low-key party of all of your closest friends, and they’re all glad to have to have you there.

Living where I do now with no access to a nudist beach feels like cold exile. The nearest beach is not clothing optional, and having learned that I hate nothing more than a clinging, wet bathing suit, I seldom bother to visit. It’s not that I’m crazy about nudism per se. What I like most are the people that enjoy it.

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