Days 26 and 27 – June 14 and 15 Do as the Romans . . .

Grand Coulee Dam by the morning light

Looking forward to the drive through the North Cascades, I broke camp early and was on the road before 8 a.m. I also was looking forward to my camping experience the coming night.

Boxes ready to be filled with fruit

While I was isolated out on the wildlife refuge, I realized how nice it was to change clothes without having to seclude myself in a room or my tent. Being outside, feeling the air on my bare skin was a sensation I appreciated. Thinking about that, and knowing I was heading for the west coast where it’s more prevalent, I decided to investigate the possibility of camping at a nudist club. I found one about an hour from my sister’s house near Seattle, and the camping fee is only $10 a night. And actually, the camp is called “clothing optional,” which left me an out if I felt too uncomfortable disrobing around people I didn’t know.

I stole a few cherries from the tree near the highway

After a lovely drive - sunny and warm through the valleys where there were orchards of cherries and apples almost ready to be harvested, and  beautiful, cloudy, and cool through the Cascades -  I arrived at LARC, the nudist camp. No one was at the office, so I self-paid as I have been doing in most of the campgrounds where I have stayed. The rules for this campground were a little different from what I have encountered to this point.  As I was driving to the lawn where I could set up my tent, I ran into Patti, the wife of the couple who were filling in for the managers this week. She gave me a brief tour and explained how things worked.

 

The first surprise was the showers. Included in my $10 camping and $15 day use fee, I could use them whenever I wanted, and they were very clean and very nice. They were also open – no individual shower stalls – and for both men and women. So while showering, I’m sharing the space with anyone else who wants to shower. I actually was disappointed that there was no one else in there when I showered last night – what a strange feeling that must be.

It was a little cool and cloudy when I arrived, so the first few people I met were wearing clothes. But  being the kind of person who jumps in the deep end of the pool, I decided to visit the hot tub which is not clothing optional – no swim suits allowed. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked over to the tub. It was in an open room so it’s the best of both worlds – protected from the elements if it were raining, and in the fresh air. No one was there, so I dropped my towel, showered in the open shower which was required before entering the tub (no shower curtain of course), and stepped into the tub. It was perfect and the warm, jetted water was perfect. While I sat there, a man, nude of course, pulled out a lawn chair a little ways away and soaked up some of the now-emerging sun.

 

It’s amazing how quickly one becomes accustomed to the nakedness. No one here has the perfect body of a model – what we’ve come to think of as the desired body to expose to the world – and no one seems to care. There are people of all ages and all body types – as Christi, one of the full-time residents here at the park, told me, there are members here who weigh over 300 pounds. And it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I admire how comfortable people are with their bodies here.  It is contagious, and I find some of my negative body image slipping away the longer I stay here.

The first test of being up close and personal with someone else nude was while I was in the hot tub. A man in his fifties, Cal, came and joined me. He was a nice-looking man, fit and tan, and we sat in the tub and visited for more than an hour. The initial awkwardness I experienced soon dissipated, and it was a comfortable conversation. I went to the community showers after that and got ready for the evening.

I decided to jump in with both feet and attend the meet-and-greet at the fire pit sans clothes. I carried along my towel (a requirement to sit anywhere) and a flannel shirt in case I got cold. It was a little chilly, so I wasn’t sure how long I could stay nude. When I got to the fire pit, the man, Dennis, who was building the fire, was fully clothed.  No one else was there yet.

After a few minutes, people started trickling in. Each person – some I had already met, some not – had clothes on. Pretty soon, there were about 10 people there, and I’m the only one with no clothes. What could have been perceived as something one only experiences in a bad dream was nothing more than a comical situation to me.  I said to a few of them, “I’m the new person here, and I’m the only one naked!” They laughed and said it was too cold! It just didn’t matter, and I relaxed into the situation. Before long, one or two others showed up nude, so I wasn’t the only one bare for the whole evening.

My outfit for the day

But it got cold, so I returned for clothes from my tent, and spent part of the evening dressed. A few of us took one more dip in the hot tub, and we sat in there for quite a while before calling it a night. One of the people I met and visited with the most was Tara, who lived at the camp during the summer with her husband, Bill. They are great people, and Tara and I decided we must have been sisters in another life. We spent most the evening getting to know each other and enjoying each other’s company immensely. We’re already contacting each other through email and the blog.

The next morning, the sun was out and the day was warm. I spent the morning sitting at my campsite, writing and soaking up the sun. With no clothes on, the sun feels great on the skin, and there was a lovely little breeze. I said hello to people as they passed by. One man was walking his dog in his shoes and socks only. A few other people went by in golf carts, and one man was even riding his bike nude. After a very little while, the surprise of seeing people naked wore off, and it seemed perfectly natural to see people unclothed, carrying on about their day.

The Upper Falls at the camp

I decided, after a quick run to town for which I put on clothes of course, to go for a hike. The camp had two short trails leading to two separate water falls, and I explored both of those. What an amazing sensation to be naked and hiking through lush foliage among ferns and trees. I felt a bit like a forest nymph (except for the hiking boots of course) and the experience was fabulous. I wanted a little more hiking, so Steve, Christi’s husband, showed me how to go through the forest to get to a deserted logging road. I was able to hike a good 30 minutes down that road and hiked till I came to a nice overlook. The road was lined with wildflowers, and butterflies floated along with me as I hiked. There were no bugs and no annoyances, and I was amazed at how comfortable I was hiking in only boots. And it was a good, easy hike for my slowly healing foot.

Returning, I took another dip in the hot tub, then visited Tara at her RV. We talked a while before I left for Nude Karaoke.

Nude Karaoke, as I posted on Facebook, is just as unbearable as clothed karaoke. The singers were all really bad, but they were having a good time, and that’s all that matters. Some of them were completely nude, some had just shirts on, some had just pants on. Watching a man with only a wife-beater on, belting out an off-key version of Queen, is quite an experience.  It was really great to witness the freedom people felt with their bodies.

I eventually migrated over for one last dip in the hot tub, and a few of us sat in there and talked for about an hour. I met another woman with whom I hope to keep in touch, Teressa, who travels as a single woman also. She’s just getting ready to head off to Europe, and we exchanged information, promising to keep in touch with each other. When the evening was over, Tara and Bill gave me a ride in their golf cart back to my tent, and we promised to stay in touch. The connections I made over these two evenings are some of the strongest I’ve made on the trip.

As I got ready to head to my sister Sally’s house the next day, I reflected on what a great experience this was. I don’t think it’ll be the last nudist camp I visit.

Days 25 - On the Move Again and Dam, That’s Big

Camping for two nights at the wildlife refuge was wonderful. I was totally isolated – in the four primitive campgrounds there, I was the only camper. I saw only two other vehicles on the roads the whole time I  was there. I thought I might be nervous about being so isolated, but I really loved it. At one point, while I was sitting watching the fire and cooking my dinner, I heard the snort of a deer.  I looked through the trees, and there, in the meadow, were a number of deer playing. I sat and watched till something spooked them and they disappeared in a flash.

Drove along the lake for most of the way

I left there early in the morning and headed toward the Grand Coulee Dam. Much of the drive borders FDR lake and the views were really great. Before taking off though, I took care of a lot of business on line and on the phone in Colville. McDonalds, in their marketing brilliance as usual, has free wireless, so I sat there and checked out destinations for the upcoming few days, chatted with a few friends, and had a leisurely morning. I moved out to the car to charge my phone and continue what I was doing, and I sat there long enough that I killed my battery. Fortunately, with it being a new car, it recharged itself after about 10 minutes of turning it off and unplugging everything I was charging. Lesson learned.

Lots of deer on the roads

I also called Dr. Coffin and discussed the foot situation. I am going to always be sure I have support under the bone, holding it in place, and am taking ibuprofen regularly to get rid of the inflammation. What a pain it is to have to worry about that. I can’t even wear my sandals without it beginning to hurt a lot again. He also explained how I could wrap it and that that might help. I haven’t tried it yet, and wearing the good, supportive shoes, really seems to help. I am a bit concerned about it – it’s hard to think of hiking 220 miles when it hurts to walk across a parking lot.

Set up and ready for the evening, overlooking the lake

I found a nice, $10 campground right on the lake at the dam. My campsite overlooked the lake, and I got set up fairly early, so I was able to enjoy the setting sun. It had rained just a little on the way there, but by the time I arrived at the campsite, it had cleared off, and the remaining clouds on the horizon made for a nice sunset.

My neighbors at the campground were two guys who worked at the dam. The one man, Monte, had his 6 year old son there and the boy was quite entertaining. He spent a lot of time visiting me, telling me about his adventures. The other guy, Dave, was a little younger – about 30 – and was really funny. They were a lot of fun to have around, and they were full of information about the dam. They suggested I check out the laser light show at the dam at 10 p.m., so I drove over and watched it.

The light show was really great, and the information it gave and the information in the visitor’s center was all really interesting. I had no idea that the Grand Coulee Dam, situated on the Columbia River, had the capacity to generate more power than any other dam in the country. I always thought of Hoover Dam as being the biggest, but apparently not. The lake it formed is huge, and thousands of acres of land were submerged in the damming of the river. I understand the importance of the energy it provides, but I can’t help but have mixed feelings about the manipulation of the earth. That said, it really is a testament of the power of the river and of the power of humankind to construct something so massive and powerful.

Loved watching the sun go down

When I got back to my campsite, Dave had kept my fire going for me and we sat and visited for another few hours. He was an interesting guy and has seen a lot for someone so young – an Air Force MP for 10 years, he had served three terms over in the Middle East. I enjoyed the company after so many nights of solitude. However, I am looking toward a few days of companionship and connection, so I know in a few more days I’ll be ready for that solitude again. Until then, it’s new friends and family on the agenda.

Day 24 - June 12 Colville National Forest and My Damned Foot

What a day. It began well enough – I felt wonderful and in tune with the universe and all that when I awoke around 6 a.m.  But the universe decided I needed a little more than smooth sailing for the day it appears.

I left the campsite and drove through the wildlife refuge, hoping to get a glimpse of some wildlife. I saw and heard a lot of lovely birds, but that’s about all. I took a wrong turn and ended up on a road that became impassable, so I had to back track. No problem, I thought. Little did I know that would be the theme for the day.

I had planned to hike the Frater Lake Trail, which consisted of a few loops a hiker can string together. After looking at the maps posted and the one I got at the forest service the day before, I decided to do the Cougar Rock Loop which was just under five miles long, and if I felt like, I would add on the Tiger Loop for another two miles.  I could even add the Lake Leo Trail for another three miles, making it a 10-mile day, depending how I felt at that point of the hike.

So I took off, full of energy and feeling good – it was a cool morning and I wore my sweatshirt for the first few miles. When I did take it off, it was still cool enough that I was chilled as my sweat hit the cool air. That didn’t last long though, and the forest was comfortable and shaded for the most part. The trail itself was pretty easy – there were some elevation gains and some rocky areas, but for the most part the climbs and descents were well graded and gentle.

I came along a sign a few miles in that showed “you are here” and I was just where I thought I should be. I continued on, enjoying the day. After a while, and a few more miles, I felt I should have started looping back around to the starting point where I could jump onto the shorter Tiger Loop. I checked the GPS, and I had gone about four miles, so I should have been well around the original loop by then. I checked my maps, and I was headed away from the start still. I followed the trail a while longer, wondering if I had somehow misjudged the measurement of the loop – maybe it was 4.8 miles to the connection to Tiger Loop, not for the whole loop. But as I continued to hike, and regularly checked the direction I was traveling, I realized I was just getting farther and farther out.

 

I pulled out the map I had picked up at the forest service office, and I looked it over again. I realized that I must have been following a trail that went on for miles and miles, never looping around. I had gone about five miles at this point, and I decided to just turn around and go back the same way I went out. My right foot, which has been a real pain (literally and figuratively) since last fall, began aching pretty severely. Although the plantar faciitus I suffered until a month or so ago has gone, I apparently have a weak joint, and that square bone in the middle of my foot has a tendency to pop out of place, dropping down toward the ground. My wonderful podiatrist, Dr. Coffin, has popped it back in place before, put a small pad on my insert to help hold the bone in, and showed me how to pop it back in if need be.

I sat down when the pain became almost unbearable, pulled my boot and sock off, and popped it back into place. Now I’ve moved it back in place other times when it started hurting, but I don’t think it had been this much out of place before.  I actually heard it pop when I manipulated it. This helped a lot, and I was able to complete the last five miles with much less pain. I couldn’t wait to get my boots off and slip on my sandals, but the pain lingered and in fact got worse once I removed the boots.

I stopped at the Beaver Resort, a little collection of cabins near the trail head, and asked if they had a shower I could buy. The woman there, whom I had met on my way to the trail head when I bought a cup of coffee from her, said sure – they were $1.00 and to take my time.  Walking to get my stuff for showering was excruciating.  I couldn’t believe how much my foot continued to hurt. I must have looked like a crippled old woman, shuffling slowly across the parking lot. That’s what I felt like anyway. 

Some interesting things grow on trees (not money, dammit)

The shower helped everything but the foot. It became stiffer and sorer as the afternoon wore on, and by early evening, I was about in tears - not only from the pain, but also with the fear that it wouldn’t get better. There is no way I can hike 220 miles through the Sierra Nevada on a bum foot.

I decided I had to quit wearing my sandals and put on my tennis shoes with my inserts in them. I also added another pad to the spot Dr. Coffin had put the first one, lifting the support a little higher. And I took ibuprofen for the pain. After a few tearful conversations with a few friends, and a dipped cone at McDonalds (yes, in fact they do have dipped cones now!) I began to feel better.

It’s still a bit stiff, but it’s beginning to feel normal again. I think I’m going to wear shoes, not sandals, pretty much all the time now until the hike. I have a call in to Dr. Coffin to see if wrapping it in some way will help, and I’m going to ice it regularly, massaging that damn bone into place every night.

All I can do is hope it heals quickly and this was just a fluke. I have a lot more miles I want to hike this summer, and I don’t need a bum foot slowing me down. I’m taking tomorrow off from hiking – I’m driving down to see the Grand Coulee Dam and do a little auto sightseeing. I’ll give the foot another try the next day somewhere in central Washington.

What was I just saying yesterday about the universe always giving me what I need, even if it doesn’t seem that way? This would be one of those times. 

Days 22 and 23 – June 10 and 11 Last Chance Idaho – Hello Washington

I spent most of the day June 10 driving through Idaho. I broke camp in no hurry, and was on the road about 9 a.m. Deciding, as usual, to take the route that seemed the most scenic, I meandered along through the mountains from east to west, turning north to drive the highway that runs along the Payette River. It’s a beautiful drive, and the river runs fast through the first hour or so of it. I pulled over a few times just to watch the water tumble and smash over the invisible rocks, and was rewarded once by watching two kayakers navigate and negotiate the water.

There were a few vehicles pulled over, kayaks strapped to the top, waiting to be unloaded by men and women in wet suits and helmets. The places where they were parked seemed impossible to put in, but my guess is these are veterans at this business of running the river in their small crafts.

Not sure why it is significant, but seemed so . . .

Not sure where my final destination for the day would be, I simply headed for northern Idaho. As the day lengthened, I began to check the map for available campsites along the most scenic routes. I found Bell Bay Campground on the shores of Couer d’Alene, a large lake near Spokane, Washington. With no expectations, I drove to the campground.

The winding, three-mile road from the highway took me past farmland and forest. As I wound around to the lake, I spotted a cell tower atop a hill. I always feel like I’ve hit pay dirt when I have cell service, and here I had four bars of 4G. What a bonus.

The campsite sat right on the edge of the lake. There were only a few families in the campground, most campers having left for the work week I suppose, and it was quiet and lovely. I met a young mother with her two daughters who had decided to extend their weekend away by just another day, and the camp hosts – a lovely couple in their 60s I assume – stopped by to see if I needed anything, but other than that I had no intrusion on the quiet.

Deep valleys where the Nez Pierce called home

Finding this campsite, if you’ve been following my travels at all, was not an anomaly.  Time and again, I’ve found, without much planning at all, a really nice place to camp for the night. So it is curious to note that I, every day as the time approaches to find a place, get anxious. This is just one of the recurring anxieties I experience on the trip. I sometimes worry about what trails to take, whether I’ll be able to hike them, and if I’ve overshot my abilities. And I am constantly haunted by the looming month of July when I embark upon the John Muir Trail.

 

Thinking about this last night, I realized that I’m battling fear almost every day in one form or another. Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote comes to mind: “Do one thing every day that frightens you.” It seems I took that to heart. And I’m a person who likes to think I don’t live my life in fear of much. I’m certainly not an anxious person by nature, but on this trip there’s so much new and I’m doing so many things alone for the first time, I find myself in this almost constant state of anxiety. That is NOT how I want to live.

The pressure to be afraid is unfortunately strong in this human life we live. When I talk about the trip, one of the most common comments I get, from women especially, is "you're so brave" and one of the most common questions people ask me  is if I carry a gun. My regular response has been no, and to say I don’t want to emit that kind of energy – and I believe that. There’s not one ounce of me that wants to carry a gun. And I do believe we attract things to ourselves by our actions and decisions. But that said, I also know we, as human beings, often experience things that DO hurt us – physically and emotionally. I most certainly can fall and break my leg, get attacked by a bear or another human, or could run off the road on a mountain pass. But I have always chosen to live my life trying not to worry about those things.

But I have been worrying. The feeling of anxiety certainly seems to be testament to that. So how do I stop worrying? How do I trust that I get just what I need from the universe – no more and no less. It’s not like I can pick and choose; I’ll have the experiences I’ll have, regardless of the best planning and incessant worrying if I so choose.  

This is an important discussion –one that goes to the heart of this journey I’m on. I am a student of consciousness. My greatest desire, above all else, is to wake up to essence of who I am – who we all are – beyond these temporal bodies, minds, and emotional repositories. If I am awake to that true nature, there is absolutely never any reason to be afraid. As Byron Katie says, “Everything happens for us, not to us.” There is a trust that whatever happens is exactly what is best for me, even if it seems painful or disastrous. If I know all this, I wonder why I can’t live it with my whole being.

So I’ve decided to try to remember this when I feel the fear coming on. I’ve decided to question those fears and see what lies within them. And to trust that the universe is giving me exactly what I need at all times. What is arising might not feel like it’s what I need, and I may not like it, but that’s irrelevant. I think there’s a point of maturing spiritually that we realize what we think is best has not a whole lot to do with what’s best. That trying to visualize a perfect world and perfect outcomes, based on the oh-so-limited vision that we have, is just silly. My goal, then, is to welcome what arises on this journey without question. To walk into the experience whether it seems comfortable or not. And I have a strong sense that I will find comfort there regardless. It may not be the typical, garden-variety comfort we’ve come to think we need in our lives to be happy and content, but it will be comfort of a deeper sort. The kind of comfort that defies understanding and logic.

Having meditated on all this last night, I arose today with a new sense of adventure.

I left my campsite and headed toward the Colville National Forest and The Little Pend Oreille (pronounced “pondaray”) National Wildlife Refuge where I planned to camp. I stopped at a Walmart to restock a few things, met a lovely man while walking in from the car who suggested I visit the Grand Coulee Dam, and if I did to look him up, and stopped along the way to do laundry and catch up on the internet business I needed to do.  I chose to remember that each person I encountered today was intentional – that we had some little business to do, even if it was just to say hello in passing.

When I got to Colville, I found the National Forestry Service office with no effort, and visited for almost an hour with Nancy, the woman manning the desk.  She gave me all sorts of information and literature on the area and the hikes and campgrounds available. She asked me to send her an email and update her on my adventures, so I sent her the blog address. What a wonderfully helpful and kind woman she was.

I’m camped now, in a primitive campsite in the refuge, with not another soul in sight at either this collection of campsites or at the other one I looked at. And I’m content, not anxious. I’ll get up in the morning, and armed with all sorts of information, find a hike to take. I won’t worry if it will be too long or too short, too strenuous or too easy. I’m just going to pick a hike and go for it. And see what in the world the universe has in store for me tomorrow. 

Namaste.