Archive for the ‘Texas’ Category

Emerald Lake

Emerald Lake

In preparation for my trip next week to Amsterdam/Oostende/Paris I decided to try out a local nudist “resort” called Emerald Lake here in Houston.  Since I’m meeting someone at the nude beach in the Netherlands I wanted to arrive with a uniform body color.  It just wouldn’t do to have him think I’m some sort of novice at this.

Why it never occurred to me to try out Emerald Lake before is beyond me.  I like Austin and do have a sort of love for Hippie Hollow, but gosh it’s so much better to drive 30-45 minutes to a local lake than it is 3 hours to Austin.   But everyone who does this had always pointed to Hippie Hollow so that was the “in” place to be.  After going this past weekend to Emerald Lake I think that’s my new local nudist hang out.

The website didn’t mention anything about hours and had something there about introducing yourself so people don’t think you’re some sort of perv (my words).  So I sent an e-mail asking about hours and introducing myself as a fellow nudist!  Just so you know, the office hours are from 10-6.  This gave me time to dilly dally around Saturday morning, as opposed to my usual break of dawn take-off for Hippie Hollow to score the best spots.

Around 9:30 I headed north to Emerald Lake from midtown.  Being Saturday morning the traffic was mild. When I got on 494 loop searching out the place I finally passed what looked like a steel fenced warehouse with one sign that said Emerald Lake.  I guess I was sort of expecting something resembling  the entrance to a campground or national park or something.  In retrospect it makes since to have corrugated fencing because heaven knows the lookie-loos would congregate in force if they didn’t.  Also in retrospect I should have taken a photo to show you what the outside looks like so you’ll know what to look for should you decide to take a visit.

There is a buzzer on the outside which you press and hold and the gate opens for you. It’s not so much a resort as it is a campground.   There is an office/clubhouse/boardinghouse, a lot of picnic tables, places to pitch a tent, and several campers further out.  As it turns out the lake is the permanent residence of several members.  Oh what a life…. The owner recognized me from my e-mail when I stopped to pay my $30 (non-AANR fee) and sign the drowning waiver and show my ID.  Only 18 and up there.   Then I got the grand tour from a regular female member.

The clubhouse has a TV and a pool table.  Supposedly at night they have a lot of fun because there is also a dance floor, complete with disco ball and DJ table. Although I’m only in this for the swimming and all-over tan I may hang around one day just for the experience.  They also have sodas for a dollar if you forget drinks (a must have for any nude beach experience).  Someone there came up with a really neat idea for towels that hang over the back of your chair and have pockets for all your change, sunscreen, etc.  Towels are another must have, especially at a resort where you’d rather not want to sit where someone’s bare ass has been before, anymore than they want to sit where yours has been.  There are also basic, but neat and clean, rooms to stay in if you decide you want to spend the night.  Washing machines, showers, bathrooms, yadda yadda yadda.

Here’s where Emerald Lake and Hippie Hollow are different.   Hippie Hollow certainly gets more crowds, especially during certain times of year.  So by default it’s also more diverse.  Not racially…nudism is still pretty darn white (despite the tans 🙂 ).    Not a problem for me if it’s not a problem for them.  But at Hippie Hollow you’ll find young and old (though the standard, as in most places, seems to be middle aged). You’ll find people who are obviously well educated and upper class and people who obviously aren’t and everyone in between.  Swingers abound.  Single men into the scene and single men looking to “see.”  LOTS of gay men, a sprinkling of female couples, a rare single female.  It’s always something new.

BUT the following are the reasons why I like Emerald Lake better (and it will give you a nice tidy summary of the place:

  • Lounge chairs.  They have a good number of them there for you to sit or lie on, either on the beach by the lake or on the grass.  Anyone who’s been to Hippie Hollow will see this alone as a HUGE bonus.  IF you can find a flat space at HH to lie/sit on, you still have to bring a chair or (thick) yoga mat to pad your ass.  Towels alone don’t cut it.  There are also umbrellas to shade you when the sun starts to get to you.
  • Floaty stuff.  They have scads of stuff from those floating tube things to those floating bed things.  I stuck with the tubes so I could at least get wet.  At HH you bring your own.  They also have canoes and one of those zip sliders for jumping off of into the lake.
  • Amenities.  It is nice to not have to hike to get to the bathroom or, as in the case of my lazy ass, use the lake (1 not 2!).   Plus they have drinks when you find out you haven’t brought enough (trust me you will) and face the idea of cozying up to some questionable man/couple who think you’ll join him/them later on.  Hot tub. Check. Place to cool off inside. Check
  • Cool People.  In retrospect I have not been very kind here on my blog to some members of the nudist community.  I’ve learned that just because someone is missing their front teeth and talks with verrry southern accent it doesn’t mean they can’t be friendly. Having lived in Texas long enough I’m not instantly put off by an accent from round these parts.  And at Emerald Creek they were quite heavy.  And lots of tattoos.  And a fair amount  of smoking. For the most part the clientele is pretty monolithic group.  But they most certainly were friendly to me.  But then again, the nudist life is rather sweet for single females.  The owner even mentioned giving me a discount on the year-membership because I was one.

Things I didn’t like:

  • Smoking.   The beach is rather small and when someone lights up the smoke is bound to get to you.  And at least a few people did. But I’m sensitive to that.
  • Warm Water.  In all fairness Houston has been breaking records all week.  But the water was quite warm, offering little in the way of relief from the sun. There were pockets of cool water near my feet.  I’m guessing when the weather isn’t so unbearable it’s better. 
  • Dirty Water. The water at Hippie Hollow is not exactly spring clean, but here there were bits of floating fauna.  Apparently one of the members does usually clean it up  on a regular basis and since so many people were complaining about it this is unusual.
  • Lake animals.  I did see a turtle or two pop it’s head up.  But everyone kept talking about how the turtles snap and the fish nibble and when you’re naked that’s not something you want to hear. Watch your goodies!

In sum Emerald Lake is a great alternative to Hippie Hollow, especially if you live in Houston.   One I certainly plan on visiting often. It’s slightly less anonymous as everyone seems to know everyone else.  But if you want to be left alone, people will respect that.   There is less opportunity for the sorts of shenanigans that go on at Hippie Hollow, which may or may not be a good thing depending on your point of view.  You won’t have to worry about some asshole snapping your photo with his cell phone.  Guys and couples will be more hesitant about making advances.  In fact they seemed to be fairly wary of single men who arrived, polite but watchful.


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Something New

Sorry for the delay in posting prior comments, but thanks all for your concern.  A week out and I’m feeling a little more secure with myself.

That said, I’m still hesitant to go back to Hippie Hollow any time soon.  Eventually I’ll have to I suppose because I still have the bottle of Fris vodka I bought in exchange for shacking up with my friend over the weekend.  But what fun is Hippie Hollow if I can’t go down to where the water is?  Another accident and I’ll probably be banned from the park!

But I have a trip to Europe coming up, which involves at least 2 nude beach adventures.  I have no intention going without my body being the exact same color on my ass as it is on my face.

So I went in search of other Texas nudist haunts. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a memory of hearing about a beach nearby or a resort.   A quick google search later reminded me of the Bolivar/McFadden beach…which, if memory serves me, is not quite “official.”  Besides, that I’m not sure of the condition after Rita and Ike.  Today is the start of hurricane season and sure enough there were plenty of reports and photos regarding the obliteration of the Bolivar peninsula…which has yet to fully recover.

So I looked for the resort.  I’m not usually a fan of resorts as they tend to involve a lot more socializing  and “rules” than I prefer.  Besides, the only thing I want to do nude is lie down or swim.  Given my usual need for a bra Volleyball, tv watching, and cook outs just aren’t as fun when nude.  But beggars can’t be choosy.  So I’ve decided on Emerald Lake resort.

The pros:

  • Much closer than Austin
  • They have a lake for swimming (and sand to collect!)
  • They have wi-fi (not sure if that will be an issue though)
  • Chances are I won’t leave with a rash
  • No rock climbing
  • beach chairs

The cons:

  • I have a horrid inkling that they are of different ilk than Hippie Hollow folks
  • Costs $20 more to get in than at Hippie Hollow…but when I factor in the gas it probably comes out even
  • Lots of “events” going on

So at some point before July 4th I will be testing the waters.  Stay tuned! 

Too bad I’ll miss the record breaking skinny dip!

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Last week I took Friday off to prepare for my long awaited Memorial day weekend up at Hippie Hollow.  It was a lovely day and I was feeling rather blessed to be able to take a day off with no problems and indulge in things like a pedicure and a trip to Central Market to load up on food.  It was going to be an awesome weekend! 

I caught myself feeling rather guilty at having such a good life.  Then I checked myself.  A long time ago something (minor) happened that made me realize I should enjoy the good times because right around the corner is a big pile of shit waiting for you to step in it. Case in point: my Memorial Day Weekend.

It all started well enough.  I had my book on cd from the library and a freshly loaded and charged ipod.  I woke up bright and early at 5am, stopped off at BofA to get dinero for the park fee and, of course, Starbucks to get me through the first leg of the 3 hour drive up to Austin.  I made it to the park early and was happy to find only one other car in the lot.  The primo spots were mine for the taking.

Unfortunately the water level was still low.  This proved to be bad for reasons beyond not finding a decent spot to lie in.  But more on that later. I wandered around to my new favorite spot in the little cove beyond the second bathroom only to find nothing but rocks near the water.   I ran into the one other park occupant who told me it was very unlikely I’d find a spot near the water.  I ended up trekking back to the little place before the second bathroom where there was an actual beach, even if it was clouded in shade at that moment.  In a few hours I the sun would be high enough to give me that tan I so desperately needed, right?  Little did I know….

There was one clothed man eating an avocado at the stairs where I wanted to be.  I didn’t like it one bit, but he didn’t have the aura of an ogler and he was sitting there first so I had no cause to complain.  There’s no point in going to nude beaches if you are worried about people seeing you naked after all.   So I made my way down, created a comfy spot (or as much as there can be at Hippie Hollow) and stripped. 

An hour later a reader of this blog woke me from my stupor and introduced himself. We sat and chatted.  It turns out he’s a Mormon (LDS?…I’m not sure about the PCness here) and he was thanking me for introducing him to LDS nudists through my blog!  Always happy to be of help to fellow nudists.  He had created a spot higher up where the crowds usually are and so after about half an hour we parted ways.

Then tragedy struck.

If you happened to be in the park around 9:30 ish and an hour or so after, all that hoopla?  Yeah, that was me.  Unknown fact (til now): I have hip replacements.  So  there…now you know all bodies on nude beaches aren’t perfect.  Anyway the right was recently done and I made the boneheaded move of turning my knee inward and…bam!  out came the ball from the socket.    I won’t go into the details of the excruciating pain that caused, except to say I imagine it will be what it’s like if I give birth….to twins…..at the exact same time…without meds.  Here are photos to illustrate the point:

The difference between what my hip should and shouldn't look like.

The difference between what my hip should and shouldn't look like.

As I lay there screaming and helpless but, in the words of Mr. Burns, finding only slack jawed gawkers (and shame on you guys!!!), I finally called out specifically to a man who happened to be walking by.  He also happened to be my Mormon (LDS?) friend from before.  I’ll call him Sam*.  Someone up there was paying attention.  Related Note:This whole experience questioned my lack of spirituality.  Still opposed to organized religion, but I’ve no cause to pick on religious individuals and have to wonder at certain pieces falling into place.

Long story short in bullet format:

  • Sam rushes down to my aid, holds my leg in place to keep it from moving and bringing on more unimaginable pain
  • Sam continues to hold even when it’s obvious rocks and pieces of glass from inconsiderate asses who violate the park rules and bring in glass bottles only to break them are digging into his knees
  • I stupidly ask Sam to get my phone so I can call my mom and have her look online to see how we can get my hip back into place
  • Mom, predictably, tells me in no uncertain terms to CALL THE PARAMEDICS!
  • Sam, thinking far more straight than I am at the time, suggests calling the ranger and does so
  • Ranger calls EMS
  • Sam, still thinking far more straight than I am, suggests I put my top back on.  Note I am now rather embarrassed at the indelicate poses I must have made completely naked while my mind was focused elsewhere.
  • All in all poor Sam made about 4-5 trips up and down the rocks for me.  And got all my belonging safely back to my car.

Now here’s the part that will be helpful for your purposes.  When EMS is called you get not only EMS, but the fire department and a bunch of park rangers as well.  This is especially if, as was the case this weekend (Memorial Day Weekend!?), there are no boats on hand to carry you out the easy way.  All in all there were about 15 guys total.  Fortunately they were all strapping handsome men and perfectly friendly and helpful, thus making me feel like the Queen of Sheba as they lifted me from my spot on the beach, unnaturally low because of the water level. 

The nice EMT gave me a delicious shot of something to curb the nausea and and even more wonderful shot of something to kill the pain.  Thus I felt nothing when they lifted me on my towel into the “rescue” stretcher.  Everyone seemed like they were having a grand old time despite the hike up.  I’m sure the fact that they were surrounded by nude gawkers helped alleviate the same-old, same-old of the experience. Still, kudos to them for bringing a sense of levity to the situation.  Even more kudos to them for managing to haul my hefty ass up all those rocks without dropping me or falling to their deaths. Case in point:

Like this...but with the water 10 feet lower!

Like this...but with the water 10 feet lower!

 Some fun Hippie Hollow facts from the rangers who tried to chat away my distress.  The highest the water has ever been was at the railings for the path through the park in 2007!  For those who’ve been there, the water was at eye level in all the bathrooms.  The lowest was about 16 feet below what it was that day.  According to him I would have had to wait for a boat had that been the case.  

Then I was whisked off to Seton hospital where they made me sit and wait several hours because I had the non–prophetic bad sense to actuall eat something when I got to the park. Then they gave me more drugs (unfortunately NOT before the excruciating experience of being moved from the stretcher to my hospital cot or having to shift my leg to take x-rays), tried 4 times to knock that sucker back in (of which I was thankfully conscious for only 1).   Finally they gave up, put me completely under and got it back into place.  Thus forcing me to spend the night.

yadda, yadda, yadda, as I type this I’m pretty much back to normal except my entire body is sore, I suppose from being tense for 5 hours straight.  What a work out!  I have some sort of post traumatic thing happening where I shudder at the thought of going back  to Hippie Hollow lest it should all happen again. 

But how can I avoid the place I love, which has brought me so much joy?  Rest assured I will whip my subconscious back into shape  in time to get a pre-vacation tan so I don’t look like a complete novice on the nude beaches of the Netherlands/Belgium!

Here are photos of the whole endeavor Sam caught with his cell phone.   Sorry for the small size, it was too blurring when enlarged

Putting me in stretcher

Putting me in stretcher

Prepping the drugs

Prepping the drugs

carrying me from the beach

carrying me from the beach

starting the hike up

starting the hike up

more hiking up

more hiking up

My carriage awaits

My carriage awaits

*all names have been changed to protect the nudists.

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{Egads this site is slow today!}

Well my friends it looks as though yours truly has dropped the ball.   I missed First Splash at Hippie Hollow!  As has been made clear to me by several of you, it actually took place the first weekend in May.  Something in the back of my mind clicked and it kind of makes sense now…well, sort of.  I believe it takes place when they finally end their shortened off season hours and let people into the park from 8am-9pm.  What better reason to celebrate?!

But it was pouring in Houston at the time, and by all accounts wasn’t all that much better in Austin.  Plus, I didn’t get a free extra day off work.  Not to begrudge Austinites their extra few hours during the first part of May, but wouldn’t it make more sense to celebrate properly….for a full three days?!  After all, I personally like to think that our men and women are serving in part to protect our right to express ourselves au natural.  You can bet your ass there are no nude beaches in communist China!

So in two weeks I will be on my merry way to Austin to visit Hippie Hollow yet again. I have no idea where I’ll be laying as I’m sure the water level is far different than the last time I was there, especially considering all the rain we’ve had.  It’s always a surprise.  If you are there use the to the right photo to try and guess which one of the naked bottoms I’ll be.  It’s not too hard, there usually aren’t that many (naturally) brown ones there. 🙂  But feel free to introduce yourself…and tell me how much you love my blog. :))

Happy Tanning!

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Hippie Hollow in February

My usual M.O. when heading out to Hippie Hollow is to get up bright and early before the sun wakes up, drive to the 24 hour Starbucks, get my chai tea latte and drive out, making it to Austin just in time for the park to open at 8 am.  This gives me optimum choices to lay my towel and the full day to enjoy the experience.

Since my trip this past weekend took place in February and the weather was determined to be only a high in the low 70s I decided to wait until the sun had maybe warmed the park up a bit.  So I took off around 9am. Of course lounging around in the morning instead of packing up completely threw me off and when I got to the 290 fwy I realized I had not only left my beer and water sitting in the fridge, but my yoga mat as well!  So my actual leave time turned out to be 9:30ish instead.

As I was leaving Houston I was happy to see that the sky was mostly blue with a few patches of clouds. I crossed my fingers and hoped this is what Austin’s definition of “partly cloudy”, which is what the reports stated would be the case, was like.  Naturally by the time I reached Austin I had a full blown gray sky with a rare patch of blue peeking out every half hour.  But I was determined.

As I was driving down the windy road to the lake I got a few glimpses of the park.  I didn’t see any bodies on the rocks or in the water, but I did take note of the random “islands” that were peeking up through the water.  Apparently the water this time of year is extraordinarily low.  I’ve gone at various times in and around the summer only to find my “usual” spot right by the water’s edge either underwater or 5 feet above water.  But this was something new.

As usual I headed straight to the park, paid my $10, told the park ranger that yes I had been there before and yes I knew it was clothing optional, and parked.  There were a total of 5 cars in the lot when I got there, and one couple was actually getting in their car to leave.  Usually I’m thrilled to have the park mostly to myself.  That day it was not a good sign.  If even the regular die hards aren’t making an appearance then it must be really cold.

I made my way down the path lugging all my belongings. It never fails to run into at least one nude male upon reaching the bottom of the stairs; apparently even when the park is for the most part empty.  At first I thought it was all a coincidence, but at this point I’m begining to think that some of them wander around by the entrance in the hopes of catching people off guard.   But by now I’m used to it, so I smiled, and went off to find my spot.

At first  he began following me, until I looked around giving him a stern glance, at which point he decided the nearest stairway was an ok place to hang out. As I passed the stairways I searched for a decent spot  near the water to lay my towel, at that point still under the delusion I might go swimming.  Eventually I gave up as all the spots near the water were gravel and small rocks.  So I settled on a nice ledge near the “gay side” of the park.

(at some point a video will be inserted here.  Fuckers on wordpress won’t let me embed from facebook)

Eventually people did start trickling into the park.  No sooner had I made this video when an older white man peeked out over the ledge above me and said good morning. I returned the greeting with a smile.  I’m always willing to give fellow nudists the benefit of the doubt that they aren’t just there to gawk.  But then he started getting chatty, and I hadn’t even finished settling down, so i plugged in the headphones and gave him a shrug and a smile with a wave goodbye.  He got the hint. I’m sure to get some sort of horrid reputation for being totally antisocial, but I don’t care.  I just want to lie there and maybe go swimming.  I go to relax not to socialize!

Of course, just as that which occurred during my first visit to Hippie Hollow, I ended up on some sort of trail that nude pedestrians used to go from one side of the park to the other. OF course part of me thinks it was the fact that I was probably the only female in the park that day. 

It started with the Mexican dude (yes, he was Mexican, I learned later on).  At least unlike most Latino gawkers there, he was actually nude (yes, every single clothed gawker I’ve seen at the park has been Latino).  He made two passbys before boldly coming right up to me plopping down and smiling saying “only 5 minutes, si?” So what could I do? 

My only compense was that by that time the wind had finally got to me and I was wearing a jacket, though he still got a decent look at the bottom half. He barely spoke English, which I thought was funny seeing as how he mentioned that he’d been living in Austin for 9 years.  Fine with me, I got to practice my Spanish and stare at his beautiful green eyes. Once he started making fun of the gays I decided his 5 minutes was up and plugged in my headphones giving him the standard shrug, smile, wave goodbye. He got the hint.

Later while I was lying there reading I heard a man above shouting down to me.  Eventually I looked up and he asked if he could come down and chat with me. Since he had been nice enough to ask, men take note!, I acquiesced.  I sat up with my back facing the ledge with the perilous 10 foot rocky drop to the lake below while he sat on a rock above me.

It all started out well enough with me kidding him about turning me in for not having my beer covered (a stupid Hippie Hollow policy I had forgotten about) and him teasing me for being a newbie. He had lovely eyes too, and I hate blue eyes! Wat is it with Hippie Hollow men and their eyes? But then he asked my profession, and I told him asking what his was. He laughed and said his was the same thing, which I knew had to be a lie (I just knew).  From there it just got kind of weird with him getting mystical and quirky. 

All of a sudden it hit me that I was sitting right in front of a 10 foot rocky drop and there was really no one around us.  I had this horrible image of him going nutso and deciding to just push me over the egde for the heck of it.  I’m sure I’m being totally unfair to him, Hippie Hollow regulars are not your normal sort anyway so I should have known better.  But at that point all I was concerned about was nipping it in the bud with my quck headphones in ears fix.  He got the hint.

Now at least you know why I bring my ipod!

Eventually the wind and the lack of blue sky got to me. It was worse when the sun would peek through warming my body, teasing me with how perfect the day could have been had it been sunny.  So I gave up. I headed to my friend’s house with my promised bottle of rum and mint. He made mojitos and frozen pizza and we talked and watched Comedy Central all night. 

He even let me look through his Playboy collection which goes all the way back to the 70s. I was pleased to learn that this whole “sahve it all off” trend has not always existed.  Since my mom reads this blog I won’t hint at my personal grooming habits.  But I will say that I long for the day that woman start looking like grown ups again.

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Hippie Hollow…In Winter?

I’ve been corresponding with a man I met at HIppie Hollow this summer.  It’s completely platonic.  He had to suddenly go up to Austin for business last week and told me after the fact that he wished he had thought to take me with him so we could go back to Hippie Hollow.

I remarked at how nippy it’s been getting and pointed out that that wouldn’t have been much fun. It’s one thing to be naked when the sun is beating down on you, forcing you to take a delicious dip every once in a while. It’s completely another when the breeze is uncomfortably cool.

He pointed out that the lake was too big to get really cold and the sun is shinning enough still to make it tolerable, if not entirely perfect. He then went on to say how he’d been up there every day of the year, even January and December.

For those unfamiliar with Texas, down in the southeast here it gets pretty darn chilly.  I know you northerners might scoff at the idea of anything above technical freezing being considered “cold.” But I’m a California girl.  It took me a full winter of me blasting my heater before a Philly gal told me to just get a down comforter (a life saver if ever there was one).

But I’m nothing if not open minded. Next time he offers, I may just go.

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Hippie Hollow sand

Hippie Hollow "sand"

This is reprented word, for word (almost), from a prior post in MySpace.

I LOVED IT, LOVED IT, LOVED IT, LOVE, LOVE, Love, Love, love, love, love love love loveloveloveloveloveloveloveloved it!

It’s almost like God is punishing me by allowing me into paradise and placing it just too far away to be convenient, yet so close to be on my mind all the time…and just when gas here in Houston passed the $4 mark. Curse my evil fate!

You might as well know that I have flaws galore…lots..and not the female imaginary kind.  But that’s a topic for another blog.

I should also point out that my reasons for enjoying it violated every nudist rule.  I enjoyed it for the thrill of exhibitionism.  I was there to find body acceptance but found something far more delightful. I enjoyed being naked not for the freedom to be natural, but for the thrill of being viewed by others.  Though the freedom of it all was most definitely a close second.

It was a long weekend so this will be a long post…but being one of my more adventurous adventures well worth it I think.


According to Google maps it was supposed to take me 3.5 hours to get to Hippie Hollow (HH for short). This was the weekend and summer had officially started and, having not yet found my new sense of inhibition, I wanted to beat the crowd. My original plan was to leave at 5 am, but last minute packing, shaving, cleaning up the mess I’d made of “trimming” my pubic hair the night before (for some odd reason, despite all their nature loving, nudists are rather conformist about this), and changing wardrobes at the last minute set me back an hour.  The funny thing is the road from Houston to HH is pretty much a direct route.  You keep heading down the 290 which turns into the 2222 which turns right into the road directly to HH. I myself arrived at 9:30 on Saturday and was relieved to see only about 10 cars in the parking lot.  The guard was a friendly enough fellow and cautioned me that it was a clothing optional park.  I have no idea how many people just happen to show up at HH’s front door hoping to enjoy Lake Travis totally oblivious to this fact, but I suppose they have a duty to inform the public.

Here’s the sign out front:

I parked and grabbed all my stuff, which turned out to be a huge burden later on, and headed down the path.  I ran into my first naked man and hate to say that I was startled.  He seemed annoyed, probably assuming that I was there to gawk at people.  I shrugged it off, all that more determined to get undressed as soon as possible. 

Now all the info I’d read beforehand kept telling people to go “past the second bathroom.” That’s where the gay section is.  That’s where women can lay back without being bothered by horny hetero men.  That’s where all the locals are.  That’s exactly where I didn’t want to be. 

I figured if that end of the park is where everyone is, that’s where I wanted to avoid. At that point I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d be naked in front of a bunch of others and I was still self conscious about my flaws and had this image of a bunch of gods and goddesses frolicking around totally aware of how hot they were.  I probably shouldn’t tell you this because I’m outing the best spot in the park in my opinion, but I ended up going down stairway 4 (long before getting to the second bathroom) and trekking down to the perfect spot.

Here’s the thing about HH: you really have to do some hiking to not only find a decent place to lay, but get your ass down to the water.  I recommend something a little sturdier than cheapo flip flops, mine were nearly ruined.  And stick everything in one big bag, it makes things easier.  How people do it in the nude is beyond me. I found my spot, a beautiful secluded ledge, which happened to have a perfect view of the “popular” part of the beach where, supposedly, all the locals hang out.  More importantly, as I was later thrilled to find out, it offered everyone else a prime view of yours truly.

So of course it was no surprise that as soon as I settled down and took off my dress, I realized I had left both my sunglasses and ipod in the car.  On the way back I ran into another naked guy, this one with two missing front teeth, a beer can and a cigarette.  To explain my having the audacity of being fully clothed and to make small talk I explained about leaving my stuff in the car and what a pain iit was to go back for it.

“Yeah, I saw ya from the other side of the water.  I was wonderin’ whatchoo was doin,” he laughed.  Apparently my contortionist skills getting down the various ledges made for some amusement.

I laughed and quickly made my way to the parking lot where nudity was not allowed. Hoping to avoid him on the way back I waited a bit and finally made the trek back to my primo spot.

Then I just did it!

It was cloudy which is probably why the park was so free of people.  That was fine by me. I sat back and watched the clouds and the planes go by, wondering if they were close enough to tell people on the beach were naked.  I know for certain that the boats that kept swinging by all day were.  Maybe not close enough to see details, but close enough to see naked flesh. 

Eventually it started raining, which pissed me off because out of all the weekends….  But later on it cleared up and became fiercely hot. 

Just when I had snuggled into my spot and lay on my side naked, sunglasses on, earphones in ears, eyes on the other side of the beach, I saw a pair of feet approaching. I lifted my hat to see Mr. No-Teeth.  He smiled his toothless smile and passed on.  I later looked up to see him standing not 20 feet away pretending to watch the water.  I shrugged and went back to my music.  If the sight of my monstrously untanned and flabby flawed whale of a body lounging on the rock is what percolated his coffee, it was fine by me.   Thus started my journey on the road to narcissistic enjoyment of nude sunbathing. 

As it turned out, Mr. No-teeth was the first of many (and he had a good 3 pass-by’s himself). Apparently my nice little secluded spot with a perfect view of the other beach was some sort of pathway….for men only.  Don’t get me wrong, some of those men were most certainly gay, and one was the park ranger (who has seen far better than me I’m sure).  But it all served it’s purpose, to make me more comfortable with my naked body.   I also won’t deny that I enjoyed the view myself often enough.  One in particular was this young stud with a cross tattooed on his back (God how I love tatts!) and the kind of impressive cock you could actoually see watching him walk from behind…right below his perfect ass.  I like to think that the three times he passed by were for my benefit…so I will!

My spot was incredibly secluded but not entirely.  All the message boards were a-titter about the “Mexican day laborers” who just stood around fully clothed and gawked at people.  At some point I was jolted out of my sunbathing stupor by the feeling someone was watching me.  As it turned out it was two someones.  Now, when I read the message boards, I was a little put off by the descriptions of these guys.  I can understand being annoyed by someone coming for the sole purpose of checking out naked people, but I just attributed all the comments regarding race and appearace to typcial white Texas republicans who like to rant.  But the thing is, I began to feel it myself.  They are all Latino (I won’t go as far as proclaiming them Mexican without knowing for sure, though an educated guess would say yeah, they are).  And they did just sit around in their unkempt clothes drinking beer and ogling.  It happened throughout the day with different sets of them.

At first I felt the same sort of annoyance that all the past visitors seemed to have.  As the day went on, my conciet took hold and I placed them firmly in the camp of all the other oglers, clothed and unclothed.   Since they didn’t have the benefit of actually being there to enjoy the park like the nudists did, they at least got bored and left after a while.  Either that or, as one group of nudists manage to accomplish, got scared off. I let out a silent cheer for them on that one.  I guess it pays to go in a group.

Making it down to the water was no easy feat.  That was the point I realized why my spot was so unpopular.  It was literally like rock climbing to get down and back up again. And there is no elegant way of doing it either.  You are literally stretched out, hunched over, legs opened wide and bent in unflattering positions, clinging deseprately to a tiny slippery foothold.  During one of my hikes back up I got stuck and found myself staring right at the impressive cock of an extremely fit (but sadly gay) black guy offering me a hand up. I’m also pretty sure that on one of my successful trips back up to my spot I heard a cheer go up on the other side of the water once I made it back to the towel.  That’s how difficult it was! As for the water, it was increddibly choppy.  I tried swimming and it literally took my breath away.  As wave after wave crashed into my face, I panicked and went back to shore.  From that point on, I sat on the rocks in the water and let the water scoot me back and forth.  It was a cooling refreshment from the blistering heat of the sun.

Later on as I was dryinig off, listening to my headphones and reading, I saw a pair of feet from underneath the brim of my hat.  I looked up to see an older fellow (also with missing teeth) with a camera looking down at me.  At first I was annoyed, wondering what sort of shot he had got, then I figured, if I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see my face.  As it turned out, he hadn’t yet taken my picture but was gracious enough to ask me if he could.  He told me he had been admiring me from accross the bay (cove?) all day and after seeing my “beautiful breasts” floating in the water had to come over and ask if he could take a photo.  By that time I had dismissed any self consciousness I had about my flaws and weight, so I happily agreed…on the condition that I got to cover my face. 

So we had our full on photo session right there on the rocks with everyone on the other side watching.  Then we sat back and talked.  Apparently he was married, though he wore no ring, but his wife had to work that day.   He had been coming to HH for a full 38 years!  He told me he missed the days when it was more family friendly.  I myself was glad there were no kids, and worse, parents, around to ruin the fun, though I kept this opinion to myself.  He kept remarking how spectacular my breasts were, which only made my day happier and happier.  Then decided to settle on my side of the bay (cove?).

Later on there was a latino guy who set up camp near me, but kept a respectful distance.  Mostly he just sat on the rock looking out at the water.  I caught him checking me out from the corner of his eyes, but since he was fully nude, I didn’t mind.  At some point he put on a t-shirt and walked in my direction.  I had seen men do this often and still didn’t get it.  For all intents and purposes, as far as men go anyway, you’re still naked since it’s all hanging out. So I stopped him and asked him.  He seemed pleased and surprised that I dared talk to him and gave an explanation I still don’t get.

Of course when he got back from his walk, he sat right down on a rock next to me and chatted me up. He’s a regular there too, originally from Mexico.  But he’s been to several beaches and encouraged me to go to Black’s Beach in San Deigo (which I fully plan on doing). At one point I sat up and sat criss-cross in front of him.  Originally it was because it was too hard looking up at him talking while lying on the towel.  This of course gave him a perfect view of my breasts and the area between my legs, now that much more visually accessible due to a trimming.  It was wicked fun watching him try and avert his eyes while still maintaining his end of the conversation.  It didn’t even bother me that this was perhaps the most unflattering position that I could be in concidering my flaws.  At one point he crossed his legs and I gave the poor guy a break by proclaiming I was headed back into the water.

Later on I realized that whatever sunscreen I had put on earlier in the day had probably washed off by now so I pulled out the spray can and went to work.  When I got to my ass I noticed a substantial stinging.  Since I had spent most of the day on my stomach (my chest needed a tan far more than my ass) and no other part of my body, back or front, was stinging, I had to think about why it hurt so much.  Then it hit me…those damn rocks I’d been sitting on in the water.  Each time a wave pushed me back and forth my ass slid right across some jagged edge, and now not only did it hurt to put sunscreen on, but I’d probably get some festering moss and algae filled sore right smack on my lovely ass.  Needless to say it didn’t get any better by the time I went into the salt filed floatation tank the next day, even after slathering neosporin on my ass that night.

Around 4:30 a group of just barely legal kids came and sat right next to me, two guys and a girl. They were loud and obnoxious and didn’t even get nude.  Oddly, I think I was more bothered by the fact that, after a day of seeing gloriously tan bodies, they were all pasty white, than I was by their shouting.  At some point the boys were going back and forth about jumping from some rock into the water. Naturally it was the sort of thing that could get you killed and they were showing off for anyone around…which turned out to be just me.  Mostly because I figured a broken neck would at least get them out of the park I looked up. One of the boys looked at me and then said “fuck it, I’ll do it you pussy” and jumped in.  Sadly he came out of it unmaimed and the next went in. 

By that time I’d been in the park a good 7 hours and had a nice deep tan and a newfound love for my naked body so I packed it up to go.  Since my offer of a drink with a certain Austinite *ahem* was off I went to Chili’s to celebrate.  I had a beer…and 4 diet cokes.  Apparently two diet Sprites and a large bottle of water does nothing to quench the thirst incurred from lying on your ass in the sun.  I was THIRSTY!   I was happy to see Finding Nemo on the screen in the bar area instead of some game and watched it while eating Southwestern eggrolls and later a Chocolate Molten Lava cake.  Who needs to be on a diet when you (and apparently others) love your body?

The original plan was to go to HH, then wake up and go to the floatation tank, then bail.  But how could resist the opportunity for another visit to my new favorite place in the world?

The next day was even more exciting….

Day 2


On Sunday I had an appointment to go floating again in the floatation tank.  After HH I was in no mood, and ended up spending the whole 2 hours trying not to think about my burning ass or how I could be in the same situation (floating naked on my back), but out in the sun among other naked people instread of trapped in a salty tank.  There was one moment of “enlightenment” towards the second hour, but ultimately it’s a waste from now on.  I found what true enlightenment really is.

Anyway, the next day I decided to venture over to the other side of the bay (cove??) and sit amongst the people.  It could only do me good to let people see what I look like up close instead of from afar (that’s not the exhibitionsit in me, that’s the self-conscious female in me).   Plus I wanted easier access to the water…no more gymnastics thank you very much.

So I ventured over past the infamous “second bathroom” and walked down the access ramp.  Naturally it ended at a point that still required some hiking/rock climbing…and after enviously watching all the floaters yesterday I also had a brand new floation device with me.  I wandered around from rock to rock trying to find the easiest way down.  Finally a jolly round naked fellow helped me out with the best way down.

This side was even harder to get to than my original post, and I was dissapointed to find that the rock surfaces weren’t as smooth. But I was 5 feet from the water, so I laid out my towel on the smoothest spot and set up camp.  I made sure to pack lots of water this time and a package of 100 calorie packs of Pringles.

I arrived at 12:30 thinking I’d have to search for a decent place, but it was still fairly empty there…save for a few older, rounder men on the cliffs above me.  It’s true what they say about clothed people feeling more self conscious than if they were nude.  But I will always stick to my naked-until-I-reach-my-spot rule. After my ass scrapes from Saturday I don’t need cuts and bruises on my privates from hiking down jagged cliffs.

Then I did it again!

And laid back to enjoy the partly-cloudy skies. Not 10 minutes later a bald fellow with hairy legs set up camp near me.  At the time I paid him no attention and kept on working on my make-my-boobs-as-brown-as-my-legs tan.  Side Note: screw what the Surgeon General has to say about sun tanning.  Tanning is so awesome!  It hides a world of flaws and everyone looks so much better.  I can’t stop looking at the magical transformation of my body.

At one point Mr. Bald saw me struggling to move my towel around to a place where the dips and curves of the rocks didn’t dig into me and invited me over to the space right next to him, which seemed no less uneven than my spot.  I smiled and said no thanks. I’m sure he was enjoying the view of my bent over ass struggling with the towel anyway.

Then he offered me water.

Then he offered the space next to him again, since the waves occasionally splashed me.

Again I said no to both offers.  And then went in the water to avoid further conversation.  I didn’t mind the attention, I just didn’t want to spend my last day there caught up in conversation.

He finally got me when I opened the package for my floatation thingy.  It was one of these deals, and I didn’t realize it needed to be blown up. He saw me with it and pointed to his own floater, which didn’t need to be blown up at all.  I looked longingly out at the water and then back at him, reading is face for the catch.  My desire to float overcame any misgivings and I took him up on the offer.

I went in the easiest way, on my stomach.  But it was boring and neck-hurting that way and it was my front I wanted to tan.  After seeing me struggle trying to get on my back, he helped me out, getting his very own personal open-legged crotch shot (unintentional…come on, I’m not that much of an exhibitionist!).

The damn water kept trying to push me back to shore, despite my efforts to paddle my way out.  FInally I gave up, destined to a life of sitting on my hands on the rocks in the water.  I brought him his floaty thing back and as he put it down on the ground next to him, he offered to let me lay on it.  Thinking back to my own uncomfortable spot, I didn’t hesitate.  If he wanted to give up his own comfort for the sake of lying next to me, who was I to complain.

And it was oh so nice….

The park grew more and more crowded.  I looked across the bay to where I was the prior day and, naturally, my spot was taken by some lucky visitor.  I was, however suprised to find so many people (read: clothed male gawkers) in the trees on the cliffs above.  There had to be at least 30 of them.  Of course from my little hidden spot I had been totally oblivious to them all.

Eventually two couples set up near us.  I think they met there since all their talk seemed to be of the getting to know you sort. One was a man with a slightly younger companion who seemed to be in the picture simply for her spectacular rack (it was indeed awesome, but most likely fake).  Even though her body wasn’t perfect, it just made the man look sad and pathetic in comparison.

The other couple was your typical Texas sort, he of the mustache wearing and she of the big blonde hair.  She kept her bikini on, and I disliked them even more because of it…on top of the blinding white-hot hatred I had for them when they lit up and shared a cigarette.

Mr. Bald and I got to talking, and I didn’t mind it so much.  I originally thought he was latino, but as it turned out he was from Casablanca orginally. He grew up in southern France and, naturally, had been to nude beaches there.  He used to work at an ice cream stand and pay his coworkers to take their shifts so he could stay longer at the beach and serve ice cream to pretty women.

He’s also a cop. I chose to ignore this fact since he kept mentioning how much I stood out…in a very good way, and how sexy I was.  I’m sure it was going somewhere in his head but I didn’t mind.  He was a nice diversion.

And naturally the corny go-for-it play had to happen. I was laying on my stomach when he pointed out that whatever sunblock I had on, it was probably washed off by then.  He offered to put his homemade concoction of sunblock, bug repellant, and carrot oil (which supposedly helps you tan better) on for me.  I shrugged and let him…from neck to toe. Naturally he lingered in the obvious spots but not long enough to be pervy. 

So there I was slick as a greased pig blinding everyone in sight with my shinny body.  And it didn’t dry at all! At some point all I could do was get up and go in the water to get it all off.

I had planned to leave exactly at 5pm so as not to have to find my way out of the hills, back to the 290,and home again in the dark.  My new partner decided to leave a little earlier…taking his floater with him.  I could tell he was hoping I’d just go ahead and leave half an hour early and head out with him, but I was pouty at losing my comfy cushion and told him I was going back in the water.  He still got my number.  He was cute with awesome eyelashes, and not one of those sissies that shaves his chest. Plus, he probably saved me a week’s worth of aches and bruises.

After getting back out of the water, the foursome next to us began talking about swinging, in their grating texas drawls, while smoking and drinking beer. It only disgusted me.  Then a young couple came and plopped right near me on the other side…and lit up a cigarette.  That was my cue to go. 

But it had been another good day.  I had been worried that Saturday’s experience was too good to be true and something would happen Sunday to prove it was not in fact paradise, but just another place to go swimming…cigarette smoking bastards aside (why don’t they all just die already!).

Making my way up, it was much more crowded than when I had come down.  So crowded I had to wind around naked bodies, towels, bags, and coolers…taking twice as long to get out.  They all seemed sort of clique-ish and since I had dressed to leave, viewed me with suspicion.  This only strengthened my resolve to claim my original spot as my section of the park. I don’t care if there are 100 gawkers sitting behind me the whole time. 

The good news is…I manged to scrape together a bottle of sand from all those rocks.


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