Bathing and warm water are certainly part of the culture and history of the western civilization since the Roman Empire. What is there about it? Why do we like to socialize around water? Lakes, rivers, mountain streams, the ocean of course. Is it the sounds? The ever changing views? People speak of peace and tranquility, sometimes danger and fear of the power of water and the magnetic draw of nature. We are conflicted in our opinions and probably will never have a common view, but one thing seems sure, there is a biologically wired water spot in all of us.

Spas, springs, and skinny dipping are also part of the American experience. Saratoga, New York, one of the first places in the US to find that there was money to be made from water, is actually named Saratoga Springs. People came to drink the water, and later the state established bath houses where people could bathe in the mineral laidened water. This was during the high Victorian era, so bathing was not a community experience, with others, but “taking the waters” was a popular pastime in the hot summers of upstate New York.

I may have been 14 or so when I discovered that I liked to be naked. Ours was a late Victorian family, where no one ever saw another family member naked, no one ever spoke of being naked, and pajamas were always worn to bed. It simply was the way it was. Never discussed, never thought of, we were always clothed except when in the bathtub, and then you were all alone. No showers in our home, the bath was the one way you got clean. Not too often though. I don't remember taking a bath more than once every week or two as a kid. Shees, we must have been smelly!

Somehow, at about 14, a friend and I were talking about how we slept, and he said he slept naked. Shock! Never thought about it! Now he and I messed around daily after school, but sleeping naked? Wow. This was something to think about. Almost immediately after that talk with him, I began to shuck my PJ's in the privacy of my own bedroom prior to slipping between the sheets. I liked it, I liked it! The freedom of having nothing on which twisted you up all night was great. Or was it the shear sexuality of being 14? Or the fact that no one in the family knew, nor would ever know. Like I said, we were a very private family.

Now I need to tell you that I was not a cute teenager. Not athletic, not very popular, probably the term “dork” was invented just for me. I was the last one chosen for a team in school sports, and never would have been chosen at all except that the coach insisted that everyone had to be on one team or the other. But I could out think all of those guys; I was smart, just not very aware of social graces. So there, I thought, you guys may have better bodies, but I have a bigger brain. And I sleep naked too. Bet you don't. Speaking of bigger things, I was at least fortunate that I never had to fight that image problem. I didn't understand it at the time, but I was not called peewee. Thank god, I might never have recovered from that.

So, I found comfort with being naked, at least alone. And I didn't hate my body either. I was just not proud of it. I could have worked out and developed a more muscular shape; I just never could be bothered. A gym body? Naa. Besides, gyms were for athletes, and I sure was not one of those. Nor did I want to be one.

Self-image and self-preservation have something in common. My instincts for self-preservation allowed me to deny that I was ugly. And I was not ugly, just average. Does that make sense? If you obsess about how you look, it may be because you don't think you measure up in any way. I always knew I had something, but it was not my bod beautiful. I was not ashamed of my body. Oh, I like a guy with a nice body too. Don't let me mislead you into thinking that I am not attracted to the physical, but never in my wildest imagination do I think I will or would ever be judged Mr. Senior Bod 2002.

When I moved west, in the early 1970's, my closet was kept very tightly closed as it had always been. I was in a professional field, and I just developed a persona of no sex, or asexual. I was a loner, but I had many friends. I did without anyone “special“, nor did I try to appear that I wanted anyone. My co-workers did not try to fix me up with anyone, or if they made any attempt, I made it clear that I was not interested in that part of life. I did my job well. And I slept naked.

Was my life devoid of sex? Well, yes and no. Since the definition of “sex” was changed in the Clinton era, who knows what sex is now. .

Lets just say I got along, not entirely frustrated, but not very satisfied either. Sex was mostly a solo thing, with photos to help the imagination. In addition, there were endless “go to sleep” fantasies that got me through the rough parts.

After moving west, the family repression was replaced by self-imposed, work related, repression. On weekends I used the car to take a lot of exploratory rides. Many miles of western roads were traveled alone. Then one day, and I am not clear just how it happened, I heard about a hot springs in the northern Rocky Mountains that was clothing optional, and was not all that far away. Where was it? How could I find it? I kept my ears open for any hints of hot springs. Remember that this was pre- Internet era.

Then it happened, the name was mentioned once again in my presence. It was not stated in a conversation to me directly, but it was one that I overheard. The name was a place that I had been nearby in my travels. It was familiar, but I could not exactly locate it in my mind. I knew I'd seen that name on a sign somewhere. A couple of months passed and bingo I drove by the sign again. Gotcha! I parked, and hiked in.

I now, years later, know the trail well. The walk to the springs is very peaceful, and beautiful. It wanders along a creek, which, depending on the season, runs from placid to a roar. Its not a difficult walk, and is mostly level. Game, especially moose, are often encountered right on the trail. If you ever see a moose up close, just talk quietly to the critter, and it will probably move out of the way. If it's a cow and a calf, make sure that they both go together, as you never, ever, want to come between momma and kid moose. Momma moose are very protective, and woe is the hiker that thinks otherwise.

Moose are a beautiful creatures, in a sort of ugly way. It is always amazing how fast a huge creature like a moose can disappear into an underbrush that seems too thin to conceal anything which is less than a half a mile away. However, if you turn your head on a moose, they have blended, and are gone from sight.

On that first hike in, I saw that the trail was broad, and obviously well used. Three quarters of a mile in, it lifted above the creek, and then the first vapor of steam was seen. Watching to my right, suddenly down a cliff of maybe a 20 foot drop, I saw naked people, better yet, naked guys!

Pay dirt! Now I thought to myself, be cool, don't stare too long, give a friendly wave. Be still my beating heart. Just continue along the still well traveled path. Maybe there are more. Two hundred yards later, again, pools. This time with two women, both with suits on, drunk as lords at 10 am. The pool they were in looks nice, but their gender is wrong, as is the clothing. I didn't come here to get into hot water with drunken women in bathing suits. I made small talk with them, and then left for the first pools where the guys were. It turned out I missed a third set of pools. I found them on a later trip.

Back at the first pools, I found the guys just heading around the cliff to another pool and a waterfall of hot water. Damn, I can't see them. I striped off my clothes, thankful that I had spent many many hours naked, and this was not difficult for me, or different. I sat in the hot water, which was a perfect temperature for soaking. The mountain water had no odor of any kind. The hot springs were just like hot water out of the tap at home. Right there and then, I instinctively knew that I was hooked on hot springs. These hot springs especially. I sat there for a few minutes, but needed company (yea, right). I went around the rocks to visit with the guys there.

The guys climbed up into the waterfall of hot water, while I sat in the pool and watched. It is all right to watch when men are climbing around on rocks. However, these guys were naked, a significant bonus. A very significant bonus. They were younger than me, and more agile, and were having fun, completely oblivious of me. Then they climbed down from the water cascade and went back around the rocks, again out of my site. Damn.

Knowing the limits of being too obvious, I stayed where I was. In fact, I decided to climb into the fall of hot water myself. It was easy to get up there, and after a few minutes the rain of water was almost too hot to stand, so I started down. Moss and algae covered the rocks under the falls. My feet did not hold. I slipped and down I went. It was only a 5 foot drop, but skin was tearing all the way. I slowly got up. I stood in the pool bleeding like a stuck pig, cut from elbow to ankle, lacerated by the rocks. Damn, it hurt.

I washed myself off, and decided to return to where my clothes were (and those guys) with honor, but I had an excuse. I made my way around the rocks, only to see them pulling on their shorts. Double damn! They were gone quickly, and I couldn't even get sympathy from them. The water was still great, and after washing blood off a second time, I slowly got dressed. Visions of sugarplums still danced in my head.

At work that week, I was stiff, and hurt more than I could say from the fall. How could I explain how it happened? So, I didn't. No sharing of the adventure, no understanding nods of appreciation of my discovery of the springs, of my ogling, my delight of finding naked guys and great hot water. Just, “oh, I fell down and cut myself“. We miss a lot of good story telling when we are the silent minority, don't we?

I went back, and have gone back with great regularity for almost 25 years now. The water is still wonderful, and it is the star attraction of the place, without a doubt. I really do love the hot water. The people are also great. In all my times at the springs, I have encountered maybe 3 or 4 unpleasant people. They are so rare as to quickly fade into forgetfulness. On the other hand, the great folks, men, women, and couples that I have met there make a thousand wonderful stories.

Water is something that seems to bring people together. Hot water, in a natural woodland setting, is even better. When it can be shared with others, and everyone is devoid of their clothing, few pretenses can be sustained. For the most part, everyone is mellowed out and willing to let go of some of the false fences that keep us all apart. I have made lifelong friends at the springs, and hope to continue to make many more as the years roll on by me.

And, did I mention, that there are naked guys there? Yea, guess I already said that.