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FEELING
ALIVE
... a short
story about an experience at Hippie Hollow, a clothing optional beach
At the time I
write this, I have lived in Texas for a little over a year. During this time, I'd
heard my share of stories about Hippie Hollow, a county-run park just outside Austin,
Texas and on Lake Travis where clothing is optional. But, I've never ventured out to
sun my buns.
I should mention that I have been to Hippie Hollow before. Ya see, about three years
ago, when John and I were dating, he took me to the park for a late night swim on one of
the many weekend courting trips I had made to Austin from Grand Rapids, Michigan.
But, that was three years ago ... and in the dark of night when no one else was around.
It feels kinda strange that here I am today ... actually married off and living here
in Austin. Hmmm, how life does evolve. But, now I digress.
It was a
beautiful March day in central Texas ... 77 degrees and sunny. Just a bit of breeze. It was the kind of day
one would classify as picture perfect. Without hesitation, I decided a day like this
simply could not go to waste. Yes, it was the day to venture out and experience
Hippie Hollow.
So, with the morning workout complete and a cooler full of ice, I hopped into my toasty
car, pushed the button to slide open the moon roof and I was off. The tunes were
pumping just right and I was feeling all buff and randy as I headed out to the Texas 'Hill
Country'.
It's absolutely beautiful out in the Texas hills. Nothing really comes close to it
up in Michigan, where I had lived the better portion of my life. Well, perhaps areas by Traverse City up in the
Leelanau Peninsula somewhat resembled the hills here in Texas. But Texas was more
rocky, rugged, and bared more greenery that looks like it can withstand the tests of the
hot, 100-degree dog days of summer.
The Hill Country is densely populated with trees along steep hills and cliffs.
Multi-million dollar estates dot the tops of these hills. One imagines that
people with the names of Biff, Tad and Muffy reside in these homes. Lake Travis, a
dammed up segment of the Colorado River Chain, flows through a valley between these hills.
My destination was only 25 minutes west of home. Though, with the beautiful scenery,
I wished the trip took longer. Just prior to the parks entrance, I pulled into a
convenience store to make the selection of an adult beverage for the days consumption.
Some things
about Texas I really like. Thank God one is allowed to enjoy some of life's
simple pleasures at a public park, I thought as I climbed out of my car. That
thought quickly gave way to the realization that I was already near naked as it was.
After all, why don a lot of clothes when all your going do is shed them upon arrival at
your destination? Oh well ... to hell with em, I thought as I bodaciously strolled
into the store. As it turned out, the clerks must have had more than a few occasions
of scantily clad people
who were heading to Hippie Hollow come in the store. They didn't pay me any mind ...
except for the young cashier who gave me a once-over and a subsequent wink.
Upon arrival at the park, I paid the five-dollar entrance fee and was dutifully reminded
by the park ranger that no glass containers were allowed. I felt like I had mastered
the art of preplanning as I had already read that fact on the Travis County Parks &
Recreation website before departing and, as a result, had made the choice of purchasing
the Heineken in cans rather than the favored glass container.
I parked in a shaded area, closed the sun roof and cracked the windows as I looked around
wondering exactly where I was suppose to go. I noticed a young couple exiting their
car; the days needs bundled in their arms. I followed them down the
not-so-well-marked path that ultimately led down to the lake.
Yep, this is definitely it, I thought as the path gave way to the openness of the
park and the surroundings of at least a hundred people, 80% of which were all-natural and
the rest just as well should have been. The lake was oddly shaped; causing the park
to have many bends and curves.
I had heard
that the gay portion of the park was at the far end of the park. So, I flipped my
beach towel over my shoulder, gave a tug on the cooler to get a better grip and I was off.
As I walked along the shoreline, I was thinking the fact that gay people congregate
anywhere was rather foreign for Austin. Gay
people are so integrated into the society here that Austin doesn't even have a gay section
of town like so many other cities do. Gay people are well, just ... everywhere!
This certainly was not the Michigan style of beach, containing billions of grains of sand.
Rather, the 'beach' at Hippie Hollow displays ledges of rock where people pick their
spots and spread out a blanket. Suddenly I wished I had brought more than one towel
for extra cushion. Other than the difference in landscape and the fact that nearly
everyone was naked, the people in the park didn't look any different from any beach in
Michigan.
I don't know what I was expecting. I guess I was wondering if there were going be a
lot of 'swinger-type' people there. Ya know the type ... bad toupees and gold chains
displayed on a bed of thick chest hair. Ick! Thank
God there was none of that, I thought as I called myself half-witted for stereotyping
an environment before I checked it out for myself.
I spread out a blanket on a rocky shelf and didn't pay no mind to anyone as I proceeded to
disrobe. Gee, this feels nice, I thought, I wonder why some people are
so uptight about nude beaches. Hmmm, suddenly I was a proponent of making them
all nude. Well, all those except the ones with rather large people.
I cracked open a cold one, still feeling good that I had planned ahead and settled in, pen
and pad in hand, to write my monthly column. But, somehow the words just wouldn't
come. I put the writing device down and glanced around at my surroundings, which
turned out to be entertaining indeed.
There was a
steady stream of boats motoring by; slowly of course ... the crews taking in every naked
body they could possibly absorb. My eyes went from the water to land. There
were all shapes and sizes ... big ones, small ones, old ones, young ones. It's
people I'm talking about; although I guess one could use the same adjectives for the body
parts that usually aren't exposed to everyone and their ... um, well, everyone.
I was
surprised to see how many women there were in the gay section of the park. Straight
women, that is. That question was soon answered after I struck up a conversation
with Beth and her boyfriend, Brett, who were sitting a few feet away from me. They
told me that they came down to the gay part of the beach to avoid the gawkers on the
straight side. Makes sense, I thought. After all, for Beth this is a
'safe zone'. But, then I looked at Brett who I thought might feel uncomfortable.
But, after a few minutes of pleasant conversation, it was obvious that he was very
comfortable with his body and his sexuality. He couldn't give a shit what
anybody thought or if people stared. I decided I liked my new friends.
To my left there were a few African American men laying out seemingly attempting to deepen
their tans. Why? I thought, Seems rather redundant. Oh well
... the very fact of the sun beating down on ones skin does make one feel full of
life. If I was them, I'd be doing the very same.
Derrick, a guy sitting on a ledge above me, joined in our conversation. He looked like a model directly out of Gentlemen's
Quarterly, except for that nasty scar on his lower abdomen that bared the remnants of a
past surgery. Derrick pointed out a man coming around the bend, wearing nothing but
a pair of tennis shoes and a white cowboy hat. He chastised the man for wearing the
white hat. After all, white cowboy hats should only be worn after Easter; he should
be wearing a black one! Only in Texas, I thought as I donned the only thing
I had on ... a shit-assed grin.
I was still smiling when a 'cottontail' strolled by and settled in about 50 yards away.
My new friends sitting around me told me that new people to the park are identified
as cottontails ... not because they have a cute fluffy tail, but because they have a white
ass, not yet tanned from the Texas sun. Hmmm, I thought as I realized I had
been identified as one of the same upon my arrival an hour earlier. Just call me
Peter Rabbit I exclaimed, which resonated a healthy laugh of those sitting around me.
The sun was becoming more intense as the minutes turned to hours. Fours hours of
direct Texas sun is about all anyone can stand. Skin pink with the days intense sun,
I picked up my pen again and I began to write. But, I didn't write my column.
I wrote about my experience.
Funny ... it wasn't anything like I thought it was going to be. When the designer
clothes come off and one's skin is exposed to all, there is nothing left to hide behind.
Clothes tend to cover our imperfections. And, let's face it; we all have
imperfections with our bodies. Without them, even more of our imperfections were
evident to the world. There were no pretenses ... hell, how could there be? It
was a feeling I found to be invigorating.
Today, I
learned that clothes tend to cover up more than just our bodies. The content of the conversations were more genuine
... more of 'here it is and this is me'. Yes, it was just me and the people around
me, naked in more ways than one.
I feel good. I not only feel good ... I feel alive.
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BY THIS AUTHOR LAST UPDATED:
November 8, 2003 *** This article
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