To properly celebrate the reason for the season Big Bird, Chitlin', and I went for an evening hike on the Appalachian Trail. Swatara Gap is located 8 miles from where I grew up, North on Rt. 72. Last time I was out there I was finishing up my 3rd day out of 14o odd days between Georgia and Maine. Without much of a plan and no one to share it with, I met Woofman Mr. J and Nomad6. They were camping in Lickdale and I was craving a beer so I joined them, oddly close to my parents home.
This time around, I had a specific plan. One that showed me how much I have grown up after 5 months in the "wilderness", and a few more earning a living. The three of us planned on taking part in the annual naked hike. We stripped down on the blue-blaze trail leading to Lickdale, just left of the Walking Bridge over the Swatara Creek, or River depending who you ask. We decided to keep boots and belts on for the hike. The boots would protect our dog pads and belts would allow for a quick loin hanger incase children wandered by, which was quite possible considering it was a Sunday evening and Father's Day. The feeling is like no other. Walking, jogging, sitting, laying, doing anything naked is more enjoyable than the restrictions of society. We ran through the ferns, along the trail that was now a stream of runoff, over the top of the blue mountain ridge, and back down from where we started. Occasionally a goose call, monkey yell, or stereotypical western movie indian yell would cut through the soft brushing of sweaty leg and taint hair.
As for fellow naked passers-by, there were unfortunately none. Although we did cross paths with a dad and three boys about the age of 11. Whispering and giggling was all we heard as we greeted them kindly. As they passed and saw our lack of cover in the back, the kids pointed and laughed. Luckily, the father was digging our humor. As we hiked back to the Swaty, We decided to attempt fording the river (creek). Days like this one, after a week of rain, I may have agreed with miss Jo Ellen Litz. Big Bird and Chitlin' got swept down stream as I watched from a pool waist deep, camera in hand. Instead of risking the camera, I walked back over the bridge in time to pass a couple in their 50's. They were out birding after vespa ride, and must have enjoyed the view as I walked in front of mom's binoculars.
