That day in 1978 was a warm day in San Francisco - a rare event - and I was checking out the neighborhood after a medical appointment. A tabloid newsrack carried papers with the headline: "The Great Guardian Nude Beach Guide". I was intrigued, and bought one. The publication was the San Francisco Bay Guardian, and (as it turned out) this issue featured their annual map and directory of nude beaches throughout California.
Nude beaches? Could beaches actually exist in California where people didn't wear swimsuits or other clothes?
Little did I know of this 20-year-old phenomenon, but I was about to learn, and learn fast...
I studied the map and directory, and some of the beaches were right there in the city. Others were a short drive north or south on U. S. Highway 1. Most of all, I studied the photos: men and women lying on blankets and towels spread out on the sand...but wearing nothing at all! Did people really do this? How? Why didn't the cops swoop down and arrest them all? I was hot on the trail of a mystery.
Little by little I explored the nearby beaches - or tried to. Some were quite difficult to find (which, I discovered later, was how people could be nude there). Others were easier to find, but had no visitors on weekdays.
Finally, I tried one to the south, near the small city of Pacifica. It was privately owned (very rare in California) and had its own parking lot. I paid the $3 for parking and admission, and walked down the stairs into...another world.
It was a relatively small beach, but alive with activity. Older people walking around, younger people throwing beach balls and Frisbees, a few kids here and there. Most were nude, but some of the women were topless - or bottomless.
I expected it to be erotic, and it was - for 10 or 15 minutes. The realization gradually sank in that the presence of nude people did not make it a sexual situation. It was not an orgy or a strip club - just people enjoying a beach.
After several minutes I made my way down to the water and waded in. Having grown up in a small beach town in southern California, the Pacific Ocean had been a major part of my recreation, but until this time I had never enjoyed it nude. It felt so elemental and primal to be hit by waves and let the water roll off unimpeded. An altogether new experience, and a delightful one, like sharing a new secret with an old friend.
The sun was getting lower and lower. After an hour or two I finally (and reluctantly) pulled my clothes on and hiked up the stairs to the parking lot. The rationality of driving home on the highway contrasted with the transcendental emotional experience of meeting sand, sun, and water with only skin and no pretenses.
A brief trip to heaven and back.
Nude beaches? Could beaches actually exist in California where people didn't wear swimsuits or other clothes?
Little did I know of this 20-year-old phenomenon, but I was about to learn, and learn fast...
I studied the map and directory, and some of the beaches were right there in the city. Others were a short drive north or south on U. S. Highway 1. Most of all, I studied the photos: men and women lying on blankets and towels spread out on the sand...but wearing nothing at all! Did people really do this? How? Why didn't the cops swoop down and arrest them all? I was hot on the trail of a mystery.
Little by little I explored the nearby beaches - or tried to. Some were quite difficult to find (which, I discovered later, was how people could be nude there). Others were easier to find, but had no visitors on weekdays.
Finally, I tried one to the south, near the small city of Pacifica. It was privately owned (very rare in California) and had its own parking lot. I paid the $3 for parking and admission, and walked down the stairs into...another world.
It was a relatively small beach, but alive with activity. Older people walking around, younger people throwing beach balls and Frisbees, a few kids here and there. Most were nude, but some of the women were topless - or bottomless.
I expected it to be erotic, and it was - for 10 or 15 minutes. The realization gradually sank in that the presence of nude people did not make it a sexual situation. It was not an orgy or a strip club - just people enjoying a beach.
After several minutes I made my way down to the water and waded in. Having grown up in a small beach town in southern California, the Pacific Ocean had been a major part of my recreation, but until this time I had never enjoyed it nude. It felt so elemental and primal to be hit by waves and let the water roll off unimpeded. An altogether new experience, and a delightful one, like sharing a new secret with an old friend.
The sun was getting lower and lower. After an hour or two I finally (and reluctantly) pulled my clothes on and hiked up the stairs to the parking lot. The rationality of driving home on the highway contrasted with the transcendental emotional experience of meeting sand, sun, and water with only skin and no pretenses.
A brief trip to heaven and back.
