life. But the uncertainties always vanished when I trekked. To commune with nature in my natural state was such a transcendent

experience that uncertainty merely melted away.
I found how “blind” I was before, smothering practically my whole organ of touch with garments. Hiking clothed
was like trekking with my hands over my eyes and glancing
through small slits between my fingers.
Feeling nature on every square inch of my body was exquisite. I craved the touch of the wind where it had never
touched me before. I could feel the slightest changes in temperature. The connection I felt with nature was palpable.
One summer I took a trip to Moab, Utah. I’d learned about
a trail called Negro Bill Canyon that had a convention of nude
hiking, and I wanted to check it out. The first half of the trail
Went through a tall slot canyon with a perennial stream
running through it. Trees and vegetation filled the base, and
Moab’s characteristic red stone towered above.
After the halfway point, the trail rose above the plant life
and plunged into a side canyon. Austere beauty encompassed
me—cliffs and rock formations here, a partly formed arch
t here , all blazing with color.
The sun beat down on me, but at
the end of the trail I found a small
shaded cove beneath a big arch.
Water trickled down a slit in the wall,
and click knew that drip would become

a waterfall during a rainstorm. The
water formed a small pool in the
middle of the cove. The shade and
moisture cooled and refreshed me.
On my way back, a thunderstorm swept in.
The sky crackled with thunder and
lightning, and the wind funneled
through the canyon. I walked through
a narrow hallway with willow-like
trees thrashing on both sides of me. At
the trailhead, I lay with my nude
back against a flat,, sun-heated boulder
and let the wind and raindrops pelt
and chill the top of me. The sensation
was indescribable!
When the wind beginning pelting me
with sand, I ran for my vehicle. It was

lunchtime by then, and I was starving. But there was one more
trail I wanted to research that was further up the highway from
Negro Bill Canyon. I determined to take a quick peek at that trail
before driving into town for lunch.
The trail is called Fisher Towers. I’d learned about it in a
book on hiking trails in Utah. It was assumed to be a gold
mine of astounding rock formations etched by the wind over
eons. The storm had subsided, but it had done its job and
cleared any other hikers out. Naked, I stepped out of my vehicle and examined the area. Even at first glance I could tell
this would be an unbelievable hike.
I decided to walk up the trail—only a little to check it out—
even though I was starving and had left my water bottle in the
Auto. But as I walked, more and more fascinating contours came
into view, enticing me to walk a little farther, and a little farther, and a little farther. . . .
The main formations came into view, and they were breathless. that looked like cathedrals and monstrous
statues direct out of Lord of the Rings loomed above me. There
was an eagle head, a gargoyle, titanic sundials. One formation
looked for all the world like a Planet of the Apes variation of Mt.
Awe is the only word I can use to describe my feelings. I ‘d
never seen anything like it. As I hiked and admired the view, I
meditated on the exquisite beauty of nature, on the deep connectedness I felt to God’s creations enriched by my embracing
of nudism. I was also thinking about sharing the principles of
naturism with others.
At one point, I became so overwhelmed with the panorama
before me that I cried out, “I am seeing the hand of God!”
Instantly I was blasted with an indescribable power that
washed through my entire body. The burning drove me to my
knees and caused me to pray. I ‘d felt the Spirit of the Lord

before, but this was more extreme than anything I’d experithe bishop changed to the policy on wearing garments. He
enced in my life.
pulled out the statement the First Presidency had sent to local
And it went on. The burning engulfed me as I hiked on,
leaders about wearing garments night and day and read it to
step after step, minute after minute. It wouldn’t let up. Five
me. I pointed out the sentence in that statement that says that
minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, thirty. The trail brought
how one wears the garment is a decision between the indime higher above the Colorado River valley, and the view from
vidual and the Lord. I told him that I did wear my garments
up there was astounding. Before me stretched endless miles of
day and night, and thought to for the remainder of my life, but that
red desert and exotic formations, and through it cut a trail of
I considered naturist experiences were one of those times when
green on either side of the river’s blue ribbon. The river
the wearing of garments was impractical, since it is hopeless
stretched across my view laterally, and then plunged away into
to wear garments when you’re striving to be naked.. I told him I