life. But the uncertainties constantly vanished when I trekked.

experience that doubt merely melted away.
I found how “blind” I had been before, smothering practically my whole organ of touch with clothes. Hiking clothed
was like trekking with my hands over my eyes and peeking
through little 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 tradition of bare
hiking, and I needed 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 stage, the trail rose above the vegetation
Austere attractiveness encircled
me—cliffs and rock formations here, a partially formed arch
there, all blazing with colour.
the end of the trail I found a small
shaded cove beneath a big arch.
Water dripped down a slit in the wall,
and I understood that trickle would become
a waterfall during a rainstorm. The
water formed a little pool in the
Center of the cove. The shadiness and
moisture cooled and refreshed Before I start writing anything else and before I .
On my way back, a storm 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 either side of me. At
the trailhead, I lay with my nude
back against a flat,, sun-heated boulder
and chill the top of me. The sense
was indescribable!
When The best way to Have Fun Being Nude pelting me
with sand, I ran for my vehicle. It was

lunchtime by then, and I was starving.

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But there was one more
trail I needed to explore that was farther up the highway from
Negro Bill Canyon. I decided to take a quick peek at that trail
The trail is called Fisher Towers. I had learned about it in a
Publication 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. Nude, I stepped out of my vehicle and examined the place.
this would be an incredible hike.
I decided to walk up the trail—just a little to check it out—
Although I was starving and had left my water bottle in the
Automobile. 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 further. . . .
The primary formations came into view, and they were breathless. Tall towers that looked like cathedrals and grotesque
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 version of Mt.
Rushmore.
I had
never seen anything like it. As I hiked and admired the view, I
of naturism. I was also considering sharing the principles of
naturism with others.
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 whole body.
I ‘d felt the Spirit of the Lord

before, but this was more intense 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 trekked on,
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 determination between the indime higher above the Colorado River valley, and the view from
vidual and the Lord.
up there was astounding. Before me stretched never-ending miles of
day and night, and intended to for the rest of my life, but that
Reddish desert and exotic formations, and through it cut a course of
I believed naturist experiences were one of those times when
green on both sides of the river’s blue ribbon. The river
the wearing of garments was impractical, since it’s impossible
stretched across my view laterally, and then plunged away into
to wear garments when you are striving to be naked.. I told him I

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