Carizzo Plains National Monument
Photo essay: Another of Fred's excellent adventures in Southern California
The Carrizo Plain National Monument, located 100 airline miles (160 km) from Los Angeles, is an area by-passed by time. Soda Lake, its centerpiece, is a glistening bed of white salt, set within a vast open grassland, rimmed by steep mountains. The plain is home to diverse communities of wildlife and plant species. It’s an area culturally important to Native Americans, and is traversed by the San Andreas fault, which has created and moved mountain ranges, carved valleys and is marked by a subtle alignment of ridges, ravines and pools.
- https://www.blm.gov/visit/carrizo-plain-national-monument
A few of us from the Southern California Naturists went on a nude camping/hiking trip to the Carizzo Plains National Monument from March 14-17. The monument is famous for its spring wildflowers, which were just starting to emerge in spots. In a couple of weeks it would be a multicolored riot everywhere. We went early because we wanted to avoid all the flower tourists.
The main road through Carizzo Plain starts out paved and potholed
We set up camp on a dispersed camping site at the end of a long spur road. It provided privacy from the main drag, although three trucks wandered our way over the three days we were there, looking to see if the site was empty. Once, we were atop a hill next to the road when a car drove by. We stepped down slightly so as not to be completely visible. I have no idea if they even noticed us.
The next time a car came our way, the others were off on a cycling trip. It was still too cold for me. I was also just inhibited enough not to want to encounter a vehicle coming down the road at me while naked. I kept my freehiking to unnamed side spurs and the backcountry.
I was on the side of the road, photographing the various flowers close up, still clothed because the morning was too chilly (IMHO) for naked photography. Overnight, it had dropped into the 30s F, and the sun was taking its time warming things up.
A truck with a camper came up our spur and stopped by me. There was a middle-aged couple on board. The passenger asked how my botany studies were coming. I mentioned the possibility of a naked guy on a bicycle and said we were a group of nudists camped ahead. The female passenger asked, “Then why aren’t you naked?” and laughed when I told her that I was too cold. They drove to the end, circled, and came back, waving as they passed.
A third truck came by Saturday, turned around, and left without interaction. Three cars in three days with no problems that I was aware of. Of course, that could be the luck of the draw. If someone did object, I’m unsure what they could do because our little camp wasn’t violating any rules.
This wasn’t a big hike, maybe two miles across very open terrain. There was no trail, but most of the time, the foliage was only ankle-deep. We followed a ravine up the valley, having to cross it a couple of times, and then worked our way up the saddle.
It was probably too cool for snakes, but I kept my eyes open, regardless. The low shrubs hosted a choir of birds, and lizards and rodents scurried about, doing their appointed business. The effort kept me warm where I might have otherwise huddled under a blanket.
Thursday night was frigid. I found myself wearing a down jacket over a sweatsuit inside my bag and covering it with a couple of spare blankets from my car. Others may sleep warmer than I, but I find that no sleeping bag ever lives up to its rating. I was using a bag rated to 30F inside a tent, and it was wholly inadequate.
I have read that one should not wander off-trail and walk among the flowers. I reserve that for places like Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve, where the tourist level is dense, and there are actually trails one could use.
Carizzo has no regulations regarding off-trail hiking. For that matter, Carrizo has almost no foot trails to wander off. It is all freehiking by the other definition: a form of hiking in which the participants intentionally avoid trails and predetermined destinations. There are dirt roads and 4WD tracks from when it was all cattle range. Even at its peak, the tourist density is low, with campsites miles apart. I walk with care and feel no guilt.
To return to an alert innocence is not too much of an effort - like moving a pile of bricks from here to there - as it is standing long enough to let the spirit find you.
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run with the Wolves
Thank you for sharing this wonderful photo essay. What a lovely and inspiring experience. Regarding the amusing comment about being a bootist, I am a fellow bootist and when I’m at home I am a sockist. I’ll take comfort and practicality over being a purist any day. Shout out to all the “booties” out there 😊
Thank you for the story. I enjoyed reading it. However, it reminded me of an old question I have frequently had: "Are you really a nudist if you wear shoes (or in this case boots)?" I have joked before about calling myself a "shoeist" because I often still wear shoes when I wear nothing else. My feet need the protection. Thus, should we change the name of the group to "The Bootist Community" (or "The Bootism Community")?