Skinny Dipping on Independence Day!

This story has been making the rounds again recently, so here’s an updated version:

After September 11th, I thought of all the things that I wanted to do before I died, and skinny dipping turned out to be #1 on the list. I had gone skinny dipping only once before, and it was one of those cool experiences that I wanted to have again. Of course, living in NYC, there are no lakes handy, so I did some research and found a nude beach in Sandy Hook, NJ, about 2 and half hours away.

So on July 4, 2002, G (my guy at the time) and I woke up before 9am and headed to Gunnison Beach, a beach on federal land that has a clothing optional section – meaning its totally legal to walk around in your birthday suit. I’m not exactly an exhibitionist, but a sensualist, one who enjoys water on my bare skin, and the bathtub does not have the same effect.

So we park the car in the beach parking lot, and walk over (still wearing clothes). We pass a sign that warns “Nude Bathers May Be Present”, but at the same time, I’m surprised to see many so people going the same way. I mean, they didn’t look like nudist types (whatever that means). There were families, as well as more older folk around, and I actually started to hope that they wouldn’t be the ones taking their clothes off.

I figured that if I was going to go through with this, I didn’t want to hang with the crowd. We took a shortcut that led us far, far away from the rest of the beach goers, and set up our towels. As I looked at the crowd again in the distance, they all appeared to be dressed, so I got cold feet. I announced, “I’m just going to keep my bikini on”, and sat down on my towel. When I turned to G, he was as naked as the day he was born. I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was going to remain dressed too. “I didn’t come here for nothing!”, he said. At that, I removed my bikini, and started rubbing on the suntan lotion.

It felt great to lay nude under the sun until the bugs came. The coconut suntan lotion must have acted like a love potion because I continually felt the stings of insects that I could not see. At first I thought it was the tiny grains of sand sticking to my skin. Each time I’d rub sand off a body part, I’d brush twice as much sand on another part. And then I’d get bit again by the no-see-ums (I think they’re also called sand flies). After about 15 minutes or so of this, I sit up and frustration, and suggest going in the water.

Seeing that the rest of the beach goers were pretty far away, we headed into the water. It was AWESOME!!! It was cold at first, but there we were, swimming NAKED in the ocean. The water felt fantastic. My hair was floating all around me, and I felt like a mermaid. A mermaid with legs, of course. G and I swam together, jumping over waves, and it was one of those lovely experiences.

Soon, two guys walked by on the beach. I worried at first that they were going to steal our clothes from the water’s edge, but it turned out that they had left the beach crowd to smoke a joint, and they weren’t even paying attention to us. So we ignored Cheech & Chong, and went back to our water play. They headed back towards the crowd, and then a park ranger truck passes by on the beach. Then the truck stops near us. G and I hope that the truck stopping has nothing to do with us. But then a ranger gets out the truck, and motions for us to come out of the water.

Um, did I happen to mention that we were NAKED?

So with all the rock star bravado I have, I calmly walk out of the ocean, like I do this all the time. I made sure that the upper half of my body was covered by my long red locks, and I did my best impersonation of the goddess Venus making an entrance from the ocean. G is a guy, so of course, he’s fine. We walk up to the ranger, who, to his credit, only looks me in the eyes. He tells us that we have committed two infractions,

“One, you’re in an unsupervised area of the beach.

Two, this isn’t the nude beach.”

Oops!

He doesn’t issue any tickets, but tells us that the clothing optional area is on the OTHER side of the beach. “You mean, where the people are?”, I ask. He nods.

And of course, while he’s talking to us, the naughty nudists, Cheech & Chong are smoking a joint in the distance, getting a good laugh to go with their buzz, undisturbed!

At that point, I was feeling tanned (and embarrassed) enough to go home. But at the very least, I can cross skinny dipping off my bucket list! 😉

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