Laurel Creek Journal

Note to readers: this is my entry into the National Nude Day Contest. All individuals having sex are over the age of 18. Please vote with stars if you like it. Comments are welcome and encouraged if you really, really like it.

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Laurel Creek Journal, July 2, 1993:

I'm not sure if it was the panties, or the laughter, or the backpacks sitting by the trail that first registered in my brain. Maybe it was the movement in an otherwise static landscape. Maybe it was just a sixth sense after years of hunting and fishing and being in the outdoors that stopped me in my tracks as I topped the rise in the trail and saw the spectacle before me down below where the trail crossed the creek.

No, I think it was the panties. I'm pretty sure it was the panties.

Two college-age girls 50 yards ahead -- the blond with nothing on but bright pink panties, splashing in the creek, titties bouncing in the dappled sunlight. The brunette still had her top on, and was in the process of tentatively sliding her shorts down over light blue panties, while furtively looking all around, seemingly not sure if this was a good idea. Her suspicions were confirmed as she saw me and we locked eyes, both startled, but me with the literal high ground and none of my parts hanging out.

She pointed at me and said something to her friend as she turned away and quickly pulled her shorts back up. The blond seemed more amused than startled -- she leisurely made her way to the streambank and started pulling on her clothes. I didn't quite know what to do with myself. It's not everyday you come upon half naked girls cavorting in a creek on a popular hiking trail. I didn't want to rudely stare, but on the other hand, they were the ones who chose to get naked in public.

I stopped and took off my backpack and fished out my water bottle, took a long drink and made a show of adjusting straps on the pack -- trying my best not to stare and come across like a pervert or a rapist. Finally, when I saw out of the corner of my eye that they were decently dressed, I shouldered my pack and headed on down to the crossing.

A friendly smile and a neutral greeting -- "Hello," I said.

"Hi," said the blond.

The brunette smiled sheepishly and nodded but didn't say anything. Her supersized breasts bulged out the front of an Ohio State T-shirt.

"Do you know if there are any good campsites along this trail?" asked the blond.

"Yeah, there are plenty of nice spots all along the creek for about the next 12 miles," I replied. "But with the holiday, things may get crowded -- better pick a spot before too late in the day."

"Thanks."

"What is that metal pole you're carrying?" asked the brunette, pointing to my aluminum rod tube, with the "Orvis" sticker on the side.

"That's a fishing rod."

"Oh, are there fish in this creek?"

"I sure hope so. Otherwise I brought a rod for nothing." Too smartass? Yep, probably so.

"Yeah, there are rainbow and brown trout in the creek, and some brookies higher up in the tributaries," I quickly added with a smile.

"I like to fish," said the blond. "I go bass fishing with my Dad all the time. I've never caught a trout, though. Hard to believe this creek is big enough for fish."

"Most of them don't get very big, but they are fun to catch."

I started making my way across the creek, rock-hopping from boulder to boulder, using the rod tube to steady me -- a metal rod tube does double duty as a hiking staff, especially helpful on creek crossings.

"Hope you girls enjoy your trip," I said as I crossed the creek.

"Thanks, you too!" from both.

Suddenly, I remembered the bear I saw crossing the trail a half mile back, and decided it would be a good idea to add a warning: "Make sure you keep a clean campsite and hang your food -- there are plenty of bears in here."

"Thanks for the warning," said the brunette, with just a glint of alarm in her eyes.

I headed on up the trail with an extra spring in my step and a little extra testosterone pulsing through the bloodstream. Summertime, a beautiful day, a 4-day weekend in a wilderness area, fish to catch, and oh yeah, half-naked pretty girls frolicking in the creek. Life is good.

As I hiked the next few miles, I pondered what I'd just seen. Why were two girls getting naked in the middle of the day right next to a popular hiking trail? Were they just going skinny-dipping? Were they nudists? A lesbian couple about to have a mid-day tryst?

Then it hit me -- I remembered all the media buzz over the last couple of weeks about naked hiking and nudity in the outdoors. A hiker on the Appalachian Trail had created quite a ruckus by celebrating "Nude Hiking Day" on the Summer Solstice wearing nothing but hiking boots and a backpack. A group of girl scouts out for a day hike -- or more specifically -- the chaperones for the group -- had raised holy hell and reported him to authorities and tried to get him arrested.

This had led to a whole bunch of newspaper articles and TV news stories about naked hiking, public nudity in general, and the laws about nakedness. It turns out that there is no specific federal law that prohibits nudity in National Parks and other federal land, like this Wilderness Area, as long as it isn't overtly sexual. However, local laws could result in an Indecent Exposure citation, the official line went.

So, there was an explosion of people out testing the boundaries of the law, their own inhibitions, and presumably, their tolerance for sunburns. The National Park and the Forest Service put out PSA's begging people to show some courtesy, but acknowledging that they weren't going to be out looking for naked people.

My guess was that these were a couple of free-spirited college girls out for a backpack who just wanted to participate in the nakedness-in-nature fad. More power to them. I'm just lucky I encountered a couple of young hotties rather than an old fat dude who wanted to flash the world.

Six miles up the trail, I set up camp at my favorite spot. Unlike the beaten down spots right along the creek, it's a lightly-used campsite about a hundred yards up a small side stream, out of sight from the trail. There is a pretty decent swimming hole at the main creek, with a flat rock big enough for one person. I set up the tent, gathered enough firewood to last the weekend, filled up the water container, and headed to the creek.

I came to fish, but was in no hurry -- I had all weekend ahead of me, and right now I just wanted a swim to wash off the sweat. I peeled off my sweat-soaked clothes and slipped into the icy water -- even in mid-summer the creek is cold enough to take your breath away. I swam out to the deepest part of the pool and went completely under for a few seconds to get acclimated, then dog-paddled and floated around for awhile, and climbed out and stretched out on the rock to dry off.

I'm not a nudist, and naked hiking doesn't appeal to me at all (I'm all too familiar with briars, mosquitos, yellowjackets, poison ivy, tree limbs, and sunburn), but lying naked on a flat rock to dry off after a swim -- well, that's just commonsense. This rock was far enough off the trail that I would likely go unnoticed, and I figured that by this time of day, this far up the trail, most backpackers had already stopped and set up camp.

With the warm breeze caressing my body and the roar of the creek in my ears, I dozed off quickly, with pleasant visions of pink and blue panties running through my brain before the lights went out...

Laurel Creek Journal, July 3, 1993:

The first dozen or so fish were rainbows, this was the first brown trout of the trip -- a solid 11 inches with bright red spots on the side over a rich buttery undertone on the flanks. They all took dries -- a parachute adams to start with, then an elk-hair caddis when things got slow, then the brown on an orange stimulator.

I had walked downstream from the campsite for over half a mile before getting in the creek and fishing back upstream, and was now just past the camp. I released the brown and realized that I had been fishing for 4 hours and the time had passed as if time didn't exist.

This is what wilderness is for! Three weeks of travel and meetings and work stress; erased by standing thigh-deep in flowing water with a flyrod in hand for a few hours, connecting with the natural world again.

I fished on up around the bend toward the big "Flat Rock" pool -- this is one of the biggest, deepest pools on the creek, and is usually good for a few nice fish. It has a large flat rock about 20 feet wide sitting in the edge of the creek, which makes this a popular camping, swimming, and loafing spot. On a holiday weekend, it was sure to be occupied.

As I rounded the bend and reached the tail of the pool, hoping there wasn't another fisherman already there, I got a jolt at the sight before me on the rock. The two college girls from yesterday, sunbathing on the rock without a stitch of clothing! The blond was sitting up with her legs spread, leaning back on her hands, eyes closed and face upturned toward the sun; perky tits with pink nipples shining in the reflected light off the water. The brunette was lying face down on a camping pad, head resting on her forearms and apparently asleep. Her white tan-lined buttocks stood out in sharp contrast to the rest of her tan.

What now? I stopped and pondered what to do. I felt a little like a dirty voyeur, like I was intruding on a personal, private situation. On the other hand, this was public land, I had as much right to be here as anyone else, and they had made a conscious decision to get naked next to a popular hiking trail on a holiday weekend. And there was no way I was not going to fish this pool.

So I made the first cast into the riffle water at the tail of the pool; halfway concentrating on the floating fly and half on the naked girls. Halfway concentration doesn't really work in fly-fishing, and I missed the first 2 strikes. I moved on up and cast to the slower, deeper water. After the first couple of floats in the slow water without a strike, I intentionally cast to a slow backwater pocket and just let the fly sit while I gawked at the nakedness. Okay, now I was being a dirty voyeur. Pretending to be fishing, but behind the polarized sunglasses my eyes were drinking in the blond hair, the pretty tits, the patch of light brown hair between her legs, the innocent yet erotic nakedness of a beautiful girl in the sunshine in nature.

My fly line finally got pulled into the current and I picked up and began fishing again. I'm not sure if it was the swish of the fly line through the air or what, but the blond suddenly opened her eyes and look startled as she saw me standing 40 feet away waist deep in the creek. After the initial shock, she seemed unconcerned about being naked with a voyeur, and more interested in watching me cast and fish. I mostly focused on fishing now, with just a glance at the girls out of the corner of my eye. I made several long casts up into the middle of the pool and got long floats with the fly, but no rises. My next cast went to the sweet spot -- a deep slot of dark water just below the whitewater at the head of the pool, not more than 10 feet from where the girl was sitting. The fly floated for a few seconds, then disappeared in a splash. I set the hook and the fish pulled hard and went deep, then the 15-inch rainbow jumped right in front of their rock, clearing the water at least a couple of feet.

"He caught a fish -- look, he caught a fish!" the blond exclaimed as she jumped up excitedly.

The other girl woke up and raised her head, but kept her breasts hidden with her arms folded in front.

The blond was standing on the edge of the rock now, completely unabashed about being nude, intently watching me play the fish. And it was a fight -- this was one of the biggest fish I'd hooked in this creek, and it had plenty of energy. A couple more jumps -- one of them actually splashed water on her feet, then a run toward some logjams on the opposite side of the creek, then finally I brought it to hand, my attention still divided between catching a fish and ogling nude girls.

I unhooked the fly, and held the fish up for the girls to see, then slipped it back into the water.

"Hey, why did you let it go? Aren't you going to keep it for supper?" the blond said, seemingly disappointed in the release.

"I'm just fishing for fun right now. I might keep some later to eat," I replied.

"Fly-fishing is so cool to watch," she said. "You looked like Brad Pitt in that movie."

No one before or since has ever compared me to Brad Pitt. Supposedly he never quite got the hang of fly-casting during the filming of A River Runs Through It, so I'm not sure it reflects well on my casting chops, but hey, I'll take a compliment from a naked girl any day.

Now what? I'm standing waist deep in water a few feet from two naked girls, discussing fishing nonchalantly while (hopefully) my sunglasses hide the fact that I'm staring at the outline of pink pussy lips nestled in a pleasing triangle of hair.

"I hate to point out the obvious," I said, taking off my sunglasses and rubbing my eyes, "but you girls are naked. This is a popular wilderness area on a busy weekend. I'm just wondering..." I trailed off with a quizzical look.

"We just like going naked once in a while, especially outdoors," said the blond, "and we read that this was a good place to go backpacking and that it wasn't illegal to be nude in the wilderness area, so we came here for our summer backpacking trip."

"You're not offended, are you?" she added. "You seem to be into going naked too."

"Not offended at all. Not sure what you mean about me though, I've got all my clothes on."

"We saw you on the rock yesterday," said the brunette, as she sat up and released her magnificent breasts to the world.

I'm pretty sure I blushed; these girls must have hiked past while I was asleep, naked on the rock by my campsite yesterday.

"Well, you found the prime camping spot on the whole creek. But there will probably be quite a few hikers come up the trail today, so you might create some excitement -- especially if a Boy Scout group happens by. I'm Kevin, by the way."

"Hi Kevin, I'm Amy," said the blond.

"Jeanie," said the brunette, sitting up now and now seemingly as nonchalant as her friend about her nudity. She was slightly chubby, with big, pendulous breasts that looked like soft pillows, and dark brown nipples like the center of a black-eyed Susan. I tried not to stare, but don't think I succeeded.

"Where are you girls from," I asked.

"Cincinnati, Ohio," said Amy. "We both go to Ohio State."

"How about you," asked Jeanie, "do you live near here?"

"Yep, been here about 6 years, ever since I graduated from college. My job brought me here and I love it -- great place to live if you like the outdoors."

"You're lucky to live in such a beautiful area."

"Well, I'm going to fish on up the creek. You can get back to sunbathing without Brad Pitt distracting you."

"And you can concentrate on fishing instead of naked boobies," said Jeanie, with a grin to let me know she wasn't offended by my stare.

"Catch lots of fish," said Amy.

I waded on up to the next pool, trying hard not to turn around and review the scene. When I finally snuck a glance back before going around the bend, they were both stretched out face down on the rock, seemingly asleep.

The fishing was good -- probably caught and released another 30 fish, none as big as the rainbow by the rock. I turned up a small side tributary and caught some brookies above a waterfall; these native southern Appalachian fish don't get very big but they are beautiful -- the prettiest trout that swims, in my opinion.

By late afternoon I headed back down the trail, thinking salacious thoughts about the two naked college girls. Did I have a chance? They seemed flirty, especially Amy, and the age difference wasn't that great. And I did remind her of Brad Pitt -- that can't be a bad thing. What should be my next move? Would they still be naked this afternoon?

No such luck. When I reached their campsite they were both in shorts and T-shirts, lounging around camp and getting cooking gear out of packs.

"Catch lots of fish?" asked Amy.

"Yep, I had a great day of fishing."

"Well, how many did you keep?"

"Didn't keep any yet, just fishing for fun."

She looked disappointed: "Well dang it, I was hoping we were going to have a fish fry tonight. I was hoping you would cook some trout for us."

Here was my opening... "Well, it's not too late. I'll go catch us some fish for supper. What are you going to contribute to the meal?"

"We have some freeze-dried noodles," said Jeanie. "And some freeze-dried blueberry cobbler for dessert."

"That sounds like a gourmet meal for sure," I said. "You give me about an hour, and bring your stuff down to my campsite -- I'm about 100 yards up the tributary creek from where you leered at the naked guy on the rock."

"Amy was the one who leered," said Jeanie with a laugh, "I had to pull her back on the trail to keep her from going to get a closer look."

"Aw, shut up," said Amy, giving her friend a punch in the arm.

I think I saw her blush a little. Maybe I do have a chance...

"Okay, I'll see you in a little while," I said, and headed down the trail, grinning inwardly.

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It didn't take too long; the sun was off the water and a few mayflies were hatching, and fish were looking up. I caught 3 nice rainbows about 10-11 inches in the first 20 minutes, gutted them, and headed to camp and got a campfire going.

I spread out my foam sleeping pad next to the fire, leaned back against a big rock, poured myself a shot of whiskey, and lazily tended the fire. Life is good.

The girls showed up right on time, with a campstove and a ditty bag full of freeze-dried food and cooking utensils. Amy had on shorts and a purple shirt, her blond hair in a ponytail. Jeanie was wearing a sleeveless, low-cut top with no bra that showed off half her tits from any angle. The nipples poked out like the noses of puppies through a fence.

"Care to join me in a drink?" I asked, offering the flask.

"Sure. Thanks," said Amy as they both half-filled their Sierra cups.

We spent the next hour sipping and talking and topping off the campfire with firewood every time it got down to coals. Jeanie was a Psychology major, Amy was majoring in Outdoor Recreation Management, so she loved being outdoors enough to make a career out of it. It was fishing trips with her dad and family camping trips as a kid that sent her down this path. Jeanie didn't have the same outdoor experiences as a kid, but the girls had been friends since 8^th grade, and had gone on several backpacking trips together in college.

"Where's your frying pan?" asked Amy, as we started getting supper prep going.

"Don't need a frying pan -- I'm going to cook the fish in the coals," I replied. "You get your noodles boiling and I'll have the trout ready in no time."

I learned long ago that the best way to cook trout was wrapped in aluminum foil with a little cooking oil and salt and pepper -- about 7-8 minutes in the hot coals of a campfire was all it took.

I showed them how to peel the skin back and flake out boneless sections of meat away from the ribs, then pull the backbone and ribs out in one piece, leaving the other side of boneless meat on the plate. They both gushed over the fresh fish, and by the time we finished off the blueberry cobbler and poured the last of the Jack from the flask, we were all feeling pretty mellow and chummy. These girls were friendly and easy to talk to, and it was starting to feel like we were old friends.