The first time I made a conscious decision to go naked al fresco was in a small valley in the hills behind the town where I grew up. The road through the hills was high off the valley floor twisting and turning, so great for a pretend rally driver like me! The slopes were heavily forested and the odd promising path down through the trees was noticeable from the road. I parked up and followed one during a midweek drive and it ended at a large clearing with a stream running through it. So after a short wait to make sure it was as secluded as it appeared to be off came the clothes and I spent a peaceful afternoon like that until it was time to head home for dinner. It became a favourite midweek excursion until I moved away to my first job.