"Before this first experience, I had never been nude in public. I hadn’t given personal nudism any thought. I’d heard the term “skinny dipping” but had associated it with far away and fiction about boys at the ol’ swimming hole. About age 12, our camp group went on an overnight into the “rough country” near a mountain stream in the high Sierra Nevada Mountains. Upstream from our rustic campsite a generous pool of water was fed from the stream that washed across and between huge granite boulders. Wading into the pool we regretted leaving our bathing suits back at the main camp. Being “just girls”, however, a few brave souls finally removed jeans and shirts. It didn’t take long before the rest of us doffed all clothing in order to vigorously splash in the stream, a rare treat, compared to the chlorine-laced waters we all knew. Just above the pool one particular boulder was nearly flat, the size of a small truck. The granite was green with the algae, where water flowing across it enabled growth in the glinting sun. Some brave girl, completely naked, clambered to the highest place on that boulder and then slid down gleefully into the pool.
Soon, all of us joined her, sliding on the slick rock and shrieking, again and again, as we plunged into the icy surging stream. The smartest ones stopped to sunbathe and dry off after only a few times, while the rest of us continued our slide until we realized that the algae was wearing off the rock. Our red butts were a painful reminder of our foolish hedonistic activity. That was my first nudist experience. I secretly savored that memory anytime I saw a similar stream for years. I also didn’t tell my parents that I went skinny dipping at Girl Scout camp." - Allegra