I had mentioned in my last posting
Child of the wood 9.10.2021 that I attended summer camps each year and that I mostly never mixed my private forest game with camp. There was one significant exception to this and it occurred just a few weeks prior to the day of the summer storm that I wrote about in that last posting. That was my fourth year attending summer camps and it was my second summer attending this particular camp which was 100 miles to the north of my city. It was nothing like the primitive Indian-style camps where loincloths are openly worn. But it was still a wonderfully rustic summer camp on the forested shores of a large lake. We had many amenities like sailing, canoeing, swimming, archery, riflery, athletics, and crafts. There were fun events for the whole camp such as skit nights, bonfires, and massive games like capture the flag. Our cabins were not teepees, but they had no electricity and had only mesh screens for windows. The camp was only for boys and there was an affiliated camp for girls further down the shore of the lake. We had excellent leaders who helped each boy have fun and feel included. They knew how to challenge each of us just enough so that we gained self-confidence and a spirit of independence but that we never felt insecure. I was assigned to a cabin with 13 other boys who were mostly unfamiliar with each other. I attended this camp the year before, but changed sessions so that I did not know most boys the next year. We had all come to this camp from different cities. A few of us came with one other friend from home. I was among those who came to camp alone. Even though we did not know each other at the start, we quickly settled in to camp life and started to become a unified group.
On one of the first few days of camp, between planned activities, a group of us were talking outside our cabin. Our topic of conversation turned to the changes of the body that we were all starting to experience in puberty. In that era, there was fear of being called a "homo" and boys avoided nudity with other boys. But on the other hand, there was the natural curiosity of young minds. One boy who I shall call "AJ", fearlessly dropped his shorts and underwear to show us his progress along the timeline of puberty. His courage was infectious and most of us followed his example. We were a group of curious boys giving each other earnest encouragement as we compared ourselves. We were all the same age but I remember being surprised at the wide differences in our "progress." AJ had arrived at that milestone of life when the first dark curls appear above the most private part of the body. Half of the group had not reached that milestone yet. The other half had apparently reached that milestone 1 or 2 years before. Myself and a boy named "KH" were in the latter group. I only mention this detail of memory to describe our innocent age and how our group effortlessly and spontaneously arrived at such a high level of trust.
The highlight of camp for the boys from each cabin was when their group went on their wilderness trip. Wilderness trips involved traveling hundreds of miles by bus to some of the many federal preserves of nature that existed in our region of the U.S. The bus would drop off the groups with their tents, backpacks, and other camping gear. The group would then explore the remote wilderness by hiking or canoeing for multiple days until they were picked up by the bus again. The trips increased in duration and difficulty in proportion to the age of the boys in each group. Our group´s trip was to use canoes to explore a chain of connected lakes contained within a U.S. National Forest. We would camp on 4 different shores on 4 nights. These lakes had no houses surrounding them and there were very few boats. Our campsites were on isolated grassy shores. There were no roads to these campsites. There was only dense forest and rugged hills inland from the shore. We paddled or portaged our canoes the first half of each day to arrive at each campsite. After having lunch and setting up our tents, there were short hikes to hill tops for dramatic views, swimming, and games to be played in the afternoon.
On the day we camped on the largest lake in the chain, it was oppressively hot and humid. We asked each other "what is the point of this? Why paddle to another campsite when it is just more of the same thing?" We had no idea at that time we were forming some of the strongest memories we would keep for the rest of our lives. We did not appreciate the spirit of youthful adventure that permeated us and how that spirit would soon fade with age. Many poetic words have been written on the tragic lack of appreciation of youth by the young. You do not need me to say more.
After we were done complaining about the canoe paddling of the morning, and after our lunch, our leaders led us on a short hike into the woods up to the top of a rocky ridge that overlooked the lake. From here we could see the beautiful endless wilderness extending miles in all directions. At least some of us began to realize that this was the generous reward for our arduous paddling that morning. The breeze up on that ridge offered some relief from the sun and humidity. I stretched out my arms to greet the noon sun, but it was not the same as it had been in my private forest adventures. My T-shirt and shorts were soaked with sweat and I remember in that moment wishing with aching intensity that I was wearing only a loincloth.
We hiked back down to the campsite. 12 of us organized a game of Ultimate Frisbee (also called Frisbee Football). I won´t bore you with the rules, but essentially it is a team sport where a flying disc is used instead of a ball. It resembles a combination of European Football and American Football. The shore by our campsite was so narrow that part of our field of play was in the shallow water. I don´t know if "Shirts versus Skins" is a tradition that is familiar to European readers. When American boys organize an informal game and we don´t have uniforms, we divide up our teams as "Shirts versus Skins". This means one team wears shirts and the other team takes off their shirts to help distinguish who is on each team. But all of us were wearing only swimsuits and it was too hot for any of us to put on shirts. AJ boldly suggested we should play "Swimsuit versus bare ass". Even though we shared our innocent curiosity at the start of camp, we still had restrained attitudes toward nudity, and the group generally rejected AJ´s idea. Then my new idea had barely formed when I heard myself confidently suggest "Swimsuits versus Loincloths!" One friend asked "What the hell is a loincloth?" My friends looked at each other and it was clear that most of them had no idea. So I said that it would be easier just to show it than to explain it.
The practical side of my brain took control. My friends watched as I grabbed my very large beach towel from where I had hung it to dry. Then I used my pocket knife to make 3 small cuts in the hem at the end of the towel. The cuts made it easy for me to rip the thin towel into 4 even strips with only the strength in my arms. The towel would not be missed. It was a stupid item to have at camp because we were constantly in and out of the water and we dried ourselves in the summer air. My sudden display of violence toward that towel was somewhat shocking to my audience, but I efficiently continued my work. I cut lengths of nylon rope off of a long coil that we used for various purposes in our campsites. I was still wearing my swimsuit when I tied one of the ropes around my waist with the knot on the side of my body. I draped a piece of the towel unevenly over the rope in the front. Then I pulled down my swimsuit. The hanging strip of fabric covered me in front while I threaded the longer end between my thighs and over the rope in back. It was not bad. The beach towel material was designed to be thin and lightweight so that the cloth was not too thick and heavy between my thighs. Its bright colorful patterns made a good-looking loincloth. I stretched out my arms in a gesture to ask for applause and my friends cheered. Only 90 seconds had elapsed and I was the barefoot naked scout dressed only in a loincloth. This was my first time I had ever appeared wearing a loincloth outside of my private forest. But I did not take time to enjoy this unique moment.
My friends did not hesitate to follow my lead. As my friends argued about who would wear the other 3 towel strips, I vandalized one of my long t-shirts. I ripped the sides and used the miniature scissor attachment on my Swiss Army knife to remove the sleeves and cut through the cloth at the shoulders. This provided two more panels of cloth. So often we wore no shirts at camp that this particular T-shirt would not be missed. The T-Shirt made two more short loincloths that were just suitable for the two shortest boys. We now had unmistakable uniforms for our team of six. I suspect the other team was a bit jealous.
My friends mostly figured out how to wear their unfamiliar garments by themselves. A few of them needed my help in threading their cloth so that the length of the flaps was even. I was mostly successful in helping without touching sensitive areas. Before we started our game, my friends spent a few moments admiring their appearance and getting to know the unfamiliar sensations of wearing a loincloth. They stretched their bodies and moved around with their new Indian clothes. I could see in their faces that they enjoyed it. The first time I wore a loincloth I became somewhat aroused underneath it. This time I was pleasantly relaxed down there. But I was naturally curious if any of my friends were experiencing what I felt my first time. I only made brief glances which were inconclusive. So far, the front flaps were keeping my friend´s secrets hidden.
Our two leaders finally noticed the change in the style of our uniforms. They were generally amused and let us continue. We started our game of Ultimate Frisbee. Of course, we were all barefoot which added a wonderful dimension to the game. The human foot has innumerable nerve endings and tiny balancing muscles that let us feel and respond to the ground with precision. We felt connected to nature with each footstep. And our feet made almost no sound so that the calm of this natural wilderness was only disturbed by our laughter.
We had barely played 5 minutes when we all noticed a motor boat approaching our shore. The driver expertly raised his outboard motor while still under forward momentum. Then he intentionally beached the boat on the sand beneath the shallow water next to our campsite. On the boat were the smiling faces of a middle-aged husband and wife, two younger ladies who were likely closer in age to our leaders (19 and 20 years old), a woman who was perhaps in her 30´s and a very young child sitting on her lap. I was not sure who was related to whom, but I thought they might all be from one extended family.
I think each one of us would have run to our tents and put on civilized clothing if we were alone in the presence of this new audience. But in our group, we were fearless and we actually enjoyed the attention. Our two leaders and the two boys who had not joined our game started conversation with the boat passengers. I overheard that the group on the boat was staying at a nearby cabin for a few weeks and that our group was the only interesting thing they had seen on this wilderness lake. Naturally, they wanted to come over and say hello. Our leaders explained that we were a summer camp group. I don´t recall that they even attempted to explain why some of us were completely naked except for our loincloths. The boat passengers remained on the deck of their boat while talking to our leaders. As they engaged in small conversation, we resumed our game and mostly ignored our audience. I occasionally looked up and saw our leaders making every effort to impress the girls on the boat with their humor and cleverness. But those on the boat mostly kept their eyes on our game.
At one point of confusion, both KH and I jumped to reach for the frisbee at the same time, even though we were on the same team. I like how we must have appeared in that moment with the sides of our youthful bodies facing our audience. From that angle, we were a continuous span of skin from finger tips down our outreached arms, past boyishly narrow shoulders, to long slender torsos, down long thighs and muscular calves, to extended feet just leaving the ground. Our unblemished skin was interrupted only by the ropes tied at our waists. Our reaching posture was accented with the flowing parallel lines of our loincloths. Our young sexuality remained appropriately hidden by our light garment, although I am not trying to say that our audience was interested in us in that way. I like to think that we displayed profoundly natural human beauty in that moment. But that could be pure delusion. Who knows how we really appeared to our audience? Though it is certain we had their full attention in that moment. Not one person in our group had a camera and that was probably for the best. Our game continued.
I must pause the telling of my story to say that the loincloth really is the perfect summer garment for anybody in this type of setting. Its lightness is unencumbering for physical activity under the hot sun. Its elegant simplicity connects us to nature and to our primitive ancestry. Its minimalism hides only what must be hidden. Its long flowing flaps beautifully compliment the lines and movement of a healthy body. The fabric that is threaded underneath forms a pouch that envelops its delicate contents with the lightest touch. But the loincloth is also wonderfully imperfect, and this imperfection sometimes entices us to take risks. After 20 minutes of carefree summer playfulness, the loincloth will begin to loosen and relinquish control of its contents. Without looking down at himself, the wearer will feel the pendulum swing with less resistance and he will possibly feel a pleasant breeze entering from the side. At that moment, he can simply decide to reach down and gently pull the edges of the front flap. This widens and tightens the span of fabric underneath and restores everything in its proper place. Or, if the wearer is distracted by the intensity of his play, or if he daringly wants to feel this freedom a little longer, he will do nothing and allow his loincloth to loosen more. The wearer will then be exposed from the side view.
The ability of a loincloth to maintain control is much more easily defeated when the wearer suddenly becomes intimately excited beneath it. Without looking down at himself, the wearer will feel the increasing weight and momentum of that which hides beneath his loincloth. Even when this occurs without explanation, he will put his mind on his condition. Then his heart will relentlessly send its hydraulic pressure to that region. The loincloth will resist, but it will also respond by loosening. At that moment, the wearer can decide to reach down and make adjustments. His best solution is to reach under the loosened threading of cloth, lift his burden straight up, and pull the edges of the front flap. This pulls the cloth pouch and its uncooperative contents flat to his abdomen. Control will be restored and his front flap will hang elegantly to conceal the outline of his excitement. But now the wearer must pause his carefree summer playfulness. The loincloth cannot control both intimate excitement and athletic movement at the same time. If the wearer decides to ignore his condition and if he continues his game, his protrusion will swing with such momentum that the loincloth will surrender and release its captive to be seen by all.
And this is precisely what happened to my friend KH as he leapt high in air to receive the frisbee, missed his catch, and landed with jarring force. Everybody who had watched his graceful leap now saw what had sprung out from the side of his loincloth. KH fumbled and tried in vain to put everything back into place. I had never seen another boy in that condition. Who knows how long I looked, half a second? half a minute? but my senses returned and I promptly looked up to make eye contact. He was already looking helplessly at me because I was the one who made that damn loincloth. I smiled sympathetically and pointed toward the nearest tent. I picked up the nearest swimsuit that was hanging to dry and threw it into the tent after he entered it. He stayed in there to dress himself and cope with his total embarrassment. I returned to the group. There was some giggling among our friends and some wide eyes on the boat. Who knows what had triggered KH´s excitement? his audience on the boat? An attraction to his friends? At that age, it could have been a light breeze.
To take everybody´s attention off of KH´s situation, I thought we should get back to our game. The loinclothed team was winning and I suggested we could make it more fair by continuing to play 5 against 6 while KH was out of action. Just then, AJ had his own idea about how to divert attention. He thought it would be funny to grab at the loose end of the rope tied around my waist. Out of habit, I had tied a simple shoelace knot on the side of my hip. AJ pulled, the knot released, and he ran along the shore triumphantly holding my rope. I looked down to see my cloth laying on the ground and my complete nudity was on display. I could only laugh at my situation and I ran into the water to waist level. I turned around to curse at AJ and saw that his idea was infectious. The rest of the loincloth team, including AJ, was under similar attack from the swimsuit team. There was chasing, evading, laughing, grabbing, and more loincloths falling to the ground. One of my teammates retaliated by pulling down the swimsuit of his attacker.
It was becoming far too awkward for our audience on that boat. The patriarch of the group politely said it was time to be getting back to their cabin. He asked our leaders if they would be so kind as to push the boat off of the sandy bottom. They lowered their outboard motor, reversed, turned, and sped away. Our leaders then strongly suggested it was time for us to get dressed in civilized clothing.
That evening we had cheerful conversation around the campfire under the stars. There was no longer any embarrassment for KH. His ordeal was just one part of the day´s joyful chaos. Nobody directed any extra ridicule at him. Although AJ did have the valid insight that if KH had just caught the damn frisbee, he could have used it to cover himself. The big joke of the evening was how we made those boat passengers so uncomfortable. We were truly a close group of trusted friends now. That is part of what makes summer camp so special. It is a great feeling to go back home to the social and academic pressures of school, and to know in the back of your mind that you have this separate oasis to return to the next summer. And to know that your separate special group of loyal friends will be waiting there for you.
The next morning, AJ joined us at breakfast wearing his loincloth again. I assume he slept in it. He was the only one dressed that way. I regretted not thinking to wear mine. (Only this time with a double square knot) I think everybody else had enough of loincloths for a while. The leaders told him it would be best not to wear that on our return trip so he changed into civilized clothes. We paddled our canoes to the public beach on the opposite shore where the bus would pick us up and take us back to camp.
Life back at camp was beautiful. On the last night of camp, our group of close friends was becoming a bit tearful. Tender sentiments were spoken between us. I had a tendency to avoid showing emotions and to this day, I regret that I did not reciprocate some of those sentiments. I did not know at the time that I would never see those boys again. The next summer, my family moved to a new city and that disruption prevented me from returning to my summer camp. The summer after that, I was required to attend summer school to compensate for a temporary lapse in academic performance. The summer after that, I was already too old for camp. This was the era before email and social media when long distance calling was an extravagance. A few letters were exchanged but we really had no means to stay in touch. Sadly, I have forgotten many of their names but I still have memories of our adventures together and can see their faces in them.
WH Scout
First part of the story is
here.
Patřím (jak jsem si stačil všimnout) k té velmi malé skupině vyznavačů indiánství, která zrovna moc nemusí pow-wow.
Indiánské tance a zpěvy nejsou mým šálkem kávy. Pro mne to je kop & dup, tedy směle kopnout chlapce / muže do obsahu váčku pod penisem a zároveň mu tvrdě dupnout na nohu;
výsledek tak zhruba odpovídá indiánskému tanci v prérijním stylu. V pohybové i zvukové rovině.
Přesto jsou výjimky a tato socha je přesně takovou výjimkou, kdy i já zaplanu nadšením pro indiánský tanec.
Tohle patří k tomu nejlepšímu, co jsem kdy u soch / plastik viděl. Tělo indiána je doslova zahaleno půvabem divošské nahoty.
Bederka zde snad ani není oděvem, je spíše jen ozdobou. Takto si představuji tělo dokonalého indiána, jeho oděv a příslušné vybavení.
Noble savage ve své ideální fyzické podobě.
Perfektně uvázaná a napnutá látka nahé bederky rokushaku na těle tohoto poutníka pískem je podle mne skvělou sekundární kůží a funkčním doplňkem.
Dá se to nosit jako spodní prádlo, jako plavky, jako dres pro křižování skrz plážové duny pod hřejivým sluncem... a kdyby
písek tolik nepálil do chodidel, tak by se tento bederkářský prožitek mohl opřít i o půvab bosých nohou. Pak by to bylo opravdu dokonalé.
