PAGAN LOVE AND WILDING HEARTS

30. Nude Bartender

        Avast me Hearties. Behold. Twenty thousand nude human beings all gathered upon three miles of splendorous seascape; hot golden sands strewn with thousands of giant, bleached logs; cedar, maple, pine.  Snowcapped mountain peaks visible all summer long. Temperatures soar into the nineties. Amidst shimmering waves of heat and steaming lotions well-tanned society undulate with mellow laughter and enlightened conversation, good beer and wine and jugs of iced tea brought from home. Wreck Beach! Wow!

        Being there felt SO GOOD that I continually found myself wondering if we who fate gathered there were especially chosen, if after countless incarnations we at last had earned this reward... And I felt immensely sorry for all human beings who would never make the grade, whose inbred timidity and callous acceptance of convention would never allow them to discover this heavenly gate... I was awed to find myself standing upon heavenly shores where angels dream.

        Semi-permanent campers had erected several tents between the logs; others had tucked worn sleeping bags into hollow logs. One had gone so far as to construct a crude box out of plywood up in the trees just big enough to sleep inside. Camper’s half-hidden nooks were everywhere.  Soon after I first arrived I found myself a secluded shelf of sand hidden in the underbrush and trees and rolled out my sleeping bag and stretched some plastic over everything and tied the ends to tree branches. I built a circular rock fire-pit and gathered some dry wood.

        I had everything but food. Other campers told me food was not a difficult problem. The ocean was full of food. One only need to reach for it. Barnacles were the easiest. At low tide every rock bore thousands of the large shiny black shells. They were a little tough to pry loose but not impossible and one would only need to set them near the campfire to have a delightful, if simple, meal. And oysters were also abundant. With a little more ingenuity, the ocean might provide crab and salmon. And people were outgoing in their custom of sharing what food they had, so during my first days on the beach I did not go hungry and I was free to turn my attention to other wonderful things.

        One day rolled into the other. There was always some fun thing going on. People were so congenial! Conversations developed spontaneous and cosmic. And there was such a variety of goings-on! Hang gliding, and volley ball games, and artists with paints and brushes and easels, people doing yoga and dancers dancing in and out with the sea, dogs chasing frisbies. Packs of children raced together over and around the logs like scampering squirrels.

        But as far as I was concerned the phenomenon of phenomena’s was the thousands upon thousands of gorgeous naked females who wandered those sands and cliffs and waded in the ebbing sea. Ah! The delicious experience of viewing those uncountable exquisite lithesome women, their salty chatelaine bodies swaying so gracefully as their fine feet made passage through warm soft sands. The air gushed with their exotic perfumes and the lilting tones of their musical conversations.

    To see that many nude human beings in one place tricks the mind into believing that the world is no longer the corruption which one had thought to be unalterably everywhere. This wonderful place seemed to be the Garden of Eden magically restored to Earth. I felt reborn. I was an authentic horn-again pagan on the fields of Elysium.

        Wreck Beach was such a cultural anomaly! The city tried to pretend it didn’t exist. For instance, they provided no public toilets.  As many as 20,000 people ate and drank and rambled around those three miles of beach all day long—with no public toilets’ Fortunately, a virtual wilderness extended from the sands up to the university atop the cliffs where nature could take its course. If only human beings could ever acquire the intelligence of cats and learn to naturally bury their waste such a scenario would be vastly improved. But the absence of public toilets was made tolerable and perhaps redeemed by the virtual absence of police.

        So, pot could be smoked openly without fear. And LSD and mescaline and peyote and magic mushrooms were sold openly and used freely. Tripping was a blast on that beach.

        The sun could get hot. Once people had descended the several hundred feet of steep winding paths to the beach most weren’t too interested in re-ascending to the city for something cold to drink. So they either brought some tea or beer along with them or they wished they had. Some entrepreneurs turned this circumstance into a profit by purchasing a few cases of beer and toting them down in backpacks to sell at seventy-five cents per bottle. I decided to try doing that too.

        So I became a strolling bartender. A strolling nude bartender. Most towns have never heard of such a thing. Too bad for them! It makes life merrier!

Wow... that was the best job I ever had in my life.

A case cost me two bucks. On a hot day I could sell three cases of beer, thirty-six bottles in an hour which gave me a profit of twenty-one dollars, not including tips. And people frequently gave me excellent ganja or hash or magic mushrooms in exchange for a beer or two.  What a way to make a living!

Sometimes my beer was in such demand that I could sell all three cases in half an hour and the whole rest of the morning and afternoon and evening remained ahead of me. If I really needed money for some reason I would then climb back up the trail and hitch a ride into the city and purchase more cases. But that could easily turn into a real money trip.  Inevitably the run into Vancouver ended up taking more time than it should have and often I wouldn’t get back to the beach until late in the day and so I’d have to hold on to the beer until the next sunny day—which might be several days of waiting if the weather turned rainy.  I usually decided that I’d rather spend my day on the beach than go trekking through city streets a second time. I would be amply content with the money I made from selling the first three cases. That left me the whole rest of the day to play. And I always had a stash of hash or pot or whatever at my nest in the trees; and of course, beer. Which was nice...  Because I sure met some thirsty women...

***

Yoga was a big thing. One might often observe individuals alone or in small groups contorting their bodies in the postures of meditation.  I was inspired to remember the mantras and postures that I had practiced in times past. I have always been able to stand on my head and remain in that position perfectly still for a considerable time. From that upside-down position I have also been able to bring my legs into a variety of cross-legged lotus positions. This I would do in the sunsets, and I would chant “OM”.

        Back in the late sixties I had often met followers of Mehr Baba. They believe that human conversation has evolved into a chaos of confused meanings that prevent the people of the Earth from ever really knowing the love in their hearts and the Oneness of our natural state. Hence Mehr Baba’s followers are silent.  They channel their combined vast intellects into the science of pure being together, sharing the most fundamental human emotions, particularly love.   I myself have gone days without speaking and found great peace of mind when my wordy mind finally takes a vacation and has time to look around and notice how beautiful is the eternal unfolding moment of creation in which we live. The Mehr Baba people were very affectionate to each other and they were not possessive in their relationships. On several occasions I made love with young women of that sect. It’s marvelous. When the words are removed all the frivolous mental energy becomes pure and the experience of lovemaking becomes the most cosmic yoga.

One day as I was doing my lotus yoga in the sands two gorgeous nude young women came along and sat nearby. One of them in particular seemed to be taking considerable notice of me and I sensed a physical attraction in her eyes. After I returned to Earth I smiled at them and they acknowledged me. But we did not speak. Instead we silently witnessed together the choreography of seabirds and listened to the symphony of their music, and the base tones of the pounding surf. An hour passed and one woman lay back to sleep, but the other continued to watch me with large gentle eyes. I stretched my legs and rose and offered her my hand, which she accepted, and we walked together along the beach.

The morning was vibrant and the beach was as yet unpopulated. We tasted the fresh sea breezes and dug our toes into cool sands as we walked, but the day was already warm. I pulled her to me and we were entwined with matched strides, her head on my shoulder, her arm around my waist, mine around hers.

A white sand path ascended the steep cliffs and we went up seventy-five feet to a flat promontory that was surrounded with small bushy trees. We were fairly invisible to all eyes there; we stood and surveyed the beach north and south and the panorama of the sea and sky and then I touched her hand and she looked at me for a long moment and our lips came together soft and hot.

        Her long brown hair tasted of shampoo and perfume. We fucked wildly. The strokes were long and slow with my tongue in her ear. We came like glorious ancient creatures on glorious ancient beaches.

        And we never exchanged a single word, nor did we ever know each other’s name.

***

        When I was selling beer I was often invited to sit down and stay awhile. I met Zina that way. She was with her brother and some friends on a blanket. We spent the morning talking and laughing, doing a little massage, drinking beer.

        Zina was a golden-haired lovely with large taut breasts with upward pointing nipples that she could use to carry around donuts. She had a narrow waist and a lovely mound of Venus of golden curls.

        She came to my encampment and we gave each other massages. When I started to go further she whispered that she didn’t want to make love so we just lay entwined in the seclusion of my private grotto and fell asleep under the blazing sun. We slept together all afternoon. Our hands did a lot of fondling and exploring but we did not make love. As the sun began to set she left me lying there and returned to her brother and friends and went home, and I did not see her again for a couple days.

        And then there she was and we were together again. It was obvious that we both had been thinking about each other. As we walked along the beach she was melting into me and our conversation was caught up with our erotic thoughts.

        We walked up into the cliffs, away from all the bathers on the beach and found a private place a hundred feet up on seacliff where we could be alone. We stood and kissed with wild tongues. She stood exalted like a homaged goddess while I made love to her. She stood with the fingers of both her hands deep inside the tangled hair of my head pulling me against her and she sighed like the winds. Afterwards we lay in the sand and did it the old fashioned way. I guess we were a bit too noisy because the bushes suddenly parted and a man and woman stood there looking at us. We ceased our wilding libidos but we did not disengage. They gaped at us.

        “We’re sorry to disturb you—but, are you all right?” the man asked Zina.

        Zina told him she was doing splendidly, thank you... They excused themselves and were gone and Zina and I quickly resumed where we had left off. I remember I came several times before sunset.  She left deep scratches in my back.

        The next morning she came to the beach again but said she could not make love—she was too sore. But later in the afternoon she forgot her pain and we very gently rocked away our wild desires anyway. Then she came every day for awhile and was never too sore again.

        But nights were lonely. Zina lived in the city and although the daytime lovefeasts were primo excellante, they vanished with the day.  And they did not seem to hold any promise. My heart ached for a real love. I needed a permanent partner with whom to share my life.