Chapter 13: Pedal Like the Devil
We woke early on Earth Day, packed up, and were out at the Devils Garden Trail Head by 7am, finding the parking lot nearly empty, just as I’d expected. Not only was it early, it was mid-week and more than a month before the first big tourist surge on Memorial Day. There were apparently a few hikers on the trail ahead of us based on the parked vehicles, but we wouldn’t run into all of them, possibly not even into any of them if they were all far enough ahead of us and taking the same direction around the trail loop.
Kaitlyn and Carlo cocooned inside the Nude-Mobile while I unloaded the bikes, propping hers up on its kickstand in the parking lot outside her door, but leaning his against the car’s back bumper since the bike shop didn’t offer kickstands.
“All right, everyone out,” I told them through the door I opened for Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn knew the plan, but Carlo objected, “We can’t be nude here!”
My wife replied across the bench seat, “I’m with the BLM, Carlo, and it’s actually kind of a gray area. There’s no law against nudity on the federal books, and we’re on federal parkland here. Park management can choose to invoke county and state law here, enforced by their rangers, backed by local law enforcement, but NPS is across an org chart boundary from us over at the BLM, so I’m not sure how their rangers would handle this case. What I’m actually relying on is that we’ll only be inside the Arches park boundaries for about five minutes. After that, we’ll be on BLM land for the rest of the day, where there are no rangers to speak of.”
“Besides,” she added with a smirk, “you won’t be completely naked: you’ll have shoes, socks, and your camera daypack. I haven’t got any of that!”
Kaitlyn was our authority on such matters, but I felt the need to add my own reassurance. “If we come upon anyone, Carlo, we’ll be long gone before they notice I’ve got two nudists in tow. Worst case, I packed a biking outfit for the both of you in your panniers; top pouch, easy to get at in a hurry if you need to. I’m afraid you’ll be rocking a pair of Kaitlyn’s older bike shorts in that circumstance, Carlo, but they should fit; you two aren’t that far apart in size, and tight is the name of the game in bike shorts anyway. There’s no shirt for you in there, but that’ll take care of the main risk, if it comes to that.”
He didn’t answer, just looked across the bench seat into the eyes of his bared host, saying, “I will if you will.”
I don’t know if he thought this was a legitimate challenge to my exhibitionist wife, but he was on the hook now. She’d straddled her bike and had the kickstand up before he’d finished pulling the door handle on his side of the car.
“C’mon, let’s get moving before las turistas start arriving in droves.” And with that, I hopped onto my bike and led the way out into the hinterlands, past the “no bicycling” sign: if my party of scofflaws got stopped by a ranger, it wouldn’t be for biking on the footpath!
We only ran into one other group on the trails that day. I called out to them, “Make way, make way, please!”
They turned back to see me, a normally-clothed rider coming up on them and politely got off the trail for us, seeing only a flash of the two nudists drafting me in the peloton from the side before getting a good long look at Kaitlyn’s retreating bare backside.
“Thank you!” called Kaitlyn as she passed them, letting them know the trail was cleared for their use again.
Later, she told me she stood to pedal past that section, just to give them a nice show. Such a kind-hearted woman she is!