Stumbling onto a Nude Beach

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Last winter we drove south to escape the polar vortex and spent a week in New Symrna Beach, Florida staying in a tiny condo across from the Atlantic Ocean. Even though it rained for most of our stay, it was wonderful to be warm and to photograph the dramatic sky. 

I took a walk at sunrise every morning. One morning the sun appeared to rise multiple times through the fog and low clouds.

One afternoon, Pearson and I went to Canaveral National Park and began walking along the beach. There were some fisherman and some kids playing and as we walked on it became tough to see anything through the dense fog.

A group of two older men and an older woman, all completely naked, walked by us and we looked at each other like, “you saw that too, right?” We continued on and passed a group of naked sunbathers. This was doubly odd because, as I mentioned, you could barely see five feet in front of you, so there was absolutely no sun to soak up.

Now, to paint the full picture: it was only about 60 degrees so I was wearing jeans, a sweater, and sneakers. Because of the fog we couldn’t see people until we were right in front of them, so we continued to pass people at what in normal beach circumstances would be an uncomfortably close distance, but what—in my fully clothed state on a nude beach—was just awkward. And, though I’ve never checked nude beach etiquette, (does Emily Post have a chapter on this?) it was also probably rude. Since it was too cold to get naked, we headed back—quickly.

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