Early in July I spent a week at a nudist guesthouse in Peniscola, Spain. Most days I could go for a walk along the coast or in the countryside, stripping off when I felt safe being naked. I saved the best to the last day. I had walked the first parttwo days earlyer. So I knew it was safe to strip off on leaving flats and houses behind,just 15 minutes from the guesthouse. My path followed a track that zig-zaged up the hillside to a historic hermitage.


Though this is a popular part of the walkI only met one couple of hikers. Beyound the hermitage the path narrows and follows a ridge overlooking stunning terraced valeys on each side. Despite the rugged nature of the path I met 2 cylists, then another two. I stepped aside to let them pass. With a cheary 'Ola' they ignored my naked-ness.

The same with the handfull of hikers I met too. My walk took me high into the hills, momenterily into clouds which ofered a relef from the hot sun. I came upon a tiny domed building, just big enough to crouch inside. Then Iwent on to overlook a magnificent castle.



A left turn took me down one of the terraced valleys. At first I waspushing through the undergrowth. Then I walked along one of the ancient stone terraces. Then I headed for home.

Just short of the edge of town I turned off to the coast. Amongst the rocks I found a shingle beach for a rest in the sun. A bikini cladyoung lady wondered by searching the rock pools. Then it was just a few minutes walk to the guesthouse. I'd been naked all day - from 10am to 4pm and had walked through 13 miles of brillient countryside. I'm told it isn't illegal to be nude in Spain.I did notice the Spanish didn't appear to mind a naked old man in the countryside or on the beach.

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