Quarry skinny-dipping

[Paradoxodarap]

Whenever I wasn't skulking in the woods with my camera or sunbathing on the rocks amid my fellow nudists, I was in the water, either floating on my air mattress, swimming or snorkeling. Wearing a mask, snorkel and fins, I skimmed along the surface, peering down at submerged rock jumble mountains that sloped to the bottom. Whenever I pleased, I drew a long breath and dove deep into the abyss, 20, 30 even 40 feet down. There, in that silent world, the bottom was littered with discarded stone cutting equipment from bygone eras; pulleys, thick steel cables, gigantic gears and a host of contorted metal in every shape and size, all iced with fine gray-brown sediment. Young crappie and bluegill schooled amongst the junk, seeking safe haven from predatory bass and catfish. Passageways through the rock jumble mountains begged exploration; twisting, turning, I made my way slowly through a passage until I emerged on the other side of the mountain and only then, reluctantly, returned to the world of sun and air.

Snorkeling enhanced my enjoyment of the quarries; it offered adventure and also underwater voyeur opportunities. Whenever girls went swimming, alone or in groups, I drew a long breath, submerged, and kicked my fins a stealthy distance below. My mask aimed upward, I relished an entirely different perspective of their lean, lithe bodies slicing gracefully through the water. If only contemporary digital camera technology had existed back then. With a pocket-sized waterproof HD camcorder I could have shot more underwater video than Jacques Cousteau. And above water, the same; a tiny digital spycam I could have concealed in practically anything and captured thousands of candid up-close images.

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When the couple in this series first arrived at Sundown in spring 1980, they kept to themselves on a small ledge on the north shore. (First five photos, taken in April. The redbud trees are blooming.) From the get-go, the guy embraced the spirit of the quarries but not the girl; she wore a black one-piece. However, to please her boyfriend, after getting in the water she peeled off the polyester and parked it on a rock. Then, for a time, they swam and sat neck deep on submerged rocks a good distance from other bathers. And when they finished swimming, the girl slipped into her suit underwater and the two of them relaxed on the ledge in the sunshine.

Staying submerged allowed her to skinny-dip unseen by those above the waterline. But underwater, through my mask, I enjoyed private viewings of this girl who didn't want others to see her naked. Funny how the male mind works: dozens of IU co-eds could be nude sunbathing in the eastern slag pile and I fixated on the one reluctant to show her body.

Then came that Saturday. After the couple spread their towels on the ledge, the girl peeled off her red IU T-shirt and cutoff denim shorts, revealing, not a black one-piece but rather, white panties and brassiere. Posthaste, her underwear was lying atop the discard pile. Between their last visit and this one the guy must have used gentle persuasion to encourage his girlfriend to join the bares. Either that or she made the determination that if others saw her naked she wouldn't die of embarrassment. Whatever the case, she wasn't immediately accepting of others viewing her body, not just yet; as soon as her panties hit the dirt, she hopped down onto the lower ledge and jumped feet first into the water. Total time exposed to the Sundown crowd: ten seconds but it was more than she had ever done in the past.

After swimming awhile, the pair returned to the ledge. The girl hurried out and laid on her towel on her stomach for a long time before rolling over onto her back. The ledge was small and they had it to themselves but it was visible across the water from the eastern slag pile and also from the north shore trail about 30 feet away. (In the first five photos, the gravelly area, top center. In the first photo, Catman is prowling, upper left) For three hours the couple stayed at Sundown, swimming and sunbathing, and the girl remained naked the entire time, quite an accomplishment for this neophyte nudist. And yes, she attracted lots of attention; guys sat on a ledge higher up, ogling.

As the summer progressed, the couple branched out and utilized other rocks at Sundown; a rock in the western slag pile, (photos 6-8) and a rock in the far southeastern corner in the vicinity of Pedestal Rock. (Photos 9 & 10) Then, at midsummer, they waded in amongst the crowd in the eastern slag pile. That was when I, and other quarry regulars, made proper acquaintance with Kevin and Marissa.

Marissa possessed the most magnificent mammaries I had the privilege to immortalize on film. And, to my discerning eye, they were 100% natural as were the scores of other breasts on public display; no matter what their size or shape, nary a pair appeared to have been silicone enhanced; no tell-tale, abnormally rounded upper slopes or surgical scars on the undersides.

For the remainder of the summer, during repeated visits to the quarries, Marissa made no effort to minimize her nakedness. Whether hiking through the woods, walking back and forth between water and rock, seated cross-legged or sprawled on her towel, her relaxed body language confirmed she had wholeheartedly adopted a newfound attitude: Here I am, all of me, and everyone is welcome to look. Yes, even Catman.

[brunettesrule]

Terrific stories and photos. I just realized that what dates the photos for me - more than the color or the clothing - is the hairstyle of the guys. You just don't see guys with hair cuts (and mustaches) like that these days.

[Paradoxodarap]

I'm not sure when the era of cheesy mustaches and big hair ended for men. Maybe it was 'round about the same time pubic hair fell out of favor with women.

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This rock at water's edge in the eastern slag pile at Sundown Quarry was always in high demand. It's the same rock feature in post #60. On a hot August weekend before the fall semester began, these two groups of IU students claimed the same rock, the first group on Saturday, the other on Sunday. The previous spring, the couple in the last five photos sometimes brought textbooks and notepads and studied while soaking up the sun. Speaking strictly for myself, the only subject I cared to study at the quarries was anatomy. On this wild & crazy, end-of-summer party weekend, this couple put academics aside; they were just enjoying the day and each other. They never hesitated to express affection but their behavior never went past a PG rating.

Certainly, they were more discreet than this couple.

https://forum.oneclickchicks.com/showthread.php?t=145926

[topspinner]

This thread describes growing up in the American late 1970's/early 1980's perfectly...so much better than I could ever do. All we're missing is a.m. radio and Ronrico rum.

[exit222]

http://www.oneclickchicks.com/th/7/6.../7/8488943.jpg

This set is of my wife and I, She just about shit a brick when these were shown to her and her response was "who in the hell took these photo's? ". My question is did you get any in our more hmmm "intimate moments'? Good IU days. She's retired now so we don't mind you posting them.

[Paradoxodarap]

topspinner,

Coming of age during the 70s was the best; that decade possessed a certain vibe unmatched before, or after. But, I suppose every generation believes 'their time' was the best. I feel fortunate to call the 70s 'my time.' The era of sex, drugs & rock 'n' roll was more than just a period in history . . . it was an attitude.

exit222,

On a forum with over a million members, it's not surprising that some of you find yourselves in these photos. Sadly, I did not capture any of your more intimate moments, but not for lack of trying; I took my SLR every time I went to the quarries. Had you and your wife been doing the deed while I was there, and if you had been within range of my telephoto lens, I guarantee both of you would be featured stars in the hardcore section.

Who am I? your wife wants to know. Among other things, I've been an avid photo hobbyist since age 13. Over the decades I've taken tens of thousands of photos, a wide range of subjects, and these Packinghouse Quarry photos remain one of my favorite collections. Her comment underscores something I wrote earlier; I was so stealthy in my activity, no one was aware they were being captured on film. That's how I prefer it: snap candid images of people just being themselves. The moment preserved, frozen in time.

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Packinghouse wasn't a playground solely for nudists, exhibitionists, voyeurs, gawkers, hikers, motorbikers and fishermen. The towering cliffs were magnets for rock climbers. Most of the cliffs plunged straight down into deep water but in a few places, notably the south end of Long Hole, wide dry ledges allowed climbers to practice rappelling. The more experienced among them climbed using minuscule finger and toeholds in the weathered gray face of the stone.

Lucy first came to Packinghouse with friends to go rock climbing. The group, from Indianapolis, learned from B-town friends about the quarry cliffs, but those friends failed to mention that after a day of climbing, they could rinse away sweat and grime au naturel. On all of their subsequent climbing trips, Lucy and her cohorts made Sundown Quarry their last stop before heading home.

In photos 1-4 Lucy is seated on two different island rocks in the west end of Sundown and in #5, she's on a rock on the north shore with one of her friends who never got naked. Not once. Dang!

[Paradoxodarap]

This area, in the far southeastern corner of Sundown Quarry, was favored by women who sought a measure of separation from the crowd but still wanted to be part of the scene and exhibit their bodies. In that respect, these two were much like contemporary women who post naked photos of themselves online from the safety of home. The woman standing in photo 5 has nipple piercing studs, uncommon for that era.

Even though this area near Pedestal Rock was physically isolated from other popular sunbathing rocks, it was within easy reach of my telephoto lens from the clifftop trails. It's the same rock as in post #63, photos 9&10. But even without optics I could easily move within optimal viewing range. And the method I used was far less conspicuous than Catman's overland prowling. Floating on my air mattress, I would drift in the direction of Pedestal Rock. I made my approach slowly, lazily, so as not to spook women into covering up. I kept my distance, no closer than 30 feet, and didn't let my gaze linger too long. Because I was naked, never did I receive the kind of excoriation routinely hurled at Catman. Only once did a woman cover up when I drifted in too close to 'her space.' But it was too late; I had already entered her nakedness into my mental catalog.

[Paradoxodarap]

These two furry girls were regular visitors who spread their towels at many different quarries. They always attended in tandem. I suppose each felt safer having a friend along. Over the course of one summer I saw them at Mill pond, Full moon and, in the first two photos, at Sundown in the same clifftop area where I photographed Tim and Laura (post #46, first four photos) only shot from the opposite direction. Sundown was situated such that hillside runoff flowed into the hole. Note murky water in the background. Ordinarily clear, the quarry had been sullied by heavy overnight thunderstorms. In the first two photos the guy sitting to the right (mostly out of the frame) was not Catman and he was not with the girls near as I could tell. Wearing shorts and a T-shirt he just sat there visually ravishing their bodies. And for the longest time, they let him.

In the last five photos taken on a different day, the pair is at Goldfish Quarry, hanging out with unknown dude.

I have a question for nudist girls who color their dark hair blonde: why don't you follow through and dye your pubes too? The blonde in this series, and a few other quarry regulars, sported the same two-tone, light-over-dark hair fashion. The young women who skinny-dipped at Packinghouse made an effort to keep themselves fit, trim, and healthy. And it showed; they looked great. But it seems to me if they wanted to look their very best, they would have paid attention to detail and made sure the cuffs matched the collar.

Although many skinny-dipped at Goldfish, very few were privy to its underwater treasure. Goldfish are not native to Indiana. Someone had to stock them. My best guess: an IU student, or possibly more than one, was leaving campus for the summer, or, having graduated was leaving for good, and couldn't take their aquarium so instead of flushing the fish, they released them into the quarry. At least two dozen survived and thrived. While snorkeling the depths amongst these docile creatures, some of which measured 12 inches, I was transported far away from the American Midwest; by all appearances, I was immersed in a tropical lagoon in some South Sea island paradise. How fortunate for those fish to be able to live out their natural lives in total freedom. Every one of us should be so lucky.

[Paradoxodarap]

Griffy Lake, just north of the IU campus, was another place townies and students went to skinny-dip. The lake was on city owned property but the police department made busting simple nudity a low enforcement priority which in practice meant the State of Indiana public nudity laws were never enforced. Perhaps the local powers-that-be reasoned that setting aside a place for exhibitionists to ply their proclivity would translate to fewer instances of indecent exposure in the community at large.

Anywhere along the north shore beyond sight of the causeway skinny-dippers spread their towels on the narrow strip of rocky shoreline. But all was not hunky-dory at Griffy; a city ordinance that prohibited swimming was enforced. Every day during warm weather, usually in the early afternoon, a Parks Department employee walked along the north shore to remind those in the water that swimming wasn't allowed. A first offense garnered a warning and the second offense and beyond, increasingly stiff fines. After the parks employee had departed, everyone went back in the water. This cat & mouse game continued for years. During my four years at IU, I went to Griffy occasionally, just for a change of pace, but I preferred the quarries by a wide margin because of the clear cold water and clean limestone slabs for sunbathing. But when Packinghouse became unavailable in July '81, Griffy was the only game in town.

The first two photos shows the rocky point that was the single largest place along the shoreline where people could gather like they did in the eastern slag pile at Sundown Quarry. In the first photo Tim and Laura are camped on the outcroppings and in the second photo, Henry had come along and spread his towel. All three were Packinghouse exiles.

Just around the corner from the rocky point, a small inlet had a few places to hang out. In photos 3 & 4 this couple was taking a break from swimming on a steep stone slope and in photos 5 & 6 these two women found much better place to stretch out and relax. The small breasted woman on the right worked in a garden supply store I patronized occasionally when I purchased fertilizer for my cannabis.

I didn't have as many photographic opportunities at Griffy as I did at Packinghouse. Far fewer people were in attendance and the geographic layout made it virtually impossible to skulk in the woods on the hillside and see people sunbathing at water's edge. However, when they were floating on air mattresses they could be seen unless trees blocked the view.

To compensate for the deficiencies mentioned above, I did a bit of covert up-close photography. My Minolta SLR's bulk made it difficult to conceal in a gym bag and more than once the loud, mirror-slapping shutter release sound resulted in turned heads and questioning glances. Most of those photos were not worth keeping -over/under exposed, out of focus, crappy composition- but I did manage to snap two presentable pictures of Becky (last two photos) another Packinghouse exile. For the last two months before the quarries shut down, she was a regular visitor in the eastern slag pile at Sundown.

I encourage exit222, and any others who might have patronized the Packinghouse quarries 'back in the day,' to post your recollections, stories, and photos if you have them. All of those accounts will add to the historical record of this amazing place that for generations of skinny-dippers, both townies and IU students, was a mainstay of their recreational lives and a source of much joy.

[Jelly Ree]

Really wish we could start a "go fund me" account to get paradox a telephoto lens.