The rain-swollen Skunk River was cold for June, and I only stayed in long enough to swim three backstrokes. So this is not a caught skinnydipping story—just caught sunbathing.
I was sitting on a towel next to a grassy rise on the river bank when I heard the canoes approach. I stuck my head over the grass and saw a man and a woman in the first canoe. I thought it best not to let this pair see me naked, so I flipped the towel over my lap. But as they went by, I saw that the woman was really a long-haired young man in a loose shirt. Maybe it would have been okay after all.
Two bare-chested young men paddled the second canoe. I definitely felt safe remaining uncovered in their presence. However, all they saw was my head over the grassy rise. If they had looked back after passing me, they would have seen everything. But they were intent on paddling on.
A few minutes later I heard another group approaching. They were noisier and moved much more slowly. I had time to move my towel to an open, flat stretch of sand.
I was lying face down in the sun when the noisy flotilla finally rounded the bend. Although I was in their clear line of sight, the two men in the first canoe didn't pay much attention to me.
The two women in the second canoe noticed me all right. "I think he's naked. Look!"
One of them hollered out to me, "Are you naked?"
I replied, "I sure am! It's too nice a day to wear clothes."
The third canoe was roped to the second one, and the men in it were too busy keeping it pointed in the right direction to spare any glances for me.
The women said to their companions as they floated downstream, "He's naked. Did you see the naked man?" They had to repeat this to each other several times—to savor the experience, I guess.
I'm sure their provisions included more than one six-pack. Alcohol tends to make people accepting of nudity, which makes some of our alcohol regulations in the USA seem all the more bizarre.
So that day six more people learned that naked people sometimes hang out at the Skunk River.