Finding My Place at Rock Ledge Club

Every time I visit a new nudist club, a little anxiety creeps in.
Will anyone talk to me?
Will I be the only woman among 300 men?
Will it be friendly—or cliquey?

Make it stand out

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

And every single time, I find those fears were completely unnecessary.
Rock Ledge Club was no different.

I signed up online for a day pass. Non-members can only visit on weekends, and a background check is required before you're cleared to go. Once I got my “all clear” email, it included instructions on how to access the club—and a note that it’s strictly BYO everything. No food service. No snacks for purchase. So I packed lunch, snacks, towels, sunscreen, and hit the road.

I pulled up to a large wooden privacy fence and started scanning for the button to buzz in. Cue panic—there was a car behind me, I was frantically rereading the email, and then the gate suddenly opened. A car was pulling out, so I moved aside. The person behind me kindly got out of their car and said, “You have to push the button on the gate.”

Oh.
Right.
That would’ve been easier to spot if the driveway wasn’t so tight.

Once through the gate, I pulled up to a beautiful historic stone building. I parked and spotted a nude gentleman sitting on the hood of his car. I asked where the office was, and he smiled and said, “Turn around.” Sure enough, the smaller stone building behind me had a little sign that said “Office.”

I paid for the day pass, went over the rules—similar to most other clubs—and was told I could stay clothed until I felt comfortable. I smiled, thanked them, and disrobed immediately. The sun on my skin felt too good to wait.

I was introduced to a volunteer member who gives tours on the weekends. The first thing I noticed? The crowd. There were so many people in their 30s, 40s, and 50s swimming, floating, fishing, and sunning themselves around the lake. Families building sandcastles. Laughter echoing from every corner. It felt like joy was radiating off everyone—like it wrapped around me in a warm hug.

My tour guide was joy personified. An older woman, bubbling with energy and pride. She was so excited to welcome “young blood” to the club. As she walked me around, she shared her life story, her and her husband’s time at Rock Lodge, and—what blew me away—the history of the club itself. I had no idea I was walking through one of the oldest naturist clubs in the entire country.

She told me the land has been used for nudism since the 1930s, maybe even earlier. Back then it was part of a larger health movement, when people were drawn to fresh air, sunshine, and natural living. She pointed out some of the original structures still standing and explained how the club has been shaped and cared for by generations of members—families who’ve spent their entire lives coming here.

It gave me goosebumps.

Knowing I wasn’t just visiting a resort, but stepping into a living legacy of body acceptance and community—it made everything feel a little more meaningful.

We chatted about music, activities, and that night’s international potluck. I even got to watch some kids rehearsing a performance for later that evening. She introduced me to other members along the way, including several musicians after I mentioned I love to sing. Everyone was so kind, it didn’t feel like small talk—it felt like community.

She also pointed out that Rock Ledge has both tennis and pickleball courts, plus two lodging options if you’re staying overnight: the beautiful old stone building and a rustic lodge with rentable rooms. On the back of the lodge is a hot outdoor shower—yes, with actual hot water! Good to know if you’re hiking or swimming and need a rinse.

She gave me a trail map and assured me the entire 140-acre property is fenced in, so I could hike nude without worrying about wandering into a stranger’s yard or a main road. That was a huge relief—nude hiking is hard to do safely, and I was excited to explore.

I left my bag and towel on a chair by the lake, locked the rest in my car, and hit the trails. I did the blue trail to the red trail and then looped around the lake.

Now I understand why it’s called Rock Ledge—massive boulders line the paths. The trails weren’t difficult, just peaceful and beautiful.

After two hours of hiking, I’d worked up a sweat. Thankfully, Rock Ledge has tons of floats, noodles, and paddleboards you can use. I grabbed one and drifted out on the lake, chatting with a few others—some newcomers like me, some longtime members. At one point I felt fish swimming under me, bumping the float, and I’m not going to lie—it freaked me out a little. I made the least graceful exit ever, floating to the sandy beach and awkwardly wiggling off my float so nothing touched my feet.

I definitely got a few weird looks, but I laughed it off. I’m a textural human—the feeling of algae on rocks makes my skin crawl!

I rinsed off at the shower closest to the lake, which is next to the sauna. That one had no hot water—surprise!—so I did a quick rinse and ducked into the sauna to warm up and dry off. It’s small but well-kept. I chatted with a reiki master and a few other members. Everyone was respectful and kind, but as the only woman in a sauna with six men, I’ll admit my guard went up just a bit. Nothing happened—but it’s something that comes with being a single woman in a nudist space. You stay alert. Just in case.

Normally I would’ve used the hot tub to warm up, but it was temporarily closed. Too many newcomers weren’t following the “rinse before entering” rule—people would go straight from the lake into the hot tub without showering, which messes up the chemical balance. Please—at every nudist resort, always rinse before using pools or hot tubs. It’s a basic rule and keeps everyone safe.

After the sauna, I sat by the lake to eat lunch near a big group of women—some moms with kids playing in the water, some younger women having their own picnic. I looked around and smiled. This place felt good. It felt right.

Comfortable, not pushy. Friendly, not fake. A place where I could exhale after the weight of the world and work wears me down.

I chatted with a woman by the lake making bracelets and bought one from her. She was donating the money back to the club—which felt like the perfect summary of what makes Rock Ledge so special. Almost everyone working there is a volunteer. They love it. They want to see it thrive for the next generation.

And honestly? I know it will.

I’ll definitely be back. And I can’t wait to see what happens on my next visit.

If you’d like to learn more about the rich history of this beautiful resort, you can read more here.