Alabama Wood
Diary of a nudist Gay campground in the rural South
This June, I celebrated Pride in a Gay clothing-optional campground in the rural South. One of many LGBTQ campgrounds in the United States.
Reporting on these spaces, there’s always the dilemma of what to share and what to gatekeep. What will invite other Queers and what makes the space vulnerable to bigots?
So to keep this info away from search engines and trolls, camp name, cruising area and full gallery are behind the paywall.
Friday
My Gay bio-brother, his dog Daddy, and I drove five hours from New Orleans to southern Alabama, near the Florida border. We arrived to a tiny town with a population of 4,000, and made our way down discreet, winding roads, past sprawling farmhouses, dilapidated homes and into the woods…
Check-in
We reserved our spot a few weeks prior, over the phone. The campground offered cheap campsites and RV spaces, but we splurged on two deluxe cabins. They included AC, a mini fridge, a bathroom and shower, a queen bed, a porch deck, and a grill. It was about $300 per person for the three days. The campground’s amenities included a pool, a lodge, a bathhouse and, of course, a sex play space.
Check-in was a breeze. A sweet young man told us the main rules: it was clothing-optional except inside the lodge. Sex was to be kept to private areas and “The Tool Shed” (more on that later).
We were meeting a friend, who I dubbed our “Alabama sherpa,” because his family was from these parts. Like many other folks, he had no idea there was a Queer campground in his family’s backyard.
As we got settled, a man in his 60s unloaded his stuff into the cabin next to ours. He told us he was stopping by for one night on his way to a family reunion. I offered him a shot of whiskey and, with a Tennessee accent, he sing-sang, “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and I don’t kiss women!”
The grounds were much larger than we had anticipated. It was a whole village of RVs and cabins with elaborate decks and big screen TVs, decorated with disco balls, funny signs and rainbow flags. There was a lovely little creek and a man-made lagoon with lily pads.
Pool Party
At 9 p.m., we heard 90s Gay anthems booming from the lodge (no matter where Pride is on earth, Deborah Cox will be there). A few dozen men sheepishly gathered by the pool as a hairy daddy in a leather jockstrap danced behind his turn tables. A young man passed around a classy silver tray of Fireball shots, which made it very easy for everyone to relax and introduce themselves. The three of us quickly discovered we were the fresh meat.
We all got drunk in the pool and heard the life stories of our neighbors. A young bear from Boston had moved to Alabama to care for his sick mother. He’d come to let out steam on the weekends, and after she passed, he used his inheritance to buy an RV and move in full-time. Another man had driven from Long Island on a road trip, fell in love with the place, and stayed with his little dog. There was a couple traveling from Germany across the U.S., stopping at all the Queer campgrounds. Another couple were retirees from Florida who camped here every weekend.
I stayed up way too late drinking Fireball and doing an impromptu stand-up comedy routine about Nicole Kidman (ya had to be there). A man from Puerto Rico was horsing around with a hot coach type, who was telling anyone who would listen about his big fat dick. The man from Long Island brought out a bottle of real amyl nitrite poppers he imported from France. He proudly passed it around while the DJ played classics until 2 a.m.
The welcome wagon got very warm after that.
The Tool Shed
After the pool, some folks took the party to The Tool Shed, the campground’s pièce de résistance. It didn’t look like much on the outside, but inside was a most lavish and sexy cruising area with all kinds of S&M contraptions. People put thought and time into this place… (Tool Shed photos and review for paid subscribers)
Saturday
We paid the price for the Fireball shots in the morning, but it was worth it. We crawled over to the pool area, which was packed. The same DJ played a random selection of old and current pop hits. A few younger men with day passes arrived. With the sexual tension (mostly) resolved, the guys queened out, lip-synching and frolicking.
News spread fast about my brother and I. “Oh, y’all are the two Gay brothers we’ve heard so much about!” The Gays made their obligatory incest jokes, and offered us even more drinks. We played in the pool until the sun set.
I grilled hot dogs and we ate in a screened pop-up tent my brother thankfully packed (the mosquitoes were brutal). Soon, we heard the announcement of the drag show, part of the campground’s Pride programming.
Two queens were brought in to entertain the troops, who ranged from wildly excited or falling asleep (some fellas were pushing 70 and had been drinking all day). “This never happens!” exclaimed one of the older locals. It was a rare Pride treat and his excitement was infectious. He told us the nearest Queer bar was hours away, and the ladies only got offered lodging and tips. So we dashed to our cabins and grabbed all the cash we brought. We tipped the girls with all of our $20 bills. They beamed with gratitude.
Phone reception was non-existent, with only a weak wi-fi, so we were blissfully unaware of the news. The U.S. had just bombed Iran but the only war we knew about was between the drag queens and the Alabama heat.
After the show, I got in the hot tub and watched very drunk seniors set up karaoke, which was a show in and of itself. When they finally got the mic working, one of them slurred through “God Bless the U.S.A.,” and the bear from Boston gave us a sideways look. “Are they coming out as Trumpers?” We laughed and left it at that. You have to be mindful of discussing politics in the South unless you’re ready to argue with some old white Gay man. Sometimes I am, but not tonight. The conversation was kept at a polite range of steam room topics: sex, pop divas, and the weather.
News of Iran hit the campground like, well, a bomb. The Gay gallows humor came in fast. We contemplated what the safest place in America is during a war. Maybe Queer camps like these, built as fortresses against the outside (straight) world. The elders polished off a giant bottle of Fireball and yelled into the mic until past midnight. In The Tool Shed, two men were watching porn, gently jerking off. Everyone seemed so at home. For some, these are the only spaces they can express themselves.
Shelters within shelters.
Sunday
Since it wasn’t a holiday weekend, many folks left. We said goodbye to the drag queens and the handsome Trans man who helped carry their things (a big reason we picked this campground was their Trans-inclusive policy). I grilled a pile of chicken, and we headed back to the pool. About ten folks were left, and a troublemaker grandpa passed around margarita-flavored Jell-O shots. One of the Germans played footsie with me in the hot tub.
The rest of the Sunday was quiet, except for the buzzing cicadas. Folks retired to their RVs to watch CNN on big TVs and tended to their little gardens. We got stoned, grabbed our snacks, and plopped ourselves on the big comfy couches in the lodge to watch home renovation shows. The space hosts potlucks and dance parties in the winter. It was decorated like an eccentric grandmother’s house, with gaudy chandeliers, Christmas lights and glass jars of candies and chocolates. We snooped around, giggling like little kids. Many of these places are centered on hedonism, yes, but they’re also compensating for something old and necessary that many of us didn’t grow up with.
Monday
The next morning, we packed up and exchanged byes and social media handles with our neighbors. Relaxed and tanned, we headed out.
The most valuable thing Queer people own isn’t money, it’s space. With a plot of land, even a tiny one, we can build an entire community. The second most valuable thing is privacy. We create magic when we’re away from the straight gaze and its moral, religious, and legal judgment. Queer campgrounds exist for both space and privacy.
Aging is especially difficult on Queer folks with no kids or extended families. So, many Queers in the South retire to these campgrounds and build chosen families. Many spaces have a lot of work to do regarding diversity and inclusivity, but these grounds allow us to think outside of nightlife for connection. Many people are not aware of the huge web of Queer campgrounds. There are over 50 of them in the U.S. They follow a rich history of Queering nature, either through cruising, communes, or music festivals.
We tend to focus so much on our interior spaces but forget how the great outdoors welcomed us first.
Cruising Review:
The Tool Shed + Camp Location & Photos
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