“Where are the pictures?” Ask a small but amusing group of folks who file by my sales booth at the Sunset Valley Farmers Market, where I autograph and sell books each Saturday. We share a laugh, but most of these folks are looking for tomatoes, and don’t buy books. “Where did the killer hide the murder weapon?” Someone asks. Pretty funny the first thousand times I heard it. “Gotta read the book,” I answer.

Like it or not, I have become an expert on Hippie Hollow, the only nude beach in Texas, because I've written of my mystery novel of the same name, Hippie Hollow – Murder on a Nude Beach.

A few express concern about the “murder” at the park. I have to tell them, “No, there wasn’t really a murder there. It’s a made up story, fiction, the creation of an over-active imagination. A boat did tip over in Lake Travis near Hippie Hollow, and 60 people could have drowned, but, thankfully, no one did.” They’re relieved by my explanation, happy to know that I was merely looking for the most outrageous, “Austin-tatious” setting for my book, a murder-mystery-detective novel set in the Austin, Texas area.

Buyers of Hippie Hollow, the book, are lovers of the mystery-action-adventure-humor genre. Many are committed to supporting local writers and starving artists. Some are drawn to the cover, an illustration of a man and woman looking out over the lake, dressed, or rather undressed, in only cowboy hats and boots. But everybody here loves Austin and Hippie Hollow, and many want to read a book with a familiar setting.

Hippie Hollow, the nude beach, while famous (or should that be infamous?) in Austin, is one of the world’s favorite nude beaches. With its steep, rocky shoreline, the park, owned by the Lower Colorado River Authority, is more like a nude rock, or a beach with 10 foot wide grains of sand.

It’s been through a few incarnations since the Colorado River was dammed up creating Lake Travis in 1942. Pristine, beautiful, isolated, and hard to find, early on it was peaceful and family oriented, followed by a period of lawlessness in the late 60s and 70s. In recent years, it has been operated by Travis County as the only clothing optional public park in the state.

The combination of a hands-off law enforcement policy and the arrival of the Woodstock generation looking for a place to be free and uninhibited, was a perfect mix for sleepy little cow town Austin. The hippies came. The bikers came. With no rules or regulations, Hippie Hollow became a haven for drugs and alcohol, wanton partying, theft, and trashiness. Many of fondly remember those day.

When the county took over after years of freedom and fun, they sent the rowdies packing, closed it down and hauled out 150 dump truck loads of trash. Although some of us tried to keep it picked up, over the years we lost control, and it got trashed. When the park reopened, it was pristine, beautiful, no longer lawless, and no longer isolated. There was a gate and a paved parking lot, and a fee to get in. Hippie Hollow was now on the map, a safe place where folks 18 and older could swim and get a tan in some new places.

The park has 350,000 visitors per year, and festivals called Splash Days, at the start of Spring and end of Summer, put on by the Gay and Lesbian community, although everyone is welcome.

Having written the book, it’s been natural for me to have this running conversation about the park and nudity. I’ve become a repository for all manner of immortalized Hippie Hollow stories. One woman told me abut how she was cruising by in her boat, and spotted a drowning man. She dove in, swam to him, and hauled him to shore. She struggled to get the unconscious naked man up on a rock, only to come face to face with a gaggle of naked men watching the scene with interest. “Ah, a little help here, please?” she begged.

How about the concerned biker dude who broke ranks with his tribe and warned a group of hippies about an upcoming raid? He led them to safety. I’m withholding his name, in case some of those bikers are still around. But let’s call him Moses, the man who led the hippies out of Hippie Hollow. Of course, since this was 30 years ago, any bikers left now would be revving up their Hogs, and coming at him from their assisted living communities.

One naked woman on a raft, floated to the shore. Some men hooted, hollered and whistled until she stood up, pregnant. “We’re so sorry,” was all they could come up with. A good looking co-ed wasn’t having much luck rolling up her doobie. Wearing nothing but Birkenstocks, she approached a den of cub scouts camping nearby, and borrowed a Frisbee. Possibly their first anatomy lesson?

Being the smart-aleck that I am, I have my stock answer to the ladies who tell me, “I used to go to Hippie Hollow back in the 60s, 70s, or 80s.” “Oh yeah, I remember you,” says I. That usually gets a smile, and more that once - I’m sure I’ve been right – I actually did remember her. But once without missing a beat, a lady came back with, “I remember you too. You were the guy sitting on the rock with the binoculars.” Well, that stopped me from being so flippant.

Over the years, there have been numerous reports of sunburn, heat stroke, dehydration, and moments of extreme embarrassment like when Mrs. Wilson’s 3^rd grade class passed by while she was lying butt-naked on a rock. But hey, it’s Hippie Hollow.

On a Splash Day a few years ago, there was a Poseidon-esque Adventure, Hippie Hollow style, when a double-decker party boat that was cruising by, flipped over and sank, making a splash heard around the world. The passengers were fished out. No serious injuries. A fellow who was on the boat that day told me someone shouted, “Look at all those naked people!” Everyone rushed to that side of the boat. It tipped. It sank. He said being there, it didn't seem at all amusing. But you know what? I don’t care who you are, that’s funny.

I’m sure I’m with a lot of folks who have come out of the water to find our clothes missing, and have had to drive home in our birthday suits, hoping that cop on our tail won’t pull us over for the broken tail light. If anyone wants to get the guilt off his chest and return my pair of blue and yellow rugby shorts and Stevie Ray t-shirt, please let me know. Of course they’re a few sizes too small by now. We’ve all grown in so many ways since those days, haven’t we?

Directions to the park: Take FM 2222 west from Austin, turn left on FM 620, go two miles to Comanche Trail and turn right. There is a sign at that corner. Hippie Hollow is a stone’s throw past the Oasis Restaurant. The address is 7000 Comanche Trail, Austin 78732. Phone is 512 854-7275. A nude beach with a phone? Where do you keep the quarters?

Copyright © 2007 - 2008, Denniger Bolton

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