"The best way to get to know us is to throw yourself in at the deep end and strip naked". This was the advice offered by a friendly gentleman named Mike, within moments of our introduction.
While it's not my typical approach to interviews, it proved effective during my visit to Liverpool's Sun and Air naturist camp. Nestled behind thick hedges in Whiston, Merseyside, this club is one of the UK's oldest, having been established on its ten-acre site since 1933.
Despite its long history, the club doesn't linger in the past, with its members being more liberated than ever. One such member is vice-chairman Mike.
The 65-year-old Warrington resident has been part of the naturist camp for nearly three decades. His interest in the lifestyle sparked during a teenage trip to Yugoslavia.
When he visits the Fox's Bank Lane location, the retired engineer stays in a wooden chalet he constructed for himself and his wife, Diane. He introduces me to her as she prepares a salad, shortly after explaining some of the club's rules - as formal as they can be in a place where clothing is optional, reports the Liverpool Echo.
"You can be naked anywhere except when you are in the main carpark. There are no exceptions to this," he clarified. "This is because when the gate is open, people passing can see into the club. We also have a three-visit strip rule.
"If you have been and gone three times and haven't taken off your clothes, you're likely not a naturist, and we aren't here for sexual gratification. That's not what we are about at all."
In an unexpected twist, Mike was fully clothed as he explained the rules and ethos of naturism to me. Naturally curious, I questioned why nobody was undressed, given that I had been on-site for over 30 minutes without spotting a single naked person.
Mike swiftly addressed my confusion with a mix of bluntness and courtesy, saying: "We are naturists. Not idiots. We don't just get everything out in the freezing cold. It's more than that."
He extended an invitation for me to return later in the year when the weather would be more conducive to the naturist lifestyle. Nevertheless, I decided to stay and soon found myself enjoying a hearty two-course meal of pie and chips drenched in gravy followed by a slice of delicious cheesecake, all in the company of nude diners in the clubhouse canteen.
At that point, I had only shed my T-shirt, but it wasn't long before I was drawn into the banter and playfully called a "cheat". Rising to the occasion, I proceeded to remove my work trousers and untie my black Converse shoes.
Stepping back into the hallway through a heavy grey curtain, now wearing only my Garmin watch and a silver ring, I was greeted with enthusiastic cheers and applause. The experience proved to be quite the ego boost.
As I took my seat, another man named Dan asked: "What happened there?"
Referring to the distinctive scar on my left leg, just above an eye-catching tattoo, I was acutely aware that I had been thrown into the "deep end", a situation Mike had alluded to earlier that evening. Standing there, as a crowd inspected part of my body usually hidden from view, I found myself engulfed in a liberating realisation.
The mark represented more than just skin and tissue; it brought back memories of a particularly rough rugby tackle from a few years back a piece of history Dan and I had shared amongst other tales during the night.
Dan, at 43-years-old, stood out for being much younger than most attendees, with club veteran Betty, 77, commenting: "We're all old and established. We have bus passes, let's just say that."
With a background in forensics, Dan has been frequenting the club for a trio of years. He confided in me: "My parents are naturists, so I've been around it since childhood. To me, it's just normal, it's just life.
"It's such an amazing community here, and once those electric gates shut behind you, reality just switches off. You just escape from the outside world."
For Dan, nudity represents a lifestyle and a commitment to authenticity, not misconstrued motivations. He explained: "It's a lifestyle, and it's about staying 'true' to that, and that's one of the major misconceptions about us. It's not for sex. In other countries, none of this matters. Everyone has their tops off, or they go skinny dipping on holiday."
He also lamented the societal attitudes within the UK, saying: "But here, in the UK, there's this built-up shame around it. It's frowned upon because it's misconceived and misunderstood. Being naked is taught as being wrong, but it's not.
"There is nothing wrong with it, and that's why I keep coming back here. I feel horrible when I'm not here because the real world soon kicks in again. It's a double life you are living."
Dan takes great pride in owning chalet number three, into which he's invested £1.5k to create his little haven. The club he frequents is home to 39 similar chalets within its premises.
Nearby, Chris and Betty lounge on the freshly cut grass next to their static caravan. They shell out approximately £700 in fees every year but consider it "money well spent" During weekdays, the couple resides in an old mining village near Wrexham.
Chris, a 73 year old retired electrician, shared: "When we come, we never want to leave. It is over an hour's journey for us, so we make the most of it and stay multiple nights at a time."
Reflecting on his long history as a naturist, he said: "I've been a naturist for over 50 years. I stumbled across a beach in North Wales, Morfa Dyffryn, in the early 70s. It was all very hush, hush in those days. Finding the beaches, clubs, and places where other like-minded people would be was difficult. It is nothing like it is today in terms of how open it is."
Despite the increased openness, Chris noted a decline in community size: "Having said that, the community has actually shrunk, though. There were far more people around years ago than there are now. Back then, and even now, people don't use surnames."
He elaborated on the tradition of anonymity: "It was just John and Steve, nothing more than that. It's a way of protecting yourself. Some people here would be sacked instantly if their employers knew they came here."
Graham, a 77-year-old from Blackpool who formerly worked as a painter and decorator in Dorset, is unfazed by the notion of being dismissed. As a member who utilises his skills to contribute to site maintenance, thus helping to maintain low ground rates, Graham is deeply integrated into the community.
Clad in a fluffy grey dressing gown paired with slippers to match, he shared: "It wasn't the same for me as it was with Chris and Betty. I was rejected from a lot of other clubs before I got into this one."
He went on to say: "When I told others I was a single male, they said there and then they wouldn't accept me. I've always been a naturist at heart. I've done it all over the world: Sitges, Gran Canaria, Barcelona."
Finding solace in the local club in Liverpool, he said: "But this one here in Liverpool is a club I wish I had found when I was much younger. You can come from a normal everyday life into this beautiful family that is filled with carefree people. It's a magical place with even more magical people."
Graham revealed his sanctuary-like retreat from society: "My friends and family know this is where I disappear to most weekends. Not all agree with it, but that is expected. It's freedom away from the rat race. The moment I leave is the moment I look forward to returning."
His personal life has flourished since joining the society; now he is happily partnered with Raymond, a 69 year old from Warrington. They share chalet number 38, charmingly adorned in shades of deep blue.
The solitary shack I was invited into was situated beyond a grassy patch where two members were buried. Mike, gesturing towards the area, commented: "Some people never leave."
He shared their nicknames with me and stated: "That's how you know you're one of us you, you have a nickname".
Even though I departed without a nickname of my own, I felt a warm sense of acceptance within Liverpool's Sun and Air naturist camp.
