The 111 naked people in the pool at a Los Gatos nudist resort took part in a series of efforts on Saturday to establish a record tracked by a group calling itself the American Association For Nude Recreation.

Organizers say besides the event in Los Gatos, there were about 100 other record-breaking attempts across the country.

In order to be counted in the competition, all the participants had to be at the same location at exactly noon.

A picture taken of the gathering in Los Gatos will be submitted to determine which group broke the skinny dipping record.

The 8th Annual Bare Butts Bike Rally will be held in Centerville, Indiana at the Sunshower Country Club Nudist Resort. Located at 3263 Mattie Harris Road, Sunshower Country Club is also the sponsor of this unique rally event. The gates will open promptly at 12:00 noon on Thursday July 22nd and the rally runs through Sunday July 25th.

If you are not inclined to camp, there are plenty of hotels in and around the Centerville and Richmond, Indiana area: Super 8, Holiday Inn, Comfort Inn and the Hampton Inn just to name a few. Centerville is located roughly due east of Indianapolis, so take I-65 north from Louisville. It’s probably best to map it and take some of the back roads so you don’t spend all day on the interstate. It’s about a 3-hour ride from Louisville and about 150 miles.

Remember this is a clothing optional rally, which gives a whole new meaning to the idea of a scenic ride. Actually the 100 mile scenic ride will leave the nudist resort grounds so you will need to put on a bit more than just your chaps. For more information on the 8th Annual Bare Butts Bike Rally, call (765) 855-2785, or got to www.Sunshower.com.

So if you plan to attend this truly unique, clothing optional rally experience, be wary of the hot pipes from your bike and please try not to burn anything off!

As I shed my threads, I’m not as concerned about how my body looks as I am about the sight of my underpants.

The camp was founded in 1961, back when there was an actual naked volleyball association called the Tri State League, made up of real-deal squads from Penn Sylvan (Pa.), Sunny Heights, (N.J.) and Pine Tree (Md.). The league led to White Thorn’s hosting of the inaugural Super Bowl, in 1971. What started with five squads is now a 70-team event. Whatever we might think about ­naked sports, this is serious naked sports.

We’ve arrived just in time for the opening ceremony. The evening is crisp, but that doesn’t stop the two flag-bearers from performing their duties in full glory. Nor does it stop last year’s champions from parading around the clubhouse lawn in nothing but socks and shoes. The team goes by the name Tiki Tomba, and its members look less like nudists and more like athletes. “I thought the volleyball was going to be crappy,” says Carol, eyes wide with shock. “But these guys look like players.” We find out later that almost all the Tiki Tombas were on the East Stroudsburg University volleyball team.

From the moment we rolled into camp and noticed that the weather had put the clothing back in clothing-optional, we expected not to have to get naked until our match the next morning (Rule No. 1: If you’re playing, you’re naked). We also expected to be able to practice some ­before having to show off our goods, so to speak.

But when the opening ceremony wraps, the White Thorn brass asks us to take the court. We’ve requested a spot in the all-male AA level, the tourney’s highest division, but given our estrogen-laced roster, the powers-that-be are dubious that we’ll be able to hang with the Tiki Tombas of their world. They’re afraid someone will get hurt, maybe take a 110 mph heater square in the face. I tell them these women are pros; if anybody’s going to get hurt, it sure as heck won’t be one of them. In any case, they want us to face the music. I feel like a pole dancer on amateur night.

Turns out, White Thorn has had trouble keeping the participation of a certain national sports magazine a secret. As we stand beneath an inky sky on the green asphalt of Court 1 — White Thorn boasts 11 outdoor courts — the buzz of the lights gives way to the buzz of spectators. Hundreds of bodies that moments earlier weren’t there line each side of the playing area. Many are clad (they’re nudists, not stupid) and curious. “We’re on a stage,” says Michele. “Everyone is waiting to judge us.”

Sensing we’ll chicken out, a topless woman, who had been warming up with others on the other side of the court, crosses under the net, introduces herself and cajoles us into huddling up with her. “We’ve been dying for you ESPN guys to come,” she says. “See all those people? They want to see a game. Just one, just for fun.” Then she turns to Carol, who’s dressed in sweats and a tank top, and yanks off her shirt. Game on.

We end up playing not one but two games, in varying degrees of nakedness. Noah, who had conquered his demons as soon as we parked the RVs, plays completely naked. Greg wears shorts. Carol is half-clothed, Michele fully so. “It was freaking cold,” she says later. “Plus, I was too concerned with playing well.” So am I, which is why I keep my T-shirt and shorts on. But during the first game, all I can think about is an insight shared by a White Thorn vet: When you’re around a bunch of naked people and you’re the one wearing clothes, you feel like an idiot.

By game’s end (we lost), I realize he’s right. And as I shed my threads for the second game, I’m not as concerned about how my body looks as I am obsessed by the sight of my underpants. When you anticipate that your skivvies will be on display — maybe you’re headed out for a romantic dinner, or maybe you’re Soulja Boy — you dress accordingly. Preparing for a naked volleyball game isn’t one of those times. I hastily yank off my shorts and sagging, moth-eaten daddy briefs in one fell swoop. Out on the court, readying myself for the start of play, I quickly realize how exposed my backside feels. The serve receive position is similar to the classic ready stance of most sports: wide base, knees bent, butt sticking out. Mind you, I’m in the back row, which puts my keister that much closer to the watchers. You know the gem about the sun not shining on a specific spot of the human anatomy? It holds true for me, but only because it’s night.

Part of what makes volleyball a great nudist pastime is that the game itself requires no physical contact. Problem is, no sport features more high-fiving and ass-smacking than six-on-six volleyball. Every single point is a slap-and-tickle fest waiting to happen. When you’re clothed, that is. When you’re naked, slapping and tickling doesn’t come so easily.

But winning overcomes everything, even on planet Naked. Especially on planet Naked. In its all-out party environment, winning is the drug that shatters the ice. In each of our first four games of Saturday’s pool play — all close losses — our interpoint interaction never goes beyond mild high fives and the occasional fist pound. Although we’re comfortable in our own bare skins, a collective self-consciousness infects our side of the net. But in our fifth game, a miraculous, come-from-behind win against a stacked team we have no business beating, all propriety gives way. We are the Ohio State Buckeyes, only instead of stickers on our helmets we have handprints on our butts. Greg, riding a mix of ample rumpus and inspired play, is by far the most decorated among us.

Its current edition will count on international presence, given that 3 British, other 3 French, a Italian, an Irish and a German have joined the popular nudist competition.

The 5000-metre (3.107 miles) nudist race takes place on compact sand when the tide is low.

A trophy will be given to the first three of each category, although there will be presents to all the participants reaching the finishing line.

Despite the registration deadline finishes on Thursday 17, participants still can join the race on Saturday 19, just before the competition starts.

Naturist race