"Hey guys! Apparently we're about to sail passed a nudist beach!"
At this very moment in mid 2007, I was on a sail boat tour in Croatia with my (now) wife, enjoying some cold beers when one of our new friends shared the piece of intel he'd just received from our skipper. With 80% of the tour being made up by young and single males, this announcement was met with loud cheers.
As our boat pulled into the inlet, it looked promising with with a beach dotted with volleyball courts and we could even make out a couple of groups of people frolicking about in the water.
As we got closer, we could make out that the nudist beach was full of middle aged European men sporting gold chains and matted chests.
One group had taken some particular interest in collecting shells from the sea floor and were in the shallows busily scouring for treasures. It was at that moment when one of the guys turned his attention towards collecting rocks. Heavy rocks.
We had one man up to his ankles with his backside facing towards our boat. He bends down to pick up what looked like boulder with his legs wide apart - presumably to muster up some extra strength. And as he stressed and strained away, we in the packed top deck of the boat saw muscles that we didn't know existed.
I guess it served us right for not knowing when to look away. It cost us our appetites and years of mental scarring...
So he may have failed in dislodging that rock from the sea floor that day, but we know he tried his very best.