With a rap of his gavel, the president of the Van Tan Club calls the organization's annual general meeting to order. In many ways, it's no different from meetings for recreational and community associations anywhere. Minutes are faithfully set down for posterity by the recording secretary. There are votes on prospective members. There is talk of increasing the group's social media presence, in preparation for their upcoming 75th anniversary. Tempers grow increasingly heated around issues such as septic fields and pet policies. In fact, only two factors make this meeting unusual: first, that it's being held on a picturesque, manicured lot approximately two kilometres up Grouse Mountain. Second, that it's being conducted completely in the nude.

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Formed in 1939 by a group of dedicated locals (including Ray Connett, the self-described "Father of Canadian Nudism"), the Van Tan Club is the oldest nudist organization in Canada. Far from the well-known bustle of Wreck Beach, with its roaring commerce and heavy police presence, the group makes its home on a quiet seven-acre property near the end of Mountain Highway, on a compound which features a sauna, a volleyball court, compost toilets, solar panels, a generator, its own water reservoir and even a pool (though, due to health code restrictions, it is carefully referred to by members as a "fire suppression area").

And although its membership remains small (estimated at less than 50), the group has now survived for close to 75 years in spite of dwindling numbers, an aging population, construction headaches, and occasionally, bemused looks from local council.

"I think the district of North Van, some of the people anyways, would prefer if we just weren't here," explains Tom Dunn, the group's public relations officer. "We don't fit into anything in terms of people that they deal with. You don't have a lot of nudist clubs that you have to develop bylaws and things like that for. They've as much as said that the district would buy the lots from us and return them to the district if we wanted, but the money we would get for it would never possibly allow us to take our money and go and buy property elsewhere."

Members only

Although attitudes toward recreational nudity have relaxed in Canada since the club's formation in 1939, privacy and discretion remains a prime concern among members. In addition to its isolated location, a series of gates keep the compound largely safe from the prying eyes of the public (new members are issued keys when they join). And, in many cases, this discretion continues within the membership, with many members only knowing one another by their first names.

"In the nudist culture, we've always been first-name only," explains a man named Leigh, over a pre-meeting meal of pancakes and sausage. "Some people are in the position where publicity about their nudity wouldn't be good for them. Either their job, or the people they associate with, or something. It's a part of the culture."

The admission process for new members is a rigorous one, involving an application form, an interview, and a year's "probationary period," with annual dues of $268 per year for singles and $528 for couples. That said, the group isn't opposed to publicity: it holds two open houses per year (the first of 2013 brought close to 40 people, while the second, according to an irate member, was "a total waste of time") and remains active in community events, including a float in the nearby Lynn Valley Days parade, and even a display booth on the North Shore for Canada Day.

For the Van Tan Club, small though they may be, nudism is serious business. The group is registered under the Societies Act and has a seven-page codified constitution. Their monthly newsletter, the Van Tan Call, has been in existence since the early 1940s. The club owns its own land, with lots purchased over the years or having been willed to the organization by deceased members. And, as Tom explains, every piece of work on the grounds -- from digging the pool, to filling in a nearby swamp for a volleyball court to landscaping the gardens -- is carried out exclusively by Van Tan members.

"We don't charge our members a lot of money," he notes, "so one of the things we do is ask that they contribute to the work that goes on here. Wherever we have the expertise to do it in-house, we'll do it in-house rather than going outside. That way, we can keep our costs down."

For some, like Leigh, the choice to become a recreational nudist evolved organically from childhood, and out of an innate comfort with their own bodies. For others, such as Christine -- a member since 1978 -- the decision came as a complete surprise.

"I had no intention of being a nudist," she explains. "It just so happened that I worked with a gentleman who was a member here. And he was English, same as me, and we had a lot in common, and we just...clicked. And he kept saying: 'Why don't you come up? Why don't you come up?' And he bugged and bugged and bugged, and finally I said yes. So, he brought me up, and we parked in the parking lot. And I don't know what I thought I was going to get into, but I envisioned changing rooms for some reason. I thought I would go into a changing room, but no -- he got out of his car, and he just took his clothes off, and I thought: 'Oh, God. What have I gotten myself into?' But then he draped a towel over himself, and I thought: 'Oh, okay, I can do this.' And we went up to the upper lawn area, and all these people were in the nude. He introduced me around, and after that, I was sold."

Northern exposure

The club can trace its origins back to 1939, when a discreet advertisement placed in the Vancouver Province newspaper by Edward Lansdowne led to a meeting of local enthusiasts, including Ray Connett, Edward Lansdowne, Ronald Walker and Lenore and Hardy Kaye.

"We received a letter inviting us to an apartment in the West End," Connett recalls, in a brief history assembled for the Van Tan scrapbook, "and on the given date, Mildred and I knocked at the main door. A flustered gentleman came and said 'Oh, you brought your wife!' From reading The Nudist, I thought this would be a requirement, but he assured me 'none of the other men had,' so Mildred was happy to go home and leave me to sit in on the first get together of Vancouver nudists."

While at that time publicly unheard of in Canada, recreational nudity had begun to surface in the United States exactly 10 years earlier, aided by the proliferation of nudist magazines bearing titles like Sunshine and Health and Health and Efficiency. Shortly thereafter, Canadians began producing their own nationally-distributed nudist publication, Sunshine For Health, to which Connett was a regular contributor. In his column, Sunny Trails, he would regularly call for his fellow nudists to identify themselves, and urge the formation of other regional clubs. Meanwhile, the Van Tans (so named by early member Stella Walker), began making regular clothing-optional outings, looking for a place to establish a more permanent home. Before settling in North Vancouver, they considered several other regions, including Coquitlam.

"I remember we began regular visits to an island in the Brunette River northeast of Coquitlam," Connett continues. "A huge dyke banked with blackberries provided ample privacy, and after wading across the knee-deep stream to the island we had it to ourselves without any surprises. We went there several times."

By 1947 (after an idle period while many of its members served overseas), the club settled their land title, purchasing four acres on the southeast side of the mountain and leasing three more. They also became incorporated, though on the advice of their lawyer kept the purpose of the club "general", so as not to attract undue attention. However, due in large part to Connett's efforts, the Van Tans began to make their existence more widely known, hosting their first (non-nude) public open house in 1954. Nude open houses became a tradition beginning in 1970, and at one point, even included an all-nude orchestra.

Recreational nudism's influence continued to grow in the postwar years, and by the 1950s, the Van Tan Club was one of many. A number of organizations had formed at the regional, provincial and national levels, including Surrey's Sunny Trails Club, Victoria's Sol Sante Club and the American Sunbathing Association (presently titled the American Association for Nude Recreation). And with all this growth, it was only natural that the club would begin to associate with similar organizations, even taking part in a nudist "convention" on Vancouver Island in the late 1950s.

"Photographer Jim Ryan and I visited the nudist convention near Shawnigan Lake yesterday afternoon," the colonist's Ted Shackleford recounted, in the June 30, 1957 issue, "and the only people embarrassed by our visit were Jim Ryan and I. Men, women and children, dressed and undressed, talked to us, posed for pictures, sunbathed, swam, rowed boats and played games, completely unselfconsciously...Some 200 nudists were on the grounds when we arrived and they kept coming all the time we were there."

Size matters

Despite those impressive numbers, and while historically the club's numbers have been as high as 70-80 (including children, families and singles of every age), both Tom and Christine are quick to point out that in recent years, the face (and body) of the Van Tan Club has begun to change dramatically.

"It's...greying, I guess would be the term," Tom explains. "Meaning that we've retained our older members, but we're not attracting as many of the younger people into it. When we have an open house and people come up, if I was a couple in my twenties, I would see a lot of older people, and I would think 'Well, are these the people I want to socialize with a lot?' Some would say yes, and some would say no. And that's been a problem -- and it's a national problem."

"We've got older," Christine shrugs. "And the children that were members when we first joined haven't grown up and stayed with the club. They became teenagers, and went off to do their own thing, and less and less families have joined. So now, instead of the average age being, say, 40, it's probably more like 60."

Members cite the club's isolation, its fees, a decline in disposable income and the current popularity of Wreck Beach as factors contributing to the decline in local membership. In 1989, Christine recalls, they welcomed 19 new applicants. In 2013, there have been only four.

So, why be a nudist in the first place? Why organize, and spend money, and buy land to celebrate the human body in the presence of others?

"Body image is a very powerful thing for many people," Leigh concludes. "Their world revolves around their body image, and they simply won't be part of this, because they're afraid to be seen with all of their flaws and imperfections. But out there in the world, we're all flaws and imperfections. And this helps to remind us of that."

"And besides," chuckles a passing member, wearing nothing but a baseball hat, "it's also damn fun."