The sublime art installations, the ideals of "radical self-reliance" and "leave-no-trace", and that some of my closest friends eventually went and returned year after year kept stirring my imagination, and kept pulling me towards the Playa.
But, I never could pull the trigger, and just go.
Until this year.
My ever patient wife Sara, and super-camper daughter Eleanore, even agreed to join me. My loving son Alex, who went last year, agreed to hold down the fort for us and take care of Gatsby.
Did my homework, read the survival guide, and went down the Google rabbit-hole studying the types of structures best suited to survive the harsh conditions of the Black Rock Desert.
Determined not to be a tourist or a "sparkle pony", and ignoring the advice of my veteran friends, I rejected the RV rental, and went all-in on building a camp that would comfortably sustain us during the week of the festival.
"Monkey-hut”: check.
"Shiftpod2”: check.
"Bucket-coolers”: check.
"So he loaded up the truck, and he drove to BRC” (Black Rock City).
And, just like one of those old great westerns TCM plays, the wife and kid would follow later.
10am-11:59pm
After a four hour wait (not that bad according to the veterans), I was given permission to enter Black Rock City. Found Camp Tsunami, found Sam (who poured me a tall G&T), pulled out the Shiftpod, and tried to sleep.
As I was blessed to have obtained a work-pass, my arrival was a few days before the event opened. The MAN, and many other art installations was still under construction.
Our camp's location.
After a morning bike ride around the Playa, came back to start setting up camp.
The winds were consistently heavy, and when I tried to put the tarps on the Monkeyhut, I realized I was fighting a fight I was not going to win.
Called it a day,
Woke the next morning to find a pick-up truck filled to the brim, parked under the ribs of the unfinished Monkeyhut. There was a man sleeping in the driver's seat.
After some coffee, one of the camp elders, Widget, informed me that "Don" (the man in the truck), would be staying with me.
I tried to hide my resentment with Widget's presumption that I would gladly host Don by reasoning that this was just part of the BM experience.
I'm such an asshole.
Don, turned out to be a wonderful camp mate. He helped put the tarps and finishing touches on the Monkeyhut, and the Spam he brought went so well with the eggs I had. Best breakfasts ever.
I found out later that Don is a veteran burner, and is 83 years old.
That night, Don and I went out on the playa.
This sculpture is a tribute to the founder of BM, Larry Harvey, who passed away earlier this year.
Here's Don with Larry.
Kind of a hellish day. Sara remarked, "Gee, I'd hate to get caught out here at night with wind like this". The Playa must have been listening, because that night while we waited to watch a drone show, we got caught in a major wind event, and it was quite the effort to get back to camp.
The Playa seems to swing both ways though; a minute of hell, and then a minute of heaven.
One evening, sitting in the lounge of the Monkeyhut, this "moon" literally popped up. This picture does not do it justice, but a Playa artist created a realistically scaled (helium filled?) moon with texture and light, that provided me with a beacon of wonder and joy every night.
Here are some snippets of one of the best (IMHO) exhibits roaming the Playa, the "Wheels of Color".
The troupe is from France, and the wheels are propelled by volunteer people-power. Sara volunteered to be part of the crew one evening, but as the volunteers are required to be topless, I have refrained posting any pics of her. Trust me, she looked radiant and magnificent!
A couple of days into my adventure, Sam stopped by with a sticker that I immediately stuck to the ShiftPod. This became my motto.
Without and with some embarrassment, I must say that Burning Man was the hardest thing I've ever done. And I've done a lot of hard things in my years. You get out of life what you put into it. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
The night the Man burned, Sam drove us out to a primo spot on the Playa in his mutant vehicle.
I would like to express my deepest and profound thanks to all the fine people at Camp Tsunami, who welcomed this virgin into their camp, and helped make this the best adventure I've ever had. Big shout-outs to Widget, Pat, Scott, Gary, Carl, Michael, Deniz, and especially Sam (Haywire)!
And finally, welcome home. Time to de-dust.
Bonus Track!
One of the other mottos of Burning Man is "Safety Third".
When you buy a ticket for BM, there is a notice that says you might die while attending this event, and you must agree to these terms.
Many people use gasoline generators to power their camps, and there are strict rules governing the safe storage of fuel.
In the spirit of the upside-down world that is BM, here is Don decorating our fuel storage area one fine evening.
