Burning Man 2010

Since this was my 5th trip to Blackrock City, I've had plenty of time to ponder what I like and dislike about Burning Man. I really enjoy setting up and maintaining camp, early morning and the sunrise that comes with it, good funky beats booming from incredible sound systems, spontaneous fun, quality time with my good friends, meeting interesting people that aren't all spun-out, Space Cowboys, hopping on my bike and pedaling off by myself to experience whatever may come, and leaving on Saturday before the Burn to avoid Exodus. Things I've decided I dislike are the deep house break beats that the majority of sound camps pump out continually, guests at camp that are rude and act like it's their camp, white out dust storms, people that take themselves too seriously, and Exodus.

Burning Man 2008

Burning Man: Part IV

Juggernaut: n.

1. Something, such as a belief or institution, that elicits blind and destructive devotion or to which people are ruthlessly sacrificed.
2. An overwhelming, advancing force that crushes or seems to crush everything in its path: “It doesn't assume that people need necessarily remain passive when confronted by what appears to be the juggernaut of history” (Christopher Lehmann-Haupt).

It may sound counter intuitive, but not coming across as redundant after four separate Burning Man experiences is hard to do. There's a certain consistency to the chaos out there on the playa; a familiarity that only reveals itself when you are standing there immersed in it. The last thing most people want to do--me included--whilst standing in the middle of the BM experience is to pause and reflect on the moment in order to create a memory catalog for reference when it comes time to write about it later. Pictures are helpful, but they generally do not provide the proper context in which events unfold. Plus people that take too many pictures miss out on a lot. It is hard to participate (Burning Man is all about participation) with a camera glued to your eyeball, which is why all I have to show for all my picture taking efforts is this pathetic collection of grainy photos from a disposable camera. Personally, I find that kind of charming. For anybody that wants to get into a full on Burning Man pictography, google will provide countless links to professional portfolios.

The "Lido" deck was my favorite place to spend the mornings.
Our camp this year was the best ever. Thanks to all who made it possible!

The playa surface was pretty loose this year. That made biking a bit more difficult.

The Tower of Babel: quite possibly the grandest piece of artwork that has ever been erected on the playa.

The Lido Deck: Cazadores and Coors Light served daily.

Neither was able to knock any sense into the other...

From the inside of the 12 story Tower of Babel.

Back in college we would sometimes get an assignment that required "stream of consciousness" writing. This involved putting the pen to the paper and simply writing whatever came to mind, non-stop, for a specified period of time. It is an exercise I've always enjoyed. Sometimes I'll still do it because I think it helps to quiet the mind and get the ideas flowing. I did a short exercise before starting this post, and one word that really resonated this time around was juggernaut.
Burning Man is a juggernaut, but not so much in the Old Testament style of blind devotion and destrictive sacrafice as defined in the first definition. Rather, it is more like the second definition, the one that defines a juggernaut as an overwhelming, advancing force that crushes or seems to crush everything in its path.

That's Burning Man!

Burning Man 2007

Third time's a charm they say; I can't argue with that. Now that I've attended Burning Man 3 times the playa seems familiar to me. The taste of alkaline dust, the angle of the sun, the direction of the breeze, the dry, hot air, the cool of the dawn and the freaks that surround me--all strangely familiar; all strangely warm and comforting. It amazes me how so many are quick to judge the event; so quick to put this or that label on it. I alluded to this fact the first time I posted about my Black Rock City experience in 2005. Burning Man is this, Burning Man is that, blah blah blah. Here's what Burning Man is--it's exactly what you make it.




This year I did not purchase tickets early when they are the cheapest due to the fact I did not think we would be attending since we now have a 7 month old daughter at home. I am not opposed to taking a child to the playa, in fact I think it's a great place for a kid of the right age under the right circumstances. However, I am of the opinion that it is no place for a 7 month old. If you're too young to verbalize what is making you uncomfortable, you're too young for the playa. What I did not expect was how bad my wife wanted to attend this year after sitting out last year due to her pregnancy.




As the event drew near, I could see she was serious, so I started to make plans. The first order of business was securing a motorhome. It's perfectly fine to camp on the playa--most people do--but I know enough to know that a comfortable wife means a happy husband; and the only place where comfort is guaranteed on the playa--for happily married people at least--is the inside of their own motorhome. Though I've never been a particular fan of RV living, being new parents, I could see the benefits of owning a motorhome beyond the comfort it would ensure while at Burning Man. As luck would have it, our friends Mark and Shannon who live outside of Sacramento and also have a young daughter decided they were in the market for an RV as well, so we thought it wise to pool our resources and partner in the purchase of one. We certainly did not want to buy a brand new model as they depreciate quicker than an automobile, so we figured a well maintained used RV would be our target. It did not take us long to find what we were looking for, which turned out to be a 1993 31 ft class "A" Bounder. It was a little bigger than what we had idealized, but the price was right and the features and floor plan exceeded our expectations. Burning Man would be "Thumper's" maiden voyage, and I would be the captain.



Labor day weekend being what it is, we already had plans to be in Mexico for a big 40th birthday party, so the time we could be on the playa was limited to a few days at the front end of the week. Fortunately a few members of our camp had planned on arriving even earlier than us, so we pulled into an already constructed camp just before dawn on Monday morning. Sunrise on the playa is by far my favorite time, so we quickly unloaded our bicycles, greeted our camp mates who were in various stages of sleep and headed out to say good morning to the "work week."



One of the more striking differences between the first and last days of Burning Man is the relative tranquility at the beginning. In my mind the playa resembled a meadow just after a fresh snowfall: unsullied and serene. Much of the art remained in various stages of completion, and the prevailing mood of the people I met seemed to be relaxed and rested, sort of like the mood of most cities early in the week.




We decided to call our camp the Garden of Heathens, and it was our best camp to date. Pretty much from the day Burning Man ended last year up to the commencement of this year's event, my friend from high school Steve had been planning for our camp, and he did not disappoint. His contribution included a military surplus desert tent that acted as our living room, a bar and bar stools; he even put a beer tap on the outside of his small RV that was connected to a keg (6 actually!) chilling in the closet inside. Pure genius. Dave, in what has become his custom and trademark, provided the "mini-mog" sound system and hours of full spectrum beats. Banyra, in a demonstration of dream-into-action, built a carnival wheel that morphed into the "Wheel of Miss Fortune" and became the centerpiece of our bar. That wheel took on a life of it's own. Games were created, rules were invented, and a naked barbie was eventually ritualistically nailed to the center. Mrs. Jrod and a random denizen of BlackRock City painted and decorated the bar. Goldie provided the "Garden of Heathens" banner. It's great to see the gang rise to the occasion.





Despite early reports of severe wind and dust storms, the weather while we were there was nothing short of perfect. We were even treated to a full lunar eclipse Monday night that turned the playa from a full moon playground to a dark and mischievous fun house in a matter of minutes.







And mischievous it was. For the first time ever, the Man burned before his time. The most shocking thing about this is that it took this many years to happen. Though we'll never really know exactly how it happened, conventional wisdom holds that a fella by the name of Paul Addis decided to climb the Man just as all eyes were on the lunar eclipse and toss a molotov cocktail at him. Mr. Addis then jumped onto the green canopy underneath and slid down to the ground where he was apprehended by BRC rangers without incident.


At the time, I had been taking a "nap" after an initial 36 hours of being up and at 'em. Mrs. Jrod had just come back to camp to get me up for the eclipse--I definitely did not want to miss that. We were heading back out to the Opulent Temple to meet our friends. When we approached the playa, we heard the tremendous roar of a crowd--similiar to what one might hear at a baseball game. I though, "man, there must be something really good going on out there." As we got closer, we could see that the Burning Man Pavillion was surrounded by art cars and a sea of people. It looked and sounded just like it would on the Night of the Burn. It was then that I spotted what looked like two giant gossamer sheets of silk undulating hypnotically on either side of The Man--but something about the whole scene felt slightly out of place. As we got closer, we could see that several of the blinking lights were real live fire trucks. There may be any number of "fire trucks" on the playa at any given moment which makes it next to impossible to tell what's real and what's not, but clearly these were the real things. What I had mistaken for beautiful pieces of silk flapping in the breeze were actually two powerful streams of water, *gasp*, trained on The Man!


They were hosing down The Man.

The "man" was extinguishing The Man.

Chuck, they were Saving the Man.


The irony of this whole unscheduled event is self-evident, so this is the part where I fight the urge to wax philosophical...


As the full moon passed outside of the earth's shadow and dawn slowly crept over the horizon, the full extent of the damage was brought into plain view. The Man was singed badly, but not mortally wounded. Too bad He wasn't packed with a cocktail of explosives and fireworks yet, that would have been quite a sight to behold! The green canopy underneath was melted in certain places, but it was far from destroyed. All in all, it looked like the Man would survive; though that did not stop the "man" from removing him with a giant crane before the sun was high in the sky. Judging by the reaction of some, taking the Man down was akin to holding a magnet in front of their compass--they were utterly "lost." For me, I was just happy that our planned early departure didn't force me to miss the Burn like I thought it would.



The remaining day and a half we had left to enjoy BlackRock City was spent doing "more" of "the same." Silliness was witnessed, yuks were had, art was interacted, jams were kicked out, bikes were pedaled. I wish we could have stayed a few more days to have some fun with the rest of our campmates as they rolled into town, but we were fortunate to have even gone at all. Afterall, grandma can only take care of the daughter and the doggie for so long. I will say the Exodus on a Wednesday afternoon is incomparably better and more relaxing than it is at the end of the week. As usual, in retrospect it was another surreal experience. So fleeting physically, but the memories remain.



It will be interesting to see how Burning Man shapes up in the future--especially in the wake of Mr. Addis's decision to start the campfire a little early. It's getting really big, and for the first time I am beginning to see the point certain veteran burners have when they bemoan what it's become and pine for the "good ol' days" when it was small and there were no rules. I don't necessarily agree because I think Burning Man is dynamic above all else, but I can see a difference in just three years.




Annoyingly, this year's theme seemed to be politically motivated: "The Greening of the Man." The contradiction is obvious; how do you (or why should you) "green" a festival that celebrates fire?


Here's what a friend of mine had to say about his experience. He is a 6 year veteran who returned this year after a two year hiatus:

i LOVED the art.... some of the best i have ever seen... opulent was off the hook evry night i went .... better than prior years... personally had a really good time... NOT on par with a couple of my other burns, but that is solely because a couple of my closest friends in the world didnt make the trip this yr.... i missed em.... definitely saw some JV shit go on... i picked up cups and beer cans in a number of places which was disappointing... also witnessd one episode where some burningman volunteers were agro and nasty which was disappointing too.... but it still is undoubtedly the greatest show on earth.... this year was just BIGGER

Trash talking and trash tossing: two hallmarks of any city. For better or worse, it sounds like BlackRock City is experiencing growing pains. Unfortunately, when a community gets dissolved into the anonymity that a city affords, people often act like the twat-waffles they really are.



I'll reiterate what I said at the beginning of this post: Burning Man is exactly what you make it. The excitement and anticipation many people feel when talking about, planning and participating in it is genuine--and that cannot be discounted.

Nevertheless, I can't shake the feeling that the Man has become "the man."

Burning Man 2006

I've been meaning to put up a post about my Burning Man experience for 2 months now. Well, here goes...

Now that I've been twice, I feel that Burning Man is an event with diminishing returns. That may sound like a criticism, but it's not. There's nothing in the world like the first time you set foot on the playa and turn slowly in a circle while letting your senses absorb as best they can the rich palate of the human creative spirit on display stretching in every direction for as far as you can see. But you only have one cherry--and once it's been popped, it's popped. Oh sure, you can pretend subsequent experiences are just as good as the first time, but you're just deluding yourself. It doesn't mean they're necessarily worse--just different. Like any good, solid, mutually-respectful relationship, Burning Man takes creativity and maintenance to keep it interesting. If you do not put forth the effort, you are left with diminishing returns.

I keep in regular touch with exactly two people from my high school days. Steve is one of them. Coincidently, after about 12 years of being out of touch, he turned up 2 hours down the road in Santa Cruz. I was pleased to learn that one of my best friends in high school, and roommate for 2 years after, was living so close. He owns and operates a tire shop. Every year in August, he is innundated with vehicles getting ready for the pilgrimage to the Black Rock Desert. Although he had never been, the experience of helping outfit vehicles for Burning Man made him both familiar with and curious about the event. Not long after my wife and I found out she was pregnant with our first child in June, we decided that 5 days in the desert doing everything that people do out there was probably not the best environment for a mother-to-be. So all of the sudden I had an extra ticket, and Steve said he'd take it before I even finished asking him. As luck would have it, he and a friend had just bought a circa 1970 lime green 20ft long motorhome specifically for tailgating and events such as Burning Man. A plan was coming together.

We had about 12 people in our camp this year, half of which were playa-virgins. I drove up with two of them, all the while dazzling them with stories of what they were getting themselves into. But there's really no way to paint an accurate picture. We arrived at 3am and found our camp pretty quickly; most of our crew had arrived 2 days prior. There's not a bad time to arrive at Black Rock City; this city truly never sleeps. I hurriedly set up my tent and got out to the playa in time to watch the early dawn turn into a glorious sunrise from under the Belgian Wafflehouse.

That morning I got my first taste of what turned out to be my favorite saloon in all of BRC: Tikila Sunrise. Set up in the middle of nowhere, with walls made of the horizon and the sky as a ceiling, this saloon featured a bar and furniture you'd expect to see at at any kitschy Hawaiian bar, a giant tiki statue and 2 swinging saloon doors. We quickly learned that simply wandering up to the bar from the netherlands resulted in a) much ballyhooing from the other patrons, and b) not being served at the bar. However, entering through the saloon doors resulted in a greeting similiar to the one Norm received at Cheers. The hours of operation were 4a to 9a--nothing like starting off the day with a margarita, shot of tequila and a baby carrot chaser. I made it a point to start each day here, and usually ended up staying until "last call." It was entertaining to hang out and observe whatever passed by. Various art cars would park and play great dj sets. One gal had a polaroid camera and took pictures of everybody there and stapled them to the bar. (It was great to see the front of the bar hung on a fence in San Francisco at the decompression party a few weeks ago with all the pictures still attached--brought back great memories!) There was a posse of what must have been stunt-doubles there each morning tossing eachother across the tables and out the door after the slightest provocation. I was disappointed to see on my last morning that the saloon doors had been completely flattened by an art car that was now parked in front of the bar. I though to myself, "how rude!" Maybe I said it outloud, because one of the guys driving it loudly declared, "this is a BAR not a CLUB!" and promptly marched out back to play a game of bocce ball. That art car came in handy later for hauling home a female patron who had finally had enough fun and passed out limp on a table. My friend Dave quickly recovered the beer he had given to her; it was still cold.

Having experienced much exhaustion and fatigue the year prior, this time around I was determined to keep a better pace. I'm a morning person by nature, so getting up at 4am is rarely a problem for me. Besides, sunrise on the playa is my absolute favorite part of the day, so I decided I would try to incorporate my regular home schedule into the Burning Man scene. My up and at 'em hours were roughly 4a to 11p each day which set me at odds with most of the rest of my camp as they were usually rallying when I was going to bed, and going to bed when I was rallying. Truth be told though, I was never wanting for company, as most of the night crew was still going strong at 4am--and by then they had a bead on where all the hot spots were at the moment.

One of the cardinal rules at Burning Man is to leave no trace. It's taken very seriously by the organizers, but not always by all the participants. In an effort to cut down on MOOP (matter out of place, aka: garbage) around camp, we elected to ban those ubiquitous red party cups. Although we still managed to generate a fair amount of trash, it certainly could have been much worse. Next year, we will aspire towards even less.

Speaking of our camp, this year we added another parachute shade structure (one for covering the tents, and one for the "living room") and Dave set up his "mini-mog" in the living room. The mini-mog is a home-built 2 amp, ~800 watt portable dj system thats design is loosely based on Space Cowboy's Unimog. The mini-mog proved to be quite popular with our neighbors; especially during our Pancakes with Harry Belafonte breakfast special.

I could drone on and on about the minute details, but I'd get sick of typing and you'd get sick of reading, so I will return to my original thought about Burning Man being an event with diminishing returns. I can see how each year I will have to put more and more energy into my participation if I want to continue to get anything out of the whole experience. It will always be interesting and fun, because there's not many places and times in your life where you are able to stand over a blank canvas and encouraged to let your mind explode. I went through the trouble of planning, shopping, sewing; completed the roadtrip, helped coordinate, organize camp and cook--I may as well maximize each and every moment.

Burning Man is like life. The older you get, the more energy it takes just to tread water.

P.S. King Tut has more and better pictures here than I could be bothered to take.

Burning Man 2005

I believe people try hard to label experiences so that they may be filed away in a little mental box alongside all similar experiences; it helps to keep the mind in order. Sometimes though, a particular experience is simply too unusual for any conventional label to stick. Burning Man is just such an experience. It has been called a lot of things over the years. Among the things I've heard it compared to include a giant rave, an outdoor art exhibit, an orgy, a nudist colony, a drug fest, a spiritual journey, an interactive performance art camp, and a pyro party. Now that I have attended, I must say that it is none of these things, yet it is all of these things; and best way to sum it up is to simply say it's the best party in the world. period.
I first was interested in attending about 5 years ago. I began to hear stories about some big party in the middle of the Nevada desert where anything goes. This of course piqued my curiosity. I began to ask questions from people that had gone (Burners as they are known) and I quickly realized that I had to attend at some point in my life. But like anything, excuses for not going were plentiful--a wedding this year, trip to somewhere next year--it always seemed like something was already planned, and I began to think that I had already "missed out" on the experience because it had gotten so much bigger than it had been in years past.
Last year when my wife and I were on our honeymoon I noticed the Burning Man effigy painted on the camera case of one of our guides. "Ah, a burner!" I thought, and began to ask him questions. He convinced me that it most certainly was not too late to attend and that I had not missed out on anything, so when January rolled around I bought two tickets. I figured at least I could sell them when something came up as had always happened in the past. Three of the people in my skihaus are veteran Burners as well, so as the winter progressed I'd toss out Burning Man every now and then to try to gauge the interest level. The one thing I knew I did not want to do was go with a bunch of Playa Virgins (first timers) because if you are not prepared for extreme desert camping it can be a very harsh experience. I thought I might like to join up with an existing theme camp if I couldn't generate interest among the skihaus people. Fortunately it worked out that my skihaus friends were up for it. We talked about it at the High Sierra Music fest over the 4th of July and decided we'd give it a go.
Planning for Burning Man takes up the entire year for many camps, but we only had 2 months and not nearly that amount of motivation. We decided on a theme loosely associated with Ali Baba. One of the guys bought an old golf cart we planned on turning into a flying carpet for jetting around the playa. When it came time to actually decorate it at one of our planning parties, we decided it was going to be too much work, but we brought it anyway. Two of the members of our camp were flying their Cessna up and we told the aviation department that they could use it as a shuttle between camp and the airport if they let us bring it in. Not only did it get in, but it got a "staff" sticker on it to boot—that’s like being deputized by the sheriff. We ended up decorating it like a big harem bed--nothing fancy but it looked pretty cool. Unfortunately it did not run too well at 4,000 ft, but we got some usage out of it. Some of us got a Cessna tour of Black Rock City too--it was a neat way to gain another perspective of the mayhem below. On a side note our friends with the Cessna became engaged on their flight up! They had known each other for a number of years but really solidified their relationship at Burning Man a few years back. We talked about having a wedding ceremony for them at Black Rock City, but we were lacking in the motivation department. Besides, the playa was calling!
Black Rock City is not immune to some of the growing pains common in many cities. It does have an infrastructure of sorts: rangers who patrol but are mostly mediators, although I am sure they have a gun locker somewhere not too far away. Afterall, with 35,000 freaks in the desert the possibilities for mayhem are endless. There’s even a bit of social stratification between the vetran burners and the newer denizens of BRC. Some of the bigger camps can be cult-like, but I mean that in a good sense.
A bicycle is by far the best way to get around the playa, and there is every mutation of pedal power represented at Black Rock City. The first night I was there I was "dream weaving" on my beach cruiser way off in the distance and I almost crashed into the trash barrier fence. I saw it at the last minute in the early dawn glow. The night of the burn I fell asleep--OK-- passed out while I was pedaling along. I was in the grooove, it was late, then BLAM! The next thing I knew I was staring at the stars. My wife got a good laugh out of that as she was right behind me.
Barter is the currency. We had over 100 lighters we painted the Burning Man effigy onto as well as other assorted goodies for trading. Those lighters came in handy when I found myself in the middle of the playa on a hot day and somebody happened by with a cooler full of cold beer; and at the end of the week it was interesting when I emptied out my pockets and compared all the different mementos I had accumulated along the way. Each told a story.
Our camp turned out pretty good. We had a 24ft parachute shade structure at the center, surrounded by our tents and other smaller shade structures. Under the parachute were a couple of tables we built on site and rugs and of course the disco ball and assorted other funky lighting. I rented an RV in case the wind, dust or heat became unbearable. Lucky for us the weather was as close to perfect as it gets up there, and the integrity of our shade structure was never put to the big 90 mph gust test fortunately. Everybody was commenting on how nice it was compared to years past.
The whole week seems almost surreal at this point. I'm not so sure I was even there! I'd be riding along and pass some place where I was the night before and all the memories would come back. That happened all the time, like I was a victim of some bizarre happy trauma.
There really is no way to describe the whole experience without seeing it for yourself. Pictures do not do the event justice, you need to be there to feel the pulse of the city. Forming a good group and planning meticulously are imperative to having a good time. After having been it’s evident that Burning Man is one of those events that will never become stagnant. It will continue to morph into something new but familiar each year, therefore I do not think it is ever too late to participate. I'll be back for sure, but maybe not for 4 years--like the Olympic Games. That said, I’m sure we’ll start planning for next year just as soon as this decompression is over.
It's odd, I just realized I don't have a lot of stories, just a lot of memories--real good memories. And really, when we're old and grey, sitting on the front porch rocking away the twilight years--what else is there?