My Thoughts Are on Scotland…

September 18, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 45 Comments

Phot of Scottish cattle taken by Curtis Mekemson.

Scottish cattle line up and eagerly await the news on Scotland’s bid for independence.

Scots are going to the polls today to decide their future. The decision is a tough one: do they remain part of the United Kingdom, or do they break free and create their own nation-state?

I wish the good people of Scotland and their beautiful country well, regardless of the outcome. As I wish the English well. Our nation owes both countries a deep debt of gratitude for who we are. So do I.

But my heart is with the Scots. My father went to a family reunion in the late 1960s and came back with a family chart that showed a long connection with Scotland going all the way back to the 1600s and John Brown the Martyr. Brown was killed in front of his wife and children in 1685 because he refused to renounce his Presbyterian beliefs in favor of the English king.

I’ve been to Scotland twice. The first time I was wandering by myself. I rented a car in Glasgow and explored much of northern Scotland. The beauty of the country and the warmth of the Scots impressed me deeply, even though Nessie, the Loch Ness monster, refused to pose for a photograph.

Three years ago Peggy and I returned to do genealogical research in the southwestern region of the country where John Brown had died and my great-grandmother had been born. Once again, I was impressed— as was Peggy. When looking for John Brown’s grave, we stayed at the excellent Old Church B&B in Muirkirk and had the opportunity to become friends with the owners David and Lesley Martin. We have maintained that friendship since over Facebook. Lesley, BTW, is an excellent chef and runs a baking school. David is a Scottish patriot. Over the past year, he has posted on Scottish independence a thousand times, at least. (Grin)

Following are some photos from our trip to Scotland that reflect the beauty of the country. (Next blog I will return to Burning Man.)

A Scottish Castle in Edinburg.

Scottish sheep photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Furry fellow. We were happily lost on a remote road when this guy greeted us and wanted to know where we thought we were going.

Photo of Kirkcolm, Scotland by Curtis Mekemson.

The small town of Kirkcolm where my great-grandmother was born.

Photo of ancient fence in Scotland and Scottish Broom taken by Curtis Mekemson.

A view of the Scottish countryside featuring an ancient rock fence and Scottish Broom.

View of Scottish countryside taken by Curtis Mekemson.

Another view of the beautiful countryside of Scotland.

My wife Peggy and the Scottish patriot David Martin in front of the Old Church B&B in Muirkirk, Scotland.

Mother sheep and lamb in southwestern Scotland. Photo by Curtis Mekemson.

Mom and baby.

Celtic Cross.

Cat man. I liked the way the flowers found a crack next to this gargoyle-like figure.

Cat man? I liked the way the flowers found a crack to grow in next to the gargoyle-like figure.

Scottish tombstone photo with Peggy Mekemson.

Genealogical work involves spending a lot of time in graveyards. I was amazed by the size of Scottish tombstones. Peggy provides perspective by standing next to a grave of a person who may have been a distant cousin of hers— and mine.

Photo of Scottish pony taken by Curtis Mekemson.

I’ll close with my favorite photo from Scotland. This pony came running up to see us when we visiting Kirkcolm. I suspect he was saying vote yes.

The Wild Man Disappeared into a Yellow Balloon… Center Camp Cafe at Burning Man

September 15, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 23 Comments

Bike Bridge sculpture at Burning Man 2014.

Looking out from the Center Camp Cafe through the Bike Bridge, a sculpture by Michael Christian of Berkeley, California. The work was done in collaboration with twelve young women from Oakland who were taught welding skills and then worked with Christian in creating the sculpture out of recycled bike parts.

You journey into another world when you travel to Burning Man. An open mind helps. You don’t have to party to the wee hours, or get naked, or do yoga in your underpants, however. People are free to choose the activities they wish to pursue. I mean, if you really want to know how to make a flogger out of duct tape, you can— or not. I opted out.

Besides, I have my own whip. I used to break the whip out and walk around my office cracking it when I was the executive director of a non-profit in Alaska. I did this during the winter months when the nights were long and the days were short. Since it was dark outside, the people who worked at the bank across the road would line up at their windows and watch me. The bankers, my staff, and I enjoyed the break in routine. Or, at least, no one ever reported me to the cops.

The Center Camp Cafe at Burning Man 2014.

A view of the Center Camp Cafe from the Playa. Note the tower on the right.

Looking down from the tower at Center Camp and the Center Camp Cafe. (Photo by Don Green.)

Center Camp Cafe at night Burning Man 2014.

A view of the Center Camp Cafe at night. The flags on top can be seen from throughout Black Rock City and are used by Burners as a land mark.

Bikes parked in front of the Center Camp Cafe at Burning Man 2014.

Over 60,000 bikes were at Burning Man this year. On any given day, the Center Camp Cafe was surrounded by them. Note the fat tires. There are no skinny tires at Burning Man since getting around through the dust on the Playa and in Black Rock City would be impossible.

The middle of the Center Camp Cafe provides a large circular opening looking up at the sky and the flags.

The middle of the Center Camp Cafe provides a large circular opening for looking up at the sky and the flags.

Heading over to the Center Camp Cafe is something that almost everyone at Burning Man does at some time during the week. It’s a great way to be introduced to and participate in Black Rock City performance art. Free entertainment of one sort of the other goes on around the clock at the Cafe’s two stages. Less formally, anyone is welcome to perform in the large, circular center stage. I watched ballet dancers, jugglers, couples yoga, a woman work a hula-hoop, and a group practicing what I called chicken meditation since it sounded like they were shouting chica, chica, chica and making chicken moves. But what do I know; it looked like fun. Then there was the wild-looking guy who disappeared into a large yellow balloon…

Couples yoga being practiced at Burning Man 2014.

It appears this woman is learning to fly as she practices couples yoga at the Center Camp Cafe.

Yong woman practices with hula hoop at Burning Man 2014.

A young woman works her hula hoop as blonde hair flies. Whole camps are devoted to mastering the hula hoop and Burners have developed considerable skills.

A young man who had been practicing impressive ballet leaps, suddenly stopped and asked an elderly woman to dance with him. The two bowed to each other and then waltzed off across the floor to applause. Batman looked on.

Man disappears into large yellow balloon at Burning Man 2014.

Peggy and I were sitting and chatting with a man from Berkeley when a guy with a large yellow balloon walked out to the center area. By the time I had grabbed my camera, half of the man had disappeared into the balloon. Then he was totally gone. As things progressed, first his hair and then his head appeared out of the top.

Balloon Man Burning Man style at Burning Man 2014.

In the end, the balloon shrank and I was able to get a full head shot. He was pretty wild looking, even for Burning Man.

People watching receives an A plus rating. A stroll around the Center Camp Cafe usually calls for another stroll, and then another after that. Or you can just choose to sit and let the parade pass by. Many Burners dress up in elaborate costumes, or dress down (way down) for their visit. I confess to enjoying it all.

My favorite Burner in her snazzy hat (Luna AKA Peggy) wears a Mona Lisa smile.

Cross generation conversation at Burning Man 2014.

This photo strikes me as pure Burning Man. A younger man-made space for an older woman and the two were soon involved in an animated conversation. Meanwhile, an obviously tired Burner had put his feet up on the seat back so he could snooze. I kept waiting for him to go to sleep and his feet to drop. It didn’t happen.

Burning Man is a photographers dream. And almost everyone takes pictures. If each Burner took only 20 photos, over a million pictures would have been taken at Burning Man 2014.

Burning Man is a photographer’s dream. And almost everyone takes pictures. If each Burner took only 20 photos, well over one million pictures would have been taken at Burning Man 2014.

One of the best places to catch some of Burning Man’s wilder costumes is to attend the annual fashion show hosted by the Center Camp Cafe. While it may not be New York or Paris, it does come with a runway. (Photo by Don Green.)

Fashion show participants at Burning Man 2014.

What some of the best dressed models chose to wear. Size matters when you are wearing gloves. (Photo by Don Green.)

Art also fills the Center Camp Cafe, as it does all of Burning Man. Peggy and I visit at different times of the day to catch how the different light impacts the art, enjoy the shows, and sip a cup of coffee or glass of ice tea. Center Camp Cafe is the only place in Black Rock City where you can buy anything besides ice.

Sculpture at the Center Camp Cafe, Burning Man 2014.

There must have been upwards to 40 pieces of art at the Center Camp Cafe including this beautiful sculpture.

The two cats who have caught Grandpa Mouse promise him his freedom if he reads them an amusing story.

I really enjoyed the Eastern oriented environmental art that combined nature with people at the Center Camp Cafe. Following are several examples.

Oriental painting in Center Camp Cafe at Burning Man 2014.

Bird eyes.

Art featuring dragon and humming bird at Center Camp Cafe, Burning Man 2014.

Dragon faces off against hummingbird.

Woman and elephant.

Butterfly wing eyebrows and a cat-like face.

Painting at Center Camp Cafe featuring woman and animals, Burning Man 2014.

I conclude with this woman surrounded by animals. Next blog: We go out into Black Rock City and out into the playa in search of my favorite mutant vehicle: El Pulpo Mechanico— the octopus.

The Man Meets His Fiery Demise… Burning Man 2014

September 12, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 43 Comments

Flames shoot out as the Man burns at Burning Man 2014. Fireworks continue to light up the sky.

I introduced the Man in my last blog. Now it is time to join him for his fiery end, the quintessential event Larry Harvey created in 1986 that gives Burning Man its name. Think show. Think ritual. Think party. Think three-ring circus. It’s the one event at Burning Man that pulls everyone together at the same time. Saturday night is Burn Night.

Preparations for the 2014 burn began hours earlier. The market surrounding the Man was closed down and packed away, the area was roped off, and the Man was prepared to burn. Firewood was stacked around his feet. Fireworks were stuffed everywhere else.

Firewood stacked around the base of the Man helps assure he will eventually fall over. Massive support beams for his hundred foot height were reluctant to burn through, however. (Photo By Don Green.)

Sometime around six, the residents of Black Rock City begin their preparations. Dinner is eaten; costumes are donned; people and bikes are decked out in lights. (I’d love to have a concession that sells glow sticks to Burners.) The dozens, even hundreds of venues that provide free entertainment are shut down. Large and small camps provide final instructions. Are their members traveling by mutant vehicle, bike or foot? Will the bikers and hikers stay together? How? It is ever so easy to get lost in a rowdy crowd of 65,000 people.

And then the parade (or is pilgrimage a better word?) begins. Large mutant vehicles that hold dozens of dancing, gyrating Burners move out early, eager to find prime locations and begin blasting out ear-splitting, industrial-grade music. Hundreds of performers also head for the Man to find their assigned places inside the huge circle surrounding the Man. Next come the folks who hope to sit close to the circle and have the best views of the fire dancers and burn.

And finally, everyone else. Dark streets become clogged with gaily decorated, lit-up bikes and Burners journeying out into the Playa. Somehow they avoid running into each other. By 8 pm Black Rock City has become vacant, a ghost town.

For the past several years I’ve chosen to walk around the perimeter of the circle. My body has lost its sense of humor for sitting in the dirt for hours. Even now, my tailbone screams at the idea. Plus, there is a lot to see. Burners, dressed up in their finest costumes, stroll and dance around the circle. It’s prime time for people watching. But what really captures my imagination are the mutant vehicles stretching for two miles around the Man. Every vehicle is lit up for the night and many belch fire. Dozens form large viewing and dancing platforms. There are ships and trains and dragons and bugs and almost everything else the human imagination can create. Or at least it seems that way to me.

Great imagination goes into creating the mutant vehicles of Burning Man. I am not sure what this guy was called but I nicknamed him Mighty Mouse. The people on his back provide a size perspective.

Many of the mutant vehicles spout fire. This is one of my favorites, El Pulpo Mechanico. I’ll be doing a whole blog on El Pulpo.

Mutant vehicle lights up the night at Burning Man 2014.

This photo provides an idea of how bright the fire from a mutant vehicle can be.

As for the burning of the Man, it follows a ritualized pattern. The fire dancers twirl fire, drummers drum, the Man raises his arms, fireworks go off, the Man burns, and finally he falls to his fiery grave as 65,000 people first go quiet and then shout in celebration.

Fire dancing/art is an important part of Burn night as hundreds of fire dancers perform in the circle before the Man is burned. I took this photo a couple of years ago.

The Man raises his arms in preparation for fireworks and burning at Burning Man 2014.

When the Man raises his arms, the fireworks are about to begin!

The night sky is lit up by fireworks during the burning of the Man at Burning Man 2014.

And they do.

Few fourth of July events are capable of matching the fireworks display at Burning Man, which goes on and on. (Photo by Don Green.)

Fireworks and Man burning at Burning Man 2014.

The fireworks continued as the Man burned quickly. We could definitely feel the heat.

Structure of Man at Burning Man 2014 shows through the fire.

Soon, his basic structure was apparent.

Head of the Man at Burning Man during 2014 burn.

Don caught this photo of the Man’s head. (Photo by Don Green.)

The Man before he falls at Burning Man 2014.

I waited patiently, along with 60,000 other people for the Man to fall as fires licked away at his feet. But he was stubborn. Finally I headed off to Center Camp.

Normally we return home sometime in the night after the Man has burned. But this year we stayed around and visited the site the next morning. Much to our amusement, people were cooking meals over the remaining flames and heat.

Remains of the burned Man at Burning Man 2014.

Burners were gathered around the remains of the Man the next morning. The size of the leg support beams suggests why it took so long for the Man to fall. (Photo by Tom Lovering.)

Cooking bacon on the coals left over from the burning of the man at Burning Man 2014.

We were amused to find people cooking bacon, eggs, coffee and pancakes. Some one had even roasted a lamb. Nice tongue.

Souvenir hunter cuts off piece of the Man's structure that remained after the Man had burned dow at Burning Man 2014.

A burner was working hard cutting off small pieces of the Man’s ‘leg’ for souvenirs.He smiled up at me and gifted me my own piece of the Man.

A close up of the Man burning at Burning Man 2014.

I will close with this excellent close up of the Man burning. (Photo by Don Green.) On my next blog I will visit another Burning Man icon: Center Camp.

Burning Man Was Born on a Beach in San Francisco

September 9, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 28 Comments

The Man at Burning Man this year stood some ten stories high and towered over the surrounding playa and Black Rock City.

A striking view of the iconic Golden Gate Bridge dominates the view from Baker Beach in San Francisco. It’s a romantic spot, a popular place to get married. Folks also get naked; it’s a nude beach. It was here that Larry Harvey and his friend Jerry James decided to host a bonfire in honor of the summer solstice in 1986. As to why they chose a nine-foot wooden effigy of a man (and his dog) to burn, Harvey remains mysteriously mum. Whatever the reason, it was out of the flames that Burning Man was born. Larry and his friends had such a great time they vowed to come back the next year with a bigger Man.

By 1990 the Man had grown to 40 feet tall and word of mouth had guaranteed that a sizable crowd was present for the solstice bonfire on Baker Beach. It wasn’t to be. Golden Gate Park police had decided that burning the Man posed a fire hazard to the Park and City. A single Park Ranger rolled in on a motorbike and said no go. You can’t be too careful, right? Fires were raging across Southern California.

The Man was taken apart and returned to the vacant lot he called home. The people who had come to watch the burn were angry. This might have marked the end of Burning Man, except for a bit of synchronicity. The Man had caught the attention of a group in San Francisco known as the Cacophony Society, an organization that specialized in outrageous pranks and strange outings known as zone trips. Several of its members, including Co-founder John Law, suggested to Larry that the place to burn the Man was in the remote Black Rock Desert of Northern Nevada. It would make an ideal zone trip— far out in the language of the 60’s. A Ryder Truck was rented for the Labor Day weekend and stuffed with the man plus personal gear. Cars were loaded with people and some 80-100 Burners headed off into the desert. The rest, as they say, is history.

Much had changed when I arrived at Black Rock City in 2004. Old timers spoke nostalgically about the good old days when there had been far fewer people and no rules. They were right; there were more people and more rules, but as far as I could tell things were still pretty rowdy— and magical. I was impressed. So I have been going back ever since. One of my first activities on returning to Black Rock City is to make the journey out to the Man. Since Larry dictates his dimensions, the Man always looks the same. Up until now, however, he has been perched on a different base each year, as shown in the examples below.

Last year’s man.

The Man on his pedestal in 2006.

This year, for the first time since 1995, the Man stood alone and had gained skin. He was magnificent, standing some ten stories or 100 feet tall. A group of tents, representing a souk/market place surrounded him. The souk reflected the 2014 Burning Man theme, Caravansary, and was supposed to be reminiscent of the ancient markets that grew up wherever caravan routes crossed.

The Man at Burning Man in 2014 and a mutant vehicle.

All eyes (and cameras) on the Man, a theme based mutant vehicle passes by. Note the tents of the market place surrounding the Man. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

The Man at Burning Man 2014 at the end of the avenue leading out from Center Camp.

The Man stands at the end of the avenue leading out from Center Camp. The building bathed in light behind the Man is the temple. The dome-shaped building off to the right is the Tower of Babel.

A photo of the Man at Burning Man in 2014 framed by the gateway that leads into the market place and Man.

Don Green, a friend who has been coming to Burning Man with me since 2005, took this photo of the Man, which is framed by the gateway that leads into the souk.

Sun shines through the head of the Man at Burning Man 2014. Photo by Tom Lovering.

Tom Lovering, who has been going on adventures with me since the mid-70s took this photo of the Man with the sun behind his head.

Man horse gives ride at Burning Man 2014.

Peggy hitches a ride on a hobby-horse/man in brief briefs at the souk. My favorite cow checks out a red topped man/woman/dummy in the background.

Wild eyed grass eating cow at Burning Man 2014.

The cow.

People headed ostriches at Burning Man 2014.

A number of murals/paintings decorated the walls of the souk. These people headed ostriches were sufficiently Burning Man strange.

What would a souk be without exotic drinks such as a snow cone. Beth Lovering, bathed in the red glow from the tent roof, discusses flavors with the Man from Minnesota.

What would a souk be without exotic drinks such as an icee. Beth Lovering, bathed in the red glow from the tent roof, discusses flavors with the Minnesota Man. Various regions including China, Japan, Russia, Taiwan, Lithuania and Argentina sponsored the various booths.

My favorite souk-like booth, Membranes of Marrakesh, was sponsored by the Utah region and featured drum making. Once again, the red tent roof imparts a red glow. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Shelves feature drums in various stages of development.

I’ll conclude this blog with a photo I took of the Man at night, surrounded by the colors and activities of Burning Man. Magical is the word here. Next blog: We will watch the Man burn.

I cried, but I’m good now (sort of)

September 5, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 9 Comments

I rarely reblog posts, but this one touched my heart. Those who know me are aware that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer in Liberia, way back when. I’ve followed several blogs of Peace Corps Volunteers serving now, Volunteers who were pulled out of the country last month because of Ebola. This blog brings Ebola a little closer. We must face it and deal with it. But it also captures the meaning of what it is to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. Thank you Nimu for sharing your thoughts. –Curt

Nimu in Liberia

Sorry that posting about my evacuation has taken one whole month (how long have I been home?!). The emotional roller coaster has taken the following progression:

Disbelief and complete shock/feigning normalcy, but then lying awake at night
Deep realization and reawakening of my love for specific people and aspects of Liberia/trying to savor fleeting moments that seem to occur in 4x fast-forward
Utter despair over leaving and simultaneous insecurity about my unpreparedness for returning to America/crying to the point of exhaustion
Total loneliness; this is a tragedy but no one is acting as such to make me feel better/sporadic bursts of tears
Numbness/eating my feelings in front of a screen

About a week ago, I recognized the possibility that I might not go back to Liberia. With the negative trend in Ebola’s spread, I’m not sure what will happen, and no one really has the answers. It makes me angry…

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Welcome Home: Mired in Mud… Burning Man 2014

September 3, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 28 Comments

Burners are welcomed to Burning Man by a wild group of volunteers who withstand wind, dust, and sun to make sure that Burners are greeted enthusiastically.

“Welcome Home!” the Burning Man Greeter grinned from ear to ear. “Are you a virgin?” she asked.

Dark clouds stretched across the horizon as we made our way across the northern Nevada desert to Black Rock City on Monday morning. A road sign just outside of Cedarville, California had warned, “Flooded.” Some Burners or a local teenager had added at the bottom, “with love.” We laughed. Everyone can use a little love.

Located on the eastern side of the Warner Mountains in the far northwest corner of California, Cedarville may be the most remote town in California, but it provides a hearty welcome for Burners.

This Cedarville mural suggests even the local livestock are welcoming Burners. Or maybe this horse and chicken are amazed by the strange procession of people and vehicles passing through their normally quiet town.

This Cedarville mural suggests even the local livestock are welcoming Burners. Or maybe this horse and chicken are jaw-dropping amazed by the strange procession of people and vehicles passing through their normally quiet town.

Dark clouds over the Black Rock Desert of Northern Nevada suggested flash floods and a muddy Burning Man.

But flash floods in the desert are not to be trifled with. Lack of vegetation and poor soil combined with a downpour of rain can turn a trickle of water into a car tumbling torrent in a matter of minutes. Common wisdom is to stick to the high ground and avoid gullies. We proceeded with caution.

We were more concerned about the rain’s impact on Burning Man. A quarter-inch of rain on the Black Rock Desert turns the Playa into a quagmire. Everything comes to a grinding halt. Nothing moves. Walking cakes the bottom of shoes with one to three inches of cement-quality mud. If a mobster picked you up and threw you into a lake, you’d be guaranteed to sink. It’s worse for bikes and vehicles.

Our worst fears were confirmed when we arrived at the cutoff to Burning Man. A really nice BLM Ranger and a not so nice roadblock greeted us. “I am sorry,” the ranger announced, “Burning Man has been shut down and will be for at least 12 hours. We are recommending that you drive into Fernley and wait.” Fernley was 78 miles away. Towns are few and far between in Nevada. We turned around and pulled off the road to seek a second opinion. “Black Rock City will be shut down until 12 noon tomorrow,” the official voice of Burning Man declared on Twitter. Damn. The 12 hours had grown to 24.

But you know the old adage: if life hands you lemons, make lemonade. That’s certainly what the folks stuck in the thousand or so vehicles caught between the entrance to Burning Man and the welcoming station did. Their cars were packed with food, booze, and God only knows what else. Why stress when you can have a party?

Burners on the inside had a similar attitude. Their only concern was the rapidly filling port-a-pots. Things were getting shitty, so to speak. Not surprisingly, the first vehicles that Burning Man approved for travel were sewage trucks. It may be the only time in history that sewage truck drivers received a standing ovation.

On a more serious note, I met a Burner on the Esplanade of Black Rock City who told me she and seven other people had been struck by lightning during the storm. It had hit nearby and travelled through the ground, knocking her down. A couple of days at the clinic and she was fine. “The guy carrying the umbrella that lightning struck wasn’t so lucky,” she told us.

Peggy and I decided to make our own lemonade. We would drive an extra 25 miles past Fernley to Fallon and the Bonanza Casino. The Bonanza featured cheap RV camping, liberal video poker machines, and enough free drinks to drown our sorrows about missing Burning Man. True to its Old West image, the casino’s restaurant was decorated with cowhides and served humongous cow-burgers. Bossy had given her all. We didn’t. Peggy and I left the next morning a hundred dollars richer and headed back to the now open Burning Man. The adventure was about to begin.

I found this particular cow hanging out near the Man at Black Rock City. Apparently she was a little high from all the grass she was consuming.

I found this particular cow hanging out in the souk/marketplace surrounding the Man at Black Rock City. Apparently she was feeling the effects from all the grass she was consuming.

Traffic into Burning Man from Interstate 80.

Passing over Interstate 80, we joined the long line of several thousand Burners who had been held up in Reno and Fernley because of the closure of Burning Man. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Strange, hoodoo-like rocks greet Burners along the road into Burning Man. Somehow, they seem appropriate. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

The rocks gave way to Shrek as we entered the small town of Empire a few miles outside of Burning Man. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)

Things went amazingly fast until we hit the line for checking tickets. At least six lines of vehicles stretched into the distance.

Ticket checkers search for non-ticketed Burners at Burning Man 2014.

As long as I have been going to Burning Man, ticket checkers have come on board to make sure I am not smuggling any Burners into Black Rock City. I’m okay with that. But checking my cabinets and refrigerator was invasive. Was this an undercover cop searching for illegal drugs? Or maybe he thought I was hiding the seven dwarves. But let’s get back to the question posed in the first photo about my virginity…

Virgin Burner rings bell, Burning Man 2014.

The question the greeter was asking was whether I was a Virgin Burner, a first timer. Having first gone in 2004, I had long since lost my ‘virginity,’ however. Virgins are expected to get out of the car and ring a bell.

Virgin burner rolls in dust at Burning Man 2014.

Rolling in the dust is a new virgin burner experience that has been added to the ceremony. Since you will look like you have rolled in the dust after a few hours at Burning Man,why not?

This blog marks the beginning of a series of blogs on Burning Man 2014 that I will write over the next few weeks. Here are a few photos to provide a taste of what’s to come. Think of them as appetizers.

Embrace sculpture being prepped to burn at Burning Man 2014.

Art and costumed people are two of the major reasons that Peggy and I go to Burning Man. You will see a lot of both in my blogs. This is the Embrace sculpture being prepped for burning.

The Man surrounded by a souk/marketplace at Burning Man 2014.

Burning Man is many things, and I will explore several, but central to the Burning Man experience is the Man and his ultimate consummation by fire. Here I pictured him through an art piece. The Man stood alone this year surrounded by a souk, or marketplace.

The Elvis Wedding Chapel at Burning Man 2014.

Wandering the streets of Black Rock City is endlessly fascinating and you never know what you might find— even Elvis. Or, as it turned out this year, P. Diddy, Will Smith and Leonardo DiCaprio. There are much stranger things to be found at Burning Man…

… such as what I could only guess was an amoeba with a vagina. Then there was the 20 foot sculpture of a penis. There was no doubt about it.

I’ll conclude this small teaser with my all-time favorite mutant vehicle, El Pulpo Mechanico. El Pulpo will have a whole blog devoted to him.

Dog Stew, A Rattlesnake Bite and Hypothermia… Reblog

September 2, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 2 Comments

This is the fifth and final of a series of Blogs on how the Peripatetic Bone was found in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I will respond to comments when I return from Burning Man.

It was a pleasant hike down to Carson Pass on Highway 88 and relatively dry since we were on a south-facing slope.

Kit Carson came through here in February of 1844 along with John C. Fremont. It wasn’t pleasant then. The snow was deep and food was limited. They ended up dining off of their horses, mules and the camp dog. The dog apparently went quite well with pea soup. Later, the trail they discovered would become a major entry point for the 49ers and run through the foothill town of Diamond Springs where I was raised.

There was nary a bar, restaurant or gas station near the Pass so we hiked on another three miles to Lake Winnemucca. Rain was threatening and I set up my tube tent, a large sheet of plastic shaped into a round tunnel. It wasn’t particularly sturdy, but it was light and dry.

Tom, on the other hand, was carrying a luxurious three-season tent. He stacked the women in head to toe and ended up smelling April’s feet all night.

The next day was all downhill: down to Fourth of July Lake, down to Summit City Canyon, and down Summit City Creek to Camp Irene on the Mokelumne River. After dropping 4000 feet in 14 miles I found myself bone tired again. Camp Irene provided an attractive campsite but turned out to be rattlesnake country.

I had discovered the perfect toilet spot, dug my cat hole and was baring my behind when one buzzed at me. It’s amazing how fast you can pull up your pants. I was lucky the snake didn’t bite me on the butt.

I grabbed a stick and chased him away with a couple of sharp prods for good measure. He was lucky I was something of a nature boy. Otherwise he would have been smashed. The next time I did any serious bathroom duty was when I was parked on a flush toilet at Lake Alpine.

Backpacking out of Camp Irene is a challenge. The 4000 feet we dropped the day before in 14 miles we were now expected to re-climb in five. Low clouds filled the canyon. It wasn’t raining but it was cold and damp. Somewhere in the mist a male grouse made its familiar ‘whump, whump, whump’ sound, working to attract a female companion. I empathized. Dripping wet Buck Bush grabbed at our legs.

To stay warm and dry we broke out our rain gear. Lynn moved from being cold and miserable to shivering and not caring. She was on the edge of hypothermia, a very dangerous state. The body loses its ability to maintain warmth and the rational mind ceases to function. Coordination spirals downward. It is very easy to die.

Tom and I acted quickly. I fired up my Svea and Tom had Lynn stand over it wearing her cagoule, a dress like poncho. We positioned the stove carefully. While this wasn’t a solution to hypothermia one found in survival guides, it worked. (The recommended solution is to break out your sleeping bag and crawl in naked with the victim.) Within minutes, Lynn was ready to tackle the rest of the mountain.

Hypothermia can strike fast but it can also be quickly cured… assuming of course you catch it in time. Tom was next.

“Curt,” he called plaintively from off in the brush where he had gone to pee. I rushed over and begin laughing. He had managed the first half of his chore but couldn’t zip his pants up. His mind was working fine but his coordination had gone south. He was all thumbs. I called Lynn over to help as I returned to the trail chuckling. There are some chores a trek leader doesn’t need to handle.

We hiked the rest of the way into Alpine Lake without undo difficulty. Since our ride wasn’t coming until the next day, we rented a one-room cabin to share. Rain poured down outside as we relived our adventures and made up tall tales way into the night. Our journey was winding down, but it wasn’t over.

I was shaking the dirt out of my pack at home when the bone fell out. Apparently I had been carrying it all the way from Winnemucca Lake. “Darn Lovering,” I thought to myself, “I am going to get even.” I decided to keep the bone. There would be an opportunity on a future trip to slip it back into Tom’s pack. I would have revenge!

And that’s it, the story of Bone’s discovery. It started like so many things in our lives often do, as a non-event. Bone didn’t come up as a subject during our night in the cabin. Naked jumping ladies, lost trails, swollen rivers, gorgeous country, rattle snakes, the physical challenge, hypothermia and even the upside-down map were the stories of legend, not a small, insignificant bone that came from who knows what.

But time has the power to rewrite history. When Tom opened his suitcase in Japan at the beginning of a two-year exploration of Asia, Africa and Europe, he found a surprise, Bone. I had my revenge. When I moved to Alaska and was unpacking my boxes, who should fall out but Bone. The tales go on and on…

Bone Is Found, but Not Before the Naked Ladies Jump… Reblog

August 31, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / Leave a comment

This is the fifth and final of a series of Blogs on how the Peripatetic Bone was found in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I will respond to comments when I return from Burning Man.

I was up early the next morning and eager to hit the trail. My body was starting to adjust and feel good. More importantly, the resort at Echo Lake was calling. A quick breakfast and we were off.

I took the lead with Tom following and Terry trailing. Soon we had climbed out of Lake Aloha, passed Margery Lake and worked our way across Haypress Meadows where cattlemen once harvested grass for winter feed.

As we began our descent into Echo Lake, I left my companions and the Desolation Wilderness behind. The vision of cold beer and a hamburger drove me on. Short shorts may have been a factor as well. Lynn and April were supposed to rejoin us at the Echo Lake Resort.

There was a decision to make when I reached Echo Lake. I could continue to follow the Tahoe-Yosemite Trail around the upper and lower lakes or I could call the Lodge from a phone located at the end of Upper Lake. It would send a boat taxi to pick me up for five bucks. The trail was hot, dusty and filled with day hikers and I was ready to take a break from backpacking; I made the phone call.

A half hour later, the throbbing of the motorboat’s engine caught my attention as the boat worked its way up the lake. Soon it arrived, coughing slightly. The boat slowed and bumped into the pier. My ‘taxi driver’ was a 16-year old plus teenager who had managed to snag a great summer job.

“Hop on,” he told me. An elderly couple was along for the ride. I nodded at them. I was halfway between the boat and the pier when I heard a commotion.

“Over here, Curt,” a familiar voice shouted. I looked up. A few yards away alders hid another pier. Two very attractive and very naked women were jumping up and down to get my attention.

They succeeded.

It was April and Lynn. They had come over on an earlier boat and were working in a little sunbathing while waiting for us. The young boatman and the old man were all eyes. The elderly woman looked thoroughly irritated and glared at all of us, especially her husband.

“Uh, I think I’ll stay here,” I told my driver.

“Can I stay too?” he asked and grinned at me. The elderly man wisely stayed silent.

I joined the girls as the boat coughed its way back toward the resort. Tom showed up soon afterwards. We were waiting for Terry when the ranger showed up.

“There has been a complaint about naked women jumping up and down over here,” he told us.

“Boy, I wish I would have seen them,” Tom responded. I am not sure the ranger bought our story but he wandered off in search of other criminals.

The same boatman picked us up and told me that the first thing the elderly woman did when she got back was to complain loud and long about the perverted people across the lake. She even cornered a ranger. My new young friend speculated that the ranger came looking for us as an excuse to escape. “Or maybe he wanted to see the naked ladies,” I noted.

We made it to the resort ourselves and celebrated our brief return to civilization with a cold beer (or three). My system complained about the third as we hiked on across Highway 50 and up to Benwood Meadow where we stopped for the night, some 34 miles from Meeks Bay.

Our fourth day started out as a typical backpack day; we climbed. It was gentle at first and then became more serious. Once again snow-covered large segments of the trail. We spread out and searched for tree blazes. I scrambled over a particularly steep section and found myself in a high meadow.

Something half buried in a field of young corn lilies caught my eye. A few days earlier it would have been covered with snow. Curiosity led me to detour through the still soggy ground. Mud sucked at my boots. My treasure turned out to be a disappointing, short, squat bone. Gnaw marks suggested it had been part of someone’s feast. I was about to toss it when a devious thought popped into my mind.

“Trash,” I hollered at Tom and held up the bone. We had a game where if one person found a piece of trash, the other person had to carry it. But first you had to catch the other person.

Tom sprinted down the trail with me in pursuit. Unfortunately, we had made it over the mountain and our route ranged from flat to downhill. Tom was very fast. We had traveled two miles and were almost to Showers Lake before he stopped, concerned about leaving our companions behind. Very reluctantly, he took the bone and stuffed it in his pack.

“How can you classify a bone as trash,” he whined. I figured Tom would toss his new travelling companion as soon as I was out of sight.

Next: Dog stew, a rattlesnake bite and hypothermia.

Raging Rivers, Kamikaze Mosquitoes and Marriage on a Mountain… Reblog

August 29, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / 8 Comments

This is the third of a series of Blogs on how Bone was found in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I will respond to comments when I return from Burning Man.

I watched regrettably as April and Lynn headed out. I would miss the inspiration. Soon, however, my mind was more than occupied with route finding. The trail had disappeared under the snow.

Tom pulled out his map and compass to establish our general direction. We searched for ancient tree blazes left behind by early foresters, cattlemen and sheepherders. We also watched for ducks where the snow had melted.

I’m not talking about fowl that quack and taste good in orange sauce. Ducks, in backpacking terminology, are piles of stone set up to show the way. With a little imagination, they can look like their namesake. Caution is advisable. The people creating the ducks may have had a different destination in mind, or perhaps they were lost.

An hour later we found ourselves more or less where we supposed to be, on the edge of the Rubicon River. A student of ancient Roman History undoubtedly named the stream. Like Julius Caesar, we were faced with crossing it. In a month or so it would be a tame creek inviting a refreshing dip but now it was a roaring river filled with icy water from quickly melting snow fields.

I entered with trepidation and was almost washed off my feet. Facing up-stream, I used a walking stick to give myself a third leg. Water crept up to my knees and beyond. I have short legs. The force was incredible. I set each foot carefully and moved crab-like, searching for solid ground between slippery rocks.

I’d undone my pack belt so I could shuck the pack if I was knocked over. Swimming in freezing water with 50 pounds on your back is hazardous to your health. In a few minutes that stretched out forever I was across. Tom and Terry also made it without incident.

We plopped down on a convenient log to catch our breath and munch down on GORP (good old raisins and peanuts). It was a quick meal. A thick swarm of mosquitoes dive-bombed us with kamikaze abandon. Slap one and five more landed, gleefully licking off our bug repellent before plunging in their beaks.

We were driven to put on our packs and scurry up the trail. Fortunately, Rockbound Valley is relatively flat and we were able to escape. Stopping was not an option as we hoofed it for the next four miles, crossing the Rubicon two more times before we begin our labored ascent up aptly named Mosquito Pass.

Life slowed down immediately as we began climbing. The blood sucking hoards caught up. Near the top, we were confronted with a different challenge, more snow. Eight hours of hot sun had turned it to mush. We spent as much time sliding as we did climbing. It was slow, hard, slogging work. And it was dangerous. Running water, partially exposed boulders and tree trunks melt snow from the ground up and create hidden cavities. More than once we plunged through up to our knees.

Ignoring the danger, Tom and I laughed our way down the other side, glissading in our boots. Control was minimal. Camp was in sight. Terri came along at a much more sedate and careful pace.

There was nothing about Lake Aloha that made me think Hawaii. It was a strange Dali-like creation with a convoluted shoreline and innumerable Rorschach type islands. What’s more, mini-icebergs decorated its surface. Bright white on top, they turned an icy blue under the water. All I could think was cold. Plowing through snow on our way around the lake to camp added freezing to my thoughts.

That night, we built a small campfire to fight off the chill. Terry wandered off to bed. Tom was slightly melancholy. He looked off into the distance over my shoulder.

“I was married on that peak,” he announced to the night. I turned around and stared across Lake Aloha at the towering Pyramid Peak, the centerpiece of the Crystal Range. It was bathed in moonlight.

Several years earlier, Tom had met and fallen in love with Hilde, a slight, attractive blonde who shared his love of the wilderness. They decided to get married on the mountain. Mom, wedding party and friends were invited to share their 9983 feet “I do” in the Desolation Wilderness.

The marriage didn’t last long and Tom was reluctant to talk about it. The fire burned down to glowing embers. We shared the silence in memory of lost love.

Next: Bone Is Found… but not before the Naked Ladies jump.

A Pounding Heart and a Sprained Ankle… Reblog

August 27, 2014January 24, 2015 / Curt Mekemson / Leave a comment

This is the second of a series of Blogs on how the Peripatetic Bone was found in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I will respond to comments when I return from Burning Man.

I awoke with a Mountain Jay screeching at me from the safety of his perch in a Lodgepole Pine. A faint light announced the morning, but the sun still hid behind the mountains on the east side of Lake Tahoe. It was frosty cold and I burrowed into my bag, pretending for a few more moments that I didn’t have to get up. Nature drove me out.

I could ignore the faint light, I could ignore the Jay and I could even ignore the stirrings of my companions but I couldn’t ignore my insistent bladder. Among muttered good mornings I wandered off into the woods and peed on a willow near where I had seen a coyote the evening before. I was marking my territory.

Back in camp Tom had his stove going. Lynn smiled at me. She, too, was a tall, good-looking woman. Terry had yet to emerge from her cocoon and April had replaced me out in the woods.

I heard a kersplash in Stony Ridge Lake and turned to watch as ripples spread out and announced a trout had snatched its buggy breakfast. Briefly I regretted that I had left my fishing pole at home. The sun was now bathing the peaks above us in gentle light; ever so slowly it worked its way down the mountain.

Instant coffee, instant oatmeal and a handful of dried fruit made up breakfast. All too soon it was time to pack my gear and urge my still stiff muscles up the trail.

The troops were in high spirits. The sheer beauty of Desolation Wilderness demanded it. Our backpacking day would take us up to Phipps Pass, down in to the Velma Lakes, across to the Rubicon River, up Rockbound Valley, over Mosquito Pass and end at Lake Aloha, some 13 miles from Stony Ridge Lake. We took a few minutes to make sure our camp was clean.

Almost immediately we began to climb. Flashes of blue lupine, multi-colored columbine and cheerful monkey flowers eased our way along the switch back trail. My pace of travel provided ample opportunity for appreciation. I caught a brief smell of mint at one point and wild onion at another.

We passed by two more small lakes and began our ascent of Phipps Pass. By this point I had moved in to granny gear and could hear my heart pounding in its cage, wanting to escape. Each step was a test of will. I kept moving. I had long since learned that the difficulty of starting outweighed the benefits of stopping. One step at a time I reached the top. A spectacular view rewarded my effort.

Peaks still buried under snow stretched off into the distance. The Sierra is a baby mountain range, the child of plate tectonics. Once, ancient seas covered the area. Volcanic activities left behind vast pools of subterranean granite. Crashing continental and oceanic plates lifted the granite into spectacular fault-block mountains, steep on the east and gentler on the west. The Ice Age brought glaciers that carved peaks, scooped out basins and left behind rocky moraines.

We stopped to catch our breath and enjoy the view. Soon we would begin our descent toward the Velma Lakes but first we worked our way around Phipps Peak. A series of lakes came into view. Tom and I immediately began to debate which was which.

“And you expect us to depend on your trail finding skills?” Lynn asked. Tom whipped out his topographic map.

“See,” he said decidedly, allowing a note of triumph to enter his voice. While we were the best of friends, this didn’t eliminate an element of alpha male competition between us. He, after all, was the owner of an outdoor-wilderness store, and I, after all, was the leader of wilderness treks. I glanced at his map and an impish grin filled my face.

“Your map is upside down, Tom.” Oops.

We did agree that my decision to detour from the Tahoe-Yosemite Trail and go through Rockbound Valley was a good one. Heavy snow still covered the northern and eastern side of the mountains. It was unlikely to melt by the time of the Trek.

The Trekkers would have enough challenge backpacking 13 miles on their second day out. They didn’t need to slog through five miles of snow while muttering unprintable thoughts about me.

We started our descent into the Velmas carefully. It is hard not to think, “Oh boy, down hill!” after a hard climb. But going down is much tougher on your body than climbing. Stepping down is a form of free fall. Velocity and weight are focused on the joints of your legs and feet. Adding a 40-50 pound pack increases the problem.

It is easy to twist a knee or sprain an ankle, especially at the beginning of the season. And that was what happened. By the time we reached Middle Velma, April was limping.

“I stepped on a loose rock and slipped,” she explained in obvious pain.

While April soaked her foot in the cold lake water and broke out an Ace Bandage, Tom and I mulled over whether to go on or hike out. We arrived at a compromise. Lynn would hike out with April to Emerald Bay and the two of them would stay at a motel. They would rejoin Tom, Terry and me at Echo Lake some 18 miles down the trail.

Next: Raging rivers, kamikaze mosquitoes and marriage on a mountain

Wandering through Time and Place

Exploring the world with Curtis and Peggy Mekemson