Peggy paddling our inflatable Innova Kayak on Little Squaw Lake.
We went kayaking yesterday at a small lake near our house. It’s about seven miles away southeast of Applegate Lake. We can easily head up there when we have a couple of hours to spare. I am not done with my Burning Man series but thought you might enjoy this interlude. When I complete Burning Man, I am going to blog about a weeklong sea kayak trip Peggy and I took this summer off of Vancouver Island, British Columbia.
Paddling under cloudy skies, we thought it might rain.
But then the sun came out, allowing for this very green reflection shot.
We kayaked up to the end of the lake and caught this photo of a young steer, who also seemed happy to see the sun.
Towering cumulus clouds dominated the horizon.
And were reflected in the lake.
A curious turtle, blending into the green, checked us out.
Peggy’s sister, Jane Hagedorn and her husband Jim, joined us. We often take friends and family up to Squaw Lake. Its beauty and small size make it an ideal location for beginning kayakers.
A final photo capturing the beauty and peace of the lake. Ripples from a fish that had just jumped are on the lower right. Next blog: Back to Burning Man.
A journey to Burning Man is a voyage into one of the world’s most creative environments. A kaleidoscope of art, costumes, theme camps, and live performances constantly demand your attention. Mutant vehicles are another form of marvelous creativity. In my last blog I introduced you El Pulpo Mecanico. Here are some other favorites of mine from Burning Man 2104.
A horn of plenty? (Photo by Tom Lovering.)
I would say that this Burner is quite proud of her Rhino.
The all-seeing eye and… (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
…its mutant vehicle.
Speaking of eyes, I caught this man-sized one on a mutant vehicle the night they burned the Man.
Peggy found this dragon out on the Playa while the owners were away. Good thing they didn’t leave the keys. Giddy-up! (Photo by Tom Lovering.)
Close up of the dragon’s head.
This is a rather attractive fellow with gossamer wings.
Imagine for a moment you didn’t know what was happening and you saw this creature of the deep emerge out of a dust storm.
A steampunk horse shows off his inner workings. The carriage is also quite unique.
Another steampunk vehicle with a unique look. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
Large mutant vehicles such as this bull can accommodate a number of people.
The same bull at night provides a perspective on how dramatically different mutant vehicles can look when the sun goes down.
This Cheshire Cat rolled by our campsite.
Lady Sassafras built by the Crown Collective of New Orleans is made from debris left over by Hurricane Katrina.
Mutant vehicles come in all sizes as this ATV demonstrates. Every square inch of available space is covered.
Close up of the decorations. I liked the dog.
This three mast sail boat makes a good conclusion for this blog on the mutant vehicles at Burning Man 2014. Next blog: A huge sculpture known as Embrace.
El Pulpo Mecanico doing what he does best: spout fire and entertain Burners.
He comes through the desert night with eyes bulging, jaws dropping, and eight arms flaming like an ancient god. The 26 foot tall El Pulpo Mecanico, the mechanical octopus, arrives in a cloud of dust and fire. An admiring group of Burners gather round, cameras poised. This is El Pulpo’s fourth trip to Burning Man, and he still elicits wonder wherever he goes.
It’s hard to look at the head of El Pulpo and not imagine some ancient god. He even has his own church. (grin)
El Pulpo is a mutant vehicle or art car in the language of Black Rock City. The powerful DMV, the Department of Mutant vehicles, has licensed him. Beyond getting to campsites, Burners are not allowed to drive on the Playa or in Black Rock City without a DMV permit. And you don’t get a permit unless your vehicle has morphed into something else— like an octopus, or rhinoceros, or sailing ship, or even a push-button telephone.
Mutant vehicles come in all shapes and sizes at Burning Man. This phone vehicle at Burning Man 2014 represents both the imagination and humor of Burners.
El Pulpo sprang from the creative imagination of Duane Flatmo, a graphic artist and mural painter who lives in Arcata, California along with his wife and fellow artist, Micki Dyson. Duane’s murals can be found throughout Eureka and Arcata. Or, if you stop off for one (or more) of the excellent beers at the Lost Coast Brewery and pause long enough to admire the labels, you are admiring Duane’s work.
The label from Alleycat Ale of the Lost Coast Brewery in Eureka California.
Duane’s talents apparently include music as well. In 2006, he became a finalist on America’s Got Talent by playing a guitar with a weed whacker and an eggbeater. It would take me less than .01 seconds to destroy a guitar with my weed whacker. I suspect a bit longer with an eggbeater.
My weed whacker. I challenge any guitar to stand up to it. Bring on your Martin!
Going to Disneyland as a child inspired Duane to build things from an early age. It was the Kinetic Grand Champion Race in Humboldt County that encouraged him to build things that move, however. The race, which is known as the triathlon of the art world, takes place annually and pits human-powered art sculptures against each other in a grueling 38-mile race over land, water, sand and mud between the communities of Arcata and Ferndale. Duane created the first of his 30 plus entries in 1982.
His passion for building led him to England in 2001 to participate in the TV series the Junkyard Wars where participants were challenged to create specific objects such as a car crusher from junk. Two years later he was in China participating in the Strange Vehicle Games and building a monster truck.
All of this was accomplished before El Pulpo Mecanico. Somewhere around 2005 Duane and his creative group of fellow travellers made it to Burning Man. Not surprisingly, they soon began dreaming about creating mutant vehicles.
It was in the small town of La Peñita, Mexico about 40 miles north of Puerto Vallarta, that El Pulpo was born. (It’s a pretty area; I was fishing off its shore last fall.) The Flatmos have a home there that they visit for a couple of months every year. With an idea in mind, Duane hit the streets searching for junk. Out of this junk he built the first model of El Pulpo.
The Pacific Ocean off the coast from La Penita.
My grandson Ethan proudly displays a fish he caught on our fishing trip north of Puerto Vallarta. He was lucky it didn’t catch him.
Back home in Arcata, Duane pulled together a team to help him create the giant cephalopod. Steve Gellman was brought on board to help with the fireworks and long time friend Jerry Kunkel was recruited because of his expertise in electrical work and engineering. While a number of others helped with the assembly, it is particularly important to note Bonnie Connor. She owns Arcata Scrap and Salvage, the home for most of El Pulpo’s parts.
El Pulpo was made out of junk gathered from the Arcata Scrap and Salvage Yard. Duane says the size of the 55 gallon drums used to make El Pulpo’s upper legs determined his whole size.
This close up of El Pulpo’s head demonstrates his salvaged parts, including the 55 gallon drums.
I was amused by El Pulpo’s junk yard skin. Muffins anyone?
The octopus was built on top of a donated 1973 Ford 250 4×4. A giant cam provides the muscle power— raising and lowering his eight legs, thrusting out his eight bulging eyes, and dropping the jaws on his four mouths. Neither computers nor hydraulics are used. Four fifty-gallon propane tanks provide flames for a night of fun on the Playa. The fire spouting legs and head send flames roaring out 30 feet. And here’s a final fun fact, the sound of the escaping flames can be used as a percussion instrument. Duane plays El Pulpo like a drum. And why not. Anyone who can play a guitar with a weed whacker should be able to make music with an octopus.
The four 50 gallon propane tanks that fire up El Pulpo for a night. As you can imagine, keeping these tanks full is expensive.
Indeed he does.
El Pulpo made his first trip to the Burning Man in 2011. What is the most fun Duane has had with his mutant vehicle ? He lists two incidents: providing transportation for Susan Sarandon as she toured the Playa and watching San Francisco firemen line up to admire El Pulpo. The head fire inspector “hit the fire buttons and giggled like a child.”
Duane and company are now in the process of creating a new mutant vehicle for Burning Man. I can’t wait to see the results.
Even during the day, El Pulpo Mecanico is magnificent. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
Up in the air.
As might be imagined, other sea creatures such as this fish can be found sharing El Pulpo’s ocean.
The fish at night.
This friendly sea horse is another of El Pulpo’s companions. (Photo by Peggy Mekemson.)
As is this crab with large claws. It looks a lot like the crawdads my brother and I caught as kids and our mother boiled up for dinner. Sweet meat! Duane created this guy for the Kinetic Grand Champion Race and adapted it to El Pulpo. See this article in Popular Mechanics.
A final shot of El Pulpo waiting patiently for the Man to burn at Burning Man 2014. Next blog: I will introduce you to some of the other fun mutant vehicles Peggy and I found this year at Burning Man.
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.
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.
The small town of Kirkcolm where my great-grandmother was born.
A view of the Scottish countryside featuring an ancient rock fence and Scottish Broom.
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.
Mom and baby.
Celtic Cross.
Cat man? I liked the way the flowers found a crack to grow in next to the gargoyle-like figure.
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.
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.
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.
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.)
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.
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 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…
It appears this woman is learning to fly as she practices couples yoga at the Center Camp Cafe.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.)
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.
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.
Bird eyes.
Dragon faces off against hummingbird.
Woman and elephant.
Butterfly wing eyebrows and a cat-like face.
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.
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.
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.
When the Man raises his arms, the fireworks are about to begin!
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.)
The fireworks continued as the Man burned quickly. We could definitely feel the heat.
Soon, his basic structure was apparent.
Don caught this photo of the Man’s head. (Photo by Don Green.)
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.
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.)
We were amused to find people cooking bacon, eggs, coffee and pancakes. Some one had even roasted a lamb. Nice tongue.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
The cow.
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 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 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
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…
“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 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 in the souk/marketplace surrounding the Man at Black Rock City. Apparently she was feeling the effects from all the grass she was consuming.
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.
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…
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Peggy and I are off journeying through Greece, Scotland and Ireland over the next several weeks, so there won’t be much time for blogging. Initially, I decided to put the blog on hold, but I’ve decided to republish some of my favorite posts that may eventually make it into UT-OH!.
Today’s post completes the tale of how Tom Lovering and I found a bone in the Sierra Nevada Montain Range and he/it began his transition to being Bone.
Bone has been wandering the world for close to 50 years. Given his nature, it is only natural that he would end up at Burning Man (14 times).
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.
Frog Lake was a short jaunt off of the Tahoe-Yosemite/PCT near Carson Pass.
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. I suspect he rubbed them, as well.
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. We kept a careful eye out but I missed one when I went out to utilize nature’s restroom.
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. It had crawled into the hole. We avoided a fate neither of us would have wanted!
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 France 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…
Next: Bone answers 10 questions people frequently ash him.
Wandering through Time and Place 