Burning Man – What a long, strange trip

Burning Man 2016 – What a long, strange trip.

Did it really happen?

As our Dodge creaked its way over the summit and we descended into Cedarville, CA, Black Rock City – aka ground central for Burning Man – was less than 100 miles away, yet it already felt fleeting. As if we were never there. Was the truck covered in white dust?  Check.  Was my hair matted beyond recognition?  Check.  Were we sleep deprived?  Check.

Hmmm…

Of course we were there, it did happen, but that fleetingness made me desperate to get all my thoughts down, in case I forgot about them back in the real world.

Another lesson learned.

There was no need to rush. 

I will never forget.

I’d been told many things – what to bring, what to expect – and in the end, expectations are the last thing to have.  Burning Man is a highly personal experience.  Days later, away from the intensity of the moment, the after shocks still reverberate. New nuances have revealed themselves – about me, about life – and the question that won’t go away is the one I will attempt to answer through my own prism.

What does Burning Man mean?

For those who aren’t familiar with the event, a quick primer is in order.

The first Burning Man’s (BM hereinafter) were a summer solstice ritual started in 1986 in San Francisco, with a small gathering of cool and eclectic types who wanted to fly their freak flags in the context of radical self-expression.  Today, BM is a multi million dollar event, supported with a slick web site, hundreds of Facebook pages generated by burners, for burners (a term applied to attendees of the festival) and now attracts the likes of Elon Musk, Paris Hilton and (reportedly this year) Justin Bieber. There is BM fashion.  BM parties.  Soon, as the pages of BRC Weekly suggest, there might be Burning Man: The Musical (so far only hearsay.)

Although I ran into many people who have been burning for years, the event now draws more first timers than ever before; last year’s census on the event indicated 33% were there for the first time.  For better or for worse, BM has become more mainstream than it likely ever envisioned and there is a price to pay for becoming popular.

BM has been run continuously since 1986 but 2011 was its first sell out year. In an attempt to control the increasing demand, in 2013, BM ticket purchase became a lottery system through a series of on-line dates leading up to the event.  Currently, regular tickets to the event are $390, with pre-sale tickets going for $900, and new this year, a $1200 ticket was introduced to help offset the increasing costs of supporting the various art projects which define the event.

With demand through the roof, the very people who have made and grown BM to what it is today, including members of the camps, integral to BM experience, are unable to secure tickets.  Even we were skunked three years in a row, including this year, and only went last minute when a good friend had to bow out and sold us her tickets.

Managing growth is always tricky and how BM addresses this remains to be seen. The event’s surging popularity is reminiscent of the struggle The Grateful Dead had when their prior inclusive scene exploded in the early 90’s, and attracted a new layer of person, eager to exploit the drugs and commercial aspects of such a devoted following.  Since BM still exists as a gifting and a ‘de-commodified’ environment (the only things you can buy are ice and coffee and advertising or marketing of any kind is verboten), I believe it will circumvent many of the growth issues that it now faces.

But enough about the corporate side of BM. Let’s get to the good shit.

Why BM remains a stunning, weird and complex experience.

BM takes place in a remote section of desert in Nevada, not readily accessible by anyone or anything unless you happen to live in Gerlach or Empire, NV, two ‘half-a-horse’ towns within an hour of the event.  If not, prepare for a journey.  Being in the middle of a desert in summer with no access to anything can put even the most rugged mountain man/woman into hyper survival mode.  Flashlights, first aid kits, solar panels, fuel, back up fuel, water and more water, groceries for a small army. Not to mention, coming up with something unique and clever for ‘gifting’, part of the esprit de corps of the event.  Our BM to-do list was the longest list we’ve ever created.  Thankfully, the only thing we didn’t have to coordinate was a trailer and on August 26th, we set off.

Twenty fours later, we were derailed and the law of attraction, the weird, serendipitous forces pulling us to BM this year, continued.

At 6:30 pm, on August 27th, we found ourselves in the ghost town of Shaniko, Oregon, almost of out gas and unsure if we could make it to the next town.  With a hope and a prayer, we turned off the highway to mull over our options and stumbled upon a group of repeat burners from Seattle, their caravan stranded with two blown tires.  Banded together, we helped each other out, like humans should, and they invited us to be part of their camp.

Being part of a camp is not a requisite for enjoying BM, but the built in camaraderie and support elevated and enriched our experience and we’re very grateful to have been taken in by “Champagne Campaign.”  You can find various camps that originate in the city you live in and reach out to them in advance.  Usually there are requirements – some financial – and as a first timer, it’s helpful to have experienced burners share their knowledge and insight.

But even being part of a camp, everything I’d ever read about, or heard about from friends, did nothing to prepare me.  Naked men and women greeting me at the entrance was only the beginning.

Much is made about the dust at BM, a fine white alkaline dust that gets into every nook and cranny including body parts you thought were surely exempt. Nothing is exempt.  When we finally made it the entrance gates, a violent dust storm, the worst of the week, kicked up and lasted not only the entire hour it took to make our way into the camp, but for two hours beyond. (And when I’m talking dust storm, I mean a wall of white so opaque you can’t even see a car three feet in front of you.)

But as my friend told me – ‘you must embrace the dust’.  You can’t do anything about it.  Surrender. The dust is an equalizing factor and probably the only thing about BM where everyone’s experience is the same.  Beyond that, here is where it gets personal.  There are three things that really stood out for me about BM and each of these left a unique impact.

The Art

The beauty of seeing incredible design and creativity on display, often on a grand scale, is fascinating. Pieces, many of them interactive, are scattered over 5 miles of the playa (the dusty, barren centre of Black Rock City) and you have to get on your bike (or sit on an art car or if you’re brave enough, walk) to go and see them.  This exploration was part of the fun and a great way to meet and interact with other burners.  Near the end of the event, certain pieces made of wood are burnt, some at night, some at dawn, and the burning of two pyramid-like structures, The Catacombs of Veils, at sunrise, in the haunting beauty of the early morning desert, was something I will never forget.

The Mutant Vehicles

No regular vehicles (unless authorized) are allowed to drive around BM except for mutant vehicles, which are vehicles that have been, well, mutated.  Mutated how?  In every way imaginable. A giant piece of swiss cheese.  A flame spewing octopus.  A day-glo Pac Man monster. To be in the middle of a serious conversation and have a twenty foot long pirate ship float past you is such a bizarre and whimsical experience you can’t help but smile.  At night, all these vehicles are lit up, the larger ones pumping out music with revellers dancing on them, and night time is one of the highlights of BM.  Black Rock City transforms from a laid back, camp-crawl socializing afternoon, into a sprawling neon revue, with mutant vehicles, costumes, DJ’s, art and bodies in various stages of undress on display, a surge of energy pulsing on the Playa.  It is indescribable and one of the most amazing sights I have ever seen.

The Temple

A hundred and eighty degrees away from the chaos of daily BM life is The Temple. The last structure to burn and second in size only to the Man, The Temple is a place of solace and mourning.  Here, photos, poems and inscriptions are left all over: most in memory of lost ones, although many of the poignant and personal messages are left in an attempt to free people of their own personal baggage.  At any time of day, there is silence; the only sound that of tears being shed.  I kept coming back to this incredible structure and in hindsight it was the most impactful element, what the spirit of BM was, what BM meant, for me.  A place to free yourself of many things, inhibitions included, the layers built up over time that conceal or shade the real you. I left several messages for people near and dear to me, including myself. We were unable to stay to watch it burn, but when I come back for the second time, I will not miss it.

The Take-away

So what does Burning Man mean?

For me, it’s about getting out of the regular box.  Sometimes this means a beach in Mexico.  Sometimes it’s a hike into the wilderness.   Sometimes it means driving into the middle of a freaking desert in summer to lose yourself and gain insight in the process.

The camaraderie and intensity of BM, the sheer effort required in planning, getting there, surviving there, is such a lesson in endurance, it creates a crazy bond line no other: we’re all in this shit storm together, we paid to be here, let’s fucking enjoy ourselves.

To endure, to survive is a metaphor for life itself and BM would not be what it is without the harsh environment.  The desert, the dust, the heat – all of it grinds on you mentally and physically – and if BM took place on a grassy field, in a temperate climate, with civilization close by – would it still bring out the very things people seek by coming here?

I say no.

Which could be a good thing. 

Despite BM growing in popularity, the extreme location will always be a turn off for a good portion of the population.  As it stands, the event is already past the tipping point of where it used to be and it’s anyone’s guess how the event will evolve in years to come.

For now, I finally made it. Burning Man did happen, I hope to make it back and I hope it manages to happen for others, for whatever brings them to this strange and wonderful location, for years to come.