Reflections on 8th Burning Man visit

By Sam Bauman
First time I went to Burning Man on the Black Rock playa, I slept in my SUV. Not bad but second and third it was in my tent, a very gritty and uncomfortable week. Fourth I weaseled my way into a friend's a fold-out trailer, which was better. But from then on I teamed up with a retired airline pilot, who had a nice 27-foot Winnebago. Four of us the first three times, just two the last.

Over the eight years I've seen the Man change, from a modest 30,000 Burners to 53,000 this year. Black Rock City has grown until the circular arms almost meet. Parking near Media Mecca, naturally my place to file stories, isn't easy but can be done. That's close to the big, rocking City Cafe, where as one of two spots at the event where something is sold --- hot drinks at the Cafe and ice at Arctica.

My first two or three stays I filed stories on how many were there, how many drug arrests, how many cases of heat prostration were registered by the Bureau of Land Management agents, the Washoe and Pershing counties sheriff detachments.
But recently I've managed to actually take in the panorama of things going on.
Lectures. On everything from Buddhism to yoga, from pollution to green projects, from capitalism to socialism, from dancing to meditation. Name it, there's a place to go.

Art. Much of the art works are out on the playa, a couple of miles from the City Cafe. Some are huge --- the nude lady of woven steel was are at least 100 feet tall --- some are little more than the size of a VW Bug.

Religion. The Temple is a big structure, this year with five minaret-like towers and walkways to a second level. This is probably the most important building in Black Rock City, renamed every year to match the event's theme. The building is of raw wood with a central space for contemplation, this year with cymbals, bells and other percussive devices ringing out abstract melodies. Burners are free to inscribe thoughts on the bare wood --- to parents, loves and loved ones, to pets, to heroes, and by the Sunday following the fiery end of the Burning Man Saturday night, the bare wood surfaces are crammed with messages, all to go up in flames.

People. The population now of 53,000 (supposed to be limited to 50K but somehow an extra 3,000 got in) is a wild mixture of styles and statements. Perhaps 10 percent of women are topless to varying degrees, 1 percent or less nude. Men are less exhibitionists --- seems like a 1/10th percent are nude. There's no standard dress, but outlandish seems to be the aim. This is, after all, a celebration of "alternate" life styles.

Sex. Some writers describe Burning Man as wild naked dancers, orgies and dope. There is dope, but smelling it an interesting feat as the constant winds blow smoke away. Naked dancers --- this year only one handsome couple in the Cafe exhibition area. She was slim and lovely.

In eight years I have yet to see fornication out in the open. Just doesn't happen.

Gifts. One of the core ideas of BM is giving something away. This year my haul included several woven bracelets, some thoughtful cards, some trinkets. We gave away iced bottled water.

Environmental damage to the playa. Doesn't happen, BLM inspectors check after it's all over and crews have cleaned up all the stuff that isn't generic to the playa. And any complaints about using federal land for profit has to be judged against the continuing use and impact of ski resorts on federal land by profit-making companies.

The Burn itself. Something different, oddly out of key to BM. Dancers before the burn, like a vaudeville act. Weird.

Well, lots more, but you get the idea. Lots of people, many smoking dope, probably some private sex, lots of fun and enlightenment. And the chance to see the Man burning down without any danger to the world.

Fun if you get in the mood of freedom.