Bicycles of Black Rock City
BLACK ROCK CITY, Nev. — For the most part cars are not allowed in Black Rock City and there is no subway.
One can travel the dusty expanse of the city on foot or maybe an art car, but the fastest and easiest way to get around is by bicycle. Of course the 5 mile per hour limit for art cars applies to bicycles, but it’s still fast to get around.
Once burners arrive in the city, their cars or trucks are parked in their camps and left until it’s time for the exodus. There are exceptions for emergency and law enforcement, of course.
Early in the week, I took advantage of the open space of the deep playa to ride the fastest sprint I could. I brought my brakeless track bike, complete with narrow tires and 78-inch (6.3 meter) gearing. I pun to the top of the gearing over the playa surface, which is like concrete with small bumps covered in baby powder.
If you go fast enough, it smooths from bumps to vibration. One needs to keep in mind the unicycles, chariots and other creations and the occasional soft spots in the playa surface. Or maybe being distracted by people shouting Shakespearian quotes in the manner of the Macho Man Randy Savage. I had to do some explaining to my Irish counterparts.
Most people — the smart burners — have fat tire cruisers or mountain bikes and don’t have high-speed runs across the desert. They slowly cruise from camp to camp, or maybe to some art installation or the porta-potties. Maybe to center camp or BMIR.
Bikes are the de facto way to get around and not only a vehicle for transportation but a vehicle for self-expression.
The kid was shooting people with the water gun whilst being pulled around.
Want to shoot fire with a propane puffer? No problem, fuck yea.
These trucks are a welcome exception to the no driving rule.
Embrace the dust. There is no escape from it.
A regatta on a prehistoric, dry lake bed
BLACK ROCK CITY, Nev. – Members of the city’s nautical community gathered around the main (and only) pier for a regatta of sorts. The setting sun began to cast long, cool shadows across the playa and the breeze (no more than a few knots) kicked up the occasional dust cloud, but nothing like the fierce dust storms of 2008. The tide was low — very, very low — which seemed oddly perfect. Captains of glorious vessels gathered with those who piloted smaller watercraft and curious crafts. Other burners continued their own pursuits — such as the ongoing battles between BMIR and Monticello — elsewhere and at different times, or maybe not at all.
Sharks and whales soared through the mostly-calm sky above the playa, making their way through the eddy currents of dust, cheers and dubstep from one end of the playa to the other, from the safe swim area to the Deathguild Thunder Dome. In this manner the regatta is the same as one can see anywhere like the Volvo Ocean Race or the America’s Cup. Exactly like it.
The humble and ramshackle building where the crab guy hocked his crab with soy sauce was also a bar during the week and probably sold the bait to catch the various kinds of burners form the end of the pier, where the popular fishing was perilously close to the safe swim area. For a small price the guy behind the counter has crab parts available (health codes be damned!) as well as many a tale of nautical woe.
The lucky or skilled angler can nab an unsuspecting hippie from the playa.
Visitors to the dock had the chance to stop for bait to take advantage of the bounty to be found at the end of a rod and reel. Bait for hippies, sparkle ponies, ravers and maybe even shape-shifting vampires was easy to find. The rumor around the pier was that Larry Harvey, also a shape-shifting vampire, became tangled in the rigging meant for a crusty old burner.
An unseen crew displayed a curious sailboat named Junk, made from garbage floating in the world’s oceans and an aircraft fuselage. They had charts and diagrams next to the vessel describing the origins of the garbage and building materials.
Charon poled a sad wooden vessel across the dusty River Styx in the deep playa, it’s silence broken by the occasional toll of a somber bell and the creak from rope rigging. The raucous noise from the Gypsy Queen more than made up for Charon.
Given the simultaneously lackadaisical and chaotic environment of Black Rock City, many people chose to just hang out under the dock in hammocks while others donned gold skin suits and cruised around on modified Jet-Skis.
OK, so the photos are all from the regatta, some aren’t near the dock. They’re close enough for BRC work.
See you on the playa my friends
SAN ANTONIO — The man burns in 207 days, the website says. It counts down by days or by seconds until the ritual burning of the large effigy simply called the Man.
This burning comes at the end of Burning Man, the annual, week-long event or festival or experiment in the high desert of Nevada.
My Burning Man ticket arrived today.
I had my doubts about the wisdom of going until I held the ticket in my hand. The crazy illustration with the hologram foil and embossed watermark — something about the ticket makes the crazy 1,800 mile journey I’ll take 200 days from now seem real.
My spirits are up and all reservations about are gone about going to Burning Man, especially since I can sell the ticket. Having a way out is good, but more importantly, something I wanted to do for 8 or maybe 10 years since I first heard of it.
The next step is preparing for the week in the desert and the trip there and back. The ticket was one big expense but the rest I can piece together during the coming months. I don’t plan to be in any sort of camp or have any elaborate set up. I’m going with a more basic camp with a tent and shade structure.
Radical self reliance is one of the underlying themes with the Burning Man experiment. It’s more than simply surviving, it’s thriving. It’s making something out of nothing, doing for oneself whilst giving and receiving help from others. It’s community in it’s purest form. A community and way of living unlike what this suburban purgatory has devolved into. No commercialism, no corporate greed, no misinformation campaigns.
The theme for this year’s Burning Man is “Rites of Passage,” which is strangely appropriate, since this is my first time and I’m at the dawn of life changes, for good, hopefully.
I have a new sense of hope and possibility and this will be a grand adventure, for good or ill.
I bought the ticket, now I’ll take the ride.
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