Traveling through the grandeur of the Sierras brought back memories of many warm summer days, hiking down the steep trails to the secluded boulder riddled shore front of the forbidden 'private' coves giving way to the brave unencumbered nudist perched strategically upon the granite surface surrounded only by the crystal clear water of lake Tahoe. Knowing the passing ski boats were there only for the view of those wanting to brave the absence of clothing, but reluctant to due to deep seated fears of rejection and condemnation. The pass was void of the winter blanket of snow and the clear deep blue sky motioned me to continue toward the crest of the roadway, the uppermost portion of highway, the rest stop filled with anxious lowlanders seeking a moment to breathe in the crisp air at levels rarely reached, knowing full well the journey down the other side would take me to the dust and sage of the high Nevada desert. Remnants of the classic vehicles of 'Hot August Nights' were existing the valley and passing on the highway back to Sacramento, Vallejo, Walnut Creek and San Francisco. Clearly not the 'man' crowd, but a respected crowd for the vintage wheels and the love of nostalgia shared by those collectors. As I passed through Reno I was reminded of my childhood there, but my desire to claim my spot near the inner city was stronger and after fueling for my final trek before arriving at my destination I paused only to look back upon the Truckee Meadows and gaze back at the Sierras knowing I would soon be returning, but with another 'man' experience to embrace and lay ever so gently into the inner most recesses of my sole.
The desert playa was awaiting my arrival and both the 'man' and 'temple' were waiting my presence and my tales to post and share and watch as the flames grew higher and higher lighting the playa sky during the darkest moments of the desert night taking my creations, my thoughts, my tales to the heavens above. The playa waits for no one and no one waits for the playa. As I entered from the highway to the dirt road leading to the beginning of a new city laid out on the empty playa remembering the last years 'man' and the beauty of the week long event, I fumbled to find my ticket stub. This years theme was highlighted on the stub itself and only stirred within me the prior 'man' experiences I had had. Earlier arrivals were exhibiting the dress of the day, or the lack thereof, but were clearly enmeshed in the 'man' experience. I wound around the 'streets' to find the perfect spot for my home for the next ten days. I wasn't on the outer edge of the city, but found myself nearer to the 'inner city' than any year previous. Once parked, I prepared my 'home' - erected my parachute ceiling, tied down the cloth to steaks deep within the playa ensuring no draft would be too strong to bring it crashing to the playa floor and securing it to my VW van.
Darkness drew swiftly and the cold desert air stirred silently as the travelers began to emerge from their 'homes' to city center, the temple and the 'man' himself. The flames were frequent and the dancers were moving between the 'art cars' and travelers were greeting the 'lamplighters' and the 'city center' was filled with artists and onlookers breathing in the smells from the city dwellers preparing meals, sharing with neighbors and readying themselves for the long night of celebration. The BM police were out in force and patrolling the streets maintaining some semblance of order and providing the needed assurance of protection from the evil doers. The clinic was always active with those with playa foot and dehydration to those simply needing a place to 'come down' from whence they came. Those caring for the city dwellers were sent from above and always there to provide the care the citizens were in need of without judgement or condemnation, only sharing from the depths of their soles with a smile and a warm heart.
As in past years I had prepared myself for my time on the playa. Water to drink, water to bathe, jerky, dried fruits and nuts, apples, pre-prepared package meals enjoyed cooked or not, light layered clothing and both skin care products and a first aid kit completed all that was necessary to keep me from wanting from others. With the wind and alkali dust churning without notice, swimmers goggles and a head lamp were standard within my back-pack along with my 'gifts' to fellow 'man' attendees. I learned many 'mans' ago the importance of this gear and have had need for it with each 'man' since. My 'gifts' as in past years, hand made and filled with heart and soul were finished before Independence Day just in time for Burning Man 2010.
My 'house' was in order and secured, my stomach was full and I was ready for the first night of this years 'man' celebration. I could hear confilcting genres of music playing just outside my chute and laughter as well as screams of pain or pleasure, art car engine sounds, metal to metal clanging, bells, whistles and drums all welcomed me to begin my trek to city center and beyond. The lamplighters were lighting the street lamps and the night sky was filled with playa dust, soot, feathers and smells beyond comprehension, but the desire to continue toward the temple was just too great. I stopped to share my 'gifts' with each one I passed by and was invited to hang out with my fellow city dwellers enjoying the 'gifts' I received as well. I knew I would wind up at the temple before morning, so as I slowed my pace and enjoyed the new friends I had made; I realized my time traveling within the city would be as great as past 'man' experiences.
