The weather is a constant concern in Black Rock, especially when you are trying to build a city out of desert nothingness.
One minute, the skies will be the bluest of blues, without the faintest hint of a breeze, and the sun is slowly crisping your skin and brains.
And the next, the wind will come up, and you’ll notice the sky beginning to change. In the distance you’ll see a storm cell, and as it approaches, the sky will change to shades of gray, with white fluffy clouds turning a beautiful but ominous silver.
And just as you think that this summer squall will pass by or around you, it redirects itself and unleashes its torrent of water right where you are standing.
Burning Man staff and volunteers have mostly moved out of Gerlach to the playa, and Wednesday night was supposed to have been both the first meal in the Commissary tent, and the last night of the Black Rock Saloon.
But the weather wouldn’t be ignored, and late in the afternoon, a squall hit Black Rock City and brought all vehicular traffic to a halt. No one could get from town to the playa, and anyone stuck in town was going to be there for awhile.
“I told Cuervo (the HEaT honcho on duty last night) that if he didn’t keep the roads open, I was gonna kick him in the – – – ,” Shelley from Spectrum Services was saying Thursday morning. After all, she and her crew had dinner ready and waiting, and if no one could get there, well, there was going to be a lot of food going to waste.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen. Even without a strong sun to dry things out, the minuscule humidity and steady wind kept haul road passable, and people were able to go about their business and get their grub.
Thursday started out blue and beautiful, but by midday, the clouds were rolling in again, and watchful crews at Man Base and other locations were keeping alert. The other day, Cuervo had to halt operations because, even though the sky was clear above us, there was a lightning strike within six miles. Anything closer than 25 miles is considered dangerous.
Lightening also apparently ignited a relatively small brush fire in the hills outside Gerlach, and you could see the red glow of the flames and smoke rising to the sky. Cowboy Carl said it was in Cottonwood Canyon, and we saw fire teams racing to the scene.
And just a brief word about what rain does to the playa. If you’ve never visited, you might think we tend to overreact when it rains, even a little bit. But what might not be immediately apparent is that water turns the alkaline dust of the playa into a thick, sticky goo, about the consistency and weight of cement. It sticks to your shoes and makes walking next to impossible. The goo sticks to your tires, too, and even four-wheel-drive vehicles can quickly become bogged down. And any car or truck that does try to move leaves deep gouges in the playa surface, and those ruts become rock hard when they dry out.
There’s a bright side, though. The changeable weather has brought unfathomably beautiful skies and sunsets. There have been lots of rainbows, almost every day. People come out of whatever structure they are in to gawk upward when the light shows begin.
“It’s like tropical skies in the desert,” Heather Hoxsey, the bar manager of the Black Rock Saloon, was saying. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” And it changes every day.
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So the first Commissary meal was served on playa Wednesday night, and the first on-playa morning meeting was held the next day. The Council of Darkness huddled around a pickup truck for their ever-important meeting-before-the- meeting, and then the Cobra Commander took his place on the stairs of the Depot to address the troops.
“Let’s go over two of the quick rules for the first morning meeting,” he began. “Number one, shut up. That’s my favorite rule. Number two, move closer, so I don’t have to shout.”
Workers ambled slowly toward the front. Some of them might have been moving maybe slightly more slowly than usual, because the previous night was also the last night of the Black Rock Saloon in town. The Yellow Bike Crew had taken over the festivities for the evening, and much hilarity ensued.
Cobra relayed news that an orientation meeting for first-timers would take place Friday, and that the speed limit in Black Rock City is 20 mph. “You don’t have to drive 20mph,” he said, “because there’s a lot of (stuff) out there that you can hit and do a lot of damage if you hit it at 20 mph. Just be safe. Don’t run over stuff.” He noted that there was a 30 percent chance of more weather in the afternoon, “so keep an eye on the sky, because you know when things go sideways, they go sideways bad.”
When it came time for open comments, Cowboy Carl piped up to say, “When you’re out there driving in heavy equipment or any kind of equipment, if you see a line that’s been drug through the desert, that’s not magic, that’s not a flaw in the playa, I put it there. There shouldn’t be anybody driving on it. That’s not the road to recovery, kids.”
Other folks spoke up about various and sundry, from moving out of town to having the proper driving decals to upcoming “social” events. Then Cobra said if anybody didn’t know what they were supposed to be doing they should come to him, and everybody should have “a great [effing] day!” Whoops and hollers and off everybody went.
—
Old timers no doubt roll their eyes when they hear that there now is an “orientation” session for newcomers. Because any DPW will tell you that they are badasses. Baddest of the bad. Snarly and self-sufficient. Grizzled and cocky. Suspicious of newcomers. And maybe not the friendliest people you could ever meet.
But that image, and the reality behind it, has been changing, for better or for worse. Mostly for better.
Cuervo had an interesting take on the transformation.
He was saying that a badass attitude is not really what makes someone DPW, but rather it’s being badass about getting the job done.
“We are hard core, we can do this,” he said. “That’s what makes us what we are. Not being violent or mean, but it’s that we can do the job no matter how hard it is. They way you start and the way you finish, you know? That you can do it in these conditions … that’s where the crustiness comes from, that we can do the job.”
—
Here are some more pics:
Thank you for that article. SO ready to come home.
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thanks for reading!
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Great write up!
Next best thing to being there.
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no substitute for being here :)
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Excellent article.
Excellent writing.
Thanks for the insightful write up.
Look forward to the next one.
I’ve never attended and hope to attend in 20.
This type of article helps those of us on the outside get an idea of what it’s like and how to prepare.
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thanks for following along!
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Hard to express how much I’m enjoying your articles. Coming home next Tuesday and I feel like i know what’s been going on thanks to you. And you write beautifully.
Dusty Hugs, Catnip
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you are super kind, thank you
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Is there private security at the gate?
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not sure what you mean by private security; but there are Gate people at the entrance
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How many people would pee themselves laughing if it down-poured during exodus? The National Guard would need to be called out for rescue.
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I don’t want to think about that!
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Wish I was there suffering with yall.. 2013 DPW was my best year ever of almost two consecutive decades . Building Burningman was one of the most amazing and challanging summers Ive had. And the effect on me has spawned a life long hommage. Im currently building theme campus housing for low income and do ocratic self directed leadership people , makers , burners, and civic revolutionary designers..My success depends upon what I learn..and its all done up until now and until next month..with what is found and what is gifted. Metamorphesus for community micro hoods and my next stage of life …i hope I can rest on the flower of Oakland and fly and flutterby away from poverty and paniless solitude to respect and great acts of architecture. Ive nothing but hope and a few supporters and inspiration. THANK YOU DPW GATE AND BURNING OFFICES. Even ignored you still shape my life and those whom i color putside the box.
I sure loved morning meetings. Some how id wake up five minutes before my alarm every day. I was so proud to wear the hoodie and fly the sticker on my truck.
Maybe someday Ill do it right and make squad again.
Ive got dust in my blood. Fire in my heart
With you all in the flames.
11
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So excited to meet the badass’ – scared virgin burner.
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the bark is usually much worse than the bite
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Great article, full of articulated descriptions of the process and life on the Playa.
One day I hope to contribute to process.
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thanks for reading!
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Thank you John Curley for everything you write! I look forward to your articles year after year! <3
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thanks for following along!
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Oh, man! Sweet nectar of life! – I wanna be out there tonight – checkin’ that perspective of the moon and Venus from the BRC! Sheesh!
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Jupiter actually
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Love your visual diary!!
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“The skies have been ridiculous”
And so are the pictures…
Getting my camera ready for next Wednesday when I arrive…
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I tell people that the playa surface after a drenching rain is a curious mix of sticky as peanut butter and slick as KY. I suppose I could add heavy as concrete to that description.
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Thanks for the story (and the pictures!), John. Makes me long to be there. I wonder if it’s possible to feel nostalgia for something that hasn’t happened yet. If so, that’s what I’m feeling right now. I’ve already applied to work for DPW in in 2020. Wish me luck!
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Thanks John for your excellent and frequent writings about this important moment as we ramp up to our annual pilgrimage! Thank you all DPW crew, BORG, volunteers and everyone paving the way for us! Can’t wait to see you all again in the dust!!
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