Mark Hewitt's Blog

The city is breaking apart now, dismantling itself hour by hour as the weekenders and early leavers pack away their camps and join the queue of cars stretching across the desert away from the city. A lot of people left during the dust storm, maybe thinking it just wasn't going to stop, and the turnout for the Burn was much smaller than expected. Now we're winding down toward the Temple burn tonight. Everywhere are bare spots of desert where once were elaborate camps and structures.

I spend most of the day at the Camp of Doom, helping to tear down (about half of them are leaving on Monday morning) and then just hanging out. I feel like I've become part of the group now, and it's a good feeling. I had planned to join a camp this year but just didn't get organised - next time I'll definitely sign up with a theme camp and maybe come in early for setup, get to see the city before the bulk of its citizens arrive. There's always another way to approach the week.

Mid afternoon we are visited by Dave. Dave looks exactly like Tom Cruise with a beard and dreadlocks - his mannerisms, voice, expressions and energy are so alike that we repeatedly come back to debating whether he really is Tom Cruise travelling incognito. Dave is higher than I've ever seen anyone, incredibly loud, manic, keeps breaking off from frenzied storytelling to scream his friend Aisling's name (she's standing on the other side of the shade structure) at the top of his lungs before returning to his diatribe without any apparent concern, and attempts to come on to every single woman in the camp by gazing into their eyes and saying with great emphasis "Do you want to have sex...with me?". But he does everything with a huge smile and so much love and warmth that we can't help but like him. Half the camp are laughing so hard we can barely stay in our chairs.

The only one not amused is Bex, who's been having a very hard couple of days. After Dave/Tom propositions her the first time she turns him down politely but firmly, and asks him to leave her alone. He then tries the same thing twice more. The third time, he returns to regaling us while Bex leaves and returns with a heavy five-foot length of two-by-four and stands behind him, expressionless, while we all make frantic gestures to him that it's time to leave.

After he finally moves on, Ben and I are debating the implications of Dave/Tom's approach to social interaction. He's basically a loud, obnoxious, totally oblivious nutter - but because he's so warm and positive, nobody (except Bex) can help but love him. We're both naturally quiet guys who have learned and are learning to be more outgoing and outspoken, and the idea is intriguing. We decide to try a thoroughly scientific experiment.

Taking two folding chairs, we set up on the edge of the camp beside one of the main roads running in and out of the Wheel, where there's still a lot of foot traffic, and for around two hours every time a woman passes, of any age (over 18) or description, we give them a big grin and shout "Excuse me! Would you like to have sex...with me?"

The results are remarkable. Both of us get a lot of "maybe later" and "not right now", but within half an hour Ben nets an attractive Frenchwoman who not only responds positively but then starts actively trying to get him back to her trailer. He's not particularly interested, but with his bluff called and protestations of "it's just a science experiment" it takes him ten minutes to get rid of her. Soon after I attract a tall thin blonde who silently approaches, crouches down in front of me and kisses me with enough passion to make my hair stand on end, then leaves. A little later I am approached by Annie from the camp across the road, small, dark-haired and gentle, who takes me back to her trailer, feeds me pizza and slices of steak and says that sex later is definitely not out of the question.

I repack my own stuff and give away everything I'm not going to need from here on - el-wire, my santa suit, the purple robe we found on the playa, my spiked bracelets and a number of other bits and pieces. It's satisfying to have so much extra space and reduced weight in my pack. The only "luxury" item I'm hanging onto is my purple and black silk dressing-gown, and I might ship that home at some point. I've finally given up on contact juggling so I give my one remaining practice ball away, and plan to make some poi when I get back to the world - I've tried spinning poi a little in Center Camp and found it feels a lot more natural to me, I like the dance aspect of it too.

In the early evening the dust rises again, but only lightly, as the remaining citizens converge on the Temple out beyond the Man. As I walk out I come alongside a gathering crowd walking in step along the lantern-lined Promenade and singing Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". I join in, as do dozens of others passing us and behind us, then I move ahead and hear their voices fall away behind me.

When I reach the Temple the crowd is, as last year, smaller and much quieter than the gathering for the Man. This is a very different kind of event - the Saturday burn is raucuous, loud and frenzied, with pumping music from the art cars and yelling from the crowd. Here people sit quietly in contemplation. The art cars slowly fade out their music. This is a time when people look back over their week, their year and their lives, get in touch with their journeys, think about the people they've lost or left behind. For myself and many others, this is the real climax of the week.

I find a great spot at the back of the circle, with just a couple of rows of people already there, and take a seat. I have a perfect view of the temple, standing out white and crisp in the floodlights as the safety crews and fire officers make their final checks, every angle standing out sharply. A procession of Temple Guardians make their way round the edge of the circle just inside the gathering crowd, ringing bells, playing Tibetan singing bowls and chanting. The crowd are almost silent now. A lone female voice, as last year, comes over the speakers. She is singing in Hindi.

When the torch-bearers finally emerge, circle and dip their torches to the base of the structure, the flames leap up very fast. The Temple has obviously been doused in some flammable solution, because the flames run rapidly over every part, the white wood looking silver-grey with an aura of perfect, searingly white fire that seems to surround it but not touch it. Everything is silent now except for the crackling of the flames. Behind us the cold night wind is blowing past, in front we're blasted with heat by the burning structure.

Slowly, the fire eats into the building, the huge solid beams beginning to fill with flame, embers glowing through the icons and runes carved into them. It takes a long time, the crowd growing a little restless. Most keep silent, a few yell and shout but only briefly - the momentum of this event, the calm of it, is pretty powerful. Pieces fall away in stages, the lighter beams and decorations first, simplifying and stripping the design until only the structural frame remains. Then the diagonal braces drop one by one, and the beams first lean then collapse, the crowd producing one wild whoop as it comes down. The Temple is gone. With perfect timing, as though it's been waiting, the wind whips up again and the air starts to fill with dust.

Slowly we rise, one by one, and disperse. The art cars are starting up again and heading for the city, and I hitch a ride on a little covered car full of people in panda costumes. The dust is getting thick now, the air very cold, and we huddle together in the bed of the car in a protective group hug. The driver, also in a panda suit, wearing goggles and clutching a cigarette in his teeth against the rising wind, cranks up the music over the noise of the storm as we barrel on towards the now-invisible lights.

They drop me off at 9:30 and B, and I walk home along the curve of the city. The dust is thick, the worst night whiteout I've seen so far, and I can barely make out the lines of lights which delimit the road. Many camps are now missing and the city is becoming shapeless. Center Camp, for the first time, is no visible guide. More buses and trailers are moving out on all sides. I end up at around the 6:00 mark in front of the yard of Black Rock Power, who install and hook up the biodiesel generators for the core of the city. No Burner structures are visible, just the sillhouettes of huge industrial engines and cranes against the faint glow of lights dispersed by dust, and it's as though I've stepped accidentally into a different world. I feel very alone and lost.

Finally I round a corner onto 6:30 and ahead I can see the halo of Center Camp and hear the snap of the flags in the wind. I walk in on a wave of relief and comfort. Ahead and behind are other Burners, huddled against the storm, heading for that oasis of light and welcome.

Inside, the marquee is like a refugee camp. Every bench and table and space on the floor is jammed with figures in goggles and masks, hunched over, exhausted and battered. Elaborate costumes have mostly been put aside at the end of the week, and a general Mad Max vibe predominates - functional desertwear and leather, scarves and bandannas and thick boots.

As I walk across the central circle under the open roof, a few drops of rain begin to fall, refreshing and shocking. They splash into the thin layer of dust which covers the floor pattern. I stand under the open sky and let the scattered drops bounce off my skin.

I spend the night in Center Camp until the storm slowly subsides again, refugees from all over the city gathering and breaking away in little knots. Many people have their luggage or backpacks piled up next to them, waiting for a clear window to leave the city. Several have handwritten signs "Need a ride to Reno", "L.A.", "Bay Area".

I end up sharing my sleeping bag duvet with a quiet little dreadlocked hippie chick called Maia, exchanging stories of travelling the country - she's been hitchhiking since high school, working on farms and doing odd jobs. She's got so many amazing stories - when she leaves here she's going to house-sit some guy's yacht on the California coast, and learn how to crew it.

When I return to the Camp of Doom to start packing my stuff, I find that Annie came back looking for me after the Temple burned.

A few highlights for Sunday from the Black Rock City Events Guide:

6:00am: Sunday Sunrise Teaparty at Love to Bone camp. "Need some caffeine for your long drive? How about a relaxing herbal infusion before turning in for the day? Little white gloves optional."

3:00pm: Take My Tent Down, hosted by Vino the Dog. "Come participate by taking my tent down and packing it in my truck for me while I watch and drink beer."

12:01am: Pack your shit and go home! "Look. It's over. Go home already. See you next year. Oh, and take some extra trash if you can. Drive safe."

Continue to the last part: Exodus

Labels: black rock city, burning man, camp of doom, center camp, dust storm, Nevada, Temple