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Camp Envy–Closing up

Published on by Kathy Baker

I have mixed reactions this time of the year. I love the autumn in Michigan and with my newly-retired husband by my side all summer, we have decided to visit the fall color in the upper peninsula, which is a first for us both. But, with the temperatures getting colder and the lodge with no heat, it means time to pack up and head south. The porch and lawn furniture have to be cleaned; linens laundered and stored; food emptied from the pantry and fridge; screens covered to keep the snow from damaging the floors; bulbs planted and covered and water shut off to keep the pipes from freezing.

The upper dormers and windows, plus the tall east and west sides of the building were painted last year. This summer my hubby finished the rest, with the help of his cousins’ from Texas, who took time out of their vacation to scrape and paint some trim. The project list will never run out, as the roof leaked this summer and ruined our front porch ceiling. “Next summer”, says he–next summer’s project to install new wood ceilings and fans with lights for the hot summer nights playing Euchre.

The leaves are turning color and dropping on the trail of our morning walks. All the foliage is turning brown. By the lake, seaweed is washing up to shore and with very little boat traffic or children swimming, the water is crystal clear. We have chores to do to in the boathouse with all the inflatables and toys and picnic tables to store for the winter. The boat will be taken out of the water and refurbished with new seats for next summer’s fun.

One of my neighbors gave me an old camp bench, presumably used in the craft hut with the interior colored with paint spills. The original rusty hinges are still on the lid, which lifts up. I bleached the old wood and gave it a new look with chalkboard paint to store my grandkids’ crafts and supplies. Our sons’ also built a fire pit on the front lawn, so the younger kids could be heard when the adults are still up. Along with little projects like this, the garden was hacked back to ready for the snow and the totem pole will be stored. Hut one is cleaned, wood ants are sprayed and it is locked up to keep the hunters from using it as a deer blind. Goodbye summer, hello winter. See you in the spring.

 

 

Silver Burners–Bringing Our Friends and Family

Published on by Kathy Baker

Aside from my beautiful daughters, Dawn and Brooke (and her husband Gage), whose presence were the most delightful bonus to my Burningman experience–traveling with my friend Teri added to the depth of the week. She was easy and fun, and at any moment of reflection or observation added wisdom to any situation. She was the best companion in terms of going with the flow and at the end of the week, we both laughed at her statement “you did not annoy me one bit”. We merged with ease into a camp whose main goal was to house people who were not partying all day and night, so we had a peaceful camp.

I personally tucked into my belongings many sentimental tokens, pieces of clothing, bits of ribbons and jewelry that friends had given me. My funny friend Margo’s necklace and a bracelet adorned my white outfit, and Claire’s woven ribbons graced my hair. (Claire was a graduate of fashion design from the School of Art Institute of Chicago). I wanted to have a little of her creations with me. Lydia’s crocheted ribbon necklace added color to my colorful bathing suit. My daughter-in-law Liz gave me an antique blue bead necklace. I hung a chain filled with my father’s Army dog tag, his jingle bell from his Santa slippers, my mother’s silver cross, my Ya-Ya’s Irish friendship charm, my husband’s initialed key chain, my Kilt pin, and the “Trust” engraved bracelet I gave my best friend Molly to wear as she endured years of chemo.

Around my neck, I wore the prayer beads I had assembled for the best friend of my life over eight years ago. They were beaded with meaning. In between the beads, I strung charms and tokens. My mother-in-law also wove a piece of her wedding headdress on the long colorful string, remembering Molly with fondness. Her children returned the beads after her passing and I wondered what would I do with them? The temple at Burningman seemed an appropriate place to bring them. I felt like I had taken Molly to Burningman with me and wondered if she enjoyed the experience as much as I had. Teri and I rode our bikes out to the temple at 8:00 but were too late to enter. They had closed it an hour before, readying it for the burn that night, but had emissaries to carry the messages to loved ones or items for the altar. I watched as a tall young man slowly and reverently carried the beads into the large wooden structure and lay them on the altar. I wept, saying goodbye to her all over again.

Teri brought her friend Tina with her. She knew there would be a time she would feel like it was right to scatter her ashes to the wind. We woke up at 4:45 one morning and rode the art car with others who gathered at the trash fence on the perimeter of the city. The sunrise was magnificent! I looked to my right at one point and Teri had wandered away by herself and quietly read her tribute and Tina left with the morning breeze under a layered sherbet sky. Tina and Teri, together again, but another goodbye.

The temple burn that night was magnificent. You could hear a pin drop. The structure reminded me of a giant Jenga game, but it is the soul of Burningman. It was created by Geordie Van Der Bosch and was named the “Temple of Direction, in the style of Japanese shrines. Lanterns decorated the interior and exterior spaces, but the walls were adorned inside and out with messages to loved ones, photos of family members and friends, and dresses and clothing. Thousands of burners sat on the ground and others were piled on art cars. Even the music stopped for the burning of the temple. Embers floated in huge pieces and hot ash filled the sky. We discovered later that there was a section that had to move because the embers were falling on them. I heard people crying out “I love you Mom” and some were weeping for their lost friends and family.

Silver Burners–Transportation

Published on by Kathy Baker

If we had only walked the 7-square mile city of Burningman and not biked or rode the art car, we would have thrown out more than two pairs of boots. We hiked back from the Playa one night, under the stars, after hitching a ride on our friend’s art car. Walking meant you could actually make personal contact with the multitude of camps. One morning I got up early, opened up my parasol and took a walkabout around section 4:30, meeting my neighbors and grabbing hugs along the way. It was the perfect way to pass out my journals!

Having a bike was a necessity, but it also was a refreshing return to childhood. Teri was on a regular bike and I was on a three-wheeled tricycle. I had to relearn how to ride the darn thing! I hopped on and it kept turning right. I panicked, thinking to myself if I cannot master this, I am in big trouble. Brooke hopped on and did fine, but one of our campmates finally figured out why I was having such a tough time. (Aside from riding one-handed.) I was trying to balance and she instructed me to act like it was a car and just steer. It was all I needed to hear.

Our bikes were tricked out with lights, lanterns, and baskets. There are no rules of the road at Burningman. People are from all over the world and other countries drive on the left, while we drive on the right. In the desert bikes just pedaled wherever they wanted, so lights were essential at night to be seen. (They were also essential as a pedestrian if you did not want to be run over by an art car or bike.)

We had bike locks. Should we do keys or combination locks? We decided on combos, worrying we would lose the key. Gage took a large marker and wrote my 4-number combo on my right arm, in case I forgot. (Branded like a heifer:) Why do we need a bike lock, I asked, and was told that drunk or high peeps may think that your bike is their bike and just wander off with it, and how would you find your bike in a city of 80,000? 90% of unlocked bikes are stolen!

The desert roads in the city started out rock-hard, but as the city grew and traffic increased, the bike paths became rutted and tough to ride. Teri and I moaned as we jostled along the pothole paths, whining about saddle-sore butts and tough pedaling. (The tricycle was even tougher than the regular bike.) We finally caught on to the fact if we rode all the way to the right, it was easier to ride. Biking on the Playa was smoother still, but other areas that experienced more dust storms were like riding in talcum powder. (This was not a sand desert, but alkaline dust.) If you blew a tire or lost a chain, there were camps that repaired for free, but thankfully ours never failed us.

We loved the fact that our new friend with his art car liked hanging in “Camp Nailed-It” and enjoyed ferrying us out to the art installations. We enjoyed the sunrise, sunset and various parties as we motored out on his invention. It meant we could ride, view more art and people watch as we passed bikers and pedestrians. We met new friends, as they hopped aboard the musical vehicle and it was a nice spot to sit while we watched the burning of the Burningman and the temple burn Many of the art cars were works of whimsy or moving discotheques with techno blasting from their lit vehicles. Others were floating bars offering free shots of whiskey chased by pickle juice or alcoholic slushies.

We saw many abandoned bikes as we packed up to leave. Leave no trace is one of the ten Burningman principles and it shocked us to hear thousands and thousands of bikes are left behind. Instead of heading to a landfill, groups collect them, repair and refurbish and resell them back to burners the next year.

Silver Burners–Wardrobe/Costumes

Published on by Kathy Baker

I could not wait to wear the outfits that I had assembled with the help of my costume-sewing girlfriend Teri. Both of us had discussed what we were packing for six months and had met up to stitch together all the bits and pieces. We packed warm weather clothes for daytime and cool weather clothes for nighttime. We bought our boots and socks; scarves and wraps; goggles and glasses; hats and headwear; jewelry and accessories. Guess what? WE DID NOT GET TO WEAR ONE COSTUME WE MADE! There will be no photos of us in costumes because it was too damn hot at night to wear them!

One warm night I slid into my butterfly costume, created with wings attached to the bodice of an old dress. My friend Stephanie created the most amazing milkweed pod and paper mâché monarch butterfly necklace. I had a headdress of blue butterflies lit with tiny LED lights. I had lost 12 lbs. since it was created for me. I could not get it on. Teri and I finally realized we had been hydrated with so much Gatorade and energy cubes with sodium that we were bloated! Screw that. I was like a teenager. I went for the sea creature outfit with shiny lurex fish-scale leggings and a long-sleeved blouse with fins, complete with seashells and blue glass beads wired together for my headdress. I just about fainted from the sweat just getting my ass into those slinky pants. Off they came. I finally ended up in a sleeveless top and mesh pants that breathed, so I could breathe.

My steam-punk outfit will be there for Halloween. A black skirt held up in folds with brass hoops, a black velvet jacket with loops of red ribbon crisscrossing my back and black and white striped long socks with my black buckle boots would be topped off with a punky assemblage of jewelry. (Black and red leather bird on a chain and a handmade safety pin necklace.) I also had a perky little black netted fascinator hat and a black brace on my left arm from my broken wrist which was to be decorated with steampunk charms. Packed away.

Our fur coats were in a huge bin, but only two of them were used. I had the floor-length coat from Haight-Ashbury that never got used. Teri wore her pink fur and I wore my fuzzy cape, but others lay sadly in their bin safely away from Playa dust. Girlfriend and I would have loved loved loved cooler weather, as we are always hot even when others are not, but it was not to be.

 

We headed out on the art car one night for the burning of the man and were happy to be comfortable on a cool night with our coat and cape, but saw younger people wrapped in fur with very little underneath. They were not in the throes of personal summers due to their age, but I am quite sure some were hot and stripped down once the man was set on fire. (Had I had mascara on, the heat would have melted it.) The fashionistas of both sexes brought their faux furs and probably decided they would rather suffer with their coats and vests on rather than having an incomplete look. You go, girls and guys, while I fan myself.

Silver Burners–Shenanigans

Published on by Kathy Baker

I met the head of the orgy dome waiting for my Burner Bus. She invited me to come for a visit and I mutely nodded my head as I tried to picture myself in that environment. I knew there would be a little of something for everyone at Burningman, as I had studied hours of videos and read plenty of articles on the alternate lifestyles that would be represented. I suspended any form of judgment for lifestyles that were not of my own choosing and embraced the love and friendliness of this happening. Everyone I met gave out hugs like candy and it was so refreshingly spontaneous.

Our camp had one adult game, which only received a minimal amount of attention. I think our campmates wilted under the noonday sun and did not advertise to passersby as much as they desired their rest in the shade structure. The “Office Space” game was a hit, which was based on the movie by the same name. Flair buttons were passed around, a baseball bat was handy to beat the copy machine to smithereens and adult beverages were passed out as people described why they loved the movie, hated their jobs or loved the mat out front with the “Jump to conclusions” game.

I am quite sure my second-born daughter wanted to be there with me to make sure I played safe and did not do anything silly. Trust me, my desire for being in the moment at this event included no drugs and no drinking anything that I was unsure of, as in the days of my motherly admonishments to my own four offspring. I had plenty of opportunities, but also witnessed the aftereffects of some who had bad trips and over-excessive drinking. Not for me. One barefoot hippie wandered through our camp and asked if I wanted LSD and I said, “I have the best thing going right here in this cup with some great boxed Chardonnay.” (I”m pretty sure he was undercover.)

We did have some fun and games out there. While riding around in the blazing sun on our bikes, we took advantage of every person with a sprayer in their hands and received many “knee-gasms”, which included sprays behind the knees. Individuals would bark outside their campsites, especially on the marvelous Esplanade, to come in for massages, essential oils, or doctoring. Teri and I finally succumbed to Dr. Playa, where we received a cat scan (fluffy stuffed animal patted all over our bodies), a dognastic test, eye chart reading between our legs, ear, and nose cleaning for dust and finally and injection. (vodka-infused with wonderful flavors). We laughed for hours.

In the 4:30 sector, we were invited to a Gay Party. One daughter came with us and we had a ball filling out a questionnaire to determine what persuasion we were, before getting our “gay card”. The party was in full swing and we missed the genital imprinting on aprons. (Oh, dear me!) What we did not miss was the fun and conversation with two friends who invited us for a lovely cold pear margarita laced with laughter. Their large camp contained many vintage airstream trailers with outdoor spaces of gauzy curtains and shades. I was informed at the end of our stay that I was really a gay man in a woman’s body due to my wit.

Another local party, across from our camp, had great music set to a light creation that hung from a dome-shaped tent. Resplendent with curtains, large pillows, and cushy seating, we all sat mesmerized with the lights as we met new people. It was cooler in the evenings and nice that we could just walk a few feet to our tents and crash when we wanted to leave.

We meet people from all over the world, many who were there for the first time. Half of the people I met had been there multiple times. Their stories were wonderful. How they came to Burningman or why they decided to do this for the first time or why they continued to come. My project included sending four moleskin journals out with the question, “What Brings You To Burningman?” and I hope they end up back in my possession for a future story. Besides the art installations, I came to be energized by meeting new people.

Silver Burners—Personal Playa Hygiene

Published on by Kathy Baker

Ok. Let’s talk about staying clean in alkaline dust, not sand, on a 95-100 degree desert. Talk. That is all it is. There is no real hygiene. Let it go. Let it go. Let it go!

“What are the things you worry about the most?” asks Gage of his favorite mother-in-law and girlfriend. “Heat, and the fact we love two showers a day.” Settled. Swamp cooler installed, since his resurrected A/C unit failed, a case of baby wipes, antiseptic wipes, and boogie wipes and VOILA! a shower in our camp!

The miracle of a shower cannot be underestimated. If I was stranded on a desert island, God forbid it was a huge island far away from water. I would crawl to it. Baby wipes are awesome, but some bits and pieces just need a little more:)

Grab your towel, get to the public camp shower without losing it. (Some cared not.) Hop in and spray yourself with a spray nozzle resembling a pest control sprayer, before dousing yourself with Bronners. Peppermint! OmG someone tell me why my hoo-hoo is on fire! (Sorry for details:) Where is my organic hemp Castile soap???? I screamed. I hopped around. I survived. I learned.

The porta-potties are evil. One young campmate decorated the potty on the left with flowers, tropical murals, and anything sweet-smelling and put caution tape on the door, hoping most would avoid like the porta-plague. It was our special place, but we still came armed with extra toilet paper and in my case–purse-size Lysol. I will never ever ever ever love a portable toilet.

The smartest thing we ordered from Amazon was our “She-pee”, as we affectionately called our amazing in-house portable toilet. Number one great find! Women do not want to stagger two blocks in the middle of the night to pee, and it’s not like we had a forest with trees to pee behind. We bow before our goddess of peeing throne for its usefulness. Bless the inventor.