Camp Envy–Closing up

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Blog, Maqua After Camp

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–Saying Goodbye

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Camping Adventures @ Burningman

My little buddy and I were surprised on the last day to feel extremely sad to be leaving port-a-johns, dust, extreme heat and air mattresses behind. We felt bad that we could not set up our camp “Nailed It’ with Brooke, Gage and their friends. They worked tremendously hard to make sure the camp was comfortable and that we had cooling when we needed it and a shower! Our food was delicious, the beverages never ended and the conversations were amazing. Thankfully, we had a chance to help strike camp with our friends and family to ease the guilt and work through our emotions. We cleaned our shiftpod, deflated our mattresses and squeezed our suitcases shut. Anything we did not want to carry back home went back into tubs and ferried home by Brooke and Gage.

Most burners earn a Playa name. We had none until the last day–“Moop” and “Fluff”. MOOP means matter out of place and not a single string, sequin, ribbon, crumb, or item not found on the desert floor is allowed after Burningman is over, and if you own a metal detector, it is even more complete! So, we combed the grid by foot for hours, making sure nothing was left behind. It was akin to a search party looking for a lost child. Inch by inch we walked, scouring for moop. The fluffing, which is hand-raking, was done by Brooke after the entire camp was packed up and ready to go.

Brooke drove us to the bus depot early, hoping we could catch an earlier Burner Bus to Reno. We stood in the blazing sun for about a half-hour in the standby line and caught an earlier bus. We sat in the very back with great legroom, but halfway into the journey, we wondered why the A/C was not on. We were dying of the closed-in, stifling heat of bodies on a full bus. Burners were fanning themselves and groaning.

There was no running water in the only bathroom on the bus, but someone had left their bottle of water. When they did not return, Teri poured the water onto two neckerchiefs and we sighed a breath of slight relief. We were afraid to empty the water we had in our camelbacks after hearing nightmare stories of hours in line to exit the desert. Luckily, we had a fast lane for buses only, and the A/C was turned on once the dust would not enter the air ductwork of the bus. We napped like babies.

Dusty burners filed off the bus, with some immediately hopping onto their flights in Reno airport. Huge plastic bags were wrapped around the dusty luggage, so dust would not clog up the luggage conveyor belts. Giant boxes were outside to empty any possessions or illegal substances not wanted on the flights. We had arranged to spend the night at Harrah’s in Reno, so we caught a Lyft to our hotel to shower up and rest up before our red-eye flight the following day.

That first shower was Heaven, but our hair was like straw, our cuticles had suffered and we were bloated. It took two days for us to feel somewhat normal, but we dressed in clean clothes to eat dinner and cheered to our survival with cold glasses of Chardonnay. Ah, back to the real world. We crashed early and slept like babies.

The following day, we did not want to even put our feet on the ground, but hungry girls’ gotta eat and we rose to take showers. There was no cold water, steam was coming out of the toilet and the water was so scalding that we had to change rooms. Dragging our dusty luggage four rooms down the hall, we decided to pay for another day and relax in our rooms. It was worth it. We joined Brooke and Gage and treated them to a great dinner at the resort we should have stayed. (Peppermill)

Our flight was not until 11:30, but we went to the airport early and I passed my last journal around to obvious dusty burners waiting for their flights. “What brings you to Burningman?” was the question and I met new people with great answers for a future blog. What a great time we had. We had to decompress at home and catch up on sleep. We washed all our clothes in Vinegar to remove the alkaline dust. My decision to blog my stories based on “not chewing my cabbage twice”. How many times can I tell this story? My friends and family ask, “what was the best part of it all?” IT WAS ALL GREAT AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT!

Silver Burners–Acting Like Kids

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Camping Adventures @ Burningman

I wasn’t expecting a gigantic playground of art I could climb or a hallucinogenic Dr. Suess movie, nor was I expecting A Mad Max movie, but it was all that and more in my desert experience. The first night of my arrival, Gage and Brooke took me to the Thunderdome, which was straight out of the movie “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” (1985). A huge geodesic dome, housing three-round fights between two people (both sexes) battling each other with huge soft bats. The gladiators were strapped into harnesses that swing from the ceiling, while assistants on the ground pushed the harness/swings with great force toward their opponents. The crowds climbed up the sides chanting, cheering and jeering. It reminded me of the boxing gloves I bought for my sons when they were preteens, so they could duke it out. What a spectacle!

My two daughters were in their element, even with me there. Dawn, as a teen, was funnier than any Saturday Night Live script when she was around her cousin Patrick. Her role as a business owner in the city of San Francisco and as a late-in-life Mom of two has been taken seriously, but letting loose is tough. I saw my playful fun-loving daughter one day, as she used my handicap flag to take the car deep into the Playa to view more art. We pulled up to a faux desert gas station and she decided to get out and pretend to pump gas. “You’re on the wrong side! Turn around and pull your tank to this side,” yelled some burner, who was getting a kick out of the car as part of the scene. He filled us up with pretend gad and we roared.

Brooke and I attended a “Stitch n’ Bitch” session in a camp near ours one afternoon. The camp had two sewing machines set up; a basket filled with ribbons, buttons, and doo-dads to decorate outfits and plenty of advice and help. Men and women were sitting on cushions cutting, sewing and embellishing shirts, hats, and outfits. Brooke had a long, beautiful taupe satin skirt, a sequined dress in a similar color and a beige crocheted sweater. In my past life, I would have set myself up at the sewing machine and whipped her creation into a new one, but my fractured wrist was in a brace. I contented myself with design details and she left with a bustled creation of adorable.

Her happy place is in the kitchen and she whipped up some great meals for anyone passing our camp. On the night before camp closed up, Brooke emptied her coolers of homemade soups, chili, hot dogs and Girl Scout cookies. Strangers were pulled in to enjoy “real food” and there were delightful conversations with burners of all ages from all over the world.

I found out where Dawn felt in her element on the day she and I biked out to the Playa to see more art. The wind was blowing, as we rode for miles. I was happy to have my goggles and scarf to cover my face, but never once thought to myself that I desired to be anywhere else. “Mom, this is my happy place—just riding my bike on the Playa to see the art, not talking to anyone.” (She was the impetus for our visit to both the sunrise and sunset, which were spectacular.) I loved the day and she snapped photos of me hugging a bee/wasp, which in real life I am deathly allergic.

Teri and I were like kids everywhere we wandered. She jumped on the front of the art car seat and switched the toggle switch and found out that Jim’s seat vibrated. We laughed at the clothes we brought that would have transformed us into creatures of fantasy, but never wore them. (The tutus did make nice decor hanging from our shiftpod.) We tried not to stare but cracked up at the nude marathon runners racing around the Esplanade with all parts bouncing. We loved the middle of the road spritzers that sprayed us as we biked by and the visits to the ice tent to retrieve ice, so we could hug on bags of cold ice.

I will forever be grateful to my wonderful daughters and husbands. They encouraged me, made it possible to be there, and enjoyed my childlike glee as I enjoyed my first “burn” and I enjoyed seeing them in their element outside their normal lives.

Silver Burners–Night of Burning The Man

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Camping Adventures @ Burningman

It was a warm night filled with revelry, laughter, music, and dancing. The festivities on the night of the man burning was one gigantic party. The costumes and people watching were magical. One of my favorite sayings is “There is nothing prettier than young” and watching the outfits on the young ones who could slip easily into barely anything and make barely anything look fabulous was indeed fabulous.

Jim from Alabama picked us up in his art car and we motored out to the Playa, passing hundreds of lit art cars that we had not seen before and thousands of bikes decorated with LED wire, blinky lights and glow sticks. Teri and I seated ourselves next to Bob, a quadriplegic who had no problem wheeling himself around the city and Playa. We were his “dates” for the night and he had fashioned crowns of flowers with lights for our hair. Our art car found a perfect spot to view the burn, in between two disco cars filled with burners dancing to techno. Music filled the air and we took turns dancing on the desert before the fireworks began.

A wild-haired dancing middle-aged women, who was either tripping to the music or a substance, beckoned a partner to dance and I stepped up. Writhing madly, she tried to talk to me, but the music obliterated her conversation. My son-in-law Gage stepped up and began dancing with me and I was happy to have a grounded dance partner. I loved that he had been waiting for the perfect time to share a dance with me. He is a fabulous dancer!

Teri and I stepped up to a bar car behind us to sample whiskey with pickle juice chasers (Picklebacks) and one was not enough for her. Who knew pickles were a thing on the Playa? Supposedly, they are perfect for hydration! In addition to the water, the salts and electrolytes in pickles help.

There were many submissions for the design of the Man, but the one selected involved the Man cocooned by an ascending walkway. The theme this year was “Metamorphoses”, and designers Yelena Filipchuk and Sergio Beaulieu managed to capture the theme with their design lit from within, which threw light onto the Playa in beautiful patterns.

The fireworks began and they were magnificent! On the ground were lights everywhere, illuminating the crowd, and in the dark desert sky, the fireworks had no competition with real city lights. Brooke, Teri and I got up to dance with thousands of others and I felt like a teenager again.

I had ordered spinning LED strobe disco globes for my grandchildren this summer and grabbed two for myself. I had no clue what I was going to do with it until I began waving it like a traffic controller at an airport and realized burners actually thought I was directing them to go a certain way. It turned into “hippie fishing” of sorts. (Usually, hippie fishing involves tying glow sticks to a string, hoping someone will reach to pick it up, so you can reel it in.) Hundreds of party people rerouted their steps and my friends were helpless with laughter. Cheap thrills:)

The night ended early, but some of our art car riders were nowhere to be found, so Brooke, Gage, Teri and I hiked back to sector 4:45 Jove on our own. By the time we had walked all that way, our beds called our names and we answered the call.

Silver Burners–Bringing Our Friends and Family

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Blog, Camping Adventures @ Burningman

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 Category: Blog, Camping Adventures @ Burningman

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.