My defining moment of BM 2010

[bluesbob]

I had been asked by someone if I could give them a ride to BM. I agreed. Later, a friend of mine was dumped by her ride, so I agreed to take her also. My truck can carry a lot, but three people and all our gear was a little too much.

About five miles south of Mojave, Ca., the whole top layer of our stuff, and our three bikes, went flying out of the truck. Despite a cargo net and four tie-downs, my speed and the wind carried it off. Several cargo containers hit the pavement and opened, scattering clothes, food, and camping equipment along the road. The bikes all got tangled in the cargo net and I dragged them along the freeway for a long ways.

We hopped out of the truck and quickly started gathering everything. I ran down the road and got as much as I could carry and brought it back to the truck. I looked back down the road and could see the girls flashlights going through the brush finding things.

I decided I would untangle the mess around the bikes. We needed the net and the tie-downs and they were all tangled up in a mess behind the truck. As I started to get everything untangled I started thinking to myself, "It's over, we're going home". I was so discouraged. I really thought we had everything tied down well. There was too much. We were never going to make it.

I got each bike untangled from the mess. My bike was on the bottom. Everything rode on top of it. I parked each bike behind me as I got the tie-downs untangled. I finally got to my bike. It had been on the bottom, everything riding on top of it. When I lifted it up my heart sank even deeper. The weight of the other bikes and the surface of the roadway had acted like a big grinder. A 1/3 of my handlebar was gone, along with the brake lever. One pedal was half gone. The seat looked as if someone had sliced half of it off. And worse, the rear derailleur was shattered. I just stopped what I was doing. I stood there and wanted to go home. I was through. I didn't want to go on.

Then an epiphany. A voice in my head. I looked across the desert and it was clear in my head. A thought louder than the others. "It's just a bike...and it's part of the adventure...go and have a good time". A smile came across my face. I turned my head just as Joele and Denise came back carrying bins full of stuff. They were laughing and talking. A CHP car pulled up right behind them. Two officers got out and asked how we were doing.

We spent the next hour repacking the truck. We had to pull everything out and start over. But we got it even more secure than we had done the first time.. Officers Zuniga and Smalls were very helpful. The lights of their cruiser were better than the flashlights we had. We laughed and packed and got it looking good. The CHP asked if we were OK and we answered yes. They then left and we got back into the truck to once again start our adventure.

When we had got out of the truck to get everything we were in a panic. I left the lights on, had turned on the emergency flashers, and we left the doors open we the stereo going. As the CHP drove I wlaked back to the drivers side. I noticed the emergency lights looked dim, but thought nothing of it. We got back into the truck. Everyone settled in and I went to start the truck. Nothing. It wouldn't start. Two hours along the 14 and we had drained the battery. My jaw dropped, but once again the voice said , "It's part of the adventure". So I smiled. Joele phoned 911 and we got Officers Zuniga and Smalls to came back. They laughed, we laughed. They gave us a jump. We once again started out for BRC. I wondered if I could take much more of this adventure.

We made it to BRC sometime Monday morning. I can't remember the time, but we were all set-up before the rainstorm. The incident along Hwy. 14 still is my defining moment of BM 2010, although it happened hundreds of miles away. It made me want to quit, but it also it kept me going. It also showed me two things about bicycles, don't bring a good one and, damn, they are a necessity. I was loaned bicycles throughout the burn. I went through nine bikes while I was there. Not having my own bike diminished my experience a bit. But I also saw how great people could be when everyone stepped up and loaned me their bike.

Have to go....I'm off to price bicycles. I found at BM that a good beach cruiser is preferable to a mountain bike. Less to worry about.

[TomServo]

I've always said, the hardest part of Burning Man, is getting to Burning Man. But, once you get there, everything works perfectly opposite of what you've planned. Improvisation is the beauty of BM!

[Pink Daddy]

I had a similar defining moment, but it was on playa.

This had been one of the more difficult years. I was in a major depression for a large portion of the previous 51 weeks. Reasons include my grandmother passing away, two of my favorite musicians passing away, a serious hatred for my job and my current direction, baby mama drama (she tossed my playa coat!), and more. So, going to Burning Man was supposed to wash all of this away and leave me cleaned and polished, emotionally.

I found myself extremely lonely, missing my wife, and terribly homesick while I was there. So, one evening (Tuesday, I believe), I went off on my own adventure to try and center myself. It started out rough, but I pedaled my bike from one random art piece to another. I eventually saw a colored flashing light blinking in the distance. I decided to pedal out to the distant art piece and figure out what had grabbed my attention. As I got closer, I noticed that it was moving. Now, I wanted to know what had drawn me out into the deep playa. As I got closer, I noticed that it was a hat that someone was wearing... as they were walking the trash fence. They told me that I was the third person that was lured out to them. They also told me not to be upset with them, which I wasn't. I was tired, but in good spirits. We talked for awhile and they told me that they had just found the deep playa treasure and pointed the direction they came. I told them that I was interested in finding it. They wished me good luck and also asked for me not to be upset with them, because it was not great after all and probably not worth it. We split ways, heading in opposite directions along the trash fence.

After riding for, what seemed, like forever. I discovered that there was no treasure and that I was merely dooped to walk the trash fence. I decided that I was going to pedal to 10:00 and K, but eventually decided to just pedal for 10:00. As I was riding along, I discovered that my burden from the year was still with me. I decided to sit there, on my bike, in the dark, and to identify everything that was bothering me. A couple darktards walked past, but I ignored them. I pedaled a little farther and came across a door... in the middle of deep playa. I pedaled up to it and hopped off my bike. I was astonished by what was written on the door. It said, "Liberation Portal...". I didn't walk through it immediately. I collected myself for a few minutes, debated on taking my bike with me through the door... but decided against it. I asked the bike to wait there and that I'd return (keep in mind, I'm stone sober). I walked through the door, closed it behind me, and felt instant relief from all the stuff that I had stored inside.

I pedaled back to my camp, hopped on the art car, and started partying.

[bluesbob]

Very cool, PD.

[buckycat]

The circular layout of Black Rock City must act as a synchronicity accelerator, because I always experience notable connections on playa that I refuse to attribute to mere coincidence. That happened again this year, but they would be too rambling to relate.

One favorite moment was seeing the firey ancestors (that's what the local Paiutes call dust devils) that were swirling in the center of the burning Temple. I always get emotional at the Temple Burn.

But all considered, my singular personal highlight had to have been opening the door of the staff portapotty behind <where> and finding a startled Larry Harvey taking a leak.

[teardropper]

BB, don't know if you were using ratchet straps, or enough of them. I find them invaluable. I like them better than the cam action straps and don't get me started on bungee cords...

[DancesWithElves]

We stopped to pick up some carpet twentry minutes from home, only to find that the four-bike rack had bent way down from the weight of three bikes. Mine was the farthest out, and got chewed up as it had dragged on the pavement. We laughed, stuffed the two mostly-unharmed bikes in the storage compartment, and relegated my trusty steed and the loser bike rack to the trash, along with the rv-hitch sleave that was still attached to the rack.

Blew out the inverter powering the ipod system while making coffee the following morning and listened to the single bossa-nova CD that we'd brought for a day and a half (and ended up adopting it as our soundtrack for the trip, playing it at LEAST once every day all week!).

Replaced the bike and the rack, then realized we'd tossed out the sleave, replaced that too, while singing along to the aforementioned soundtrack.

Work became a complete disaster as soon as I left, so we had to stop every few hours until Gerlach so that I could jump on wi-fi and fix things while my traveling companions hit the bar.

On the way back, the guys that cleaned the rv left the awning that we had never used unlatched and it came loose on the windiest part of the drive - while two of us sat on top of the rv and tried not to let it become a power kite, the third figured out how to latch it down.

I left a gas station taking the turn too tight and the rear corner of the (rented) rv met with a very sturdy concrete post - that's what insurance is for!

People started flashing their lights at us during the last two hours of the drive, and we discovered that lights on the outside of the rv were going out... then the power windows stopped working... but - we made it home to play the soundtrack one last time! And a fabulous adventure was had by all!

[ibdave]

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