To Gerlach, and beyond!

[lonestoner916]

Adventures in Gerlach, or how the Lonestoner met the Doobie Guru.

Note: This is a long read, and drags a bit in some parts, so if you're not into reading feel free to check out another thread. I'll be updating this daily with new parts, and pics tomorrow, for those who are interested.

Part One, The arrival!
(written at Frog Pond) We rolled into Gerlach at around midnight Friday. Our intention was to head to the ranch, but I'd neglected to get the directions from my email's inbox, so we went to Joe's Gerlach Club, the only business in town still open at that late hour. We thought we'd order a couple beers and ask for directions, but as usual I had no I.D. (I don't carry it when I travel because I have unpaid tickets all over the country.) so Alice, the sweet old lady tending the bar very politely refused to serve me any alcohol. She later apologized, and after I explained that I understood her position perfectly, she gave me a coke on the house. My traveling companion, a burner buddy from camp last year who wishes to remain anonymous, had a few whiskeys and we chatted with Alice and the handful of local patrons, one of whom, Brooke, gave us directions to the ranch but explained that unexpected visitors were frowned upon. Another local, Gary, a very cool Brit whose dog Evita has been to the last eleven burns, (If you saw the little green dog last year, that was her.) advised us to spend the night in town and check in with the Burning Man office across the street from Joe's in the morning. We hung out until last call, at which point Alice showed us the door.
We made it as far as the bench out in front of the bar, where "Swerve" another cool local who surprisingly has yet to make it to Burning Man, fed me some much-needed cold beer. My associate broke out a nearly full half gallon of Jack Daniel's and passed it around. Swerve, Gary, myself, and my homie proceeded to get thoroughly shit-faced, and it wasn't long before I, at Gary's suggestion, tossed the cap to the bottle into the weeds, deciding for everyone that anything worth doing is worth doing right. We moved the party over to Gary's place right next to Joe's, to sit by "the pool." There's a small hot spring in his yard that has been cleverly rigged to fill a large bathtub. My amigo had a soak in the tub and we had nearly killed the bottle when Swerve took his leave, saying he had to work in the morning. He was kind enough to leave me the last beer, which I used to chase down the last of the Jack, with assistance from Gary and my friend. We talked about Burning Man for awhile, but we were pretty trashed at that point so I don't remember a whole lot.
Gary was gracious enough to let us roll out our sleeping bags in his yard, and I slept like the dead until around ten-ish, when I was awakened by my friend, who was epically hungover and very closely resembled death in the microwave. In all fairness, he had had about five whiskeys in the bar whilst I was enjoying my Coca-Cola, so he was significantly more hammered than I. Gary was up and around, and repeated his advice to go to the Burning Man office, adding that he would be heading out to the ranch himself around noon, and we could follow him if we wished. He also recommended having breakfast at Bruno's. We rolled up our sleeping bags and I gathered up our emptys, bottle caps, and other assorted moop scattered around the pool, even managing to find the Jack Daniel's lid I'd tossed the night before. I tossed it again, farther this time.
Part Two, Burning Man office and breakfast at Tiffany's, uh, I mean Bruno's! (written while drinking beers outside Joe's Bar)
We staggered in to the Burning Man office, and told the girls working we wanted to volunteer to work at the ranch. They gave us a printout with a map and directions to the ranch, but said there was a chance we would be turned away at the gate, as this was not a "scheduled" work weekend. Then they pointed us in the direction of Bruno's, where I gorged on perfectly crisped bacon, hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, and toast. My companion, being a bit of a vegetarian, had fruit and toast only, and of course there was coffee all around. I felt a million times better with some food in me. After that delicious (mine) and nutritious (his) breakfast, we went back to the office to enquire about where we might fill our water jugs. The girl working the desk offered to let us fill up at her house. Her name is Sadie, and she is quite possibly the most beautiful creature for a hundred square miles. (Sorry Cowboy, but you said it yourself, your old lady is smokin!)
As it turns out, Sadie is from the same small town in Nor-Cal I grew up in, and we talked about how the town has changed since I'd last been there while I filled our water containers from her front yard's spigot. I could have gone on talking to her and filling up water jugs all day, and it was with a deep sense of regret that I bade her farewell. (Seriously folks, she is STUNNING!)
Part Three, DPW diss (again?) with a side of ranch rejection!
(Written after yet another Bruno's breakfast, Monday, after camping overnight at Frog Pond)
We followed the road until it ran out of pavement and took a right towards the ranch. (We sort of forgot about following Gary.) About halfway down the road leading to the ranch gate, a DPW truck met us going in the opposite direction. It was Quinn (The Mighty Quinn) the manager. After introducing himself, he asked us our business on the ranch, and when I replied that we wished to work he politely but firmly told us that there was no work to be had, his crew had it under control, thanks anyway. (I believe if I'd had the foresight to contact Cobra Commander beforehand I probably could have gotten us in, but our original plan was to hike and camp, the fact that it was a weekend was frutuitous and we just decided at the last minute to offer our services.) I'd mentally prepared myself to put in a full days work, but I was nowhere near a hundred percent after the previous night's festivities and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little relieved. (As it turns out, working would have been way easier.)
Still, I couldn't help but feel a little rejected. We decided to take Quinn's advice and take a hike, literally. After picking a mountain to climb, which we later learned is called Razorback, we drove across the Playa and got as close to it as we could in the car.[/color] To be continued...

[Token]

"As your attorney, I advise you to continue reporting back".

[**burn**]

"Yes, yer honor. This is all fiction. Just a silly story. You see, I'm a writer."

Looking forward to the next installment.

[lonestoner916]

Wow, edited three times and I still fucked it up...

Before I get to the next installment, here's a couple pics, more to come later. The last one was taken just before I began my descent, about 2/3 of the way up the mountain.

[lonestoner916]

Part Four, The bear climbed over the mountain

(written at the Hacienda Motel, Alturas, California)
It turned out that as close as we could get to the mountain from the Playa side was a couple three miles, we were still super newbies and had yet to learn about Jungo Road. While I was still lacing up my hiking boots, my road dawg decided he wanted to test himself, and set off towards Razorback with NO WATER, and by the time I'd strapped on my boots and filled my camelback he had a good lead on me. I followed as briskly as I could, but he was determined and kept on walking at a much faster pace than I was willing to travel. I assumed he would eventually stop and wait for me, but as the miles passed under my feet and he continued on his Death March, I came to the realization that this was a solo mission and stopped trying to play catch-up. I lost sight of him shortly afterwards, and as I later learned I gradually began to take a different route.
The temperature was pushing the triple digits, and in my current state of hungoverness, my only thought was reaching the mountain. To take my mind off my body, I began singing a little song to myself, a mantra of sorts: "The bear climbed over the mountain, The bear climbed over the mountain, The bear climbed over the mountain, and what do you think he saw? What do you think he saw? What do you think he saw? The bear climbed over the mountain... (repeat one million times)
I think the sun made me a little loopy, because I attempted to communicate with a Jackrabbit who for some reason stopped to study me instead of darting off after I startled him out of the sagebush he'd been chillaxing in. "Come brother rabbit, we have much to discuss!" I exclaimed passionately. Brother rabbit continued studying me intently for a moment, then gave me a look like he had better things to do, and then ran off to presumably do them. "Next time then!" I called after him, but he was already gone.
At the base of Razorback, I discovered a rock outcropping that provided enough shade to crawl into, and I rested a bit before beginning my ascent.

Part Five, What goes up must come down.
(Written at Burney Falls campground, Tuesday night, sipping Chai.)

There's a crevasse that runs up Razorback, and once I was close enough I could see it wasn't as steep as I'd first thought. I decided to go for broke and climb right up Razorback's ass. The going was fairly easy at first but grew harder and steeper the higher I climbed. I made it about 2/3 of the way to the top before I was forced to admit defeat. I was badly winded, light-headed, and worst of all I felt like I might spew Bruno's breakfast all down the side of the mountain. I could see the summit, a fairly short and easy climb away, but I was afraid I would expend the last of my energy reaching it, and I was worried about the descent, not to mention the miles of hiking I would still have to do in order to reach the car. I sat atop my lofty perch for several minutes, debating whether or not I should try it. In the end I decided that I had no interest in dying that day, and so I climbed back down.
As I write this, I am still kicking myself in the ass for not sucking it up and driving on. The descent was so much quicker and easier, and the hike back to the car seemed shorter for some reason. Perhaps because my overactive writer's imagination insisted on running through the various scenarios involving the death of my hiking buddy, or perhaps my anger at myself provided an energy boost.
My fears were proven to be groundless when I arrived at the car and discovered my companion sitting comfortably in the air conditioner munching contentedly on Humus and baby carrots. I felt a little better about myself upon learning that he'd also failed to reach the top, and what's more, he'd taken an easier route. Then I remembered that I was the only one who had brought any water along, and I felt like shit again.

To be continued...

[lonestoner916]

Another chapter or two, and more pics to follow later this evening!

[lonestoner916]

Part Six, Returning to the scene of the crime.
After having my ass handed to me by a mountain named Razorback, we went back to Joe's Bar, mostly just to cool off. The big high school reunion was going on so most of the town was at the community center next door. We had a few ice waters and chatted with our new friend Alice, then went for a drive around town, after stopping to see if Gary was home yet. By chance we found a yard sale, and as luck would have it the guy was actually home. It was one of those really good yard sales with lots of weird and random junk. We bought several things to give away at the burn, my favorites being a large green glass chalice (25 cents!) and this weird musical instrument (1 dollar!). The yardsale guy told us about a good place to camp out past the twelve mile Playa entrance so we went out there and set up camp next to a car that looked like it had been in a war zone, it was totally shot to shit, then sat around talking until dark, and the UFO's showed up.

[lonestoner916]

Part Seven, Wheel in the sky keeps on turning!

It had just gotten dark, and the first of the stars were slowly coming out, so I layed out my sleeping bag on the desert floor and lie on my back to study the heavens for a bit. I began to notice that this one star in particular seemed to be moving. What the fuck, I thought, stars aren't supposed to move. I briefly thought about the possibilitiy of it being a plane or a satellite, but quickly dismissed the idea, after realizing that neither one of them had the kind of maneuvering capabilities that this "star" was displaying. I pointed it out to my friend and after a bit of trouble locating it he was finally able to spot it and confirm that I wasn't crazy. Or rather, that I wasn't just seeing things, he's very aware of the fact that I'm completely insane. Then seemingly out of nowhere, another one of the weird flying star things appeared and began following the other's trajectory.

[oneeyeddick]

The other one was already there.

There are always two of them.

They are called "skypos"

"skyway patrol"= skypos.

You did notice the flashing of red, blue, and white....right ???

they can be seen on any clear night.

[lonestoner916]

"Skypo's" eh? Yeah, that sounds like them.

We watched them for about an hour, speculating and conjecturing about what they might be and where they might have come from, in the process we were both thoroughly creeped out, so we hopped in the car and went back to Gerlach to ask the locals about the weird shit in the sky.

We went to Joe's Bar (of course!) and the reunion was still going strong so there was all of three people in there, including our friend Alice the bartender. She wasn't a bit surprised that we had seen some strange lights in the sky, and I didn't really expect her to be, surely other people must have seen what I had seen, I thought.

After awhile we went over and knocked on Gary's door but there was no answer. We were walking back to the bar when a man stepped out of the shadows and walked up on us like he meant business. He was a tall Cowboy, and once he realized we weren't the ones he was looking for he calmed down a bit, but for one tense moment I thought we were about to get swung on and I palmed my lighter with it's heavy metal case and debated whether or not to go ahead and jaw the cowpoke one good time.

I'm really glad I didn't, and not just because Cowboy would've probably stomped my guts out with his boots either. It turned out that Cowboy, whose name is Dylan if I remember correctly (He'll always be "Cowboy" to me.), was the boyfriend of Sadie, the beauty from the Burning Man office. She'd told him about her generous water gift, and the fact that we were both from Alturas. "Is that your sister?" we'd both asked, almost in unison, and I was about to add a "Dude, she's fucking hot!" when he told us she was his girl. A hella cool and beautiful Burner chick and a rugged and macho Cowboy, talk about your opposites attracting...

Cowboy had a little bone to pick with someone that night and mistakenly thought we were the ones, thus the tense moment. He never actually came out and said it but I'm pretty sure it had to do with his girl. A girl like that, you pretty much HAVE to fight for her. Anyway he was looking to hand out an old fashioned country ass-whuppin. Once he calmed down, I could tell he was a decent guy, and I was surprised to learn that his grandfather was none other than Doobie, the Guru of Gerlach, whom I'd heard mention of somewhere. Dylan told us about Guru Road, and some of the stuff he'd helped his grandfather with before he died. We all shook hands and parted amicably, but the weird night got a little weirder when my compadre announced that he was a little drunk and too paranoid to drive. He offered to let me drive but I'd had a couple beers and I don't have a valid license so I politely refused, saying we'd just chill in the car until he felt more comfortable. But a big part of me wanted nothing more than to go back into Joe's and talk to Sadie, who was inside with her Cowboy. I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so smitten I would have fought a thousand Cowboys just to be near her. It got so bad I finally agreed to drive, just to get the hell out of there, or else I WOULD have gone back inside, and nothing good could have come from that. I'm a gentleman, but sometimes it's really hard to remain so. But like I said, Cowboy was a cool cat in his own way, so I left his enchanting seductress alone. I drove us back to camp, but I was too worked up to sleep, so I listened to my iPod and watched the Skypo's until dawn was breaking.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[In the next and final installment of the Gerlach trip; Lonestoner VS Razorback, the rematch! Camping at Frog Pond, and "What I learned from The Guru!"]

[lonestoner916]

I'll post the rest of mine next time, after the story is told.



http://brc-dpw.org/who/metric/dooby/

[**burn**]

". . . I was too worked up to sleep, so I listened to my iPod and watched the Skypo's until dawn was breaking.
TO BE CONTINUED...[/size] [!"]

And that's all? I ain't buying it. Anyone buying this?
C'mon, oneeyeddick, help me out here.

[lonestoner916]

I didn't get abducted and anally probed, and I didn't go into the tent for Jerkfest '08, I meant worked up as in pissed off at myself for almost being "That Guy" and confused because there was a girl back home I thought I really liked, not worked up as in horny as hell. Sadie's incredibly hot, but there must be more to her or else she wouldn't have made such an impression on me...

I am SO going to get my ass kicked if I don't stop writing about Cowboy's girl, but damn...