Ready to Burn!

"That's not what happened", Wood Cutter interrupted Thorny as we speculated about the beginning of Burning Man. Then Cutter proceeded to set us straight...

"I've been coming to Burning Man since before they started charging to get in. In those early days, people talked about how it got started.  The way I heard it, there was this guy in San Francisco who's life was just about perfect - he was in love with his wife, and his work was going well. Then he came home one afternoon and found her in bed with another guy.

That did it. Everything change. He walked out and went down to the beach. And he stayed there. He didn't go home. He didn't go back to work. He was trying to decide who to kill - his wife, her lover or himself. But that would just cause a ruckus.

After the second day of just sitting in the sand, he gathered some wood and created an image of his nemesis - the guy he had found in his bed, and the focus of his troubles.

About this time some of his friends who had been out looking, found him on the beach just staring at his wooden man. They tried to get him to go home but he said no. For another couple of days he sat on the beach and worked on the man now and then. Later one evening after his friends came back, he surprised them all by setting fire to his wooden man. The Man lit up the sky in a blazed. It helped. He felt better looking at the ashes.

The next morning, he went back to work. He didn't bother with his wife. He made a new home. He went on with his life. The following year he went down to the beach on that same day. He built another wooden man. His friends helped him this time. They all watched it burn. The next year others joined in. Soon there was an annual gathering to "Burn the Man" on the beach.

About that time, the party got too big for the beach. The cops said, "Leave". When this party looked around for an alternative, they realized they had gotten too big for San Francisco. Hell, they were even too big for California. So they moved to Nevada. In the Black Rock desert they found a space big enough to Burn the Man in peace. They've been doing it ever since." - according to Wood Cutter at my breakfast table on July 7th, 2007.

And since Larry Harvey can't remember (or won't admit) exactly how it got started, I figure Cutter's story is as good as any other.

And better than most.

Thorny enjoyed it, and asked that I write it down for Cutter. So here it is for the world to read.








And for all of you I haven't seen seen in a while, I'll be on the playa after Friday at Club Verboten (or People's Bar #5 - I'm not sure which sign is going on the outside of the tent). The club tent will be in the same place as last year (or very near), at the 3:00 Keyhole, very close to the Esplandnade.

The Zen Tyvekian Radiation Shield should be easy to spot at 25% longer. Instead of checkered, this year is will have blue sides with a silver top. You may see our new art car (SMOU 17) parked out front.

Stop by the motor-home under the Shield and tell me what it all means. I'll be well prepared, rested and open to understanding the myriad expression I may encounter. Or not. Stop by anyway.

SMOU 17 (State Mobile Observation Unit 17) is done.

Mylar Surprise is ready to engage.

"YUM!" is the word.

Iraq War, or Live Fire Training?

This was written a few weeks ago but I'm just now getting it posted...

There it is again today - "The Iraq War has it's lowest popularity yet". When did wars get their own tracking numbers? And since when do we make war by public opinion? Since Viet Nam I guess. But first things first...

I have a problem with this "war". No, it's not what you think. I'm actually in favor of the invasion of Iraq and the fighting there. I think we did the right thing (deposed Hussein), for the wrong reason (Bush family beef). But it's still the right thing, however it gets done.

My guess is the anti-war types will stop reading right about HERE...

But if you're open-minded, I hope you'll read a bit farther. You might be surprised (or even more outraged). Who knows, you may even agree with some of my points. Besides, the open-minded are the only ones I'm writing for anyway.

As I've said, I'm in favor of the Iraq war. I just have a problem with it being CALLED a "war". It's far less of a conflict than most wars in our history. Our presense in Iraq is about as much of a "war" as our invasion of Korea was a "police action" as an inverse.

Our political leaders (and media) have a tendency to marshal resources by using dramatic terms. Or the inverse. There are lots of examples - War on Drugs, War on Poverty, War on Crime. Not one of those campaigns were an actual war, nor is this thing in Iraq. I think it's more like baby-sitting angry children, some of whom happen to have guns and bombs. If it become's an actual war, politicians will deny it, as was done in the Korea example above.

OK, I'll grant you that for the first few weeks after we invaded, Iraq was more like a war - tanks rolling in and airplanes bombing. But soon things were secure enough for it to just be called a very hostile environment, which it remains in various places to various degrees.


Shit Magnet

But Iraq is not just ANY hostile environment. It's a very VALUABLE hostile environment - I like to call it a Shit Magnet. Here's why it's so valuable...

When our troops first rolled across Iraq, it looked like things would be over fast. I remember during those few days when the Iraqi Defense Minister said on TV, "America is about to encounter a kind of war they have never seen, and will never be able to win", or something to that effect. A bold statement indeed, and largely spoken out of desperation.

He was of course talking about the coming insurgency. He knew the call had gone out, and weapons had been stored to carry out this long-term campaign of troop harassment.

His objective was to tap into the American media's soon to be warmed over Viet Nam script. You know the one. It's all about body bags and getting bogged down in un-win-able wars. He was looking for a political solution when the military one was already lost. And of course most American media signed right up for his cause. And they continue to soldier on largely in his behalf. But back to the topic at hand.

Ever swat a fly on the sidewalk and noticed another one landing on the carcus? When you swat that one, two more land? Pretty soon you've killed off all the flys in the area without even getting out of your chair. My cousin Dave did this very same thing with rats, one at a time using a .22 rifle. And he never left his postion on the porch.

Immediately after the "war" started, Iraq became a place to defeat "American Imperialism". Fundamentalist Muslims from all over the world began to funnel into Iraq through a cooperative Syria, and plant bombs. Falluja became a hot-bed of action with terrorist from as far away as Indonesia and even America. At one point it's reported that more foreigners were fighting Americans in Iraq, than Iraqis!  If so, it proves my point.

When we finally went in and cleaned out Falluja, we killed more terrorist in a shorter period, than we ever could have done chasing them around the world one at a time. And just like the flies and rats, this process continues.

There are those in the world who hate western culture while selectively enjoying it - go figure. Whatever their reason, they are gathering in Iraq to take a shot at Uncle Sam. That's why I call Iraq a shit magnet - an it's an effective one. It brings our enemies to one location where we can do our target practicing on OUR terms and away from America.

I believe this shit magnet is the main reason we've had less trouble here at home. It's far better facing these guys in Iraq instead of Omaha, Atlanta or Portland. The "war" in Iraq is a major success for this reason alone.

But wait! There's more! It slices! It dices!


Body Count

We've been very lucky in Iraq. Our losses have been relatively light for a "war". The troops have performed well and are learning to do even better.

Three thousand dead out of a typical of 150,000 deployed over four years is still on the same order of magnitude as training losses for comparably intense training.

I once spent two weeks in the desert at Fort Irwin, California. I was there with tens of thousands of other GIs doing military exercises. Our death rate was exactly one per week, and this wasn't even LIVE fire training! One was shot with a flare gun and died. The other was backed over with some piece of equiment, having the same result.

But light or not, death is a pretty heavy cost when it's you or your loved one. Each death is a tragedy somewhere. War is hell, even if it isn't a real war. But it's what these soldiers sign up for. Every recruit has that very risk in mind when they take the oath. It speaks volumes about their courage. It's a sad part of the job, but a part none the less. The key is to minimize the casualities and provide good medical care when they happen. In this area, the U.S. Army is probably the best in the world. And getting better specifically BECAUSE of this war. Which gets to the real point of this post...


Live-Fire Training

At the beginning of most wars, troops are green and losses are high. Only after a few battles do the veterans emerge, and the army become mores effective. Losses decrease. This is well known to students of military history.

So how do we create veterans BEFORE the next real war starts? That too has a standard answer - training. But normal training can only take you so far.

As Winston Churchill said, "There is nothing so exhilarating as being shot at and missed.". THAT experience is the key to creating true veterans. That's right.  Live-fire is ultimately the best kind of training. And it's even more effective when someone's shooting back. This is why Iraq is helping to make the U.S. military a much better fighting force.

Not only does Iraq train our toops, it's also driving the development of new technology in urban warfare by improving armor and sniper detection, as well as tactics in separating the good Iraqis from the bad ones and learning to fight in an urban environment. The U.S. military couldn't BUY that kind of training resource anywhere in the world. In Iraq we get it for free, except for it's obvious costs.

I know this post is going to challenge the sensibilities of some of my Burning Man friends, and I welcome their comments. You might think I'm some kind of war monger, but the opposite is true. I think war is actually an obsolete aspect of human behavior - right up there with jealousy, rage and selfishness. Unfortunately, not everyone has gotten the memo. And until they do, we must maintain an effective military. For all it's cost, Iraq is helping us do just that.

And if a truely new democracy comes into existance in Iraq, that will be a bonus. We've given these people a chance. Now they need to take advantage of it. It happened in South Korea, creating an amazing contrast with North Korea even Kim Jung Il can't deny.

And as far as Americans being "Imperialist", one need only look to Germany, Japan or Korea with their true democracies, freedom and standard of living to realize we're an ultimately benevolent force.

If we can do the same in Iraq, those three thousand GIs will certainly not have died in vain.

I for one would like to see each of them count for something noble.

And I believe they will.

Where am I wrong?

Please leave your comment below.

NOT going to Burning Man?

This anonymous email just arrived in time to remind us all of what it's REALLY like on the playa...

Not going to Burning Man?

Here's how to enjoy Burning Man from the comfort of your own home...


Pay an escort of your preference to not bathe for five days, cover
themselves in glitter, dust, and sunscreen, wear a skanky neon wig,
dance naked, then say they have a lover back home at the end of the
night.

Tear down your house. Put it in a truck. Drive 10 hours in any
direction. Put the house back together.

Invite everyone you meet to come over and party. When they leave,
follow them back to their homes, drink all their booze,
and break things.

Stack all your fans in one corner of the living room.
Put on your most fabulous outfit.
Turn the fans on full blast.
Dump a vacuum cleaner bag in front of them.

Buy a new set of expensive camping gear.
Break it.

Lean back in a chair until that point where you're just about to
fall over, but you catch yourself at the last moment.
Hold that position for 9 hours.

Only use the toilet in a house that is at least 3 blocks away.
Drain all the water from the toilet. Only flush it every 3 days.

Hide all the toilet paper.

Set your house thermostat so it's 50 degrees for the first hour
of sleep and 100 degrees the rest of the night.

Before eating any food, drop it in a sandbox and lick a battery.

Spend thousands of dollars and several months of your life building
a deeply personal art work. Hide it in a funhouse on the edge of
the city.
Hire people to come by and alternate saying "I love it" and "dude,
this sucks". Then burn it.

Set up a DJ system downwind of a three alarm fire. Play a short
loop of drum'n'bass until the embers are cold.

Make a list of all the things you'll do different next year.
Never look at it.

Have a 3 a.m. soul baring conversation with a drag nun in platforms,
a crocodile and Bugs Bunny. Be unable to tell if you're hallucinating.
Lust after Bugs Bunny.

Cut, burn, electrocute, bruise, and sunburn various parts of your body.
Forget how you did it. Don't go to a doctor.

"Downsize" last year's camp by adding two geodesic domes, a new sound
system, art car, and 20 newbies.

Don't sleep for 5 days. Take a wide variety of hallucinogenic/emotion
altering drugs. Pick a fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend, or both.

Spend a whole year rummaging through thrift stores for the perfect,
most outrageous costume. Forget to pack it.

Shop at Wal-mart, Cost-Co, and Home Depot until your car is completely
packed with stuff.
Tell everyone that you're going to a "Leave-No-Trace" event.
Empty your car into a dumpster.

Listen to music you hate for 168 hours straight, or until you
think you are going to scream. Scream.
Realize you'll love the music for the rest of your life.

Spend 5 months planning a "theme camp" like it's the
invasion of Normandy.
Spend Monday-Wednesday building the camp.
Spend Thurs-Sunday nowhere near camp because you're sick of it
or can't find it.

Walk around your neighborhood and knock on doors until someone
offers you cocktails and dinner.

Bust your ass for a "community." See all the attention get focused
on the drama queen crybaby.

Get so drunk you can't recognize your own house.
Walk slowly around the block for 5 hours.

Tell your boss you aren't coming to work this week but he should
"gift" you a paycheck anyway. When he refuses accuse him of not
loving the "community".

Search alleys until you find a couch so unbelievably tacky and
nasty filthy that a state college frat house wouldn't want it.
Take a nap on the couch and sleep like you are king of the world.

Ask your most annoying neighbor to interrupt your fun several
times a day with third hand gossip about every horrible thing
that's happened in the last 24 hours.
Have them wear khaki.

Go to a museum. Find one of Salvador Dali's more disturbing,
but beautiful paintings.
Climb inside it.

Larry Harvey Brands the Playa

OK. I admit it. I haven't had time to read ALL the comments on this topic so don't bother to flame. I have too much to get done in the next 30 days as it is, but I'll state my opinion anyway.
I'm not down with this Green Man theme. Not only is it a bit dated, it's far too politically polarizing for the playa. It's almost like having a theme of the Iraq War. Besides, lots of "Green" stuff is simply flaky.

For instance, I think carbon offsets are a first class commercial scam. They are offered so the worst offenders can pay someone ELSE to clean up THEIR mess. It reminds me of how rich kids bought their way out of the Civil War draft, paying others to die for them. Or how the Pope sold "indulgences" in the 16th century so those who could afford it could go on sinning.

As to all the rest of this energy stuff, I think it's cool. When truly green technology can stand on it's own merits, THEN we'll have a real solution. For me the playa is about sharing ideas - what better ones to share?

And even if I didn't like what's being put at the Green Man pavilion, I wouldn't object. If this is what Larry Harvey wants to do, I think he should be allowed to express himself like anyone else even if it IS on a larger scale than most of us can afford. Cut the man some slack - chill. He's earned the right. Let's see where he goes with it.

And yes, he (and everyone else) have built a brand - I don't think we could have stopped it. When you get this much psychic energy going in one direction (or many directions as in the case of Burning Man), a brand will come into existence whether you slap a label on it or not. It's in people's heads. After that, it's just a matter of what you do with the label. And so far I think Larry's managing the label pretty well.

I for one am looking forward to visiting the pavilion. So if he wants to show off windmills, buy carbon offsets or even sign his name to the playa in big black letters, I'd help him.

Besides...

I like the way he writes...

Here's the link in case you missed it.

ePlaya Link

(You DO have to scroll down some)

What the hell. Here's his text...

"
The following post was intended as a response to an entry in the blog of Robert Kozinets entitled, Burning Man's Sold Out! (http://kozinets.net/archives/25). I think my mini-essay may have overburdened his website. It wasn't accepted, so I decided to post it here. You see, we really do care about the ePlayans!

Larry

Dear Robert,

Thank you for your thoughtful essay. Thanks also for the following statement, "I've been researching and writing about Burning Man with the permission of great people like Larry Harvey, Marian Goodell, Jim Graham, Lee Gilmore, and Jess Bobier for almost a decade (my first burn was 1999). I have never heard them talk about Burning Man as a brand."What you say is correct. We, the organizers of Burning Man, never speak (or even think, I'll boldly add) of Burning Man as a brand. I'll admit, however, that I have participated in an act of branding. This took place some years ago on the playa. One night a red hot branding iron was applied to the hide of Dale Scott, a good friend of mine and one of the original carpenters who helped construct the Man. I held the flashlight. I took this for a fairly radical act of self-expression. It produced an ugly welt (apologies to Dale) that roughly resembled our logo.

As a general rule, however, I hold that only cattle should be branded, not human beings. Commercial 'branding', like the branding of livestock, comes from without. It is imposed on consumers by the apparatus of marketing. It advances the seductive image of a 'lifestyle', shrewdly associated with purchasable goods and services, at the expense of a more authentic kind of identity: a mode of being and belonging that's produced by acts of self-expression that we freely share with others. Unlike commercial branding, real identity can only issue from within. Its agency is deeply personal participation in a culture, not psychological manipulation.

The above expresses our ideals, but we are now accused of violating these principles. So, let me address what I believe to be the two immediate causes of the ruckus that has recently ensued. The first, of course, is the article in Business 2.0. We announced our plans for the Green Man pavilion back in February. Somewhat disappointingly, it generated very little public comment. However, the current controversy over the pavilion and the role of corporations at Burning Man was incited by that article. So let me start by pointing out that Business 2.0 is, very obviously, a business magazine that addresses business people. The author of this piece, Chris Taylor, was apparently trying to translate the values of our culture into business-speak.

For example, you cite four "lessons from the counterculture" that are contained in a sidebar. Each one of these so-called lessons revolves around a statement that I made to Chris Taylor. Lesson number one quotes me as saying, "People contribute [to Burning Man] because they feel that Black Rock City is them, not a source of entertainment. That's an enormous motivator". However the headline which summarizes the lesson supposedly derived from my remarks reads, "Make your customers feel like owners." This reeks of manipulation. I was speaking of people - volunteers, theme campers, artists, nearly everyone at Burning Man -- who feel that their identity's enhanced by their involvement in the culture of our city. Making 'customers' feel like 'owners' sounds like Nike attempting to persuade consumers that they have a swoosh in their souls. As you suggest, a great deal was lost in translation.

However, I, like you, nearly jumped out of my seat when I read the fragment of a sentence that you quote: "Branding's important." Important to whom? To us? To them? Branding is inimical to nearly everything we've stood for over 22 years, and to see this phrase glaring back at me felt positively aberrant. I have never used the b-word in relation to Burning Man, in public or in private. What could she have meant? Was she offering up Black Rock City as a testing ground for viral marketing? Is this the beginning of that famous slippery slope - you know, the one whereby we gradually sell out and retire to pleasure spas?

I am quite certain that Marian regrets ever having said, "Branding's important..."
This statement, more than anything else, is the match that lit the fuse that exploded a firecracker. I think she may have been trying to make her language rhyme or resonate with that of the reporter. However, another clue to understanding what she meant to express is contained in the remainder of her sentence, spoken in the very same breath: "... but there's a middle ground between having it all over the place and just knowing that it's Current TV and feeling good about the way they're treating you. That's a very interesting potential for companies that see a value in Burning Man culture."

The "interesting potential" of a "middle ground" that she refers to concerns Current TV's netcast in 2006. We've always welcomed media at Burning Man. We're eager to communicate what we are doing. We believe that we can change the way the world does business, and in this case, we did. They distributed cameras to participants (allowing them to produce the content), erased their logo, ran the programming commercial-free, and for one week became an interactive participant-driven news service. Frankly, I would love to see more companies behave in this way. Did this segment gain them more viewers? Maybe (though much of this potential audience was at the burn). If they continue to produce more programming in this fashion -- and make it commercial-free - will they deserve attention? I am inclined to think they will. Did we make any money by allowing them to film? Absolutely not.

The same is true of our relationship with Google. In the magazine article, I am quoted as saying, "A lot of Google people come to the event. And the reason is that their corporate culture has similarities to ours. They do what they're interested in. They have fun and worry about monetizing it later." I was referring to Burning Man Earth, a version of which we hope to house in this year's Green Man pavilion. We are working with Google to create a three-dimensional model of Black Rock City as it actually exists from year to year. Participants will be invited to map themselves, their artworks and their camps into this digital environment, just as they create things on the playa. What is the point? This is what I asked when I was first approached with this idea. Is this some sort of hermetic game environment, a passive and masturbatory entertainment, a substitute for immediate experience? Far from it. People who enter into this digital realm we be able to travel -- eventually, it's hoped -- down every street of Black Rock City. They'll also be enabled to make contact with every participant who chooses to become a settler in this on-screen metropolis.

In other words, one needn't just ogle on Google. This is not intended to be a spectator environment. It will be possible to see behind the scenes, to knock on the door (or scratch at the tent flap) of anyone who has elected to participate. It's never possible to experience all of Black Rock City. It really isn't feasible to see even 5% of Burning Man. But, once we've gathered up successive years of the event, once people have lovingly labored to recreate what they have done in the desert, it will be possible to witness something like the fullness, the spatial-temporal plenum, of the Burning Man experience. But, again, the crucial point is that people will be able to make direct contact with other people, to visit their websites worldwide and communicate with them via email.

It is notoriously difficult to describe Black Rock City to people who have never attended the event, and efforts to evoke it too often reduce down to descriptions of spectacle. Burning Man Earth will allow participants to peel back the spectacle and reveal the lives, knowledge and the aspirations of fellow burners. In other words, we hope to engineer, with the help of our community, one of the largest fully (and deeply) interactive social environments ever contemplated. Did you see something on the playa that you'd like to emulate or understand? Soon (well, relatively soon and with a whole lot of work on our part), you will be able to go to the source. Just ask people why and how they've done things. Burners being burners, they will probably tell you.

So, what is Google getting out of this - a lucrative demographic, a valuable branding opportunity? Hardly. They're very rich and we (I don't want to offend anyone who thinks that Burning Man is the center of the known universe) are really very small. The truth, instead, is that we're near and dear. The founders of Google have attended Burning Man for years. They feel they're part of our community. Many of Google's employees are participants, too. People put it in their resumes. Entire walls at their headquarters a papered with Burning Man photos. Are we being paid off? No. Are they making money? Well, no. They are offering resources as a gift. Does this large cooperation covet your business? Not really. They have plenty of business (and most of you, in point of fact, are probably their customers, already). Both parties simply thought it would be fun to work together. We've signed no contracts. We have done no deals. And we don't envision advertising as a feature of Burning Man Earth. We regard this collaborative effort as a purely culture-bearing enterprise.

What I've been describing is a process of benign detournement whereby one reuses or repurposes well-known media to create a new work with a different message that's conditioned by the context of authentic culture. This is a form of decommodification, and it applies directly to the Green Man pavilion. After all the ballyhoo, -- the howls of execration and denunciations -- let me describe the ground-floor reality of this effort. Currently, about 30 different parties are contributing installations to the Green Man pavilion. The majority of these projects are DIY affairs undertaken by veteran burners. These are attempts at self-expression by individuals and groups who care passionately about the environment. They have no commercial profile. This also applies to three or four non-profits that are exhibiting.

What is left reduces down to a handful of mom and pop entrepreneurs who've accepted all of the remarkable restrictions that we've placed on marketing. We banned, as you note in your essay, the use of logos, the display of brands and any sort of sales representation. They were willing to participate in a festival of ideas that focuses on green technology. Will witnessing a solar carport, stripped of its commercial context, interfere with anyone's experience? Will it substitute passive consumption for an immediate act of encounter? Or will it function as a motivator that inspires folks to go back home and re-examine how they lead their lives? Our theme this year is educational. The purpose of the Green Man pavilion is to display environmental technology, some of which might help to change the world. This is not a sly attempt at marginal or viral marketing. I really can't imagine that an anonymous carport is going to corrupt anyone.

The Business 2.0 article induced some people to assume that we were frolicking with corporate colossi, doing secret deals, accepting sponsorships, but none of this is true. It is true that we talked to some large corporations about exhibiting their wares at the pavilion. However, when faced with all the strictures we applied to marketing, these big boys chose to walk away. In the end, the pavilion project will host only two businesses that can be said to represent capital in a significant way. The first involves the installation of a very large (and beautiful) solar array that will power both the Man and the pavilion. After the conclusion of the event, we intend to install portions of it, at our expense, in the small Nevada towns of Gerlach and Lovelock. It will provide power to a public school and hospital, respectively.

The company that's doing this brokers solar power deals, mostly for large institutions. They make their money from clean energy tax rebates that are offered by the government. Neither we, nor our participants, can be said to represent their target demographic. They are accustomed to much larger operations. What, then, is their motive? They were simply tickled by the notion that, over time, the tiny town of Gerlach could become the first municipality in America that employs solar power to produce more energy than it consumes. I've no problem if our partners in this project want to claim the bragging rights for eventually doing this. Last year, we distributed $91,000 in charitable contributions to local communities in Nevada. For us, this is simply a continuation of that practice.

The second large-scale pavilion project involves an array of wind turbines that will be installed along the Y3K light circle that surrounds the Man. In this case, we were able to go around the marketing departments of various companies and approach the scientists themselves. Scratch a scientist, I've often said, and you will find an artist. These folks felt that exhibiting their beautifully engineered handiwork would be 'cool'. They've been motivated by a kind of passion - radical self-expression, if you will. They have no intention of selling these large objects to our 'customers', any more that Jim Mason, the artist who is creating the Mechabolic -- a massive mobile slug-like object powered by organic refuse -- has any intention of selling Mechabolics to 'consumers'. (Although, I almost wish he would. I'd like to imagine that the roadways of America will some day teem with giant fire-spewing slugs.)

After reviewing all that I have said about the pavilion, I think it's clear that we are doing nothing that betrays our values. Specifically, we are not violating the principle of decommodification. This is the third of our Ten Principles. It states, "In order to preserve the spirit of gifting, our community seeks to create social environments that are unmediated by commercial sponsorships, transactions, or advertising. We stand ready to protect our culture from such exploitation. We resist the substitution of consumption for participatory experience." Nothing that I have described violates this tenet. It's said that he who sups with devil must dine with a very long spoon. However, in this case, I think its clear that we're not supping with the devil; we're not even doing brunch.

This talk of deviltry brings me to my last point and to what I think is the second cause of controversy. After the Business 2.0 article, talk of corporate involvement struck a visceral nerve in our community. Many of those who bitterly protested the Green Man pavilion seemed to feel that we were trying to inject some sort evil corporate bacillus straight into the heart of Black Rock City (though others, gratifyingly, had faith that we would never do this). But why were so many ready to impute a bad intention? It seems to me that, as consumers, we are tempted to assume that there is a law of spiritual entropy, a force inherent in the 'default world', that drags us down, that makes us all 'sell out'.

This can sometimes generate a callow cynicism, a half-baked knowingness, a virulent sense of distrust. It can lead people to say that the Org, the BMORG or, my favorite, the BORG conceals deeply sinister motives. We are imagined, in this scenario, to be a profit-driven Juggernaut: a heedless corporation, an impenetrable bureaucracy that ignores the needs of the community. In reality, we are a very small corporation that employs only 30 full-time people. The majority of participants in our community, on the other hand, probably work for much larger corporations - certainly ones that do not publish letters such as this. This sometimes makes me wonder if we're being offered up upon an altar as a sacrifice to pay for other people's economic sins.

The disgruntled tone of some of what has recently been said about the Burning Man Project speaks to me, at times, of a deep-seated malaise. Only a consumer of mass-marketed products would assume that objects such as turbines and carports can be mysteriously instilled with meaning at the factory. This, after all, is what consumers often seem to feel they're getting when they buy a 'life-style'. Furthermore, only a dispirited consumer could yearn for deliverance, for some kind of absolution in a city that they imagine to be a moneyless utopia that's unconnected to the word-at-large. The truth is that the Project, as a corporation, spends millions of dollars to create Black Rock City, and our participants spend many millions more in a capitalist marketplace in order to inhabit this city. Once that occurs, however, it is entirely up to all of us to actively instill these goods with meaning. That is what identity is all about.

We believe that our community can change the 'default world'. This is what the Green Man theme aspires to accomplish. We know that this is possible because the Project has already begun to help insert Burning Man's culture back into everyday life -- without selling out. For those who'd like a progress report on these efforts, I suggest you consult this year's Burning Man Journal and, in particular, a front page article entitled, The Default World. It may accessed at our website (http://burningman.com/preparation/newsletters/2007-summer/07_news_sum 1.html). I also suggest that people read the featured article in last year's Journal, Commerce and Community (http://www.burningman.com/whatisburningman/2006/06_news_sum1.html). It might help to put these issues in perspective.

Sincerely,

Larry Harvey

Korea - Being There

Remember the first time your child brought home some drawing from school? You of course respond with glee to encourage their artistic creation in hopes the next one will be even better. I remember those days. I have a file somewhere with the collected results.

When my 20 year old son Travis said he was going to Korea for a few weeks, I thought it atypical. I knew he had met some Korean exchange students who invited him to visit, but several weeks in a foreign land with no specific objective? Still, we each need to find our own ways of expressing ourself, and I gave him points for defining his own path.

When he got back I asked about his experience. He said very little. I asked about pictures. He said he was working on it. I backed off. That was months ago.

A few minutes ago I got an email with this You-Tube link. I was expecting a few snap-shots, but I was wrong. I think Travis has captured the reason, reality and result of an immersive experience in a foreign land. This is definitely Korea from HIS perspective.

All of those practice drawings from second grade have paid off.

OK. I'm sure I'm biased, so tell me what YOU think .

Travis in Korea

Keep me grounded. Leave a comment with your conclusion.

Wood Cutter

You meet the most interesting people in the most unlikely places. Is there a correlation?

An and I spent last Thanksgiving at Saline Valley hot springs which is on the north-west edge of Death Valley. There's always a big pot-luck and music afterwards. Plus, it's a great time of year to hike the desert.

After 40 miles of bad road, we got there just in time for dinner. As we were chowing down, An whispered, "I know him", indicating a guy with a long pony-tail. She said she first saw him on the beach at Tahoe and thought he was cute, but never never introduced herself.

As it turned out, he sat down at our table and we started talking. Well, maybe talking is not the right term. His manner of speech was more like spinning a yarn or entertaining around a campfire. He's good at telling a story.

He said people called him Wood Cutter because he got well known at Gold Hill (near Virginia City) for helping people get their wood in for the winter. He said he could axe a seven foot round into firewood faster than two guys with an hydraulic splitter - and he'd proven it. This was quite a claim, but he definitely had the body for it. He had lived in Gold Hill working one of his several mining claims between his gigs as a wilderness guide and doing logging or prospecting.

He also said he had been taking his bus to Burning Man for years. He was very candid as to why. He said he liked all the titties, and went to the Burn to get girls to make titty prints on the side of his bus. He said he especially enjoyed applying the paint before the print. Yep, nothing subtle about Cutter.

As he talked (or spun), you got the idea this guy was as far away from the modern world as one could get. After one story, I suggested he was born a hundred years too late. He corrected me and said, 200 years. He didn't mess much with modern stuff, nor did he eat sugar or processed foods. He said he felt that way most of his life, but stopped eating sugar when he was 11. Book learning wasn't that important either. He preferred the DOING of things as opposed to it's study.

In his early twenties he got permission from the land owners and built a cabin at Fuller Lake in the mountains near Reno. There he lived off the land for over three years. He grew and raised all his own food except for seasoning and some grain which he bought in town.

He made all his own clothes from the hides of what he killed. He smoked the meat when he had more than he needed. He of course kept a garden for fresh greens and had fish from the lake. He took odd jobs now and then for the little money he needed - I think about $300 a year as I recall.

This was all back in the seventies and early eighties. Here was an original Hippie - well, at least in some respects. He used to ride his horse into town for supplies. He had a path all figured out along the railroad and would actually tie up his horse at Raley's on 7th street. If these stories weren't total bullshit, this was definitely an interesting guy.

Later that night we were all in the hot-tubs and this much older lady told Cutter she wanted a juicy story this time. So he told one about a girl who heard he was living up in the woods and wanted to board a horse with him. At least that's what she said. She got her truck stuck trying to get up his road, but hiked in anyway, and found him at the lake. She stayed for nearly two years.

Of course I've left out the best part of THAT story, but the details were not lost on this older lady. As it turns out, her son had brought her out from England to show her the wild west. Saline was a good example, and she was having a great time with characters like Cutter around. In the face, this lady looked for all the world like Charles Laughton, and sounded like him too.

The next morning at sunrise, this Laughton-looking-lady re-told Cutter's story word for word with each juicy detail included. OK, maybe their clothes became a "kit" and "knickers" were mentioned instead of panties, but the feel was definitely there. Here was another great story teller. Here was another unlikely person, in an unlikely place. I do so enjoy serendipity.

Cutter listened to his story re-told without objection. OK, maybe he was a bit shy, but he didn't seem to mind someone else stealing his story. The subject at the hot-tub then turned to hiking. Cutter said he was ready. An and I also knew another friend there named Kenn who wanted to hike. We agree to meet at Kenn's camp to start. When we got there, Cutter had arrived but was still as naked as he'd been at the tubs. He said he liked to hike in the nude - it kept his tan even. What the hell, we headed out.



The hike turned out to be quite a climb - over 5000 feet and I don't remember how many miles. Cutter was in good shape and lead the way. An kept up with him and they talked non-stop. Kenn and I were a bit slower that day and brought up the rear.

By the time we got back down to the desert, it was getting hot and Cutter talked An out of her clothes too. Kenn and I followed suit (or is that absence of suit?) and got naked as well for the last two miles. This was a first for the rest of us and quite exhilarating. Besides, now we were ready for the shower a the springs. Back in the hot-tub, it was time for another story from Cutter.

When he was nineteen, he decided he wanted to see if he could make it to the Pacific Ocean with nothing but his horse, his rifle and a bed roll. He headed north out of Reno but quickly discovered, the hunting was lean. All he found to eat the first few days were blue-belly lizards, but it kept him alive.

He talked of finally getting into the timber and finding better game. He tried to avoid people and towns. He also talked about trying to go around farms and ranches, but sometimes having to cut a fence to get his horse through. He of course always repaired them behind him. Leave No Trace, or at least not much of one.

After a few weeks he had crossed the Sierras and was headed down the other side when he heard a strange noise in the trees. It was a young girl reading a book and having a private moment. He had seen a ranch house about a mile away and figured she was from there. He made some noise to warn of his approach and stopped to talk, but stayed to listen. They got along well that afternoon, and she began to sneak out at night to visit him where he camped not far from her dad's ranch. His story at this point was of course more detailed than I've included here, but the result is the same. I imagine to this girl, Cutter was right out of a western romance novel.  After a couple of days, he just pulled her up on the back of his horse, and they headed west.

Apparently, the departure had a bit more planning.  She left a note for her dad, but he was still pissed. Cutter said the girl was over 18, so he didn't understand what the guy's problem was. Cutter's a very primal sort of guy.  He doesn't always appreciate the subtle concern a parent might have in this situation. In any case Cutter didn't intend to stay around long enough to find out. They rode off. Cutter said this guy drove up and down the roads for several days trying to catch them, but was easy to avoid on horse-back. After a few days he finally gave up and went home. I guess her dad was at last convinced there was nothing he could do about his daughter's seduction.

Cutter and the girl continued west again. Near Chico they met someone who wanted to buy Cutter's horse, so they took the money and bought tickets for Hawaii, where Cutter found a job stacking dry-wall.  After a few months, the novelty wore off.  The romantic honeymoon was over. One day the girl flew back to California without him. Cutter moved back to Reno shortly after that, but never saw her again.

Yes, Cutter's version ended this fast too. Strange how a story of wilderness survival ended on Waikiki. It reminds me of how quickly Mark Twain went from "Roughing It" in Nevada to enjoying himself in Hawaii - all in one book.

So what do YOU think? Are Cutter's stories true? Or just tall tales?

In any case, the four of us did two more hikes that first weekend. An and I have done a couple of others with Cutter around Reno since. We all disagree on various topics, but have become good friends. Cutter still comes by to tell his stories now and then.

And I believe them.

Well, mostly.

Unlikely friends come from unlikely places.

Keep an open mind.

SO Nicely Stated... Ursula Le Guin sends a cry from the heart

Her Response...

Burning Man: Fact & Fiction

You've probably heard it before - "Every year, media coverage of Burning Man gets it wrong."

As a matter of fact, EVERYBODY gets it wrong...

Mainly because there is no "right". Media or not, everyone's experience is widely different. Even two people walking across the playa side by side will often reach disparate conclusions. So much of what we experience is dependent upon your own history and values, our view is drawn by our interests. That's part of what make Burning Man so interesting.

Burning Man: Fact & Fiction

G-Man has written an excellent rational view of the event - but what he describes is far less than anything I've experienced in even my most boring times on the playa (rare).

What he writes is what I call sanitizing for the media. It's writing a digestible version for the rest of America - to give them a "box" to classify the event. G-Man provides a great service in debunking some of the more simple-minded myths, but in doing so he denies by omission the "it" of Burning Man.

It's understandable. But "it" isn't.

Which is why "it" is so hard to explain to anyone who's never been there. Lots of writers (including me) have tried to capture "it" with candid description of actual events, but until we achieve mind-meld, you'll just have to make do with other people's descriptions or...

Go get some dust in your teeth.

See you on the playa.

Ron Paul As Most Entertaining Candidate

My son Joshua and I spar on politics from time to time. Yesterday, during one of these events, I asked him where he got his news - his response, "The Daily Show". The scary part is he's serious, as is much of his generation. But what are we to expect? He grew up with Matt Stone and Trey Parker. He agrees with much of what he's seen on South Park. And when he drags me down into the details, so do I.

But why the Daily Show? Is most of America so steeped in its own politically correct, conventional two-party formula, that the only way to get through is entertainment? Is this the back door to our political future? Do the ideas of Ron Paul and South Park represent the Hippie movement of this generation? More importantly, what effects will it have on the election? Or the next one? Or the one after that?

This morning my son sent me this email...

"If you believe even half the things you have been telling us for the last 20 years, I don't understand how you could not want this man as your next president. Its time to stop bitching and start a revolution. I have been telling you for years how libertarians would lead the way to a better America. This is the beginning, and I think he can be understood and appreciated by both parties. Ironically enough, the democrats are starting to like him more than Hilary. Hell even John Stewart likes him, someone who has helped discredit Bush with the best of them. Blog it, make a difference. Even if you can only turn one hippy [ie] at least it was a nice effort. Ron Paul 2008! "

Here are the links he sent. Don't worry. They are short but sweet...

Ron Paul On The Daily Show

Ron Paul on The Tucker Carlson Show


And here's a couple more for reference...

Ron Paul on Wiki

Ron Paul in 2008


If you look at web traffic and change in "voting", we haven't seen such excitement since Tiny Tim threw his hat in the ring. The difference is, this Texan is serious. And so is this next generation. That's the point.

I can't say I agree with all of the Libertarian platform, but many of Ron Paul's ideas are very appealing - certainly the philosophy of liberty and what it means personally. Plus I can't help but appreciate Josh's enthusiasm. So there's no way I could deny him this blog post.

Ron Paul IS the most entertaining candidate.

And who knows.

Hippies ideas have had a major impact on our culture and politics over the years.

At least Josh didn't ask me to go video viral with Matt Stone.

Yet.

Getting Blown Off Mt. Shasta

Five years ago this week, I set out to climb Mt. Shasta. This is what happened. Some of you have read the story passed around in email, but most have not, so I decided it was time to post it to the blog.



Getting Blown Off Mt. Shasta
By Rod Coleman
sudden.net at gmail

First, the official version:

Mt. Shasta Wilderness Avalanche and Climbing Advisory
CLIMBING ROUTE ADVISORY
-------------------------------------------------------------
Climbing Advisory, updated June 10th, 2002.

Synopsis:

This past weekend was a doozy with cold temps, snowfall and full hurricane winds! A dozen tents were destroyed with one blowing downhill with an occupant inside! There was also one case of frostbite (wind chill well below 0F), and a rockfall injury resulting in a broken clavicle. Winds hit over 60 mph at Lake Helen and also in Hidden Valley. At times, crawling or rock hugging was the best mode of transport.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Very concise. Here's what it was like to actually LIVE it...



Getting Ready

I'd spent weeks preparing to climb Shasta. Hill climbs. Hill climbs with mountaineering boots. Hill climbs with full pack. Hill climbs with full pack AND mountaineering boots. I also of course made practice climbs with the other members of the team.

There would be five of us. Kathy who had attempted once and failed because of pace and conditioning, but the weather was great. This time she was in much better condition, but the weather would challenge us. That's how it is with adventure.

Mike, her boyfriend, who had climbed lots of peaks in Europe when he was younger, but had been away from climbing for years. He was probably our least prepared.

John was our leader with ten attempts, and five summits of Shasta. His summit rate was twice the average for this mountain where normally only one out of four gets to the top. John doesn't look the type, but when he gets his climbing shorts on, you can see the experience. He has calves that look like Popeye's. He's that quiet kind of hiker who just keeps going.

John also invited another friend of his who was in good shape. His name is Ron and he'd been a Ranger in the Army. He was ultra gung ho and had once taken his two sons (7 and 9) up the face of El Capitan because he couldn't find a baby sitter. Well, you get the idea - never say die. Impressive guy.

Fortunately for us, Ron was now in his fifties and mellowed a bit. My guess is he'd also mellowed a bit in his workouts but still looked like he could beat the rest of us up the hill. And then there was me. No experience climbing. Not much experience with a pack. No snow camping experience at all. The only time I had used an ice ax or crampons was in my first class a few weeks ago.

On the other hand, I DO hike or walk 50 to 70 miles a week. I'm also into the technology and had just read Ray Jardine's book, "Beyond Backpacking". I even bought one of his packs and plan to follow his advise. With no skis to carry (like John and Ron), I figured I should be able to keep up.

As it turns out, I actually got to lead most the way. John had me on the point from the beginning. I found out from Kathy later on, John told her I needed 50 more pounds in my pack. What can I say, I get excited. That's how I do things. I like to get there. Plus John was right, I was ultralight in the pack.

Anyway, I DID prepare. And not just my training. I also read much of "Freedom of the Hills" and the all of the two Shasta books. Then I cross correlated the equipment lists. With temperatures nearing 100 in Redding there was no way I would need all the cold weather gear but the books all warned - take it anyway. So I did.

If you're interested, click through:









I also built a collection of Shasta web links. I must have read 20 Shasta climb descriptions, many of them from people NOT summiting and why they didn't. But none of their stories were like this one. That's why I'm writing it down.

And no, I didn't forget the weather. In general it looked good. But there was a slight chance of showers on Saturday and winds of 20 MPH in town. The wind would be double that on the summit, but that's normal. Most of those pictures you see of people on tops of mountains are taken in the wind. A little wind didn't concern me.

When we got to the parking lot at 6800 feet, it was hot - 92 degrees and no wind at all. Everyone started the hike with a single layer. In climbing mountains (and other hiking) you dress in layers so you don't have to take extra clothing. Everything is cut big. As it gets colder, you simply add layers of different types for changing conditions.

Even when we got to Sierra Club's cabin at Horse Camp (the highest that horses go), it was still in the 80s. This is a general staging area at about 8000 feet. We made our first camp, had dinner and told stories. John and Ron had lots of them.

I was talking to John about emergency ice caves and how some students on Mt Rainier had collapsed their ice cave and died of exposure in 70 MPH winds a couple of weeks ago. He told me about a time a few years back when a group of school kids near Shasta had all suffocated in a snow cave because their vent got plugged. I would remember that very soon.



Lake Helen

The next morning was much colder than expected at 27 degrees. This would make the summit about 7 degrees. It had dropped over 20 degrees from the previous night's low. We were definitely getting a northern flow of cold air, weird for June. The wind had picked up a bit too.

I talked with John and he noted the forecast called for a little nasty stuff on Saturday but he figured it was OK. We weren't planning on a push to the summit until 2 AM Sunday morning. So we packed up and headed for our base camp at Lake Helen, which was at 10,400 feet.

Finally we were doing some real climbing. We had to use crampons right away but the snow condition was good. By the afternoon it got a little mushy but not bad.

The hike was great - blue skies and light breezes. But then we started seeing these wispy clouds streaming off Shasta's peak and then disappearing. There was definitely water in that highest layer of air. As the day wore on, the wispies increased and lowered. Not a good sign.

Then there were reports of wind. Soon, we began meeting climbers streaming off the mountain. They were coming down way to early in the day to have made an attempt at the summit. Soon we found out why. Last night Lake Helen had experienced 40 MPH winds, gusting to 50.

One guy who only used stakes on his tent literally was blown off the mountain in the middle of the night. He went about 100 yards down the slope before he was stopped by some rocks. He could have been in much worse condition. He needed stitches but was able to hike out with a Park Ranger. We took note. We would anchor from the high points on the tent to rocks buried under the snow as recommend at these altitudes and under these conditions.

The other reports were of even more concern. Climbers were being being blown off the hill before they even got up to Red Banks. Or indeed, even very far from the base camp at Lake Helen.

John told me "blown off" the hill is when the wind is so high it creates a white out condition from blowing snow where you can't even see your feet. Going on becomes dangerous. Above the cliffs called Red Banks is were you normally find the high winds on Shasta. There's a thousand foot climb called Misery Hill, not for it's steepness, but for it's wind. On Misery Hill, being "blown off" is literally not being able to stand against the wind. This occurs at about 70 MPH and many have had to turn back at only 200 feet below the summit when they get to this most exposed area.

Many of these people coming down weren't even going above base camp. Were they ALL wimps? It didn't look that bad to us. Most said they were turning back because they had such a nasty night at Lake Helen and heard it was even worse on the summit. Apparently, seven out of maybe forty that tried DID summit that day. At least that's what the rumor was. But I didn't manage to talk to any of them.

Not withstanding the funny clouds on the peak, the weather began to improve. When we made camp at Lake Helen it was dead calm with sunshine. Had we lucked out? Had the winds come through early? It was still a little cool for June.

John and his friend were behind us because of their heavier packs and skis. Even Mike beat them to base camp. I got the idea Mike was doing much better than he thought he would. When John and Ron arrived it was so nice, they didn't even bother to set up their tent.

We all had a late lunch then set up Kathy's tent where I went for a nap. I wasn't looking forward to getting up at 2:00 AM even if that was the best time to climb. I awoke to the strangest sound. It was the whistling of tent ropes. I looked out. It was five o'clock in the evening. The others were just finishing the high anchor lines on John's tent. They were just in time from the sound of the wind.

The skies were still blue, but the wind was howling. Then it got worse. I later learned several climbers weren't able to get their tents up that night. We heard one lost his tent altogether (official report - a dozen!). It just blew down the hill. Fortunately no one was in it this time. These orphans bunked with other people.



Noisy Night

We got back in our respective tents, melted water for the climb and later had dinner. The winds kept up. We still had several hours before departure. We COULD get lucky.

But the winds got worse. When I went out to pee, I noticed it wasn't even hitting the ground. It just went over the side of the mountain and kept going. I wondered if I shouldn't have put on my climbing boots before trying to relieve myself in this wind. I didn't have that much traction on the snow. It's how accidents happen. I very carefully walked back from the crest and got back in bed. Soon we were all asleep.

I was in a tent with Kathy and Mike. Kathy was in the middle. I was in John's tent the night before and had the middle spot. It was warm and I made the mistake of bragging about it. Kathy decided THAT was a good idea. She invited me into her tent for our second night. It was a tight fit but we were all on friendly terms. Sardines in a can is a good description.

I didn't sleep well that night but it wasn't the howling wind. You get used to that. It wasn't even the tight spoon with Kathy. That was kind of nice. It was the snow. Not long after sunset, it began to come down, or more accurately, sideways. At first we weren't sure if it was really snowing or just blowing snow off the peak. Later on it became a fine powder. We knew. This was fresh.

The snow built up in drifts. Unlike John's Gortex tent, Kathy's was a three season model with vents at the top. It let in the "fine" snow. If we'd had wet snow, it wouldn't have come in at all, but soon we had a fine dusting all over the inside of the tent. It looked like powdered sugar. Except it melted as we moved around. The bags started getting wet.  That wasn't the worse part. Snow began to drift and build against the walls of the tent. This small two man tent was becoming even smaller as the walls pushed in. It's a good thing none of us are big people. My butt was against this cold wall of snow all night.

My bag is an REI Sub Kilo and rated down to 20 degrees, but the compression destroys the effectiveness of down. It was not a good night for sleeping. Which is one reason I was really looking forward to getting up and climbing.

Now you might think I was crazy, but often when the snow starts, the wind dies down. And this was a north wind. The snow would be light. There was STILL a chance of summiting.

That silly thought was soon put to rest by the howling wind. The snow was light all right, but the wind kept getting worse. We all heard the alarm go off. Nobody said anything. Then the wind died down a little and I said, "Ahhh! Time to go" and acted like I was getting up. Just then the wind howled even louder. I guess it wasn't THAT funny. Nobody laughed.

We knew it was over. No summit for us. While still in sleeping bags, Mike and I both braced ourselves against Kathy and used our butts to push the snow drifts back away from the walls of the tent. This helped get a little more room and keep the cold away. We went back to sleep.

I was relieved in a way to have such a definitive set of conditions for our failure. It wasn't a "maybe" situation. You CAN climb in wind if you rope up, but we had not planned on that kind of climb. We had no rope. Plus these winds were getting near limits even for ropes. And this was base camp! The summit was TOTALLY out of the question. The Park Ranger later told me it was gusting to over 80 MPH (official report said sustained 60 MPH), and that it only got this bad once or twice a year. It had to be well OVER a hundred miles per hour on the summit.



Hunkered Down

I awoke to a heavy pressure on my back. It was quieter and totally dark. Shouldn't the sun be up by now? Was the wind dying down? It took me a minute to figure it out. The tent was mostly covered by a snow drift. And it had collapsed. Actually the walls had just folded in like a fish's puckered mouth. The poles were still in a distorted arc. I remembered John's story about bad air. Fortunately, the vents in this tent were at the top. The air was still fresh but VERY cold.

I pushed on the snow drift. It didn't move. I pushed a little higher up. It moved some. I pushed more. The noise of the wind got louder. There was a little light. Mike was pushing on his side. The wind was howling again. The snow had kept it quiet and dark. We'd been in a naturally-formed snow cave.

Everybody was awake and I needed to pee. I verbalized my need. Nobody said anything. Nobody wanted the door zipper opened. Not even me. I shuffled the double tent zipper around to the top of the door. It was now at least well above the snow, but I would have made a snowy mess escaping, and an even worse one getting back in. What to do? I needed to pee REAL bad.

Time for the Zip-Lock. I got it out of my pack and tested it by blowing into it first - good bag, no leaks. This is a VERY important test as you might imagine. I had to straddled Mike and Kathy's legs to get enough head room in the collapsed tent, in order to get the Zip-Lock low enough to fill.

It actually worked better than I expected. I didn't even get my fingers wet. I zipped it up and slipped it out through the top of the door. It would be an ice cube in a few minutes. And no, I never found it later, but I looked.

Anyway, back to sleep. Well, sort of half asleep. The next clear thing I remember was light on the peak of the tent. The snow had me squeezed against Kathy again. She later told me she could feel the wind buffet me from the tent wall. My ass was REAL cold. I whacked the top of the tent and got a little more room. But not enough to be comfortable.



Escaping

"Shovel time", I said and dressed up - all four layers with Gortex jacket, rubber pants, PolarTec hat, Thinsulate gloves, and of course goggles. I only had the liners from the climbing boots in the tent but they were almost as good as regular boots. They would have to do until I could dig out the shells. We had put lots of stuff under the fly of the tent and it was all in the drift. Fortunately we kept the water in the tent and I had some before I went out.

It was weird. The fly created a protected area which was why the snow drifted so much. Other than the powder around the tent, it was all hard pack and blue skies. The top of Shasta was under a swirling cloud that kept changing shapes. That's where the snow was coming from. And the wind. Right down the mountain.

The wind made it hard to keep my balance but I got down on my knees and open the fly. Half the snow blew away all by itself. The rest I just kind of scooped up and the wind took it away. The head and the foot of the tent were a little more difficult, but I soon had all the snow cleared and was handing gear in to Mike and Kathy. That was a mistake. The snow on the gear melted and things started getting wet.

I walked out to the crest of the hill. A group had roped up and I was amazed when they headed UP the hill. I later learned they came back in about 40 minutes. Not one person summited that day. I was told this guided group didn't get paid unless they at least made an attempt on the summit. It was a token attempt apparently.

I tried to check my watch temperature, but my wrist was too warm. And if I stuck it out in the wind, the watch got cold REAL fast but the damn thing only updates every minute or two. I got one reading at 9 degrees but that was mostly wind chill and probably not all of that (official was below 0 degrees with the wind chill). It was cold enough that your finger tips went numb in only a few minutes WITH the glove on. I kept pulling them back into the palm of my glove. It helped.

Just then someone was behind me. It was Ron. "We can't get down that slope in this wind", he said. Did he know what I was thinking? I was wondering HOW to get down, not IF. For him it was WHEN, and when was not now.

"Exposed" is how climbers refer to any situation in which if they screw up, they die. Usually by falling. Shasta is not normally an exposed climb. Well except for maybe a little at Red Banks and a few other rock or glacier approaches.

But the storm had changed all that. Under these conditions, if you missed a step going down ANY of these slopes, the wind could drive you down the mountain like a bat out of hell - or into it. You LITERALLY would be blown off the mountain.

Self arrest would be even more critical in these conditions. This down-hill wind also made the slope "steeper" because you had to lean into it. The crampons had to engaged at a steeper angle. It's easier to slip on a steeper slope. This storm was making the whole mountain an "exposed" climb.

I went over to John's tent as Ron got in. He said we should wait a while and see if the winds died down. Ron agreed. Sounded good to me. My fingers were getting numb again. I needed to keep moving or get back in the tent.

When I got back to Mike and Kathy, they were shaking. Mike only had Gortex pants. With no rubber gear, he was getting wet from melting snow. Kathy's sleeping bag was wet too. She had laid snowy gear on it. She at least had rubberized pants.

Mike and Kathy appeared miserable. I was just glad to get back in the tent. Such contrast. It was MUCH worse outside. At this point, I didn't want to go anywhere.

And once I relaxed, I realize Ron might be right. At some point, it could be TOO windy to even go DOWN the hill. I hadn't thought of that before. Damn. And this tent was quickly becoming less that a good shelter.

I told them what John and Ron said, but Mike wanted to talk to them directly. He geared up and crawled out under the fly. Kathy and I scooped snow out of the tent. I began packing up just to keep things dry. Mike came back and we all scrambled to keep the snow out. The drifts were building again.

As I zipped up the door I said, "Nasty out there, uh? You can see how those guys died on Rainier last week when they lost their tent". I was again referring to the news account I gave John the night before. Now it was more real. But it was the wrong thing to say.

Kathy started crying and Mike gave her a hug. I said, "Sorry. Bad topic I guess", but I didn't really think things were THAT bad. It was just an observation. It WAS that cold.

Yes, we DID need to dry out the tent and keep it shoveled, but we could stay here for days if needed. For me being out on that slope was the bigger unknown. Plus there were 25 other people at this camp. And the Park Ranger had a REAL good tent. There were lots of options. This was not yet dangerous. Was hiking out? I wasn't sure. I would defer to John and Ron.



Decisions

We sat there in silence. Doing nothing is no fun in such a situation. "When will the wind die down? What's the weather report?", Kathy asked.

"Let's go find the Park Ranger", I suggested, "He has a radio", thinking anything would help to distract her.

When we got to the Park Ranger's tent, he wouldn't unzip. We talked through the fabric. Now you might think this was rude, but I didn't blame him. His door faced straight into the wind. Snow would fill his tent in seconds. I suspected he had a back flap but it was deep in a drift but no point in digging that out.

He said the storm was to continue through Monday, one more night at least. That was it. That was all he said. Now THAT I thought was rude. What about suggestions? Was it safe to descend? What were HIS plans?

Kathy went to John's tent and I went back to check on Mike. One extra person in John's tent was enough. Kathy returned to our tent in just a few minutes. She said, "We're going down".

Someone told John the east slope was an easier way down. I went to check it out. It looked to have less blowing snow than the main approach as far as I could see, but what was below what little I could see? This was not the way we came up. How steep would it get? How low did we have to go before the wind died?

As I came back to camp, the others were getting their gear together. I unzipped the door to John's tent just enough to talk over the wind. I ask John if leaving was a good idea. He said, "These guys need to get
moving. We'll take it easy".  O... K...

Maybe John was right. Waiting was hell. It could get better, but it could also get worse. And it did. An hour after we left, the storm dropped lower and Helen Lake went into white out conditions. We watched it from below and got the reports later at Horse camp.

Getting the tents down was a pain, but packing up was fast. I think some of our gear got left in the snow. In those conditions, it's surprising how fast you get exhausted. By the time we were packed, I had trouble getting my crampons attached. I also couldn't see because my goggles iced up from breathing. John helped me with the crampons. I got the ice off the goggles.



Decent

Finally we had it all on our backs and headed east. Maybe the wind would die when we got below the crest. We started with long switchbacks which got steeper as we got used to the wind.

John and Ron had their skies sticking up and felt the gusts before we did. They would plant their ice axe and lay down flat on the snow to cut their profile. This "warning" gave the rest of us time to secure our position. We had to "dig in" every few feet. It was slow going, but steady.

I followed John about half way down the hill. The wind was still blowing almost as hard. I kept looking back to keep the others in sight but the blowing snow was getting thicker. At one point Kathy fell but was in self arrest before her ass hit the snow. Mike told me she only slid a few feet. I was impressed.

No one else fell but Mike said he felt like it. He said he had an extra 15 pounds of snow in his pack from the tent and was dead tired. For me the worst part was the sting of the ice chunks hitting my legs. Each one felt like a bee sting. Where were they coming from? They were to hard to be snow.  The wind was so strong it was picking up old ice and blasting us with it.

John had the lead, Ron brought up the tail. Us newbies were in the middle. We worked our way down the hill one step at a time. That's how we got down. One step at a time.

After an hour or so our confidence in our footing improved. The wind died just a little. Once things mellowed out, John told me to take the lead again. I headed out. The bee stings were gone.  The nicer it got, the faster I went.  The faster I went, the lower I got.  The lower I got, the more the wind died down.  I was having fun again. The worst was over. I saw patches of blue as the sun came out at the lower levels. The course was clear. I pushed on and got to the cabin at Horse Camp first.

The wind was now only blowing about 30 MPH and seemed surprising cheerful.  It was still strong enough to blow my ice boots off the bench as I change into my hiking boots. And it was still a VERY cold wind even on the lee side of the cabin. At any other time this would have been a nasty day, but for us it was almost tropical.  We were back to summer.  Everything's relative.

We were safely below the worst of the storm. We cleaned the snow out of our gear and had lunch. Everyone was hungry. We hadn't eaten much since yesterday.  Then we hiked out to the car, drove to town and ordered pizzas. Our appetite came back with a vengeance. Everything was fine. It felt good to be down. Everyone was in good shape.

Over all, it was a very interesting trip. I do regret not getting to the summit. I think I will go back and try it again in one big push. If I leave at two or three in the morning, I should be able to make it to the top before 2:00 PM. At least that way I can predict the weather a little better.

In conclusion, prepare for the worst you CAN'T imagine. A sunny June day in the 90s can become a sub-zero blizzard even at only 10,000 feet.

And take ALL your layers.

Steve Jobs and Bill Gates Video

In case you've missed the link to an important video of computer history...

Steve Jobs and Bill Gates Video

Live Ink offers better way to read text online

Live Ink is a truly new idea - which is rare these days.

I've been searching for the optimal comprehension column width for years and have reached different conclusions at different times.

Live Ink goes beyond column width to find and display the rhythm of the content. My first impression is that they are on to something here.

It'll be interesting to see how this works out.

Stay tuned

Web Usability Data

(example of bad website)

I'm sure some of you have already discovered this site and assume everyone else has too. But that's obviously not the case. Just look around the web.

I'm impressed with the way Jakob challenges the status quo of writing styles. Or maybe it's that I agree with many of his usability points.

In any case, if you do any web design, this site is worth your time.

useit.com: Jakob Nielsen's Website

Dreams of Ducks and Oven Mitts

< There is a modern campaign in progress to capture oral histories before they are lost forever. I'd like to start right here to do the same with email.

Two good Burner friends have posted the following to our email list and I think their work needs a site where it can be linked to and live on for others to enjoy. Now I'll get out of the way so these guys can express themselves.>




Greetings Burners:

I'll take advantage of this lull in our conversations here on reno-list to tell you of a revelation given to me in a dream: I was in a large city someplace, waiting for a light to turn green so I could cross the street. Then there appeared on my right a most beautiful woman with a Burning Man tattoo on her chest. It began just below her neck and extended down into her low cut, loose fitting blouse. When the light changed I stepped briskly forward and glanced back to get a better view of this beautiful sight. What I next saw, as I hovered detached above, was my crumpled body laying in the street, just having been run over by a truck. When I looked around again I saw that I was on the edge of a vast sea of life consisting of every type of creature that lives and dies; bats, bugs, birds, bears and a human here and there in the distance. Shortly I realized that this 'sea' was organized as an uncountable number of lines extending in length farther than one could ever hope to see.

I was soon pressed into a line by those arriving from behind and fell in behind a duck and was, in turn, followed by a cricket. The lines moved slowly forward at different rates so different creatures were opposite me in the adjacent lines at different times. In time I noticed that when any type of bird was adjacent to the duck the two would appear to be having some type of conversation using a language that consisted of gestures. I'll call it Birdish. I studied this phenomenon whenever it occurred and over time learned enough to establish rudimentary communication with the duck. What I learned from the duck was it considered us to be dead also and beyond that didn't have any idea of what was going on, but from time to time we exchanged pleasantries as fellow travelers often do. Eventually the head of the line appeared in the distance and each line ended at what I can only liken to DMV clerk's station. As I got closer to head of the line I could see the station was staffed in turn by a creature of the same type as was at the head of the line. When the duck reached the head of the line it and the clerk duck had an earnest conversation by quacking as ducks do, rather than in Birdish, so I still had no idea of what was going on. Presently the duck turned to depart and gave me the Birdish sign for All-Right and strode away with the most pleased expression one could ever imagine on the face of a dead duck.

Encouraged, I stepped forward and found the workstation manned by a not unpleasant human that I can only liken to a DMV clerk. The clerk looked at me for a moment with a friendly face and then, with some type of recognition I didn't understand, consulted the workstation terminal. Then a scowl and a harsh query: ôWhat is your excuse this time?ö At that moment I realized: Holy shit. This is The Judgment. "Er, ah, um, the Burning Man made me do it", I hopefully replied. The clerk turned to the terminal muttering something about slow learners and after a brief consult with the terminal turned back to me and said ôYou are to immediately return as a green tree frog, go get suited up.ö I tried to protest, but before I got the second word out the clerk had morphed into a cricket and emitted a sharp chirp which I interpreted to be "Next!" in the language of the crickets. That's when I awoke.

Now, my friends of the flame, it is clear that we should prepare some reasonable story before our time comes because it has been revealed to me that "The Burning Man made me do it" doesn't work very well.

-Rick Brown







Holy smoke, Rick... nice one. Did you wake up naked with a frog in your hand?

A couple of months ago I wrote a story that is eerily similar to explain the significance of oven mitts to theme camps like Apokiliptika and Labwerks. I read it during the Burncast interview and here again it is submitted for your enjoyment:


Why Oven Mitts?



by Science Officer Mister Jellyfish, August 27,
1974

It was a cold beyond cold. The frost bit into my bones and the core of my being shook with longing as I stood in line for the third day. I was staggering from lack of sleep and malnutrition when I found myself, finally, at the front of the cue.

"How much bread can I have, my family is starving." I said to the well fed official seated at the makeshift wooden table between two armed guards.

"No bread, only mitts!" he barked as he pushed toward me four oven mitts of different colorful designs and flowered patterns. The colors began to whirl as the blackness closed in around my vision. The last thing I heard was his gravely voice shouting "Next!" as the guards dragged me away.

I awoke in the snow and ice to find the cheery mitts covering my hands and feet and was thankful to the guards for saving me from assured frostbite. As I hobbled home, I recounted a speech from our great leader about the blessings and many uses of oven mitts and how they symbolized the united workers of our great society.

Who was I to question his despotic wisdom? It was true that oven mitts had many uses. At that very moment they comforted me as gloves and shoes. One could employ them as a:

*
Holster

*
Vodka bottle cozy

*
Bread warmer

*
Premature baby bag

*
Camera case

*
Contraceptive

*
...and so much more

Thank you, Kernul Killbuck, for knowing that the blessing of the oven mitt is the answer to our longings and a beacon of truth for the people. It is a great honor to myself and the crew of Labw?rks to continue your oven mitt research in space for the betterment of our collective future under your iron rule!

Global Warming Swindle

Originally posted 06-16-07:





With all the press lately, you may have started to wonder if there's anything to this Global Warming scare. I know I did.

Fortunately, I'm old enough to remember the very OPPOSITE was being presented in the early seventies. I also know how easy it is to distort the truth - inconvenient or not.

But since I like to keep an open mind, I sat through "Inconvenient Truth" - all of it.

I was far less impressed than many I've talked to, but I DID find the charts interesting. The next day I spent some time on the net and found lots of data both ways, but nothing very definitive - certainly nothing as well presented as Al Gore's film.

Now that's changed.

"Global Warming Swindle", produced by the BBC, is THE best counterpoint to Al Gore I've seen. It not only starts with very convincing science in far more detail than Al presented, but it also shows the political reasons for the movement itself. It makes FAR more sense than Al's film. I especially liked the final presentation by the co-founder of Greenpeace (who of course has split with most of his fellows).

So if you're as open-minded as I am, you'll watch this film.

It's worth your time.

No matter what side of the issue you're on.

Global Warming Swindle

Thanks Dave.

03-20-15 An Update from Dr Moore, Co-founder of Greenpeace - Why I am a Climate Change Skeptic

05-20-16 EPA's counterpoint:  Causes of Climate Change

02-07-17 When science gains an agenda, it ceases to be science:

A Top Climate Scientist Blows the Whistle on Shoddy Climate Science

03-28-17 An interesting approach to the problem:

How to Change My Biases on Climate Science

If the science is truly "settled", why are there still so many skeptics? And why is Washington DC such a hotbed of conviction? Are people inside the beltway really that much smarter?

"Some opinions don't quite mesh with scientific reality. Just 49 percent of people thought that "most scientists think global warming is happening," the survey found. In reality, 97 percent of all climate scientists agree that climate change is happening and that humans are very likely the cause of it"

04-07-17 Most Americans Believe in Climate Change, Lawmaker Tells Senate


04-08-18 ‘Climate Change’ Gets Its Scopes Monkey Trial

Another interesting link from Dave Orel:

11-05-18 How the Global Warming Scare Began

And from Tom Hoops:

04-11-19 The Truth About Global Warming

12-26-22 “There is No Climate Emergency”

10-03-23 Judith Curry Interview: Climate Scientist Says World Won't End