Burning man began in 1985 by Larry Harvey, who was looking for a break from a romance gone awry (by doing what we all do in such situations--setting fire to wicker on a beach in San Francisco). After some quick frowning by the local law, Larry hooked up with a performance art combo (San Francisco Cacophony Society) and moved the event into the Black Rock Desert in Nevada, where this past Labor Day weekend it sported an astounding crowd of 4,500 neo-pagan-pyrotechnic-hermit-wannabe campers, double the 1994 attendance. Clearly, the progression of this event is packed with history, but in attending this event, all that really matters are three things: fire, escape from the "real world", and your being there.

The Mermen

Photo: Jay Blakesberg

My attempt to get to Burning Man began in April of 1995. Allen Whitman, bassist for the San Francisco based tribal-surf band the Mermen, flexing his recently acquired Internet muscles, dropped me some email saying that last year he had attended this insane event in the desert sitting in with the percussion/noise band Sharkbait. He filled my head with primal images of painted bodies dancing and screaming while a towering burning wicker man loomed above, urging them on. Not the usual Labor Day at home with the family. As if this wasn't intruguing enough, he added that the Mermen were going to be performing this year.

Now let me interject for a moment-- if there is a perfect modern soundtrack for the Burning Man, it would be a combination of Crash Worship, Sharkbait, and the Mermen. The opportunity to be involved in an experience such as this with the Mermen providing their uniquely beautiful surf-feedback sound is not one easily passed up.

Film by David Aquino

As Labor Day approached, the amount of hype surrounding Burning Man exceeded that of Windows '95, both in quantity and interest. The Internet was was filled with the excited ramblings of various groups working on their outlandish campsite extravanganzas. All the technological elite were plotting away: Organic Online, HotWired, Club.Net, C-Net Online, and even folks from Skellington Studios (you've heard of "Nightmare Before Christmas?"). Concepts involving parachutes, weather balloons, RV rentals, trampolines and fireworks were bandied about. When the Mermen and the Screaming Divas played a "Burning Man Fundraiser" show at the Bottom Of The Hill in San Francisco, the place was overflowing and their transportation costs were clinched. Using the recently-honed, crafty-reporter techniques taught to me by ATN Editor Michael Goldberg and Managing Editor Eric Lipton, I sweet-talked myself into position as roving reporter with the Mermen posse, which had recently mobilized an entire film crew from a bay area university. Little did I know that a "roving reporter" position was another way of saying "roadie" or "cook's helper".

THE DRIVE UP

A few days later, final preparations were made, and after waking up at the ungodly hour of 5:30am and driving two hours from Santa Cruz to Oakland,I was onboard the Mermen "mother ship" RV en route to Black Rock desert, Northern Nevada (aka "bumfuck nowhere"). It should be noted--for historical purposes--that in an unprecedented act of punctuality, we left on time from our meeting spot. This most assuredly could not be extrapolated to the rest of the Burning Man attendees, and certainly not for the Mermen (or myself) in regular practice.

At this point let me give you a quick breakdown of our posse, as it was probably about average in size of the average groups who attended Burning Man:

Vehicle 1--"The Mother Ship" (a big RV)

Passengers:

• Allen, Mermen bass player, driver, and the mean mastermind behind the organization of this journey.
• Leslie, his partner in crime, sharp-shooter extraordinaire, and who we discover later does a mean dance
• Doc & Laura, the cooking crew
• Mark & Vicky, bass tech and his partner
• "Four of the film crew ", aka "I don't remember all of their names"
• Me, your intrepid reporter, general roadie, and cook's helper.
• "Mystery hitcher" (the drive up only)

Supplies:

• The TOILET
• All of the Food
• All of the alcohol
• A clean floor

Vehicle 2 : "The Mer-Van" (A big van with attached trailer)

Passengers:

• Other Mark, driver, guitar tech, and accupuncturist
• Jim, Mermen guitar player
• Martyn, Mermen drummer
• Robin & Dave, Martyn's housemate/friends
• Clayton, Mermen friend (as featured on the "Krill Slippin'" release)
• "more of the film crew" aka "more of the film crew"

Supplies:

• All of the band's sound equipment

Vehicle 3: "Monster Truck" (Kevin's 4-Wheel Drive Truck)

Passengers:

• Kevin, Mermen roadie
• "last of film crew" aka "last of the film crew"

Supplies:

• Other Mark's dirt motorcycle
• Gallons Upon Gallons of water

The drive up consisted of an enourmous amount of beer being consumed by the film crew and Doc & Laura, a small portion of which ended up on one of the seats, and a bit of sleeping by those of us who had only an hour or two of sleep in us already, because of our 5:30 am drive. But I am not bitter. Our first rest-stop resulted in the doors being flung open (once we figured out how they unlocked and flung) and a sea of people emerging in a rush towards either the restroom or a lit cigarette, depending on each person's priorities. Reports of antagonistic and violent people at the payphones came in and we sped back onto the freeway, accompanied by an additional passenger who had left the night before destined for the Burning Man-- transport: his thumb. As you may imagine, he was rather overjoyed to join our caravan the rest of the way, and, no doubt trying to not offend our hospitality, joined in the drinking festivities. Next potty/smoke break: "The Reno Truck Stop."

"The Reno Truck Stop"

Repeat it in your mind a few times. Imagine an unreasonably hot land of concrete and slot machines and 18-wheelers and large TVs and sunglasses and old pro-Aryan men and showers and you've got it just about right. We filled up on some junk food essentials, some sunglasses for those of us who always seemed to lose ours just before trips. Doc & Laura whipped up a plethora of sandwich fixins which were gobbled down furiously, re-energizing the drinking members of the posse. A few more cigarettes later, we dumped our quickly accumlating trash and headed back on the road. About now, I was beginning to feel like an MTV film crew might be hiding in the RV somewhere, filming the next installment of its car-sick "Real World" clone, "Road Rules."

THE ARRIVAL

This was once a lake. Really. It's true.

After seven hours on the road, we approached the lovely scenic town of Gerlach, which holds the lofty position of "the closest town to Black Rock Desert." Supressing our urge to submit to Gerlach's promise of a final fueling on coffee and sugar, we powered through the remaining 20 minutes to the Burning Man entrypoint. We were greeted at the desert border by the a Burning Man registration crew member. Decked out with cool shades and hat, walkie talkies, and a menacing looking gun, we were relieve to discovered he was a Mermen fan. He went into an excited "I love you guys!" rant, which was nice for us as it resulted in a quick processing and send-off into the desert.

The Burning Man site in Black Rock desert, aka the playa, is approximately 400 square miles of "dry" lake bed. From the entrance you can see the outline of activity many miles in the distance. Enormous trails of dust snake behind lone motorcycles and cars racing across the barren expanse, and there was only the smell of dust, lightly settled on the ground. It was an incredible sensation as we pushed the RV's speed limit to the test across the open playa, with "Monster Truck" pacing us to the side. Jim had the bright idea to open the RV door and succeeded only in filling the entire interior in a whirlwind of dust. All around there was no sign of any human life, just an open never-ending stretch of lake bed. It was big, real big.

We only had the tire tracks of other vehicles before us to guide us towards the recently erected town and as we continued, the small speck in the distance grew and grew until we could make out cars, RVs, tents, and radio towers. We played with our compass and consulted maps, trying to determine where the hell our camp was supposed to be. Finally, we made a guess and then zeroed in.

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