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September Highlights
Buying Nothing
The September Issue
Finally getting to the cinema for the first time in months, I chose acclaimed documentary, The September Issue, which chronicles the process and personalities involved in producing the largest annual edition of American Vogue, and The September Issue 2007 was the largest ever put to market.
A very well-crafted documentary, I was gripped throughout: a great insight to the world of glossy magazines, perhaps not a world we’ll see again for a generation, and some great characters in Anna Wintour, Editor, a study in iced control, and passionate and inspirational Grace Coddington, Creative Director – both British. My only caveat being a certain lack of contextuality in the postscript. How many copies were actually sold? If more than the 2006 September Issue, was the % increase commensurate with the % increase in page count? Did the financial collapse follow hard upon? How many were sold in September 2008 and what was that page count? Would such hubris be impossible now? How does Vogue survive an economic meltdown and ensuing cultural recalibration?
But it did make me think about my wardrobe, with mixed emotions. On the one hand, good on me for not buying more clothes, footwear and accessories, on the other, shame on me for not making more effort to look stylish, glam and more inventive and eclectic with the many pieces I possess, for not using my imagination for greater effect, as the wonderful Grace Coddington shows one can in the film. Of course The Good Consumer would have a very different approach: finding inspiration from acquisition and accumulation of material goods.
And we females are aggressively marketed to in this regard as Mitchell and Webb satirise succinctly . We bear additional responsibility for the volume of Stuff cluttering and clogging up our lives.
It seems I’ve tapped into the zeitgeist with this project – everywhere I turn, people are bemoaning our burden of too much Choice, too much Stuff and in particular how this eats up our precious resources and limited time on this planet.How trivial and foolish all this painted posturing is; yet how marvellous to find full expression in costume and props? As evidenced by our fun times at Burning Man…
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Burning Man 2009
What is Burning Man?
Burning Man is an annual week-long festival which celebrates self-expression and community, particularly through the medium of art and costume.
We had heard of this extraordinary event in the Nevada desert years before we moved to California, and had always been intrigued.We had originally thought of going in 2007 but Esme’s arrival put paid to that idea.
Various friends, especially Adam and Jen, had been and raved about it. So this year we went for it.
Mum arrived three days prior to our departure, having been booked in last January to come over and look after Esme for us.
Conditions at the festival can be arduous with daytime temperatures often topping 100ºF, and high winds regularly whipping up fine alkaline dust, so it is not advisable to take small children. Although we saw some kids there, they were noticeable for their rarity.
What began as summer solstice celebrations on Baker Beach in San Francisco in 1986, has now become a vast enterprise, in a temporary metropolis known as Black Rock City – this year numbers peaked at 43,435 at noon on the Friday, culminating in the Burning of the Man on the Saturday and the Burning of the Temple on the Sunday.Getting There
Burning Man started at midnight on Sunday 30 August; Adam left San Francisco at 6pm, arrived at Black Rock City at 6am Monday, it took two hours of queuing to get to the entrance, and then another hour to inch to the site. We were hoping for a smoother and shorter journey!
On Tuesday 1st September I came home totally frazzled after a difficult day at Puddle Jumpers (Esme’s pre-school – one child hadn’t stopped crying for 90 minutes, another bossed the other kids around, a third was in a biting phase; my fellow supervising parent is heavily pregnant), to a completely different scenario.
Colman, helped by Kay and Jen, and Jen’s friend Katharina who had just flown in from Germany, was loading gear of every shape and size onto the back of our hired pick up truck, and lashing it down with bungees, ropes and covering everything with a tarpaulin.We all took it in turns to shower – our last for 5 days. Mum had made sandwiches for us all for the journey. We said goodbye to Esme, who was so engrossed in her birthday present from Granny, the box set of In the Night Garden, kept for this separation moment, that she didn’t even turn her head when we left.
Black Rock City is 330 miles from San Francisco in Nevada so we headed NE towards Lake Tahoe, taking the Donner Pass through the Sierra Nevadas, and driving through Reno.
We spied a few other Burners on the freeway, very exciting!The journey had a surreal quality as we turned north into the desert, the roads got smaller and straighter, tail lights ahead of us, spaced out, everybody going one way.
We could see scrub and stars. Colman insisted on driving the whole way (our hero).
As we approached the limits of mobile phone coverage, around 1am, someone mentioned tickets and Kay said to us, “you do have mine don’t you, I asked for it to be sent to your house?” I said, “no” Panic ensued. We frantically tried texting Kay’s boyfriend in Brighton to check her email to provide email proof of purchase. We speculated as to whether they would make her pay for another on the door and would they provide a refund in the event of providing a paper trail?Then I looked at the two envelopes containing tickets I had brought with me, and … two envelopes because one had our 2 tickets and the other Kay’s – all saying Admit One Homo Sapien. Phew!
The last villages before Black Rock City are Empire (a two-shack gypsum mining company town boasting a Welcome to Nowhere sign) and Gerlach. Despite dire warnings of traffic jams at this point (as people stop to refuel here for the journey home), we found Gerlach nearly traffic-less. Burning Man is responsible for 20% of annual sales in these two settlements.,
Desperate for the toilet, and a flushing one at that, I set off into the heart of dark and sinister looking Bruno’s motel – reminiscent of every American creepy hostelry I’d ever seen committed to celluloid – and seemingly deserted. Then met some drunk chap at the door of his room who invited me in.
He and his mate turned out to be the chief cook and bottle washer of Bruno’s Country Club – the local eatery – Mr Bruno has the monopoly on food and lodging (the only such for 80 miles) and also owns the gas station. They had been cooking for people setting up Black Rock City for months and were excited to come to the festival for the day during the week on free passes from their Mr Big boss. They couldn’t have been funnier, more charming and splendidly inebriated. So much so that in chasing after us to offer more beer, they drove their bicycle smack into the garage wall!Welcome Home
We set off on the final leg to the gates of Black Rock City, tail lights steadily progressing ahead.
We had made good time and arrived at 2ish, joining a queue, peering out at the snow-like conditions: soft playa dust covering everything and floating, seemingly innocently, in headlights.Our first glimpses of BM, it was akin to arriving at a party on the moon. A few hardy souls trudging through dust dunes, hats and bandanas, boots and masks – Wild West meets S&M.
For unfathomable reasons it took nearly an hour to get to the head of the queue. The call is for Burning Man virgins to show themselves. And Kay, Colman and I emerged from our pick up truck to be embraced by the Greeting Committee in front of a sign, "Welcome Black Rock City, Republic of Burning Man", and who enthusiastically bade us Welcome Home!
We had to perform a little stunt – Colman lay in the dust and made a dust angel, I did a cartwheel – and then strike a bell shouting ‘I am not a virgin!’ We were now Burners!
The Greeters ran through a few rules:
- no taking photos of people without permission – the quote was ‘I intend to get naked on the playa but I do not want my picture on the web, I have a life and a job outside of Burning Man!’
- if it wasn’t in your body, don’t put it in the Porta Potty
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any rubbish that hits the ground is known as Matter Out of Place (MOOP) and we all bear responsibility for recycling, transporting and removing any MOOP either brought with us, or spied at the festival (you get a leaflet on entry showing where to recycle stuff in Reno)Awesome Super Sexy Camp
We edged on our way towards the sights and sounds of BRC, sticking to the speed limit of 5mph following quotes and signs, fun and profound, all chiming with this year’s theme, Evolution.
Black Rock City has itself evolved over the years: since 1998 it has followed a huge curved grid structure, which begins at ‘2 o’clock’ circling round to ’10 o’clock’ with axes on each half-hour, intersecting with 13 concentric semi-circles (streets); the space between 10 and 2 opens up to the deep playa and the Man himself is centred on the playa between 3, 6 and 9 pm.
The radial streets are named A – L and follow the theme. So starting at Esplanade (the innermost street) it went Adapt, Biology, Chaos, DNA, Extinct, Fossil, Genome, Hominid, Inherit, Jurassic, Kinship and Lineage.
The layout of BRC is so clear, it was easy to find people and places with an address. Until the Saturday that is, when street signs are plundered, you need to have learned your way around by then.We were camping with Adam and Jen and their friends at 8.15 between Chaos and DNA – a theme camp named Awesome Super Sexy Camp – well placed therefore to be near the action but yet a few streets back enabling some sleep!
The theme camps and villages are pre-registered, you can of course pitch up wherever you please on the site other than these. And there was masses of space – for us British festival-goers, it was wonderful to drive to your camp and pitch pretty much beside the car.
A.S.S. Camp had been set up by Philippe and Paget, two generous souls who had arrived the previous week. And they, plus helpers (everybody operates with inspiring community spirit at BM) had erected signs for our camp to point people in the right direction – ASS Camp – Get Some!
We thus found the camp at about 3.30am – bookended by Recreational Vehicles (many bring RVs to BM as more effective shelter against the dust than tents). So we crashed in Adam and Jen’s tent (thanks guys), with face masks, ear plugs, Melatonin pills, from 4-7am, awakened by the noise of a passing art car booming tunes to greet a bright bright sun shining day – our first day at Burning Man!
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Black Rock City
Sustenance and Survival
Black Rock City is so called as it is sited on the otherworldly and striking Black Rock Desert , once a deep lake 1000s of years ago, that evaporated to leave an almost completely flat dry lake bed, one of the largest alkali mud flats on earth at 1,000 square miles, sided by impressive granite outcrops. 
As only the finest sediment reaches the centre of a desert basin (known as a Playa in the Western US), which has no outlet to the sea, and its water carried dissolved minerals, once the water dries up, these salts and minerals cement the lakebed mud, climatic extremes and high wind scours it up into the fine alkaline dust. (Yes, we went to the Geology lecture out of all the many weird and wacky workshops and talks available on the schedule - which included 'Socially Appropriate Nose Picking Day', 'Colouring and Cocktails', and 'Undecide Your Life').
The whole effect is extraordinary – a pale grey flat moonscape with rugged hills to the west and east that funnel the prevailing wind.We saw in five days just two beetles (who most probably arrived on the playa in someone’s luggage) and three ravens. The desert is barren and bleak – not blade of grass nor ant could survive in these conditions – and starkly beautiful.
The dust and wind are a big feature of life at Burning Man. You are advised to bring dust masks and goggles, and to take care of your feet which can be rendered cracked and sore; sales of hand sanitisers and wet wipes in the Bay area must rise dramatically just prior to BM!Tents are particularly susceptible – we brought a sheet with us to cover everything inside when we weren’t there, and try to reduce the amount of dust in our bedding. This had some success.
Colman also brought a gazebo to cover our tent for additional shade, this probably only bought us another 15 minutes in the mornings – once the sun was up, it rapidly became too hot to stay in the tent.
People tended to go out and about first thing, come back to their camp for lunch and a siesta/lounge under shade structures (most necessary during the heat of the day), before getting costumes together for the evening sessions. Some stayed up all night and crashed during the day.ASS Camp consisted of about 70 Burners, probably in the age range 25-55, including about two core groups, the Poly Pirates and the Pleasure People, plus friends and acquaintances.
We knew Adam and Jen (playa names Silver and JenKat), and had met a couple of others previously; we brought Jane and Kay with us and spent most time with them consequently, Jane had invited her friend, Sumiya, who in turn came with his friend, Jane, in an RV.
Philippe, playa name Fuzzy, had organised it pretty well – there was a shaded kitchen galley set up, plus recycling area with different bins for rubbish, compost etc (we all took rubbish home with us, and am pleased to report that our site passed the Leave No Trace inspection with flying colours), a giant shade structure which funnelled breezes, and impressively a shower. This comprised a small motorised pump action device attached to a shower head. And a shower curtain for modesty – which became somewhat superfluous given how much nudity there is at Burning Man. The water went onto plastic sheeting which evaporated over the week, allowing the sheeting to be taken home – it is another rule of the festival that grey water not be dumped onto the earth. We all got one shower in, which was more than expected, and within half-an-hour were dust-encrusted again – but hey!
Burning Man is a commerce-free event, apart from ice at three outlets and one small café at Center Camp. Everybody brings in their own food, supplies, water, everything, so it makes sense to live communally, one has to be very neighbourly – and it was a pleasure to be part of this.
Colman had brought enough food to feed an army – vittles which had to be carefully thought through. We had peanut butter, dried fruit, hard boiled eggs, Cliff bars, soya milk, avocadoes, crackers, rice cakes, biscuits, some fresh veg (kept intact by ice) and big gallon containers of water plus smaller ones to decant into, and most brilliantly Camelbaks to wear on your back and suck water from when out and about.There was a somewhat loose roster for communal meals. Colman and I, along with another small group of four were down to cook on the Thursday.
This was the only really communal meal of our time at ASS Camp – we (well Colman did everything) contributed a mushroom and tomato-based sauce atop couscous, proclaimed delicious by all.There were bars around BRC, which all ran on donated booze and didn’t charge for drinks; set up the stall and the party would start. One cocktail bar nearby, the Duck Pond, had a waterslide all set up – much merriment for onlookers.
Two observations arising from the conditions and the way people changed their behaviour accordingly.
At a British festival it is pretty common to see folk foaming at the mouth, very out of it on drink and/or drugs – many will just party for 2-3 days without sleep. Here this is not the case. It isn’t safe to get in that condition with no water taps anywhere, potentially searing temperatures and the chance of dust storms at any time.
People were no doubt indulging, but were doing so responsibly, Burning Man is a marathon not a sprint.Without food and drink outlets, there was no litter (you tied your own mug to your backpack and took it around with you) and people were very responsible at keeping their environment clean. It was impressive. There is a trash fence erected to prevent rubbish flying across the desert, and volunteers remove debris.
We came across one restaurant in a tiny white tent, the brilliantly conceived L’Homme Flambee, which claimed to be booked up all weekend (but in reality served nothing at all). Their set up and menu made us chuckle!
One morning a nearby stall was offering free pancakes – the line stretched round the block so we didn’t bother. But Kay dashed back to the tent to change into her Wonder Woman costume as superheroes could jump the queue!Just some of the examples of life at fabulous Black Rock City.
Infrastructure
Burning Man is a community centred around the creation and appreciation of art in all its forms.In consequence Ten Guiding Principles for the Festival, which include Leaving No Trace, Radical Self-Reliance, Gifting (not just goods and services exchanges, but the emphasis is on unconditional giving) and Civic Responsibility – all of which I’ve touched on already.
The sixth, Communal Effort, is manifest of course, and takes organised expression in Center Camp , which occupies three streets back from 6pm and Esplanade, houses the only Café on the site, plus post office, Black Rock City Ranger Station Information desk, Lost and Found, the Department of Public Works, the Census, the Department of Mutant Vehicles (aka Art Cars, the only powered transport allowed to drive around the streets and on the playa), newspaper and radio station. In the centre itself, workshops, performers (we saw some great gymnastic/acrobatic displays), an open mike stage, art, and a space to chill in the shade, were all provided.
The Black Rock City Committee provides porta potties with loo paper, and the set up of the city itself, fencing, and security.
There are no main stages, no rave tents, no power outlets, no water taps, no dustbins or trashcans, no press passes, no VIP areas, no day passes, no transportation arranged either to or around the festival. The largest sound systems (all privately run and none arranged by BRC) were placed along 10 and 2 facing into the deep playa – two superstar DJs played at Opulent Temple on consecutive nights: Carl Cox and Armin van Buuren – both played for free. 
This ties in with the third principle - Decommodification – no logos, or sponsorship or advertising are allowed. They have a great phrase, which chimes in with my Buying Nothing: “We resist the substitution of consumption for participatory experience”.One day an aeroplane flew low over BRC trailing a banner behind, an advertising stunt. We couldn’t read it so don’t know who was behind it. The organisers are pretty cross, apparently Burners have written to the CEO of the company involved complaining how uncool this was and how they will boycott the products. So that backfired somewhat!
Getting Around
Daily, people would parachute into the playa skydivers with streamers billowing behind them zipping down. Awesome!
For us mere mortals, bicycles are definitely the best mode of transport. Distances are pretty big, 2100 ft (700 metres) from the Esplanade to the man, leaving aside any exploration of the deep playa – and BRC is also pretty spacious in layout (the whole city is 5 square miles). Most people bring bikes – we had sourced three – the ideal is a somewhat beaten up mountain bike. It was lucky we had a spare one, as we had one stolen on our first full night, having not bothered to lock them up. Very un-Burning Man, although we’re sure it was just ‘borrowed’ and then left lying around for someone else to find.
So Colman and I took turns to ride around on cute-looking Mrs Morales so christened on a stag weekend (friend of a friend called Mr Morales whose groomsmen got him to ride Mrs Morales all weekend). And very uncomfortable she is to ride.
One of the most magical parts to Burning Man is cycling slowly, day or night, past extraordinary art installations, to meet friends, in groups, in costume, wobbling over the deceptively flat yet uneven playa, through desert alternatively scoured and covered in drifts of grey alkaline dust, into particle storms scarcely able to see 5 yards in any direction, and following the fantastic art cars lit up at night.Top
The Festival
ArtYour ticket price doesn’t go into providing many of the things expected at the other festivals we had been to, but the Black Rock City Arts Foundation awards substantial grants to artists and the results of their bounty were strewn, placed, constructed, ablaze, erected, billowing, and heaped all over the playa. All following the Radical Self-Expression principle.
The most famous installation is of course, the Man. He takes different forms each year, in 2009 he was surrounded by stiff waves of lumber nailed together with 100,000 nails. His counterpart is the Temple of Forgiveness. Again, the design alters each time, but the concept is of a spiritual building, one which is the repository of people’s thoughts, prayers, wishes and especially memories.
This year the Temple was, truly, gorgeous. Constructed of plywood in soaring loops and carved fretwork, its symbols evoked all major religions on the ground floor, these became entwined on the first floor, and abstract on the top floor. The overall effect was of a lotus flower. 
People visit the Temple often while at Burning Man. Most go every day – we certainly did – and it was so poignant. Messages were enscribed, keepsakes attached all over the building.
Fittingly, we saw a wedding happen at the base of the Temple one day, the bride wore traditional white and the groom a suit – he must have been sweltering! The whole Temple clapped at the culmination of the service.
There was a shrine to Michael Jackson within.The Temple marks the beginning of the Deep Playa and is on the same axis from 6 o’clock through the Man.
Art Tour
Kay, Jane and I went on the Art Tour one morning. This was great. A bus took people around the playa stopping at installations that had received funding, where, if we were lucky, the artist was waiting for us and talked to us of the inspiration and construction process.
It was clear that BM grants only covered materials and transport to the site – the artists’ man-hours were additional.
The bus was booked up but we followed on our bicycles.We saw Soma, the neuron-inspired Flaming Lotus Girls arch-like sculpture of steel, copper and aluminium, where flames and light flow in homage to the brain’s electrochemical signals across the 50 foot arch.
Fuelled by propane, there were levers you could press to shoot fire through the sculpture and into the tendrils, which extended to the sky and earth.It is manifest that if fire is your thing, here you’d find your nirvana, it plays a great role in the aesthetic of Burning Man which plays host to pyromaniacs of every creative flare. A good thing that fireworks are banned!
Nearby was the large-scale fire installation, the Burninator Grid, a series of computer controlled flame towers. Very spectacular, and pretty hot if you walked between the flames.The Art Tour also took us to Portal of Evolution, a beautiful sculpture based on the female reproductive system. Big steel plates formed a portal, with ovaries and fallopian tubes springing from it. At the top a huge butterfly swung round, big enough to seat people.
This proved to be another favourite sculpture and was visited a few times over the week, well placed to give the Man a female counterpart.30 foot long Chimera Sententia aka Fish Bug took the form of a future evolved creature, one with reptilian, insect and fish ancestors, with enormous head and eyes, and with a flame running down its spine at night.
Other installations spied on our tour included In’cu-nab”u-lum, an intricate Faberge egg, open to one side; the 10’ Watch with its cog innards strewn behind; and MOM aka Who Gave Birth – a celebration of all Moms and feminine energy. 
Our tour ended at the Raygun Gothic Rocketship, a bright shining silver 40’ rocketship, which looked exactly as rocketships should. We didn’t, but you could climb up the gantry and explore the three cabins inside.
A very successful rumour was spread that they were going to try to launch the ship on Friday night. We even met someone who had been ‘working’ on the project who kept up the pretence. Of which more later.
The four of us loved the Birds Nest, perched at the top of a ‘tree’, which had room for quite a number of Burners and lovely views across the playa.But the most fun was the Slide, a 40’ astro-turfed contraption, which gave everybody carpet burns until you crashed into soft pads at the bottom – some daredevils tried to do it standing up.
My vertigo wouldn’t allow me to stroll up and take photos, Colman had to run me up the side, we instantly sat on my sheet square and hurtled to the ground. Esme pointed out my resulting buttock wound every morning for the next 3 weeks – 'Mama ow-wee on da slyde!'
Daybreak
One morning I got up early, and beetled down to the playa to catch first light. I just missed the dawn, but the luminosity across the playa was breathtaking.
The full moon was still up above the western hills – we were lucky, the moon was full on the Friday so we were lit every night.Some of the sculptures really came into their own in the dawn. Holding Flame, a steel pergola covered in sheet steel lattice, shone in the morning sun.
I loved the Mexican pyramid/shrine and also the flowers flowing from a pole with stools sat beside for contemplation.
All over the playa, bicycles and art cars were left where their riders had decided to get off and walk/stagger/collapse instead.Pleasingly I bumped into Michelle and Brent at the Portal of Evolution, which they climbed to great effect,
to the soundtrack provided by the art car decorated like the Golden Gate bridge which had obviously been going all night, judging by the few diehards still swaying on the top deck.The intricate woodwork around the Man glowed fiery orange.
And I paid my daily visit to the Temple, infused by the majestic light.
Art Cars
The Art Cars were an extraordinary and very cool sight. Taking every shape and form imaginable – from a Vivienne Westwood styled shoe to a giant copper dragon to a birthday cake to boats to a giant reel to reel tape deck – you could follow them around on bicycles or foot at night, dancing to their tune, or catch a ride and parade round the festival.
One of our favourites was the Never Was Hall, a beautifully constructed mansion.
The Nowhere Omnibus rides around the Esplanade, stopping at London Underground style bus stops.
On our last day, I went on a bicycle ride with Jane and Kay in the dust storm looking at different installations further out and into the deep playa. The wind blew us easily to the nether reaches, it was a real battle back. Once I saw the Temple looming out of the dust cloud I knew was safe. It was very full on – cycling inching across the playa as dust whirled all around.There were literally hundreds of art installations and sculptures all over the playa and the deep playa – dazzling to realise just how much artwork we didn’t get to see!
Costumes
Kay and Jane are both fiends for dressing up. Kay had had to repack her suitcase after originally planning to bring 20 costumes from the UK. And in SF we’d persuaded her not to bring some of her best outfits as the playa dust could ruin some of the intricate beading.You’re not meant to bring feathers to BM as the wind will whip stray ones away. But that still left a lot of scope – and boy – did people dig their costumes!
Every day I wore a simple outfit – a bra, some kitsch jewellery, a skirt or shorts or sarong, topped by my cowboy hat purchased especially for BM. There is definitely a Burning Man ‘look’, which is a mixture of the:
- practical - high heels noticeable by their absence so boots are very well favoured, lights about one’s person are extremely useful at night, most people are wearing hats during the day
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sexual - bare flesh is extremely prevalent (although we didn’t see the topless female bike ride Critical Tits, we did see the beginning of Critical Dicks), and yes there are plenty who prefer to wear no clothes at all – one of our fellow ASS Campers wore cowboy boots, a hat, a tool belt and nothing else! And saucy outfits were de rigueur both day and night- thematic - whether it be colour (we went to a White Party at Opulent Temple where Colman wore his hospital operating jumpsuit) or creed – Colman wore a djellaba one night – or animal – we saw a herd of cows,
I liked the chap dressed up as a chicken - flamboyant
- platforms, false eyelashes, ugg boots, bindis, oversize fake fur coats, body paint (when I met this chap he was wondering how to get it off) – you name it – anything to catch attention
We borrowed freely from each other – Colman wore a blue dress donated by a neighbour one day, I loved wearing Kay’s beautifully created illuminated headdresses - she brought several with her – and borrowed her tennis skirt and Jane’s silky camisole top for the white night.
I did muster up a different outfit each night. One night I wore my BM gift from Kay – a backless sequinned cocktail top – paired with my birthday present of blue cuffs knitted by Jen for BM, diamante jewellery and Amy B’s fake fur cape acquired at the DLG clothes swap. I looked great!
On another occasion, Colman and I looked quite futuristic – he sported the silver jumpsuit (also from the DLG) and an alien helmet sprouting tubes, while I teamed a black shift top with a large silver brooch from Kay, blonde bob wig and silver chain belt.
Jen had even brought a clothes rail with her to hold a week’s worth of outfits - very practical. She had some amazing home-made outfits including a beautiful embroiderie dress made from a pillow slip, and paid homage to her favourite colour with a purple wig, purple bra, purple hot pants plus fluffy skirt and purple boots. For the White party, she and Adam were decked out in matching white fur.
Our friend, Matt, who kindly collected our bag of wigs for us left under the kitchen table, wore a full wedding dress one night.
That same evening our gang collected a sexy lady called Ashley who wore nothing but her long blonde hair and ugg boots. No wonder she kept dancing so vigorously all night.
Kat from Germany wore a slit dress from a sex shop one evening with devil horns on top – she enjoyed a great deal of attention!
But the prizes for ingenuity, inspiration and sheer obsession with costumes goes to Jane and Kay. They both looked stunning day and night.The first night we had a good chuckle at the 5 hours of preparation it took them to leave the tent, we had come and gone twice and were heading into bed at 1am before they ventured forth onto the playa – but they did look terrific in silver and white!
Kay’s Wonder Woman outfit brought her comments from every middle-aged man who had had a crush on Lynda Carter as a boy. She looked sensational. Jane was dubbed Tarzanna for her leopardskin bikini; she also wore a multi-coloured tutu purchased from the Fairies at the Big Chill with aplomb.
Kay had a nature-inspired two-piece complete with fake flower headdress. Her most daring number was the strawberry nurse which featured a see-through petticoat and an apron on top which did reveal red heart fancies underneath.
Sweet SerendipityAs the street layout made it easy to find people despite the lack of mobile phone coverage, we did hook up with other friends at the festival.
Jen Moyes had helped Colman with all the prep and we cycled over to see her one morning, here we are in our identical hats.
And here she is climbing the Slide by chance appearing in one of Michelle’s photos!Geoff and Armani made it to BM and we hooked up with them briefly a couple of times.
But the best was seeing my old schoolfriend, Steve for the first time in about 6 years, and meeting his very lovely lady, Irit, who came over to see us dressed as cavemen.
They were staying at the Barbie Death Camp, beside Barbie’s Wine Bistro where you could sip cabernet whilst admiring the superb installation of Barbies impaled on crosses and being marched into ovens by jackbooted Kens.
There were many examples of spooky Burning Man magic – connections and coincidences, long-lost friends discovered. One of the people staying at ASS Camp was a girl called Lauren.
She had to leave on the Friday. On Friday, a chap wandered in to ASS Camp and asked if anybody knew a Lauren. I was the only one present who had met her, he said he didn’t know her but was delivering her book.
Hours drifted by and Lauren reappeared, packed up and was about to go. I suddenly remembered her book. She was pleased but unsurprised. This was her 3rd Burn, she always gave the notebook to a passing stranger, to pass around and write their thoughts of Burning Man within, having inscribed where, by when and to whom it should be returned, and the book had always rematerialised!
It was to Lauren that we lent Mrs Morales but on our first night, one of our bikes was stolen outside the fabulous Ashram Galatica (the Grand Hotel that sets the standard for hospitality in the Black Rock City metropolitan area – slogan: your home away from home away from home) where Josh and Maggie were camped and working.
The Grand Hotel featured a beautifully decorated extended canopied tents for mingling and sharing libations, the Poshram Spa, an ‘obsequious concierge happy to advise the weary traveller of the many sights, sounds and sensations the city has to offer’, and four lavish themed hotel tented suites (Oriental, Rajasthani, English country house, Moroccan) which were raffled off each night to great acclaim in the cocktail bar followed by a high-kicking bar top routine from all the staff. Fortunately, we happened to bump into Lauren immediately afterwards so could retrieve Mrs Morales to salvage the rest of our evening.
However, the ultimate in Burning Man serendipity has to be the story of Jen’s camera, which she lost on the last night somewhere between our camp and some friends. Another friend of theirs happened to load up a picture of Adam looking at the camera to Facebook. A person from LA who Jen and Adam had never met, happened to see the picture and emails Adam via Facebook, ‘did you lose a camera?’ and Fed Exs it back to Adam and refused payment. Apparently someone else had found it and given it to him saying you’ll be able to return it to its rightful owner. The wonders of modern technology!This brings us to the 9th of the Ten Guiding Principles - Participation. The spirit of Burning Man is such, that one is a voyeur to some extent your first time, and then is inspired to help create, engineer, construct, volunteer and generally get involved for all subsequent Burns. “To truly understand this event, one must participate.”
Opposite ASS Camp was PleasAir in the form of an aeroplane which provided shade for dancing under its fuselage and wings, with a DJ booth at one end and a platform with two sturdy poles. They ran a pole-dancing competition all week, culminating in a final on the Friday afternoon (one of the judges was chosen for donating a crate of tequila to the bar for the Jet Fuel cocktails). One of the ASS Camp, Alli, got into the final so we all went to support her. A very strange event – I was torn between my feminist principles and marvelling at the extraordinary athleticism and grace displayed. The three top contestants were all judged to have won, their prize: a flight over Black Rock City.
We spent that evening with Kay, Jane, Sumiya and his friend, Jane on their golf cart converted into an official art car, as Jane is unwell so needed it to get about the playa.
That night was most magical and will long live with us. We drove around in a cloud of dust, four of us piled into the back of the vehicle on cushions, saw an impromptu band beneath the Heron Project installation (a large crane like structure which people could climb on, whose neck extended and retracted), danced in a bar to (for once) excellent house music (the DJ upon receiving my congratulations for playing great tunes gave me a CD), and found a spot in the crowds surrounding the rocketship, waiting for its ‘launch’.
Here, we danced beside the golf cart to the sounds coming from the art cars all around – an eclectic mix from funk to terrible trance – and were unutterably moved by Jane moving slowly and painfully out of the art car to stand and sway to the beat, supported by Sumiya.The rocketship did not fire any engines, but there was a spectacular and unexpected fireworks display in compensation.
Burning Man Moment
On the Thursday night, we went out with Adam and Jen, and crew including Matt, Maggie and Josh. We started inside a dome on the Esplanade, which would be hosting a C17th party but we were a little early.
We all cycled in convoy to the Flaming Lotus girls’ sculpture, it was amazing to see it fired up. A band was playing beside it, and a crowd gathered, all bathed in orange firelight, to marvel at the jets of flame.Then to the Opulent Temple where Armin van Buuren was spinning his tunes, via the sights across the playa at night: the Thunderdome based on Mad Max where people engage in combat; art cars thumping music; hundreds of people in costume, many swathed in lights.
Colman was having problems with his contact lenses and throat caused by playa dust. And I was keen to dance but in truth, the continual trance music was starting to do my head in, so we left the others at 12.45am and cycled home across the playa via the Temple where an Eastern European style brass band was playing – really superb. 
And then to the Man where we came across a chap with banjo, another with a stick adorned with bells for percussion, a lady with a washboard and a blackboard with the lyrics all written out for an eclectic range of songs, surrounded by a small crowd all singing their hearts out. And suddenly in the crowd we saw Sue and David, playa names Cowgirl and Rascal, who were camping with us.We sang Across the Universe, Purple Rain, Rebel Yell, Nothing Compares 2 U, and We Are the Champions among others. It was really brilliant – such a sweet surprise to be singing under the Man – and if I could I’d be there still.
Burning the Man
We had originally planned to go home after the Burn on the Saturday night and perhaps get a room in Reno to break up the journey. Friday had started to get pretty windy and dusty – we had had two great days of hazy skies so not too hot and not much wind on the Wednesday and Thursday, which was so lucky (old hands kept telling us how great conditions were this year) – and Saturday promised to be even windier.
But talking to other Burners we revised our plan to pack up on Saturday as planned, party after the Burn, and go first thing Sunday morning to beat the queues – much safer to drive after getting some sleep and in daylight.
(Very wisely as it turned out there were no rooms in Reno that night at all, motels had notices up saying ‘sorry Burners, we really have no vacancies!’)
We were sorry to miss the Temple Burn, which happens on the Sunday night – the finale of the Festival. A total contrast to the exultation and excitement surrounding the Burning of the Man, it is watched in silence and reverence to honour the prayers and memories enshrined in the temple over the week.So we packed up in the increasingly ferocious dust storm. Colman, my hero who was simply amazing all week, spent much time on the back of the pick-up getting covered in fine white dust, lashing stuff down, ably assisted by Adam and Matt.
We spent quite a bit of time in the courtyard created by the RVs, hanging out with fellow ASS Campers, debating the merits of the American Awesome vs the British Brilliant.Adam and Colman even went for a sauna in a yurt nearby while I went for my dusty playa ride – they were scrubbed clean but then encased in white dust again immediately afterwards!
The novelty factor of the dust and wind started to wear off. Our dust masks were pretty hopeless really, goggles were very necessary, and I shrouded my dust-caked hair in a silk scarf.
By dusk the wind and dust had not abated. And word came out that the Burning of the Man would be delayed until conditions were safer – noone wanted high winds carrying sparks across the playa.So Colman, Matt and I all decamped into Jane and Kay’s tent – Colman looking like a ghost – where we giggled like naughty children waiting for the storm to die down.
We were joined by Steve and Irit who had walked across the entire playa to join us for the Burn – a heroic effort!
Suddenly the wind died down. Adam rushed to tell us that the Man’s arms were now lifted – the Burn was going ahead!We all scrambled into our costumes. Kay’s silver catsuit was a triumph.
I wore my corset with flowing red drapery on top plus felt ‘30s style hat. 
Colman looked very fetching in a red velvet dress plus Kay’s headdress I had found on the street in the Mission – probably a teenage bridesmaid’s number.Excitedly, we all rushed down to the playa together, bikes having been packed away, losing and finding people on the way, to see a huge crowd of people and art cars surrounding the Man.
It was a really joyous occasion – relief at the ending of the storm, being all together, at the culmination of our time at the extraordinary Burning Man.
Then fireworks signalled the start of the Burn! Greeted by roars from the crowd, within minutes it was ablaze. 
We watched entranced.Usually etiquette requires that you wait until the Man actually falls before moving on, but this year he took a while so we all bade a fond farewell to Steve and Irit, and meandered on across the playa.
Click here for an amazing gigapan viewer image of the playa on the night of the Burning of the Man.
We stopped at the trippy Cubatron art installation, a 3D LED light sculpture, which consisted of a 1000 lights within an 8x8x8ft frame, whose colours changed and pulsated. You could crawl underneath or watch from any angle.Although we hadn’t seen Carl Cox, it is a sad truth that overall the music at Burning Man was pretty poor. The incessant techno and trance is pretty dire, and although you could hear several genres, there was a great lack of variety in general. On the upside the space around one is so vast, and few areas were enclosed, so it was easy to escape from.
However, at the 10pm axis off the Esplanade, facing the deep playa, we had a choice of 4 domes playing music, and the 4th did a great dub session where I danced my socks off for two hours.
Reluctantly, at 3.30am, we walked home to bed in a group. Colman and I hugged Jane and Kay, Adam and Jen, for being our great soulmates at our first Burning Man. Thanks also to all those we met on our inspirational journey.
Leaving
We slept until 6.30am. Forcing ourselves up, we struck the tent, and after a hasty couple of good byes, were on our way at 7.20.It felt very surreal as we cruised slowly through the outlying streets, were in the short line to exit, and were on Highway 34 itself by 7.45 – a very smooth departure – phew!
We saw a truck off Highway 447 that had rolled and crushed in the night – a sobering reminder not to drive when exhausted.
We passed Pyramid Lake, drove through Reno, over the Sierras and towards home. All very straightforward.We reflected both silently and together, of matters great and small, profound and trivial, about our time at Black Rock City – our initiation into the world of Burning Man – we are now Burners!
And arrived home, unpacked quite a bit, put on lorry loads of washes (that playa dust will be with us for years to come we suspect), and were, at last, reunited with our darling Esme.
Thank you Mum for looking after her so well while we were away.And thank you, Colman, for giving of your time and energy, love and devotion, to ensure we had such a wonderful Burning Man 2009.
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High Sierras
Adventure of the MonthAs my mother had flown thousands of miles to visit us, I thought a few hundred more wouldn’t go amiss.
So I planned a three generation road trip to the High Eastern Sierras, to territory I hadn’t seen before – an opportunity for Esme to spend a whole week with her Granny. Just the three of us as Colman couldn’t take time off work.
And we were benefiting from visiting at the very end of the season so without the summer hordes.We left on Sunday morning packed to the gunwales in our hire car, and drove to for Yosemite National Park.
Our greatest concern about the whole trip was how Esme would cope being strapped into the car for long periods of time, despite books, toys, drawing boards, and sustenance.The journey there was uneventful and she sang along to the music and to her own tune happily enough.
We stayed in our own little cabin at the Evergreen Lodge just outside the park boundary, and after a late lunch there, set off to the nearby Hetch Hetchy ReservoirDescribed as Yosemite in miniature, this picture perfect valley was dammed in the 1920s to provide water for San Francisco, amid much opposition which quelled plans to flood the main Yosemite Valley itself, preserving it for future generations.
The thousand foot granite cliffs and domes which line the reservoir, along with the utter tranquillity, made for a thoroughly enjoyable amble for a mile or two around the shore and back, though its two spectacular waterfalls were dry for our visit.Esme rode in the backpack and we sang together, pausing for photos and much vista admiration.
She loved walking across the dam and through the long tunnel to access the lakeshore.
Mum wore the camelbak, which intrigued Esme very much, she insisted on only drinking from it on walks for the rest of the week.We were struck by the silence and pristine feel of the wilderness. No birds, even on the reservoir to my disappointment, but also very few people and we were only 4 hours from San Francisco.
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Monday
The next morning we woke up to the sound of water dripping from the trees. It had actually rained in the night! After a hearty breakfast, we decided to burn off some energy by doing the nature trail around the lodge before heading off on the Tioga Pass Road.Esme was cranky wanting to be carried, especially after she jumped into a puddle that was deeper than it looked, which rather negated the point of the exercise. Still, Mum and I saw some bear scat and also learned to identify the Ponderosa Pine.
We packed up and set off, Esme now serene in the car seat. The clouds were low, we drove through thick mist at one point.
She loved seeing motorbikes whizz past – in fact so did we, as there were so many of them, almost a quarter of the road traffic; many bikers fetchingly colour-coordinated with their bikes.
First stop was Tuolumne Grove, which turned out to be the most touristy of the whole holiday – several coachloads of unprepossessing Italians and Germans arrived just as we did. 
We headed a mile down into the grove, Esme sucking on her ‘bai’ (soother) and clutching onto her muslin, excited to see a squirrel running up and down a prone tree trunk, back and forth to his winter store of nuts.She thought the concept of trees falling down most amusing and took pains to point each fallen tree out during the week.
The Giant Sequoias at journey’s end were indeed impressive. And so they should be as the world’s biggest living things in terms of volume, narrowly beating their cousins, the coastal redwoods.They grow to an average height of 50-85m and can achieve a girth of 6-8m. If you squint at the picture that small figure on the right is Mum, for a sense of scale!
One of them had had a hole cut through it big enough for a horse and cart, which tickled Esme’s penchant for going through tunnels.
We walked the small nature trail and got away from the daytripper crowds, marvelling at the red bark, enormous pinecones and the cheeky squirrels.Esme slept on the way back up, and wasn’t best pleased at being woken up at the top for a rather cold and damp lunch, while a beady-eyed raven waited for the crumbs.
But she cheered up back in the car and nodded off again as we headed out on the Tioga Pass Road, the highest highway pass in California and in the Sierra Nevada (no other pass crosses the mountains for another 200 miles south), generally only open from May to October.
Through trees onwards and upwards and downwards we drove, alongside glacier-scoured white granite slopes covered in erratics (boulders left behind by retreating ice), which gave the appearance of snowy hillsides at first glance. Grey clouds hurrying above contributed to the wintry feel.The main viewpoint, Olmsted Point, was shrouded by fast-moving clouds, which wreathed the back of Half Dome, in Yosemite Valley itself.
Mum and I took turns to walk out to a vista point, where signs warned us not to think of walking to the valley unless extremely fit and well equipped, as many had tried and got into serious difficulties. In the high altitude mountain air, the distance to Half Dome looks to be only a matter of a few hours scramble down.If you looked to the South-East ahead, you saw sapphire blue Alpine Tenaya Lake, surrounded by mountains, trees and scree.
A few miles further to Tuolumne Meadows, (‘To All o' Me’, with a silent N) a sub-alpine treeless plain punctuated by domes, through which the Tuolumne River wends its picturesque way.The sun came out and bathed the meadows in a golden light, gilding the grasses. Beautiful.
Mum was a bit dismayed at the lodgings that night: the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge consists of 69 canvas tents with camp beds and wood burning stoves; no electricity but candles were provided. I had also brought torches. Due to the bears, we were not allowed to store any food of any sort within our tents; everything went in the bear lockers in the car park. Much to our disappointment we never saw any, but were assured they were common.
Esme learned that No.8 was ours but did venture off and explore a couple of others too. Everybody at the Lodge got to know her in our time there. It can be useful having such a cute little face and sunny disposition!Meals took the form of communal dining. Staff waited until around 12 people were waiting for a large table before taking you through. The food was hearty but not the high standards of the previous night.
Esme did remarkably well while the grown ups bored on about where they were from and what walks they had done that day and where they planned to go tomorrow.
That night, we set up Esme’s travel cot close to but not next to the stove, and got the tent very toasty and retired to bed early.
Unfortunately the cold overcast day coupled with clear night skies made for a very chilly evening. Esme slept beatifically, but after the firewood ran out at 1230, neither Mum nor I slept much. The problem was that as soon as your body warmed up one section of the bed, you couldn’t move as the original bit would then get cold and this prevented sleep.Top
Tuesday
Mum was distinctly grumpy the next morning, thawing (literally) after her piping hot shower. I did point out that we were there in its last week of operation for the season; no wonder she humphed. But it was a brilliant day – not a cloud in the sky – and it promised to be warm.By now we were in an established rhythm. Mum was Chief Cook and Bottle Washer so made the picnic lunches, kept the milk cool for Esme, carried the food and water.
I carried Esme (plus bird book, binoculars, camera, video camera), did most of the driving and navigation.For the morning we walked from the base of landmark Lembert Dome towards Soda Springs sighting marmots and squirrels on the way.
As befits the Sierra Nevada’s largest alpine meadow, we had lovely views of the domes and mountains surrounding us, especially of the Cathedral Range peaks punching above the trees.Informative boards told us about the long harsh winters and the short prolific summers: no annuals live here as there’s not enough time and energy to start root systems afresh each year.
Sub-alpine meadows are formed due to shallow soil unable to support tree life, and gentle depressions trapping seasonal ponds and lakes.
A gentle mile or so down the road brought us to Soda Springs, a naturally carbonated mineral spring, pools bubble up, noone really understands how.
The resulting rust-stained rocks are ringed with white deposits. 
After some riders and their horses provided a satisfying spectacle for Esme, we wandered down to the clear and sparkling Tuolumne River which meanders through the meadows (and ultimately flows towards Hetch Hetchy, eventually reaching the San Francisco Bay) and played pooh sticks for the first time in Esme’s life to her initial bafflement.
As we had been disappointed by the views at Olmsted Point we returned for a photo opportunity and marvelled at the contrast to yesterday. Truly awesome views of mountains, slopes, scree, polished granite - and Half Dome.
And then had a most enjoyable picnic lunch by the glittering Tenaya Lake, framed by granite domes and forested hillsides.
Esme loved looking at the wild flowers and was almost as intrigued by the Stellar’s Jays as they were by our lunch.
She and Mum spent happy time together at the lakeshore, looking at the water, the ripples and the reflections.Somewhat ambitiously, we set off on a big hike to May Lake in the afternoon along an ancient trail through towering trees. It was now pretty warm.
We saw deer in a small alpine meadow, followed a ridge, drank in the views glimpsed through the trees, and enjoyed the peace. 
We didn’t make it to May Lake. Esme and I returned to the car saying I love you, I love you, I love you over and over again to each other in playful spirit, singing songs.That night Mum was determined we would not be cold. So she requisitioned nearly all the firewood remaining at reception and chucked another log on the stove every hour, on the hour, all night. We were certainly warm enough! And suffered nearly as much sleep deprivation as the night before. Again, Esme slept beatifically all night.
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Wednesday
Esme spent the packing up time running around the Lodge grounds and hitched a ride on the luggage barrow.With regret we didn’t have longer to enjoy Tuolumne Meadows, we packed up and headed East along the Tioga Pass Road, passing permanent snow capped peaks and wild open country through which the Tuolumne River bubbles.
The Eastern entrance to Yosemite is at an elevation of 9943ft (3031m) and marked by the ranger station.The geography of the Sierra Nevadas is of a gradual ascent from the West, with many ups and downs.
The road then undergoes a spectacular steep descent of over 3000ft to the town of Lee Vining in under 10 miles. 
We stopped frequently for photos and to take in the dramatic scything mountain pass, the road carved into the cliff. Esme was very patient with us, getting out once to look at the flowers.Our ears popped, the trees disappeared. We descended to Highway 395 - the artery from Reno to Los Angeles through this extraordinary wide shallow-bottomed valley with mountain ranges to east and west – and gaped at the scenery.
Next stop: Mono Lake. Surrounded by rocky outcrops, hot desert sage brush plains, snowcapped Sierras and ancient volcanoes, Mono Lake is a wonder of nature.
Almost dazzlingly blue, this inland sea is one of the oldest lakes in North America and has no outlet. Streams have carried minerals into the lake for hundreds of thousands of years, evaporation has rendered the lake hypersaline. So no fish exist in these alkaline waters but it is one of the most productive lakes in the world with millions of specially adapted brine shrimp, alkali flies and thousands of migratory birds.
We drove down to the Visitors Centre, puzzled by strange white knobbly tower formations visible towards the south shore.
And discovered that these tufa (too-fah) spires were formed by fresh water calcium rich springs bubbling up through carbonate saturated lake water. And are now visible thanks to the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power who have diverted 31% of the water from the lake since 1941, at great environmental cost.
The water wars in the Mono Basin and south in the Owens Valley (as we were to discover) are a big part of recent local history and immortalised in the superb neo-noir film, Chinatown.The LADWP have now been court-ordered to protect Mono Lake and reduce diversions. With some small success – the lake levels are slowly rising, hampered by recent drought.
We took the trail down to the lake along a board walk and admired the strange otherworldly tufa formations, goggled at the clouds of flies at our feet and their larvae in the water, and gazed at the mirror-perfect reflections.It was very hot. The contrast to the cooler Alpine climes was marked.
We made it back to the car before expiring with heat and set off to the June Lake Loop to find a picnic spot for a late lunch. This scenic route takes in three lakes and takes you back to Highway 395.We drove past Grant Lake, Mum remarked that you could understand the American obsession with cars given their incredible scenery and open roads with little traffic, what a pleasure it is to drive here. Then the battery light came on.
We drove into the Silver Lake Resort RV park. And politely asked the manager if he could help us. Dave and his wife turned out to be extremely kind and very helpful indeed.He took one look under the bonnet (hood) and identified the culprit –our serpentine belt had come loose.
We had no power steering, no air-con, and in a few miles would have no battery.
He phoned the nearest garage, in Lee Vining, but they were booked up with work for the next 2 weeks. My phone was out of battery and luckily I could charge it up here. I spent an (increasingly frustrating) hour and a half on the phone to Enterprise rental. I emphatically explained that we could not drive any distance. A tow truck was called, with instructions for the car to go to Bishop, some 60 miles south.
We were directed to get a taxi to the nearest Enterprise office to collect a replacement car. A mere trifle that we were 22 miles to the nearest town of any size, Mammoth Lakes, and there were no taxis; in addition there were no spare cars available for us within a 150 mile radius.
We were just starting to envision us living in the RV park for the next three weeks, when the tow truck arrived.
Cory, a cheery can-do sort of individual who knew everybody said, I’ll take you to Bishop – why ever not? We said search us but yes please as we were booked into a B&B there that night.So in a trice he helped us unload the car, strapped Esme’s car seat into the tow truck, hitched the car up and we were off.
Esme thought the whole thing a very exciting adventure!Mum had great fun saying ‘Ho, ho, ho’ to her, which made Esme giggle every time.
Cory made such good time we got to Bishop in time to meet the Ford dealership garage’s head mechanic honcho, Clint, before he went home. We explained our predicament.
We needed to get that car fixed in order to get back to San Francisco. Mum was scheduled to fly back home to London on Monday!
Then Cory delivered us to Chalfant House B&B, a self-styled ‘magnificently restored old tyme home’, a riot of Victorian whimsy in an 1898 property. We thanked him profusely and promised to send a postcard from far-flung destinations.
We were made welcome in our B&B, and went out to a slap up dinner in one of Bishop’s best restaurants.
The only drawback was that Mum and I had to share a bed – she commented on my thrashing about, me on her loud breathing!
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Thursday
I phoned Ford first thing, ascertained that the car would need a part, which meant it wouldn’t be fixed until the following afternoon. We hired a car from Ford to continue our scheduled adventures for the day.
We set off South along the 395, through the arid Owens Valley, beautiful in its desolation, sierras soaring to the West, the Inyo Mountains to the East.Geologically it is a downdropped block of land between two vertical faults, and the most western of the spectacular and hostile Basin and Range territory, which stretches from Utah through Nevada.
After an hour we reached the little town of Lone Pine and turned off towards the Sierras, getting our first sighting of Mount Whitney, America’s highest mountain in the ‘Lower 48’.At 14,505ft (4,421m), the extraordinary thing was not its astonishing height, but its easy access from the Owens Valley. More commonly, highest mountains are locked within other peaks.
The road from Lone Pine goes through the unexpectedly scenic russet Alabama Hills, clumps of metamorphosed volcanic rock, and granite potato-shaped boulders, which have hosted many a Western including How the West Was Won, Hopalong Cassidy, High Sierra and The Lone Ranger.We drove upwards until we reached Mount Whitney Portal at 8,360ft (2550m) where we got out in the fresh Alpine air to explore a waterfall and walk around a little lake.
Plenty of gung-ho types around us were gearing up for serious hiking.We then drove back down to the valley floor, ears popping again, stopping for shots of the extraordinary geography. Somehow it’s easier to understand that the lowest point in the US is just 76 miles away when standing on an overlook awestruck by the scale of the Basin and Range topography.
Back up the road we stopped at the Manzanar Japanese Internment Camp, which is now a national historic site. We all watched the 20 minute documentary film about the history of the camp, set up in 1942 on Native American land to house Japanese Americans during the war. Thousands were forcibly relocated at huge personal cost. It was hugely moving story and very informative interpretive centre.
Next we headed back up the 395, turning off to visit the Bristlecone Pine Forest in the White Mountains, close to the Nevada border.
The journey was much longer than I had realised. We drove up and up and up through twisting turning roads, stopping at an extraordinary viewpoint aptly named Grandview, which showed range after range to the East into Nevada - cheery place names included Dead Horse Meadow and Last Chance Canyon.
As Mum said, it must have been terrible for those poor pioneers to struggle over a desolate mountain range only to find yet another in front of them and dry lake beds beneath.At last, the slopes became bare and scrubby, we had risen above the treeline.
And then suddenly a forest of gnarled and needled mid-sized trees came into view.
This Trees in this stand are the oldest living things known on earth. They owe their longevity to the very dense resinous bark that repels insects and decays very slowly.
One fallen tree on the trail had been cut to show the rings, it looked nearly completely intact yet amazingly had fallen in 1676. In addition the tree can remain alive and healthy despite most of the tissue dying as long as some living bark remains productive. In addition, needles can live up to 30 years.We were back up at an elevation of 10-11,000ft (3-3,300m), our ears having popped big time again, and Mum hung out with Esme at the visitors centre looking at squirrels while I went on a 45 minute walk to view the 2-3000 yo trees on the north-facing slope.
At last we got back in the car for the return journey. Esme made a couple of indistinct comments in the back, and then suddenly, just as we were nearly back off the winding access road, made a retching noise and threw up all over herself in the back of the car.
Poor love. We peeled her clothes off and mopped up as best we could. Within 3 minutes she was starkers at the side of the road laughing about having no clothes on.
Without further incident we descended back to the Owens Valley as the last rays of sun shafted over the Sierras, back to Bishop and dinner in the local Mexican, at which Esme replenished her lost calories with gusto.
Friday
At breakfast fellow guests (a retired couple who had just WALKED the John Muir trail through the Sierras for 10 nights, carrying all food, clothes, tent, etc with them – blimey!) recommended that we do a walk through Rock Creek 20 miles north of Bishop until our car was fixed (in the afternoon we fervently hoped).
A genius suggestion, as Rock Creek is not mentioned in the guidebook, and turned out to be an idyllic spot. We drove through the valley decorated with aspens on their golden autumnal turn, and parked at the trailhead.Esme had such fun playing with shadows, hers and ours.
She had to be coaxed into the backpack but we set off along an gentle incline following the creek, which flows into a series of lakes set in a bowl of snow-capped mountains, part of the John Muir Wilderness in the Sierra Nevadas.
Although quite a few people were on the trail, we loved our last hike of the holiday through Little Lakes Valley. Stunning mountains, wonderful scree slopes, dark-green pine forests, hanging valleys, a string of cobalt blue lakes.
We walked as far as Heart Lake and decided on a circumnavigation, causing us to pick our way through boulders and over streams in true hiker fashion. 
Mum got a bit agitated at one point, especially when I tried to identify a Savannah Sparrow mid-stream.Reluctantly we turned back from our Eden to the car and headed to Bishop.
We packed up in a rush, ate lunch in a hurry and dashed to the Ford garage to be reunited with our repaired vehicle.In a sterling 20-minute pit stop turnaround in searing heat, we decanted everything into the new car, signed off on the hire car (driven 250 miles!), thanked all and sundry, and set off northwards on the 395.
Our little mishap prevented us visiting resort town and scenery rich Mammoth Lakes, and we also decided against Bodie Ghost Town, abandoned mid-20th century after the gold seams gave out.
On our way back we stopped at the north shore of Mono Lake as we headed back northwards for a pitstop for Esme to run around.
She loved running on the board walk, wielding the binoculars and was most pleased to find a playground surrounded by turf-munching bunny rabbits.Somehow she had acquired a dirty face so we teased her mercilessly.
As the sun fell behind the Sierras, she was reluctant to get back into the car, persuaded only by dint of a wonderful sighting in some unusual cloud formations of a vertical rainbow.We climbed again with amazing views to the South of Mono Lake and its Basin, before a slow descent down into Bridgeport Valley and the town of Bridgeport, our final stop of the holiday.
The Redwood Motel was characterised by spacious rooms, a convoy of off-road bikers (much to Esme's interest) and a slightly surreal animal display adorning the entrance.
Saturday
We packed up, headed for the Bridgeport Reservoir for a last sightsee, and to allow Esme some outdoor running around time, in preparation for the long drive home today.
And managed to get a not too bad portrait of us three, and a group hug for our excellent adventures.
Then headed up the 395 turning off to take the Sonora Pass Road. In some ways more attractive although less dramatic than the Tioga Road, the narrow road is much more of a switchback with steeper inclines.
We took a well-chosen break at the Columns of the Giants, a little-known basalt column formation – similar to the Giant’s Causeway.The broken column at the foot of the columns covered the remains of an Ice Age glacier – we were asked not to touch the boulders for fear of melting this ancient remnant.
Here Esme created her own nature trail, picking up pinecones, sticking her fingers into exposed resin, and scuffling needles. She was particularly intrigued at people fishing in the river and needed some gentle persuasion to return to the car.
Then down down down the Sierra foothills we went for the final destination before home: Columbia State Historic Park, another former gold mining town which during the Gold Rush was the 3rd largest city in California, and is now a National Monument.
Somewhat twee-ly preserved for the next generation, it was working well for Esme who stared wide-eyed at the horse and cart used to transport a bride to her ceremony; she later tried to crash the wedding reception, drawn by the old time fiddling band. She also loved watching the stage-coach which takes a circular route around town. The original shop fronts look pretty and are well maintained, from the pharmacy to the butchers; chocolate boxey bric a brac and ice cream parlours compete with bars and horseshoe salesmen, a few doyens dressed the part in period costume.
And then we took to the road for our final journey, speeding along highways westward across California’s central valley until we reached the hills behind Oakland, and the Bay Bridge.Naturally fog partially clouded the city, a respite from the hot inland temperatures.
Colman was waiting for us on the doorstep. A happy reunion! Especially for Esme who had been excited about going home and seeing Daddy all day.Our final miles totalled 1055 – truly an epic adventure!
We were genuinely awestruck at the magnificent scenery, and on such a scale!
And almost equally so by Esme’s serene reaction to all those hours in the car seat. Most mornings, she bounded into the car and tried to strap herself in – even when I said, we’re not leaving just yet, don’t you want to run around? There were a few protests at getting into the seat but only a few. Even on the final run home when the sun kept shining into her eyes, and we had to fix the muslin across her window so she couldn’t even see out of the window, she still happily read books and played with her etch-a-sketch and kaleidoscope. We were very blessed – thank you my darling.So my mother experienced all the superlatives – biggest living thing, highest mountain, oldest living thing, and above all, her favourite blue eyed grandchild – in one superb week!
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Visitors of the Month
My mother takes the prize for coming over and looking after Esme so well, enabling us to go to Burning Man, babysitting, and for cooking and cleaning for us, for enjoying San Francisco so much, taking Esme to and from Puddle Jumpers, and being good company.
We had a dinner party with Bebe, Ned and Mary while she was over, and another with Tom and Morgan.Tom had very kindly taken Mum and Esme to the Academy of Sciences while we were at Burning Man – a very successful outing.
As was Mum and Esme’s expedition to meet Rob and Jecca, Billy and Luca.
We also a very enjoyable day that started with Marcus’ 2nd birthday brunch, to which we brought Soren. 
Both boys loved drumming on Marcus’ new drum kit. Soren is a natural!
It was great catching up with Ron and Louisa, Armani’s parents, again.
Esme had a lovely day with Soren – arguing only over Marcus’ swanky guitar.
And then Soren’s grandmother, Karen, came over for lunch – she and Mum had met a year and a half ago, and both barely paused for breath as they nattered away to their heart’s content, putting the world to rights.
Steve and Kristan came to collect Soren and we had a very nice time together, Kristan now primed to deliver the baby.So it proved when she gave birth the following week to flaxen-haired Gabriela Simone - our hearty congratulations to the Kirsh family!!!!
So thank you Mum! Naturally not a dry eye as we said goodbye. Esme came home from Puddle Jumpers and looked around – Ganny??
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Bryant and Posie
It was really lovely seeing both of these old Aussie mates – neither of whom I’d seen since January 2006 – quite shocking.
We were treated to a whistlestop visit by Bryant who had just come from 10 days in New York with his father.Luckily for us he managed to arrange it so that his return to Sydney came via San Francisco.
It was timed so that we coincided by a day (lightning speed Mission Murals tour)…
…an afternoon (Adam, Jen, Jane, Tom and Kim came over for a drink to meet him)…
…and a night (dinner out at Delfina) before we headed off to the High Sierras – I was reminded of departing for our wedding as Bryant saw us off that time too.
The following week Posie was in town for the Folsom Street Fair and she came over for brunch and to meet Esme.
She was nearly roped in to coming with me and Esme to Baby Loves Disco held in Ruby Sky nightclub downtown.
We went with Steve and Soren and it was very entertaining seeing so many parents trying to throw some shapes to 70s and 80s classics on the dance floor somewhat encumbered by their little mites. 
A strangely chaotic yet comforting event (music turned down, lights up, hoops, bubbles and snacks for the kids) – made me nostalgic for the days when I frequented nightclubs!
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Esme’s 2nd Birthday
When I Was Two I was Nearly New
As Mum was in town, and so were Ron and Louisa, Armani and I conferred months ago to find a party date for Marcus and Esme which worked for both families.
We settled on Sunday 20th September in Mission Dolores park – judging rightly that it would be warm and sunny - the day after we got back from the High Sierras.
Esme didn’t get a nap in despite our best efforts – so excited to see Daddy again!
So she wasn’t at her sparkling best as we headed over to the park – a very hot day.
Colman had sensibly gone early and staked out a shady spot for us all; Geoff set up the BBQ.
Lelli and Toni bought her a very lifelike baby doll which makes baby noises – Esme sleeps with Baby Jack as she christened her.
Jecca, Rob and the boys bought her an excellent book involving mimicking bird calls – a perfect gift for mother and daughter alike!
Jen had knitted Esme a gorgeous coral dress with ESME stitched into the knit! We were overwhelmed – so cute!
Christine had arranged for an entertainer to play for everybody that afternoon, who turned out to be Irena who plays every week for Puddle Jumpers and knows Esme already.
She got us all singing, clapping and going round in circles – great fun. 
Thanks to Christine!We hadn’t met Paula and Ethan’s new dog, Iggy, before.
The Wine Group were represented by Maria, Randall and Morgan.
Plus Patrick, Catherine and Caroline who came over all nostalgic at coming back to Dolores Park, and were delighted to see Tom.
Marcus had a fantastic birthday cake baked by Louisa and showed great dexterity in blowing out his candle and cutting it.
Esme was a little less adroit when it came to her turn but managed in the end.Liz and Alex managed to swing by during her break from managing Bi-rite.
All the kids had a great time on the climbing frame and in the swings; Ron tried to show them how to do handstands with varying degrees of ability.A very successful celebration!
Which was continued all week as we opened her presents over time, including a book from Rory, which she loves.
Her actual birthday was a week later and coincided with Sophie Lee’s 2nd birthday party, a friend from Puddle Jumpers.
This was a princess-themed affair on another warm day in their garden.We began the day with a webcam to Granny back in London and opening Zoe’s present of a Little Miss Daredevil T-shirt, skirt and tights.
Followed by the teaset from Auntie Louise, Peter, Lizzie and Thomas – a great favourite.
Then into her princess outfit and to the party. They all got given crowns and beads to glue on.
Then Queen Daffodil read them all The Hungry Caterpillar with a felt story board, blew bubbles, tickled Sophie Lee with a monkey, waved her magic wand, and they all danced underneath a parachute held by the parents.
At the end the sprinkler appeared and suddenly there were six little naked girls all dancing in the water to great squeals of delight!
A lovely party.Happy Birthday darling Esme – we love you so much!
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Birds of the Month
High Sierras
(And if you're still reading this, you deserve a prize!!!) Initially the omens were not good. Birds are not at their best in September, often in moult, preparing for migration or winter, or maturing into adult feathers, so harder to identify. They are also more scattered, fledglings have flown, parent birds are less frenetically searching for food. And woodland birds are notoriously the hardest to see, especially in coniferous forests which support fewer species, and in forests with very tall trees where birds can easily keep way out of human eyesight.
So during the first couple of days I hardly saw anything, bar some Mountain Quail Oreortyx pictus scurrying into the undergrowth on our drive back from Hetch Hetchy.
It was not until Tuolumne Meadows that wildlife (including heaps of ground squirrels, chipmunks and marmots), and birds began to be sighted.Our walk towards May Lake through silent forest yielded new Life Bird Black-backed Woodpecker Picoides arcticus; a pair flew across a clearing in front of us and Esme and I watched as they spiralled up the tree, busily flaking bark off to uncover insects.
But it was the second half of the trip, around Mono Lake and around the Owens Valley, where we struck gold.
Mono Lake is both extremely saline and alkaline, due to it being a terminal lake, one without an outlet, so dissolved salts remain in the lake. The consequence is that no fish are native to the lake but its endemic brine shrimp (4-6 trillion of them, found nowhere else on earth) and alkali flies attract thousands of water birds.Although September is not the best month as many migrants had flown, nonetheless we were able to see scores of Eared Grebe Podiceps nigricollis in varying states of plumage, and California Gull Larus californicus (the US’s second largest nesting population).
Flitting through the sagebrush beside the lake were Life Birds Horned Lark Eremophila alpestris and Sage Thrasher Oreoscoptes montanus.
Our visit to the Bristlecone Pine Forest initially proved disappointing. I even got to go walking and birding by myself for 45 minutes but saw only a single Mountain Chickadee, which charmingly graced our trails throughout the Sierras. It was as we drove off that we saw a flash of blue, eagerly identified as new Life Bird, Mountain Bluebird Sialia currucoides.Our last 12 hours in the Sierras provided the most bird excitement. Our return visit to Mono Lake, just in time before the sun went down, added another 10 species to the holiday list, including Black-billed Magpie Pica hudsonia to the Life list.
On our last morning, in the car park of our motel, several brightly distinctive Yellow-headed Blackbirds Xanthocephalus xanthocephpalus chattered and clacked in the trees. I was very excited about these as the bird boards at Mono Lake indicated they had gone by September…As our final stop before heading over the Sonora Pass, and inspired by spying a Double-crested Cormorant flying high overhead as we packed the car, I suggested we visit Bridgeport Reservoir in case there was anything to see – although not mentioned in the guide book. It also gave Esme an opportunity to run around a bit before we headed off on our long final journey. We were astonished to find flocks of birds bobbing across the water, busily stabbing in the shallows, scurrying along the shore and swooping overhead.
Here the russety White-faced Ibis Plegadis chihi contrasted beautifully against the green water weeds; the huge American White Pelican Pelecanus erythrorhynchos wheeled around; and excitingly the Black-crowned Night Heron Nycticorax nycticorax dashed across the creek inlet in front of us. I spent ages staring at a busy foraging sandpiper before deciding it must be a Lesser Yellowlegs Tringa flavipes. The perfect end to our awesome week.
But Bird of the Holiday and thus of September out of the 42 species we saw, is the striking Clark’s Nutcracker Nucifraga columbiana, a fashionable monochrome and grey corvid, and new Life Bird. First sighted in Tuolumne Meadows on our walk to Soda Springs, we saw the species in all the high rocky places with mixed conifers on our travels and became a talisman for our epic trip. It also helps disperse Bristlecone Pine seeds. The bird would either fly high and straight from tree top to crown above us, or be cawing in small groups and flapping with rowing wingbeats.
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Mural of the Month
Bishop has a few murals enlivening downtown, this one depicts the early pioneers and their struggle to survive in the harsh Basin and Range environment.
Stencil of the Month
Bumper Sticker of the Month
My Inner Child is an Honor Student at Black Rock City High
