The year 2023 may have been portrayed as a natural disaster in the media, but for me, it was a transformative experience.
Every year since 2017, I’ve volunteered my firefighter/EMT skills as a Quick Response Vehicle (QRV) Medic. In this role, I respond to the full spectrum of medical emergencies. In Burning Man lingo, volunteering is both my “art and my gift.”
Every visit to the other-worldly Black Rock City is a powerful experience that resonates differently. This year was challenging for sure, but it was also profound; centered on friendship, service to others, and the ineffable.
The unprecedented weather only added to the intensity, which I found invigorating. Deep clay-like mud limited mobility on the Playa (the term for the ancient lakebed where the event is held), hindering everyone’s ability to get around. Burning Man exploration usually takes place atop a bicycle prepared and adorned for the occasion.
This mode of transportation leads to random encounters, be it with Mad Max-esque art cars (known as Mutant Vehicles), captivating art installations, diverse theme camps, or random, intriguing conversations with attendees from all corners of the globe. Nevertheless, spirits remained high in our aptly named “Rebel Camp.”
My campmates embraced the challenge, recognizing that, to paraphrase Vivian Greene, Burning Man, much like life, isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass but about learning to dance in the rain.
On the emergency services front, adaptability was key. The muddy conditions required ingenuity and resourcefulness to maintain our response levels. As an example, two out of our four QRVs were modified for Advanced Life Support (ALS) calls. When a serious cardiac situation arose, doctors from the temporary hospital, Rampart, loaded equipment and joined the response in a SUV.
They, along with our QRV crew, ran one of the smoothest and professionally run cardiac calls of my career. Collectively, we adopted a mass casualty incident (MCI) response approach, working resourcefully and effectively.
Among my closely-knit friends with whom I camped and partnered on shift with, the prevailing sentiment was, “It’s going to get worse before it gets worse,” and we leaned into the adversity.
Friday saw the most rain, a three-month quantity in just 24 hours. This led the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) to restrict driving on the playa, save for life-threatening emergencies.
In my five years attending, I’d never witnessed rain. Veteran burners, some with over 20 years’ experience, hadn’t endured this level of rain at the event. The Burning Man Organization temporarily shut its gates. The signature “Burning of The Man” event, usually held on Saturday, was postponed by two days.
Mobility was severely restricted. A critically injured patient required transportation off the playa in the back of an open-air, rain-soaked pickup, navigating hazardous mud and terrain to connect with other emergency resources. Thankfully, the patient survived, a testament to the improvised solutions.
As the event progressed with intermittent rains, basic services began to falter. Portable toilets overflowed, and attendees were counseled to shelter in place, conserve food and water, share resources and anticipate a delayed exodus.
Tensions rose. The foundational “Burning Man Principles” were, at times, overlooked or outright ignored by less experienced attendees. Stress exposed people’s true colors, for better or for worse. Small dramas unfolded reminiscent of Greek tragedies; the kind Euripides would recognize. President Biden was briefed.
With the return of sporadic sunshine, morale gradually rebounded, though sanitation issues lingered. As packing up and breaking down began in earnest, attendees prepared for their return to the “default world” (as Burners call the real world).
The media, as they often do, painted an overly dramatic picture. Rumors of an Ebola outbreak were unfounded,1 and event organizers turned down assistance from the National Guard.2
Celebrity sightings, like Taylor Swift, were debated. Apparently, Diplo and Chris Rock had pressing matters to attend off playa and made an early exit hiking miles across the muddy dessert and hitched a ride from a random fan. Yet, the overall vibe was one of resilience; most attendees stayed true to the spirit of Burning Man.
In the face of radically austere environmental conditions, and all the other inherent resiliency challenges baked into the Burning Man experience, this year’s burn was profoundly impactful for me.
From spontaneous joys with strangers to planned events with friends, new friendships to deepened old ones, I was reminded of our shared humanity and unearthed a profound empathy I’d thought was lost.
For me, it was a little bit of everything–precisely what I needed.
References
1. Fichera, A. Burning Man flooding triggers false claims of Ebola outbreak, ‘national emergency.’ Assocaited Press. 2023 Sept 5 (Cited 2023 Oct 16). Available from: https://apnews.com/article/fact-check-burning-man-festival-ebola-national-emergency-498334622942
2. Melas, C, Romero, D. Burning Man crowd stuck in muddy venue, but there’s ‘no cause for panic,’ CEO says. NBC News. 2023 Sept 3. (Cited 2023 Oct 16). Available from: https://www.nbcnews.com/pop-culture/pop-culture-news/burning-man-crowd-stuck-muddy-venue-no-cause-panic-ceo-says-rcna103217