The Man under construction. Photo by EH

Burning Man is a festival held annually in a desert in Nevada USA. It is so called because of a giant wooden edifice in the shape of a man that presides over the crescent shaped temporary city in which roughly 45,000 live for a week, totally self sufficiently. The Man represents, to me, the everyday, the commonplace routine of rules and social interactions, and the cultural norms we live each day of our lives. When I went to the festival I left as many of these laws as I was able to at the “Greeting Station” where, upon arrival, we were met by two semi naked greeters and one wholly naked greeter (“nudity is forbidden this year” she wryly told me). They dragged us out of the car, hugged us, welcomed us “home” before drawing a circle in the dusty playa representing our hitherto stated boundaries. We all leapt out of the circle with gusto and rang a giant bell whilst screaming, “I am not a virgin anymore”. At the end of the week The Man is burnt to the ground.

The festival is such a complicated mass of interactions and ideas that to try to describe it all would be futile, not least because the experiences of the man in the next porta-potty along would be totally different to mine. Additionally there is so much symbolism involved in, and meaning behind, the 100s of pieces of art that are scattered around the desert; beneath the ethos and aims of the festival; and surrounding the experiences I had, that it is important to me now not to try to explain what any of them actually mean, for to do so would contradict the experiences of others who have been, and prejudice the views of those who have yet to.

All I can say with certainty is that the ten days I spent in that moneyless community built under the brutal sun, were unlike anything I have ever experienced before. I am still piecing together in my mind exactly what happened, and figuring out what part the incredible people I met are going to play in my life.

Therefore, what follows is a series of sketches of some of the most remarkable things I did and saw during my stay in Black Rock City. I apologise if I raise questions I then do not attempt to answer. In fact, I recant that! I hope I raise questions you want answering. However, be assured that I am not the man to answer them. The only man who can is 30 metres tall, made of wood and will stand proudly over Burning Man 2010 – so I advise to buy yourself a ticket and direct all further enquiries to him….

Authorities say the 2009 installment of the annual Burning Man festival in the northern drew a smaller crowd to the northern Nevada desert than in 2008.

U.S. Bureau of Land Management officials say that as of noon Saturday, some 41,059 people were at the festival. Officials say the crowd peaked at 43,435 at noon on Friday.

The numbers represent an 11% drop in attendance over 2008.

Burning Man is an annual, weeklong art, music and performance festival. It climaxes on Saturday night with the torching of a 40-foot signature effigy on the Black Rock Desert, about 110 miles north of Reno.

In an e-mail to The Associated Press Saturday night, BLM officials said the Pershing County Sheriff’s office had made several drug-related arrests at the festival.

(Copyright 2009 by The Associated Press.  All Rights Reserved.)

wednesday, september 2nd.
- woke up in the rv when we were in reno.
- stop at savemart to buy water!

- pick up random dude named finn. he’s a canadian from toronto who had bussed to reno and was looking for a ride to burning man. he lost his wallet at the supermarket and basically said, “fuck it!” and went with us to burning man.

- purchased random kiddie bike for $30 from the last town before burning man, gerlach.
- got to the front gate, where andreas, finn, and i had to go to will call while the others waited with the rv in line.
- luckily, we got our will call tickets right as they were about to pull up to the ticket line.

- got quickly inspected by above man who was dressed fully in drag but said he was the only straight guy in his entire camp.
- finn couldn’t pick up his will call ticket because supposedly he bought it with his mom’s credit card and hence it was under her name.
- generally they can detain entire carloads of people if that happens, but they let us through. they being the guy who was dressed in drag, and his name was john.
- dropped off kelcey first at her camp.

- got driven to our campsite, where we met up with dani and loren, who had set us up with a nice little shade structure by spreading a tarp between their car and their carport thing. awesome! loren also lent us his tent.

- changed into a ridiculous get-up. ate a lot of pub mix (see plastic thing in my hands).

- explored on bike. exploring on bike really, really hurt my ass.





- rode into the middle of town and the “seasons” danced around me.

- tried to check registration in center camp but the computers were down, so gave up. i did get stamped by this girl in line, though, and she humped me and screamed, “you’re not a virgin anymore!” or something ridiculous like that. jeanette was meanwhile obsessed with this singer-songwriter chick.



- took a picture of my favorite freaking building thing!!! party nekkid!

- even party nekkid’s shadow was rad!



- it wasn’t a full moon but it looked like it, pretty much.

- explored with dani and loren at night… went to the cubatron! bitching about my ass hurting the entire way, of course.

- loved the shit out of the all-seeing eye car.



- went to the temple… so fucking amazing! jigsawed individual pieces with all styles of art. kinda depressing, really.

- sat there for a while, looking out and watching people… weeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Have you ever been to the Burning Man Festival? Well, it’s that time of the year again and this year is going to be the best one yet so if you can make it, definitely go, go, go!!!

The Burning Man Festival begins August 31st, today. Are you going?  Tickets are $300 and the festival runs from August 31st to September 7th, with the burning of the man on September 5th.  Get your tickets HERE.

Where is the Burning Man Festival? Apparently, it’s about 105 miles Northeast of Reno, in a location known as Black Rock City in Gerlach.

Route #1 – Less Scenery and Speedy Route

Interstate 5 North to Sacramento.   Interstate 80 East to Reno, Nevada. From Reno, take the 80 east for approximately 30 miles. Take the Wadsworth/Pyramid Lake exit #43 to Hwy 447.  Go north 1 mile to Wadsworth and turn left, staying on Hwy 447 for 75 miles to Empire. Continue 3 miles on Hwy 447 to Gerlach.

Route #2 – More Scenery and the Beautiful Route

Route 14 North to Suburbia. Route 395 North to Reno, Nevada. From Reno, take the 80 east for approximately 30 miles. Take the Wadsworth/Pyramid Lake exit #43 to Hwy 447. Go north 1 mile to Wadsworth and turn left, staying on Hwy 447 for 75 miles to Empire. Continue 3 miles on Hwy 447 to Gerlach.

What is the burning man festival you ask? Well, after looking through much of the photos of the previous events, my best guess would be “A Celebration of Freedom, Art and Expression” but that’s just my opinion.

Bring lots of food and water for your entire party! This is a major need!  If you wish to bring extra food or drinks and make a few bucks, go for it, i’m sure many people will definitely appreciate it, but just make sure that you bring enough for yourself and your family for the entire duration of your stay.  Bring all your necessities but remember that any trash you accumulate must go back with you.  There are no trash cans at Burning Man, whatever you bring in, is what you will be taking back with you.

AND BRING LOTS OF SUNTAN LOTION AND BLANKETS FOR THE EVENING!

Say “Hello” to my friend Kaye Porter as she will be teaching for the first time at Burning Man for Red Lightning! Here is an overview of her classes, tell her Jeff McCoy sent you!

Living in a Split World: Re-Balancing Ourselves as Men and Women
Thursday, September 3rd, 4 pm. – 5:30pm
Red Lightning, Community Wellness Dome (5 & Esplanade)

Come be inspired with Kaye, to learn what goes on behind the scenes as well as tools and strategies for effective communication. Leave knowing ways to help you create a better quality of life and more satisfying relationships in collaboration, romance, and community, with the same and opposite gender.

For more info, please visit the burning man website at www.burningman.com and join Kaye’s group on Facebook for even more info: Love, Freedom, and Relationships in the 21st Century and also be sure to add her up as one of your very talented facebook friends HERE.

Also, just in case you happen to cross paths, my friends Dezi Koster and Jae Sabol will be there as well.  They are both AWESOME Life Coaches and if you would like to learn some tools to guide you life, they are the BEST!  Tell them that Jeff McCoy, The Audio Visual Guru sent you and they will give you a free initial session on solving any problem you may have and you want to breakthrough!

El término New Weird America (NWA) fue utilizado por primera vez en la revista The Wire por David Keenan para describir la música del Brattleboro Free Folk Festival, en 2003. La frase evolucionó como una juego de palabras del concepto Old Weird America, postulado por primera vez por Greil Marcus en “Invisible Empire”, su exquisito libro sobre las Basement Tapes de Bob Dylan, su fuente en el trabajo de archivo de Harry Smith y su posterior influencia en diversos combos. El término de Keenan, si bien técnicamente reactivo, tomo de inmediato sentido. Abarcaba una estética que podía de manera incluir semi-coherente de todo, desde el éxtasis de saxo de Paul Flaherty, el minimalista resplandor fantasma del armonio de Erika Elder, las percusiones caprichosas de Conrad Capistran, del grupo Sunburned Hand Of The Man, hasta las exuberantes invenciones acústicas de la guitarra de Glenn Jones.

Inicialmente, esta amplitud puede hacer parecer la expresión NWA, inútil en su condición de término paraguas. Pero no es tan endeble. De hecho, es algo así como una ampliación de las variantes de entusiasmo, plasmado en una de las santas figuras del género, John Fahey, quien murió en febrero de 2001. A pesar de que había estado muerto durante más de dos años en el momento Keenan escupió la frase en un cuadro en el Hampshire College Tavern, John Fahey, en muchos aspectos importantes, en su representación fisica.

Todo el fenómeno de la NWA, es, en gran medida, el producto de los coleccionistas de discos, que es uno de los muchos personajes que Fahey plenamente incorporaba. John amaba las grabaciones – blues de la primera preguerra, los discos clásicos de la RCA, discos de palabra hablada, los registros de ragas indios, sonidos de tren… sus pasiones eran muchas. Hay una fiebre similar (a menudo incluso más oscurantista) calentando las cejas de muchas de las figuras más importantes de la NWA. La gran cantidad de estilos refugiada debajo del título, desarrolla la idea de que el movimiento es uno cuya génesis se remonta musicalmente en un estilo lineal. Hay un tejido conectivo que tiene que ver con una Gestalt – determinados tipos de creación, la espontaneidad y la comunidad, renovables por igual en torno a la ejecución y la documentación. Pero utilizado como un punto de vista puramente estilístico, el término es sumamente inerte.

Esta es la razón por la que Fahey sigue siendo mi figura de elección. Para muchos en su audiencia, Juan era una figura “folk”, pero esto nunca fue una descripción que él estaba interesado en atribuirse. Las músicas que creó funcionaron de entre los distintos miembros de la pandilla NWA. En una ocasión dijo haber pensado que sería agradable si usted pudiera tomar algunas de las disonancias en la labor de Bartok y sincoparlas. Y lo que intentó hacer a lo largo de su vida fue algo cercano a esas ideas. En el curso de estos experimentos, el voraz apetito de Fahey por los distintos estilos (entre otras cosas) blues, Hillbilly, espirituales, el pop, string bands, combos de rock, música concreta ¿y quién sabe qué más? Cuando fue abrazado por una legión de improvisadores libres y músicos noise, en la última década de su vida, absorbió su estética, dejando atrás un legado de grabaciones/presentaciones que llevó a los aficionados a la desesperación.

Fahey también fue un pionero de la auto-documentación, a la par con Sun Ra y Harry Partch (otros dos antepasados espirituales de la NWA). Lanzó su primer LP en 1959 en una edición de 100 ejemplares. Con el tiempo, la etiqueta llegó a llamarse Takoma Records, y publicó una amplia gama de locos que chillaban. Pero el roster de la etiqueta es una maravilla Bukka White y Robert Pete, Williams, Eddie ‘One String’ Jones y JB Smith, Tony Thomas, Charlie Nothing y Phil Yost, Joseph Byrd. La mayoría de la gente solo conocía el trabajo de los guitarristas del sello – Fahey, Basho, Kottke, Gerlach, Sete, Gulezian, etc.

Esta tradición, tanto como otras, ha sido corroborada por los amigos de la NWA. Nadie ha dominado el estilo de prosa desorientada a propósito que Fahey empleaba en las liner notes de muchos de sus álbumes, pero los sellos gestados por los mismos artistas, han explotado lateralmente. Ejemplos tempranos fueron, Wholly Other de Charalambides, MVEE de Child Of Microtones, Ecstatic Peace! de Thurston Moore, Manhand de Sunburned Hand Of The Man y Sound@One  de No-Neck Blues Band, han editado cientos de discos heterogéneos en su concepción.

En consecuencia, no existen reglas muy estrictas acerca de cuáles artistas intérpretes o ejecutantes, califican para pertenecer al estado NWA. En el sub-underground, donde todo esto se lleva a cabo realmente, o al menos, su origen, hay una porosidad hacia las divisiones entre géneros que hace que los presupuestos sean una idiotez. Tome cuatro grupos – Eyes & Arms Of Smoke, Hair Police, Wolf Eyes, Graveyards. Si no conoce las estadísticas y los sonidos de estos chicos, simplemente utilice cualquier motor de búsqueda – usted encontrará muestras de audio e información en abundancia. Pero si usted puede decirme cuál de ellos es NWA y que cual no lo es, bueno, usted es mejor persona que yo.

Entre los polos del jazz, el ruido, el folk, el psych, la experimentación, la electrónica y el free-rock, hay una especie de terreno común. Quizás es su imaginario y quizás no, pero todos esos artistas que habitan ese espacio. Y estoy seguro de que, si Fahey hubiera vivido el tiempo suficiente para visitarlo, realmente habría disfrutado del lugar. Por el bien de todas las mujeres que participan, puede ser mejor (o al menos más fácil) que no lo hiciera. Pero es un lugar que podría haber existido en la cabeza de John – un lugar donde todas las diferencias pudieran reconciliarse en torno a un plato caliente de lasaña, New Weird Americans, todos.

Es gibt gute Neuigkeiten für alle Opfer von Heinz Gerlach, seiner Medien AG und seinem „Direkten Anlegerschutz“! Ein Urteil verbietet ihm, weiter mit seinen Negativ-Ratings zu drohen, wenn man vor ihm keinen Striptease macht. Außerdem darf er seine haltlosen Tiraden nicht mehr verbreiten. Die Firma Maruhn Immobilien hat vor dem Landgericht Frankfurt/Main diesen bahnbrechenden Richterspruch erstritten  (AZ: 3-11 O 2/07).

Die Richter untersagten ihm „im geschäftlichen Verkehr zu Zwecken des Wettbewerbs Initiatoren von Kapitalanlagen“, die ihm auf seine „Aufforderung hin ihre Emissionsprospekte mit beanstandungsfreiem Prospektgutachten und Leistungsbilanz nicht zur Verfügung stellen“ niederzumachen. Wörtlich heißt es im Urteil, Gerlach werde verboten, „bei dem ‚Anlegerschutz-Transparenz-Rating’, das ‚??-Rating (=unzureichende Transparenz mit den entsprechenden Haftungsrisiken für den Vertrieb’ zu erteilen und die Erteilung zu verbreiten“.

Gerlach ist damit seine Grundlage für die notorischen Nötigungen genommen!

Denn das Gericht entschied (übrigens schon am 10.8.07), ihm ein solch „unlauteres Verhalten generell zu untersagen“. Das gilt also nicht nur für Maruhn Immobilien, sondern für alle!

Zwischenfrage an alle Gerlach-Opfer: Hat er seit dem Urteil, also in den letzten zwei Jahren, noch mal ein ??-Rating angedroht???

Dann haben wir ihn am Kanthaken: Das Gericht verurteilte ihn nämlich zu 250.000 Euro „für jeden Fall der Zuwiderhandlung“! Ich wiederhole: für jeden Fall!

Left2Right: Mirek, me, Lenka & Robin

On Saturday evening three Czech ex-collegues and colleague (now all frieds) came all the way from the Czech Republic (one way is equal to 9 hours!) to see us. They were exactly on time thanks to the navigators (Lenka and an electronic GPS based). They brought us so many gifts: a wonderful album with printed pictures (which I started browsing through immediately), some batiked scarfs and a lovely tie, two bottles of Fernet (one of them filled with transparent liquid called “8000″), a bottle of Becherovka and a bunch of flowers. Unfortunately I  forgot to tell them that I can’t drink any alcohol in combination with the anti-epileptics (that I must take for the rest of life) so I’m afraid that I will have to give Mirek’s gifts away to other friends.

Why I was working in the Czech Republic in the first place you may wonder? I was ordered by my Dutch boss to setup a branch office in the Czech Republic (2001). I was appointed Director of this Czech branch office and was responsible for e.g. recruitment and finance. I numbered all my employees. I was number one and I recruited number two (Hana Jakobova, the Company Secretary). So also Robin and Lenka and Mirek. I guess they were respectively numbers 7, 15 and 5 and recruited by me. I remember clearly that we from time to time organized ‘fernet parties’ in the office where we used to mix coca-cola with fernet. I was often drunk these days .

Robin introduced me to moutain climbing. Although I was used to walking in the Swiss moutains with my parents (we visited Swiserland very often) to Robin that was kidsplay! We therefore first climbed to the summit of Mt. Snezka (real time webcamera’s can be seen here: http://kamery.humlnet.cz/en/videa/snezka/20090701 ), the highest ‘peak’ of the Czech Republic (1602 metres above sea level). Robin must have been impressed with my climbing so in September 2003 we went to the summit of highest mountain of the Slovak Republic: Mt. Gerlach of the High Tratras (2655 metres above sea level). You can find my Picasa (version 3) album here: Gerlachovsky stit

In the evening we went to restaurant Pieck in Haarlem. This used to be our favorite restaurant years ago because of the speed at which they serve you, the friendly ambiance and the quality food. Both ‘Pieck’ brothers are still running the show but don’t have their act together anymore. Pity. I wish we had dinner in the opposite restaurant Metzo instead. Dear friends, thanks for your visit!!

Mysteries in the Washoe County Coroner’s Office

The first person on the list is a fisherman. Perhaps his name was Don, it was tattooed on his left arm. He was still wearing his waders when they pulled him out of the Truckee River thirty years ago this July. You think someone would have missed him. You know, at work, near the vending machines. “You know Don went fishing up near Reno, but he still isn’t back yet. I wonder what’s up with that.” You think that somewhere there would be a house where the newspapers were piling up, or a car found abandoned along the river, with the billfold locked in the glove compartment. You would think in all this time that someone would have come looking for Don.

Instead, as the oldest case, he heads the list of 42 sets of unidentified remains in the care of the Washoe County Coroner’s office in Reno, Nevada. Sometimes there isn’t much to a set of remains: the upper part of a skull, maybe a complete skull and tibia. Still, those were enough for a forensic anthropologist to determine that the former was a young man, somewhere between 16 and 24; and the latter a Caucasian man less than 35, who stood about five foot nine. Sometimes the remains are considerably more than a skeleton. Sometimes it’s the body of someone so recently deceased you can almost hear their soul departing. Sometimes there are plenty of answers, just not the most profound one: Who?

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.

Northern Nevada is God-forsaken. Interstate 80 arcs across the top half of the state, passing through one of the emptiest places there is. This is not to say there isn’t beauty there, because the Sierras can be breath-taking, and there is certain poetry to the wide, wide expanse of the great basin. But on the whole it is mile after mile after mile of nothing. Most of Nevada is owned by the Federal government (don’t ask why), and it has long been known as the state of easy divorce and even easier weddings. Gambling is legal throughout the state; and in half of the 16 counties, so is prostitution. There are 2.6 million residents, and all but fifteen percent of them live in Reno or Las Vegas. The rest of the state is the sort of place where someone might go to be lost.

Perhaps that’s what happened to the thin young man with long black hair who rode his bicycle to a quiet industrial neighborhood in Sparks, and died there of a morphine overdose sometime in September of 2001, while the rest of the country could not stop thinking about the World Trade Center, could not stop talking about their grief.

Or perhaps the middle-aged man, who a few days after Christmas shot himself out in the desolation of rural Washoe County, his 9mm pistol in the sand beside him. Or the little old man, “elderly,” the report says, whose bones were found a few miles outside of Goldfield, once a boom town, now just another tiny place in the desert, somewhere between Death Valley and the Nevada Test Site. Where was he going? Where did he come from?

The Washoe County Coroner’s office has examined each of these 42 sets of unidentified remains, but they didn’t all come from the one county. They came from all across the northern half of the state, and even across the border, over the Donner Pass and into Truckee, California. They are under the jurisdiction of 19 separate agencies, including county sheriffs, city police departments, the Nevada Department of Investigation, the FBI and the Bureau of Indian Affairs. The remains have come from as far south as Tonopah, as far east as just this side of the Utah border. It would seem fair to say that if you die in Nevada, suddenly or mysteriously, and you are not in Las Vegas that you may well end up on the table of Dr. Ellen Clark, or Dr. Katherine Raven the Washoe County medical examiners.

Of the 42 unnamed decedents, 35 of them are male. Thirty-three are white. 15 died in a manner that has been undetermined, seven died accidentally, ten were murdered, nine killed themselves and two died of heart disease; one of those a 50-year old toothless white man crossing the street in Reno. The other was young man, in his twenties. Nearly six feet tall, he weighed only 111 pounds and wore his brown hair close cropped. His body was found near the railroad tracks outside of Wendover, where he’d been observed wandering the day before. When he was found, on September 4, 2001 he was wearing only soiled briefs. Somewhere, somebody is wondering what happened to him.

Some of the circumstances of these deaths are depressingly commonplace: the body of a newborn baby girl found in February 1982 at a dam at Lake Tahoe; young men murdered and buried in shallow graves; a black man near Floriston, CA (January 1984); a man of undetermined race one mile west of Gyser Ranch (July 1988); a white man two miles north of the Interstate 80 Jessup exit, Nevada (April 1996). In March 1992, the Nevada Highway Patrol got an anonymous tip that led them to a grave east of Highway 338 in Lyon County, Nevada. There they found the body of a man with reddish hair, somewhere between 35 and 50, six feet tall. Rural Lyon county is something beyond rural. Without the telephone call, the body never would have been found. If only the caller had thought to leave the victim’s name, too.

Three of the deaths involved cars. You’d think that authorities would be able to find out something by tracing the cars. Even without valid tags, there are VIN numbers. Even if the one on the dash is gone or melted or crushed, there is usually one on the engine block as well. (It’s also surprising that so little is said about the make and models of the cars involved.) Nevertheless, these three gentlemen remain unnamed.

In July 1980, a short black man in his late twenties held up the Nevada Savings and Loan in Sparks. He fled the scene pursued by the police, and while traveling eastbound on the interstate, lost control of his car and struck a “fixed object.” He died from blunt force trauma.

Another holiday-time suicide was revealed in January 1984, when the remains of a white man were found inside a parked automobile, 45 miles east of Ely. A hose ran from the exhaust into the car’s interior.

The sadly comic and strangest of the deaths involving cars is another suicide. On November 9, 1986, in Reno, a man was witnessed sitting in the rear seat of a white Ford Pinto, “fanning” flames as the car became engulfed. He made no attempt to exit the Pinto, and his body was consumed in the fire, leaving his size and race undetermined. He must have been so frustrated. Remember that the Pinto had real problems with leaking gas tanks and explosions.  Surely he thought, “Well, this will explode and that will be that.” Then he could hardly get the thing to burn.

The suicides carry with them an extra sense of poignancy. Perhaps these people were right, perhaps they had no one who cared about them. Does someone miss the tall thin man who hanged himself in an abandoned building behind the Maverick Gas station in McGill, NV back in 1984?  He was found wearing a blue Air Force jacket.

Or the middle-aged man who decided while sitting on the banks of the Truckee River one summer day in 1987 that he couldn’t take anymore? He had to go to some lengths, use some ingenuity to kill himself with a shotgun.

One February morning in 1992, the employees of Summit Envirosolutions came to work at their office in a light industrial complex in Carson City, and found an old man sitting against the wall of the building. Why there, one wonders, did he decide he could go on no more, and put a bullet in his head.

Pity the poor railroad engineer who was the unwitting accomplice in the death of a very short middle aged fat man whose last decision was to step in front of an eastbound passenger train. Or the housekeeper at the Colonial Motel in Reno, who one hot August morning, opened the door to one of the rooms, finding the guest had used an elaborate IV device to end his life.

He’d checked in under a false name, Carlos F. Otero, using an address in the Bronx that wasn’t his. He intended to slip away under the radar, perhaps to protect the person who aided him in sliding across that threshold.

“Carlos” died from a dose of Thiopental. The drug is used in small doses to help induce anesthesia, and in some instances as “truth serum.” It also is the drug of choice for euthanasia, and in 35 states is used for execution by lethal injection. Someone helped “Carlos,” and someone knows who he was.

Through many dangers, toils and snares
 I have already come;
’Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far 
and Grace will lead me home.

Out in the middle of the Black Desert is a little tiny town called Gerlach. It’s north of the interstate by 80 miles or so, train tracks run through there. In 1991 the desert outside of town became the site of the Burning Man festival, which brings upwards of 40,000 people into the desert the last week of every August. 

The bodies found along the road to Gerlach predate the Burning Man, (with one exception, and he was actually found south of the interstate, near Wadsworth) but it is a strange thing that of 42 cases of unidentified remains, five of them would turn up, out of the vastness of northern Nevada, along the road to Gerlach.  One was just a partial skull of a teenager, another the scattered skeleton of a young woman, possibly white or Native American. She had distinctive dental work. Another skeleton, this of a young man not yet 30 was found with a .22 caliber revolver nearby.  The body of a petite young woman was found in a shallow grave 11 miles north of Gerlach. She was wearing an unusual gold bracelet.

It can be something as small as that left to distinguishes this human from another human. An unusual gold bracelet, or a pile of bones and a silver ring with stones, blue and red. Charred bones found after a range fire, indicate men dead long before the summer fires. The skull of a Native American man found on the road to the Winnemucca airport. Another skull, one with a hole, not from a bullet, but from a craniotomy. 

The Homeless live among us virtually unseen, and die that way too. In Los Angeles County there are 800 unidentified remains. Many of them were homeless people; when you consider that the average homeless population in Los Angeles is around 60,000, a remarkable number come to the end of their earthly life with their identities firmly held.

In death, though, it isn’t so easy to tell whether or not someone was homeless. A man wandering the tracks in his underwear may well have been; who can say about a set of charred bones? Perhaps the older man with a full white beard found at the bottom of a ravine in his cowboy boots and fleece-lined jacket, perhaps he was homeless. Maybe he was just a rancher.  In any case, no one has stepped forward in the last twenty years to claim him as one of their own. A man in his sixties found dead in a homeless encampment probably was indeed homeless, but what about the man found one summer morning under a mattress and sheet of metal roofing off an unpaved street in Sun Valley?

The police report notes that the area was known for “illegal dumping.”  They describe the man as between 40 and 50, wearing full dentures (“Hang on a second, let me put my teeth in”) clad in brown corduroy trousers and a white t-shirt. He was barefoot. The report notes, wryly “No cause of death was determined. However the body and scene indicate the man did not walk there and cover himself with the mattress prior to his death.”

In Washoe County, “death by misadventure” often arrives via the Truckee River, which has given up three of the nameless dead. Each of them around 30, all men, one was said to be “fully clad in casual style clothing,” as opposed to, say, formal wear.  The most recent, a decade ago, was a tall man (6’2”) with long brown hair, found wearing only white undershorts and black shoes, and described, curiously, as “found entwined in an orange traffic cone.”

Twenty years ago this week, a young man was found under five feet of snow near the Heavenly Valley Ski Resort. He was white, just shy of six feet tall, with a 30-inch waist, no more than 35 years old. He had all 32 teeth, in excellent condition. They don’t know how he died, perhaps exposure. Has someone been wondering for two decades what became of their adventurous son, their daredevil brother, their best friend from high school?

The women, though, six women and a baby girl, they all were murdered.

The baby left at the Lake Tahoe dam 27 years ago, does her mother still think of her?  Is someone looking for the 60-year-old woman who was found in 1990, mummified in the sagebrush two miles south of Wendover? The woman with the distinctive dental work, her skeleton scattered in the desert on the road to Gerlach, surely someone wonders what happened to her.

Coming up out of the Truckee Meadows, the Mount Rose Highway comes up over the Carson Range of the Sierra Nevadas and summits at a beautiful alpine meadow the locals call Sheep Flats, before descending down to Incline Village on the north edge of Lake Tahoe. Sheep Flats is a favorite recreation spot for tourists and residents alike. On July 17, 1982, the body of a young woman was discovered there. She had been shot to death.

No doubt the Washoe County Sheriff’s office thought it wouldn’t be long before she was identified. She was in her late twenties, maybe thirty. The report reads, “The victim had not been there long and was clothed. She wore a bathing suit on under her clothing. She also wore a blue top, blue jeans and yellow tennis shoes . . . the victim is believe to be of European descent based upon an inoculation scar and unique dental work. Although many leads have been pursued, her identity and whereabouts prior to her death are still a mystery.”

The bulletin issued by the Sheriff’s office includes both a color photograph from the morgue and an artist’s interpretation of what she might have looked like imbued with life. Hazel eyes and sandy hair, a fair complexion, well-arched brow, the kind of forehead people used to call “intelligent.” Isn’t somebody looking for her? Was she so all alone in the world, in her blue jeans and yellow tennis shoes? Perhaps she is not just of European descent, but maybe a European tourist, her stuff left behind in a hotel room, or carried back to Europe by her killer with a story: she ran off, she married an American, she doesn’t want us anymore.

Eleven years later, another woman, this one found on the other side of the state, seventy miles east of Elko, on the north side of I-80, in a place described in the police report as “a vast and desolate desert bisected by one of the nation’s busiest highways.” She too, was white, between twenty and thirty, of average size and weight, blonde with brown eyes.

Under clothing the report reads: pink nail polish. She was naked in the desert, her arms extended to each side, legs slightly parted, posed as if crucified. They think perhaps she’d had a baby. There was a scar on her right calf, an assortment of moles and marks like most of us have. The medical examiner noted them with great care, measuring and describing each one. Her teeth were in excellent condition, though it was noted that she was midway through having a root canal. Did the dentist’s receptionist sigh with disgust when the girl didn’t turn up for her appointment? It is believed she was killed elsewhere and dumped at the site, toxicology reports show the use of alcohol and evidence of smoking pot. She was shot twice with a small caliber bullet, one bullet pierced her heart.

It seems so strange that no one would come looking for this particular young woman, so much so that she has her own MySpace page “JD 93 Elko Nevada”, and I CARE, a website devoted to missing person cold cases, carries scans of every newspaper story about her.

There’s not been so much attention paid to the woman whose body children found in a rock pile in Reno in June 1997. In her early to mid-thirties, she was white or maybe part Native American. She wasn’t very tall, about five-two and the most distinctive thing noted about her was a metal plate in her jaw. Her cause of death was not determined, but to borrow from the Washoe County Sheriff’s Office, it’s unlikely she buried herself in a pile of rocks.

She was certainly into western culture, found wearing dream catcher earrings, a black bolo tie with an arrowhead, a yellow metal and copper bracelet, a silver ring with a red stone. She was dressed in a western-style multi-colored shirt, blue jeans (size 10); white socks and gray tennis shoes, and wearing a black long sleeved jacket.  Around her neck there was also a silver necklace with a silver whistle: many women have worn them for safety. It’s too bad it didn’t work for her.

The most recently found unidentified woman was black. She was dumped naked from a car along a dirt road off the interstate, near Mogul, Nevada, west of Reno. She was wearing just a silver ring on her right hand. About 30 years old, she’d seen some hard times. The medical examiner noted that the woman’s toenails were very long and were thickened and irregular. Her teeth were in poor condition and she was missing literally half of them. Her face showed healed fractures of the nose and jaw, on the right side. It may have caused her face to seem lopsided. Her body was found July 25, 2003.

When we mourn as a country, we often read out the names of the dead. We did this at Ground Zero in lower Manhattan; the names of the Vietnam War dead are poignantly carved into a field of black granite. We see these names and those people become more real to us. That these 42 people in Washoe County, these 800 people in Los Angeles county, these 4,797 people across the country, dead and unidentified and claimed by no one, that they are stripped of their names does not make them any less real.

The US Department of Justice has recently launched twin databases under the acronym NamUs (National Missing and Unidentified Persons system.) One database is that of missing persons, the other is that of unidentified remains. They are working on developing the software that will cross-reference both sets of data in hopes of finding some matches. They are unwieldy and balky to use. Data hasn’t been entered in a very consistent manner, some records are excellent, some are so vague as to be rendered meaningless. You ought to be able to search via date or hair color or by distinctive gold bracelet, and you cannot. But it is a start.

Some of these people were truly lost. They were the last of their families; perhaps they were friendless in this world. But not all of them. Some of them are probably blamed angrily for their absences. Some of them might be missed every day, longed for by people who wonder whatever happened to their daughter, son, mother, father, brother, sister, friend. They need an answer, as do those who found the remains, whose startling discovery is etched forever in their mind, an endless mystery.

The last entry in the Washoe County Coroner’s list of unidentified remains is from May 8, 2005. A young man, white, slight of stature. He was wearing a black long-sleeved sweatshirt, gray-green slacks, a brown leather belt. His hair, black and wavy, was two centimeters long. He leapt from the roof of Reno parking garage. It was very early in the morning when he stepped out into thin air. Had he lost too much at the gambling table, was there a fight with a girlfriend? Did he have any idea when he was having his last hair cut that in a matter of days it would come to this? When he pulled on his trousers many hours before and fastened his brown leather belt, it probably never occurred to him that he would end up among the lost.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, And mortal life shall cease, I shall possess within the veil, A life of joy and peace.

Design students Jeffrey Gerlach and Andrew Stanley show us how to quickly and easily take one useful object and transform it into another stylish sustainable chair. The Adironack chair uses Department of Public Works roadblocks that can be instantly returned to their original purpose.  Simple, cool looking and wildly constructive. I would love to see more of this kind of product crossover or multi-purpose design.

Gerlach/Stanley Adirondack

INFORMED CHOICE for THE BENEFITS OF MANY

As I read the Richmond News editorial and the advertisement by the Firefighters Association of Richmond, I begin to shudder. I stated earlier (right after the close of nominations) that groups concerned only of their self interest will be campaigning hard for their “candidates”. Do they have the welfare of every citizen of Richmond in mind? Are they campaigning for the candidates whose goal is for the betterment of the city and the future? Did they evaluate the effectiveness of governance of the incumbents they want to “rehire”?

In business, when executives make bad decisions that bring the company close to the brink of failure, THEY ARE FIRED and REPLACED.

On Saturday, November 15, 2008, the power of your one vote carries that incredible muscle to FIRE and HIRE the leaders of this city. PLEASE VOTE and take 20 – 30 neighbors with you.

GREED AND SELF-INTEREST

Take for example the Firefighters Association. At their All Candidates Meeting, the issues they raised were all concerning their benefits. They are in the midst of a “renegotiation” of their contract which, anyone can guess, has to do with salaries and benefits and a larger budget. Sure, we want a safe city. We want a well-equipped emergency team that can respond to simultaneous crises in the city.

But this election is not all about emergency preparedness. There are many more factors that affect citizens – such as the CRIME, DENSIFICATION, BUSINESS GROWTH, ECONOMIC & FISCAL ACCOUNTABILITY, ENVIRONMENT, ARTS & CULTURE, and most of all managing the city so that families are safe from harm, earnings are sufficient and not shackled by high taxes due to a “high-maintenance” city, children can walk to and from school without fear, and wage earners are not exposed to the risk of termination because their employers must close shop. THOSE ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT RESPONSIBILITIES of the civil servants we would HIRE this Saturday.

SHAME ON RICHMOND NEWS

The Richmond News, a local newspaper, is suppose to be OBJECTIVE and not BIASED. What a joke! In their editorial “Who should I vote for”, they published a pseudo-intellectual assessment of candidates from a panel. Guess who? Does the term “SELF INTEREST GROUP” now rings a bell? Read who comprise this “panel” and you will know what I mean.

CHOICE FOR MAYOR

I must agree on one opinion. In terms of overall qualification, Mayor Brodie’s opponents would be hard-pressed to unseat him. Be that as it may, I am casting a symbolic vote for Ivan Gerlach.  Mr. Gerlach reminds me of a Philippine President, Ramon Magsaysay. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ramon_Magsaysay)  Mr. Magsaysay, unfortunately died in office in a plane crash. He was a common man who travelled using public buses. He was available to the people and had the masses’ interests at hand. He shunned bodyguards and lavish parties. He restored faith in the government and was loved by the people. Mr. Gerlach is a common man, a baker, who rises early to be at work at 3 am so that thousands of people all over BC can have warm fresh bread on their breakfast table. If all Canadians are like him, our country would be prosperous.

WHY AND HOW WE SELECTED CANDIDATES OF CHOICE

CCRS researched the background of each candidate. We asked why we should vote for them. We listened to them speak at all candidates meetings. We interviewed those we shortlisted as our choice candidates. We have no axe to grind. All we want is a safe city where we can work, play, share our rich culture and heritage, raise and educate our children and be able to live here for the rest of our lives.

Can we expect this now in Richmond? Not the way the present council has governed. (See earlier post about “Performance of Current Council”)

Four of the firefighters’ choices (Chen, Jampolsky, McNulty, Steves) are identical to ours. They support the other incumbents for obvious reasons. We will not dignify their “other choice” by making any further comment. You can read about him on our post: “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly”.

Last night was amazing. Obviously I’ve been on the Obama train for a long time, but to see it all actually happen, and in a decisive way, and by the biggest margin in decades.. too much. I’m quite certain the best man won in this case. I’m also confidant, perhaps mistakenly so, that Barack is exactly the guy we want leading this country at this time. We have a president who understands the issues, who will work tirelessly for all of us, and who will leave the world a safer place.

The bad news? He’s inheriting a massive mess from eight years of the worst, most inept administration this country has ever seen. If it wasn’t putting our nations best in harms way in a horribly planned war which has cost us 4300 of our finest citizens, it was a massive deficit and unprecedented growth of the government, or the way they wiped their asses with the constitution, wiretapping and arresting people with out cause and then granting immunity for big telecoms spying on Americans, corruption with massive construction projects in fixed bids going to the former companies of administration officials (Dick Cheney), Guantanamo Bay, standing by and watching while one of our great cities drowned and 2,000 of our citizens dead, and finally destroying the good will of America in the world and making it a more dangerous place.

One of my coworkers, challenged me when I said was voting for the Harvard Grad over the Boise State drop out (Palin) had the nerve to say “smart is all your worried about”.. well we’ve tried stupid and that didn’t work. I digress.

Now that the dust has settled for a day on the whole election deal, shock, I have some thoughts. Here’s what I see-

President- One word- BUZZSAW. John McCain never had a chance. While I think he’s a decent guy and would have a made a decent president, he was in losing race from the beginning. He was up against the perfect storm of one of the best run campaigns the country has ever seen, a fantastic candidate who leveraged resources and messages that resonated with huge numbers of people, and association with the worst President and worst administration this country has ever seen. And along the way…

1) McCain never had the support of his parties base. I don’t know if it would have mattered much, but that lack of support caused him to select Sarah Palin over Tim Pawlenty or Joe Liberman, a decision that got a lot of applause at the convention, but turned out to be an albatross in the election. Sarah was a big mistake. Her interviews were disasters, she lacked sophistication on foreign policy, and her hard core convictions on abortion and the environment conflicted with the mainstream, making her a lightning rod. Ironically, in the end her caricature by Tina Faye became more popular than she was.

2) John made some tactical errors, trying to cancel the debate for example which generated huge negative press for him. The party went negative, played the domestic terrorist card.. which backfired on them, generating more negative press for McCain and allowing his opponents to portray him as negative and out of touch.

3) In the end, the collapse of our financial system did McCain in. His message of tax cuts for the wealthy didn’t resonate with the real Joe Plumbers, people in foreclosure, facing layoffs and so on.

4) Finally, the Republican base… that holy crucible that many conservatives feel drives elections their way.. is just not big enough to win an election. They have to figure out a way to enfranchise more people in the Republican tent. Hispanics, African-Americans, Asians.. at the convention here in Minneapolis this summer there were 17 African-American delegates, just over 1%.

National Trends- More examples of the decline of the “conservative agenda”.. While it looks like Prop 8, the ban on same sex marriages will pass in California, and Nebraska has outlawed Affirmative Action there are some signs. California defeated a parental notification bill on abortion. Shockingly South Dakota defeated a watered down ban on abortion that was supposed to be the challenge to Roe v Wade. Even the supporters were surprised that it failed in such a conservative state and that it failed handily. Colorado has a “live beings at conception” measure on the ballot, it was crushed.

Minnesota passed a sales tax increase, handily mind you, to provide funding for the Arts and Environmental issues. As Mrs S so eloquently said, “We’re going to have some bitch’n empty concert halls now”. I was surprised by that vote as it’s bad law to control budgets in the constitution. I chalk it up to hoards of Obama supporters.

Minnesota Senate- It ain’t over till it’s over.. and the Al Franken/Norm Coleman saga continues. As of this writing, Coleman has won by 725 votes. That’s 725 out of 2.4 million cast. There’s going to be a recount, so results could change in this one. I’m quite sad to report that Al Franken’s success in this election is in large part related to his negative campaigning. Al is a pretty angry, pretty bitter guy, but a guy who surprised every one in his ability to crush his opponents in the primary and to successfully compete with Norm, a candidate who in all honesty is fairly bi-partisan ( he as been in both parties after all). Al rode the Obama coat tails and high voter turnout in urban precincts and the Iron Range. Coleman won all almost all of the rural counties and crushed Al in the suburbs.

The other wild card in this was Independence Candidate Dean Barkley. Dean played the spoiler by sucking about 15% of the votes out of the election. I’m feeling like these votes came from both sides.. it’s going to be a while before we sort this one out.

Minnesota Congress- Remarkably there were no changes in the partisan make of Minnesota’s Congressional delegation. In my local district, all talk of a challenge to John Kline, the Republican incumbent, were once again nada. Last time the Dem’s ran a horrible divisive candidate, Colleen Riely. She was crushed 60/40 or better. This time we ran a war veteran, albeit a new comer to politics, Steve Sarvi. Steve was far more middle of the road and more acceptable to the Republican majority who lives in this district. In the end however, the results were the same. 60/40. I’m afraid this seat is John’s until he decides to retire and turn it over to Chris Gerlach, our local State Senator.

Bottom line folks on the Dem side. We live in a conservative Republican stronghold and our victories will be difficult.

There really were only two races in play in the state, one replacing the retiring and greatly respected Jim Ramstad in the 3^rd. The other wasn’t supposed to be in play, and as it turned out really wasn’t was Michelle Bachmann’s seat. Bachmann is a neocon dinosaur, who effectively wraps tax relief and religious fundamentalism. Her tax message plays well in her affluent conservative district, but her religious fascism and single mindedness on social issues should weigh in on the voters of that district. Seems the yuppies out are more concerned about preserving their personal wealth than upholding the constitution.

Local State House- The Democrat I helped out two years ago was pretty soundly defeated in her first reelection bid, 52%-47%. In Shelley’s case I think there were a couple issues.

1) She got caught up in the backlash of the Obama/Franken campaigns. In our heavily Republican district high voter turnout in a heavy Republican district sunk her. Case in point, our biggest precinct, and the most conservative and wealthiest demographic, Madore got crushed almost 60/40.

2) Her opponent, 24 year old Tara Mack hustled her ass off. As opposed to Lloyd Cybart, her previous opponent, the Republicans learned something this time around. They took the campaign page right out of the Madore play book and put the miles on the feet, door knocking and campaigning. And, in a conservative district, it didn’t take much to push her over the top.

3) Conservative agenda- More than anything, talking to my conservative Republican neighbors, Madore was unpopular thanks to her support of the Transportation Bill, which raised gas taxes to fund roads. That was a big courageous vote for Shelley, but one that was out of step with conservative leanings of the district. Shelley is also supportive of single payer health.. another problem in a conservative district.

I’m afraid that Tara Mack, our new representative will be very difficult to unseat once she gets entrenched in St. Paul. Her conservative credentials will resonate in the district and I do not believe that she will make the same mistakes the last incumbent made in taking a such a low profile.

All in all, despite the euphoria of the Presidential win.. for the local Democrats in Dakota County, this election was a disaster. Again. In a year when Democrats were running the table we failed to protect our one incumbent, while our challengers lost big. Dems.. we have to reassess how we pick candidates in our district and how we support them. Partisan left wing politics, while fun to talk about will not win elections in District 37. Next election we have some big challenges, Chris Gerlach is up for reelection in the state senate, Tara Mack is up again in her first defense of her new job.. and John Kline will run for his 4^th term..

FINALLY! Saturday we finally made it back up to the Black Rock…we’ve been wanting to get up there before the snow flies, seems something always came up.

Drove up Pyramid Lake Highway and then took a right once got to Pyramid Lake heading towards Nixon.

I wanted to keep going north and go through the Smoke Creek, but alas…for some odd reason I don’t always get my way! That’s ok, because then I wouldn’t have seen the Truckee at Nixon ~

Nor gotten pics (digital this time…I’ve lots of film pictures) of the petroglyphs on the Winnemucca Lake side half way between Nixon and Gerlach ~

We stopped off at a “storage unit” garage sale in Empire…my husband can’t pass a yard sale…then headed on through Gerlach to Planet X. I was going to get an angel ornament, but saw a froggie while paying and changed my mind. I get something everytime we’re up there…usually from the seconds shelf.

Then back through Gerlach towards Empire to catch the BLM road to Winnemucca…Trego Hot Springs is on the way. The water was great…weather was warm too. Last time we were there it snowed. Two trains passed. Only had two other people there the whole day and they didn’t show up until 4pm…ended up that she knew my FIL, went to high school together! It’s a small world! I hiked around while my husband rode his bike. Played cribbage, frisbee, soaked in the hot springs.

Then sped across the playa to Bruno's in Gerlach…we didn’t get the ravioli’s instead we had fried chicken and spaghetti (we shared our meals). I wish I had pictures of the moonless night to share with you. Had to pull-over between Gerlach and Nixon for a “pit stop” and just happened to look up…Oh My Gosh! I haven’t seen that many stars in a long time. The Milky Way was so thick it looked like someone just painted the sky with white. The Big Dipper was sitting low…shooting stars everywhere. Big sigh. We pulled the tailgate down and just sat for 1/2 hour watching the sky.

For Immediate Release
September 29, 2008
CONTACT: Liz Conroy
(610) 251-0550
liz.conroy@bobroggioforcongress.com

8 years of Bush/Gerlach Policies Lead to Economic Collapse
House Fails to Pass Rescue Package

MALVERN, PA – The US House of Representatives failed to pass a financial relief bill today, plummeting the stock market to a record-setting low. Jim Gerlach took advantage of another opportunity to pander while failing to act.

“Jim Gerlach took a pass at confronting an enormous challenge and strengthening our economy,” said Roggio Campaign Manager Liz Conroy. “For 6 years, he has stood shoulder-to-shoulder with George Bush and supported the disastrous policies that have led to this massive meltdown. He has accepted almost $1.5 million from the Finance, Insurance, and Real Estate sectors, but claims to have the leadership and independence to solve this problem. Jim Gerlach has failed in his representation of middle class families who are struggling to protect their retirement and save for college. This was his chance to act. This was his opportunity to lead. This was his time to show some guts and find solutions and he foundered.”

After 8 years of the Bush/Gerlach policies that led to this enormous crisis, voters of the 6th district deserve new leaders who can bring a fresh perspective to Washington and work to fix our problems. We cannot trust those who got us into this problem to find a way out.

We spent the weekend with friends on our annual, end of the season, camping trip.  Our friend, proves to all…. “life is good.”

Bruno Selmi on his daily walk through Gerlach, Nevada.  Bruno invited us to lunch, unfortunately we had to get home.   it’s a treat to see Bruno walk through town.  He’s part of the charm and history of Old Nevada, moving here from Italy to Empire, settling down in Gerlach.

“Just don’t call it junk,” I told my boyfriend.

I made this realization late Sunday night when I was almost near my full of ‘artwork’ at Burning Man. Some pieces I considered pure art while others, well, I just couldn’t get past the thought of, ‘it’s junk.’

But as the saying goes ‘one person’s junk is another person’s treasure.’

It’s one the many observations I made while de-virgining myself to the counter culture festival near Gerlach last weekend.

I was scared beforehand; I had advice thrown at me from every possible person you could imagine. It was great to know they cared, but whoa, let me digest some of it first before I move onto the next tidbit of insider information.

I’m not sure how to describe Burning Man to you although I did hear some good descriptions over the past few days:

• Seven day long rave in the desert
• What it looks like the day after an apocalypse
• Las Vegas, Shanghai and Mecca all rolled into one
• An archaic looking Times Square

Since I was new to the festival, I didn’t take any art with me – I was more of an observer.

And it seems the outside world was observing us too. We were hit with a nasty 4-6 hour wind storm Saturday afternoon. When I came back home, many people asked me about it. I even saw the information on the New York Times and Boston Heralds websites’ and tmz.com.

Funny thing is we were cut off from the rest of the world – when my boyfriend and I left Sunday night we heard on Burning Man’s official radio station that the entire city of New Orleans had been evacuated – all two million people. We just stared at each other in shock. Who knew?

The only link to the outside any of us really had was near center camp where a small circle of computers had been hooked up to the internet.

Both our digital cameras died. Both our cell phones died. Since they also acted as watches for us, we had to rely on the sun for time.

Not a bad thing. The sunrise and ensuing blazing heat acted as our alarm clock.

One thing I didn’t anticipate was how long the day really was. I nearly died of boredom a couple of times. I can only imagine what it’s like to be sentenced in prison for the rest of your life.

How do you occupy all that time? By drinking of course! If you’re not going anywhere and you plan to stay at camp the entire time, why not enjoy some liqueur?

I, being different, craved Coke the entire time. A dusty Coke never tasted so good! (I do want to add I also had some canned champagne on standby.)

I also learned again how out of shape I am. Oh yes my friends Burning Man is quite the workout. Who knew right?! My boyfriend wants to take a pedometer next year to see how many steps we really take.

I told him I actually have to workout for next time. Like use the stair master so I can bike around camp. I want to get healthy and start exercising anyway, but how funny is it, of all things, Burning Man would be a motivation?

I’ve already decided I’m going back next year. Possibly for the entire week. If we do, I want to take a shower though. Hey, building one will at least kill a few hours. Then I can resume drinking. 

So this is what I did this weekend! How did you spend your Labor Day?

I went to the Burning Man Festival north of Reno.

All photos courtesy of The Associated Press via Yahoo!

Na Gierlach (Gerlachovsky Stit, 2654m npm) chciałem wybrać się od momentu, gdy zacząłem chodzić po Tatrach. Dawniej na szczyt wiódł szlak ubezpieczony klamrami i łańcuchami. Słowacy usunęli wszystkie łańcuchy oraz oznakowania szlaku i zaczęli robić biznes – na szczyt można wejść tylko w towarzystwie uprawnionego przewodnika (w roku 2008 mógł on zabrać jednocześnie 4 osoby, a koszt takiego przedsięwzięcia to 900PLN – słowacki przewodnik bierze trochę mniej). Można również podjąć ryzyko i wejść na własną rękę korzystając chociażby z opisu drogi zamieszczonej w kultowym już przewodniku Nyki. Przestrzegam jednak przed lekceważeniem Gierlacha – wbrew powszechnej opinii nie jest to prosta góra: są klamry i sporo ekspozycji, zaś przy gorszej pogodzie bardzo łatwo o zgubienie właściwej, wijącej się wśród skał, ścieżki. Tutaj i tutaj można znaleźć pouczające historie jak nie należy wchodzić na Gierlach.
Z przewodnikiem umówiliśmy się po polskiej stronie w Zakopanym o 5 rano. Pakujemy się do samochodu i jedziemy do Tatrzańskiej Polanki (Tatranska Polianka). Stąd busem udajemy się do Śląskiego Domu (Sliezsky Dom, 1670m npm). Koszt wyjazdu (dzięki znajomościom przewodnika) wyniósł tylko 400SKK.
Dokładnie kwadrans przed siódmą wyruszamy spod Wielickiego Stawu (Velicke Pleso). Jest chłodno, słońce dopiero wstaje, wieje jak cholera, ale widoczność zapowiada się rewelacyjna.
Od Wielickiego Stawu idziemy w górę zielonym szlakiem wiodącym przez Wielicką Dolinę (Velicka Dolina) na Polski Grzebień (Polsky Hreben, 2200m npm) przez około 30 minut aż nad dolny brzeg Wielickiego Ogrodu (Kvetnica). Teraz w lewo, już bez znaków, przekraczamy potok i podchodzimy skośnie w prawo, początkowo trawiastym stokiem, a potem po piargach do wylotu Wielickiego Żlebu (Velicky Zlab). Silny wiatr utrudnia podejście. Żlebem tylko kilka metrów, po czym skośnie w prawo w górę pod stromą, eksponowaną, kilkunastometrową ściankę (zwaną Wielicką Próbą). Tutaj robimy sobie krótki odpoczynek – ubieramy uprzęże i wiążemy się liną. Następnie zaczynamy wspinaczkę Wielicką Próbą przy pomocy rozlatujących się klamer (dawniej były tutaj również łańcuchy, ale wredni Słowacy je usunęli, zostały tylko same haki) na łatwiejszy teren ponad nią.

Zielony szlak na Polski Grzebień

Próba Wielicka

Dalej w górę zygzakiem wznosimy się trawiasto-piarżystą grzędą, ograniczającą żleb z prawej, a pod koniec skałkami i półeczką skośnie w lewo na wąskie wcięcie Przełączki nad Kotłem.

Podejście na Przełączkę pod Kotłem

Wyraźną ścieżką w prawo trawersujemy zbocza Turni Ponad Kotłem (Certova Veza) poprzez żebra i skaliste żlebki aż do szerokiego, piarżystego żlebu spadającego z Lawiniastej Przełączki. W górę skałkami zaraz na lewo od żlebu na przełączkę. Trawersujemy zboczami Małego Gierlacha i dochodzimy do przełączki pod tym szczytem. Można stąd w prawo w ciągu 10 minut wejść na wierzchołek Małego Gierlacha (Kotlovy Stit, 2601m npm). Z przełączki nieco w dół już na stronę Doliny Batyżowieckiej (Batizovska Dolina). Po czym dłuższym trawersem, falistą linią, ale prawie poziomo zboczem Małego i Pośredniego Gierlachu, przekraczając liczne rynny i żebra (znowu klamry, a dawniej również łańcuchy) dochodzimy do ogromnego, głębokiego Batyżowieckiego Żlebu (Batizovsky Zlab). Schodzimy na jego dno, tworzące tutaj rodzaj kotła. Batyżowieckim Żlebem w górę tylko kilkanaście metrów i dalej odgałęziającą się od niego w lewo stromą rynną skalną (kiedyś był tu łańcuch) wprost na wierzchołek Gierlachu.

To małe w dole, to jak sama nazwa wskazuje - Mała Wysoka.

Ostatnie podejście na Gerlacha

W drodze na ostatnie podejście

Czas wejścia wyniósł 3 godziny. Na szczycie urządzamy sobie sesję zdjęciową oraz przerwę na śniadanie. Jest tłoczno, prawie jak na Giewoncie. Na górze spędzamy pół godziny podziwiając fenomenalne widoki: widać doskonale Staroleśny, Sławkowski, Małą Wysoką, Polski Grzebień, Batyżowiecki, Kończystą, Zmarzły, Ganek, Wysoką, Rysy – można by wymieniać i podziwiać godzinami.

Krzyż na szczycie

Bradavica, czyli po polsku Staroleśny Szczyt

Vysoka, czyli po polsku Wysoka

Ze szczytu Gierlachu schodzimy stromą rynną (dawniej łańcuch) i potem w lewo, przez żeberko, do miejsca, gdzie żleb tworzy rodzaj kotła (identycznie jak wchodziliśmy). Teraz w prawo w dół stromo, najpierw po prawej, a potem po lewej stronie żlebu. Wybór drogi ułatwiają wyraźne ślady ścieżki. W dolnej części żlebu (ponad jego obrywem) w lewo przez żeberko i piarżystym żlebkiem w lewo skos nad górną część pionowej sześciometrowej ścianki, zwanej Batyżowiecką Próbą. Schodzimy nią w wielkiej ekspozycji przy pomocy klamer. Dalej w lewo w dół rynną (dawniej przy pomocy łańcuchów), a potem trawers w lewo i stromo w zygzak (klamry) skałami charakterystycznej Białej Ściany do jej podnóża na piargi lub śnieg. Tutaj odpinamy się od liny i ściągamy uprzęże. Idziemy w prawo po piargach Niżnej Batyżowieckiej Równi i w lewo w dół aż nad skalisty próg, zwany Wyżnie Batyżowieckie Spady. Wyraźną ścieżką zakosami poprzez próg, a potem początkowo prawie poziomym, trawiasto-skalistym wałem, a dalej wśród wielkich want dochodzimy nad północny brzeg Batyżowieckiego Stawu (Batizovske Pleso, 1884m npm). Staw obchodzimy lewą stroną i dochodzimy do czerwonego szlaku (Magistrala Tatrzańska) nad jego południowym brzegiem. Zejście zajęło nam dwie godziny.

Żleb Batyżowiecki

Stąd udajemy się Magistralą do Śląskiego Domu – czas dojścia około godzina, gdzie czekając na busa jemy lekki obiad. Znowu przydają się znajomości przewodnika – kurs na dół do Tatrzańskiej Polanki kosztował nas tylko 300SKK. Pakujemy się w auto i wracamy do Zakopca. Tutaj jemy wreszcie porządny obiad, opijamy wejście na Gierlacha, rozliczamy się z przewodnikiem i wstępnie umawiamy na następną wycieczkę – na Wysoką.

Schemat Doliny Wielickiej - wejście na Gierlach

Schemat Doliny Batyżowieckiej - zejście z Gierlacha

that’s right guys. I am taking off to nevada. leaving in two hours. got myself a caravan of two cargo vans, josh, heather, and ange. super excited. will post you pictures via iPhone along the way. xo~
siouxzen*

sent via iPhone

En la pequeña ciudad de Gerlach, al norte de Reno, se encuentra una de las maravillas más impactantes de la naturaleza y uno de los lugares más fantásticos del estado de Nevada, el insólito “Geiser Fly“.

Rodeado de acuíferos de aguas termales que sobrepasan los 200 grados centígrados, fue accidentalmente creado por el hombre.

Alrededor de 1917 se hicieron excavaciones en busca de agua tan necesitada en esta zona tan árida de este famoso Desierto Negro (Black Rock Desert), fue entonces cuando se encontraron con los chorros de aguas termales y decidieron taparlo.

Fue excavado nuevamente en 1964 por científicos para estudiar el aprovechamiento de la energía geotérmica, esto provocó que el géiser empezara a manar. En la actualidad pueden apreciarse varias salidas de agua por varios puntos. Las plumas de agua caliente que vierte continuamente desde la parte superior de los montones de tierra se puede ver desde muchos kilómetros de distancia.

Pero lo que más impacta de este maravilloso Geiser son los sedimientos de Carbonato Cálcico que han ido depositandose a lo largo de su historia. Colores rojos, verdes y naranjas producen un escenario digno de los ojos más exigentes.

Según estudios de los científicos esta variedad tan inusual de colores ha sido producida por las Algas termófilas muy propicias a crecer en húmedo con ambientes calientes.

El Geiser Fly se encuentra en un lugar privado concretamente en el Rancho Fly de acceso prohibido para el publico, tan solo las imágenes esporádicas de algunos osados que consiguen llegar son testigo de esta maravilla de alucinantes colores.

Más fotos y información en Reno Tahoe

Fotos del Rancho Fly