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Leaving S. F. |
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Burning Man 2002: Leaving San Francisco
Countless emails exchanged between Ranger Lefty and me, our preparation and packing done, the day of our departure came quickly (but not quickly enough). We packed Ranger Lefty's truck the evening before, leaving little but personal items and the bicycles.
This year we were leaving bright and early on a Tuesday morning, returning the following Monday, after six nights on the playa. On said morning [from left to right] my orange geek bag1, my black fanny pack 2, a paper bag with last-minute snacks and items previosly overlooked, my orange fleece jacket, and my hiking shoes lay in front of our cottage. Inside, I was brewing some Turkish coffee, playing with Isaac and Lila, giving last-minute info to Rose.
1 - Digital still and video camera, PowerBook, EL wire, brand new 2000 mAh NiCd AA batteries for the EL wire, battery charger and AC supplies.
2 - Personal first aid kit, Gerber multi-purpose tool, Clif bars, two one-liter Nalgene containers, translucent green Lexan eating utensils, some "mountain money" (toilet paper), note pad and pens and pencils, other incredibly useful but unimpressive items not including a towel.
 Finally the doorbell rang. It was Ranger Lefty. Under Isaac's supervision the mountain bikes were attached to the back of the Ford Explorer.
 I bid farewell to the kids. Lila is too young to understand, but all of a sudden Isaac understands that I'm actually going. He's not happy. We've been discussing this for several weeks. I've marked the days on his calendar, and shown him pictures of previous visits to Burning Man, but it's only at this last moment that it becomes real. He wants to go with me. I'd like nothing more, but not without preparation. I tell him that I love him and will be back soon, and we're gone.
 After a quick breakfast, we're on Duboce Street, on the way to the Central Freeway on-ramp. We pass the reflective windows at the Veteran Affairs. A good way of capturing our leavetaking. Goodbye, San Francisco.
 At 0900 we're almost on the San Francisco Oakland Bay Bridge, heading north and east, towards Reno via Sacramento. We've just missed the morning rush hour, and I'm guessing that we're in-between the burners who were able to leave last weekend and those who will be coming next weekend. I settle back into my seat.
 We leave our daily environment, a moist existence at sea level, to higher elevations, where moderate temperatures and liquid won't be taken for granted.
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