A Tale of Reflection
by
Alavey666@aol.com

Oh, (stroking my long gray beard) lets see, back in ' 92, my second B.M., there was a really bad lightening storm with lots of rain and wind. That was before all the sophisticated equipment like GPS and such. The event was then out about 15 miles from the main road on the playa where there was no close point of reference. Back then, there was no sign of the event from the road. without instructions, the sight was impossible to find. When you did find it, it was like an island on a sea of desert.

That was a bad stormy night which reminded me of the Night on Bald Mountain sequence of Fantasia.

Some newbies decided that the storm was too much, got scared (of what ???) and tried to leave.

WELL, they organized a small caravan (good idea) of ragtag vehicles so they could help each other if they got stuck. They sounded the alarm around camp, "We're getting outta here," inviting others to join them and head back to civilization (bad idea).

Since none of them had a compass, they looked around the desert, and thinking that they had spotted the lights Gerlach, started heading northeast.

Now for any of you that know the Playa,
and the conditions that can occur when a rain and dust storm strike,
and what driving on the alkali surface is like when wet,
and the giant clumps of sticky mud that cling to your tires,
and how disoriented even veterans of the playa can get,
and what driving northeast means,

You can figure out what they did wrong. First of all, driving ANYWHERE in those conditions is really bad. No compass, bad and most of all, look at a map, and notice what northeast means, Sulfur -- the mine with lights, but no civilization. And worse, to get to the lights of sulfur, one has to cross the quinn river swamp!!!

Danger Ranger and I tried to find a decent vehicle, couldn't and had to use my 1980 VW Rabbit Diesel Pickup.

We raced to catch up with the ill-aimed caravan, with very little traction. Even with Danger Ranger aboard with his wily desert ways, the gleam in his eye, his hearty "Hi yo silver" (my little truck was silver), and almost supernatural understanding of the desert, we had a hell of a time catching up with them.

BUT, when we did, Danger Ranger jumped to the roof of my little truck, and looking a little like Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea, with staff in hand, spread his arms skyward and tried to talk the hordes of terrified people into coming back to camp where they were safe and abandoning the idea of their mass exodus. It was quite a sight, Danger ranger in his robe (really a duster), with a divine light emanating from his eyes, holding his walking stick aloft, with a cacophony of lightening, thunder, rain and the distant silhouettes of the desert mountains in the background.

He cajoled, and berated them for worshiping false idols, and persuaded them to turn back and join the rest of our little band (approx. 2000) in the desert. We shepherded them back to Black Rock Village, all safe, and partied with communal food, drink, and music for the rest of the night.

And of course, a good time was had by all.