The inner circle is occupied by spread out fire dancers and other performers, pockets of Rangers, and apparent isolated bands of dignitaries. there is a thankful lack of camera crews with large profiles in my area.

The man erupts without warning with sprays of fountains from his limbs as in years past. Flames already flicker in the pedestal as rockets begin to scream skywards from a growing number of sources across the pedestal. a torrent of sparkling color is released which rises in episodic waves, first in one color and type of explosion then another as various caches are reached by the rapidly spreading conflagration in the pedestal. It is a continuous stream of fireworks roaring mostly straight up, exploding at a few hundred feet with the bursts crossing over each other like a fleeting latticework.

Briefly the man is one with streaks of colored fire, arms up and neon still mostly lit, in its height of glory.

Smoke remnants of the ascent and explosion plumes drift downwind to be lit in the colors of the next round of rocket bursts.
The man is already blazing, fire climbing up the legs and shattering the neon into sprays of blackened glass.
The fire races to the top from each corner of the fully involved pedestal, erupting into a beacon which under the right conditions could be seen for over a hundred miles, and could be seen from orbit if anyone was in the position at that time to take a look. Writhing masses of fire tower above and hide the Man, releasing a rolling cloak of smoke downwind. A dense forest of incandescent bamboo is suggested by the rising trails of rocket swarms, each fiery stroke blazing briefly and decaying as a drifting ghost of itself. Rockets collide with each other in their skyward stampede, and as the structure beneath is undermined some rockets shoot out sideways, bouncing and skittering along the inner circle like a stone skipping on the water before exploding. The transition from a primarily fireworks driven to a fire driven spectacle happens slowly with lingering reminders that the time of the fireworks is not yet over. For a couple minutes one cannot say their time has passed but the fire eventually reaches all the highly inviting fuel and it becomes so hot inside nothing so volatile can exist, although apparently there are protected pockets from which fireworks sporadically continue to erupt.

Groups of fire performers huddle together, with one group some distance away standing as if in a ritual welcoming the inferno as if in awe. The Man continues to stand, but it is such a small portion of the entire fire that it loses itself in the destruction of its pedestal. The vibrating laser beam plays its oddly contrasting green stripe across the plume as the lower portions are lit by the orange brilliance below, Great billows roll and grow, crowned by swarms of orange fireflies rolling within vortexes of convulsing air. Downwind the smoke plume turns into a kind of glowing veil of brightly lit smoke and millions of airborne sparks, parting and twisting as it encounters cooler air.

The masses of air fold upon themselves and coil about along winding snaky paths, catching and holding smoke and embers. these are the 'fire tornadoes' which have appeared in some form in all recent burns, looming downwind of the main fire like rearing cobras or caricatures of the fabled 'Indian Rope Trick'.

They scrub the ground furiously at their bases, whirling as if upon an invisible spinning top masses of wind refreshed embers and sparks. They, as well as the overall canopy of descending embers, are the reason you do not want to be stuck directly down wind from such huge fires. The fire begins to wane and there is as yet no general rush to the man. The Rangers cope with isolated attempts to rush in, but clearly the crowd is getting restless. A group of women, presumably fire performers, sit in a group just a little close to the inner circle and block the view of the fire from a few people to my right, and some shout out asking them to move. The Man finally collapses atop the roughly cubical conflagration but it is almost an anticlimax. People are starting to run to the fire on the far side, where I usually sit, but the Rangers here yell at people to sit down, as if following standing orders with no updates. We stand as we always have at this time and the 'take charge' Ranger at my left roars out orders to sit down. When he moves to the other side of his 'domain' 'Peaches' almost apologetically tells us we can stand if we want while she glances with concern at her raging colleague. More people reach the pedestal area, roaring and cheering in the distance and the fire had passed its peak brightness. The Rangers here seem less willing to give up control of the perimeter, as if to postpone the moment of anarchy which is one of the traditions of the event. Wide tears in the belt of Rangers admit streams of running people and at last we are part of such a movement, running past futily gesturing Rangers and toward the fire. By now there are already a couple thousand people encircling the fire, but in a ring only about 30 people deep. The counterclockwise spiral is still moving as we nudge and sidestep our way through the stream of people to soon break through into the oven like orange brilliance inside. There is an inner zone of emptiness mandated by the limits of sustained human endurance we invade and briefly frolic inside. In the intense fire light it is so hot your exposed skin cries out in pain. I am standing among the innermost layer of men in the silver suits, recoiling from the searing heat and often changing sides of myself turned in that direction. The building sized heap of furiously blazing wood is a source of enough light to shine on neighboring mountain ranges, the light levels before me approach that of daylight. I aim my camera at the extended conflagration then turn my back to it while recording the luridly lit circle of people curving behind the giant bonfire. After a couple minutes of this we agree it is time to move on. My down jacket insulates me well from the heat as it does from the cold, but it has become alarmingly hot to the touch and I can begin to feel the heat 'soaking' through. After several minutes of cajoling our way through the denser and wider crowd I stand in the cool breeze with my sweaty coat off, letting the delicious coolness drift over me. It is another moment of release in the event, in a night of frenzied celebration.

Later I noticed the video camera was mistakenly in 'pause' mode during my foray near the fire, so of those moments only these words and my memories remain. The rest of the night was spent wandering in dazed and relaxed wonder. Visually things started to look more normal, and the sense of adventure began to triumph over contemplative caution. After walking for another hour and drinking water I headed to camp, drank water with electrolyte powder, and begun the next round of the night as a bicycle rider. On this night of nights one had to be careful, but journeying was rewarded with the display of every center of activity going for all it was worth. Lasers crisscrossed the sky, small bonfires sprouted on protective stands, and a lot of people danced, rode, and walked the night away seeing a hundred wonders in their wanderings.
The giant sunflower and Venus fly trap machines were prominent landmarks that night, as was the capitol building and airliner art car, which at night spewed flame from the shattered dome. Art cars built for night viewing wandered across the playa, eruptions of flame throwers lit up this or that corner of the neon city, and people had timeless times with themselves in crowds or in private. Hundreds of parties pounded and pulsed their way through the entire night, picking up in strength as dawn progressed.

Sunday is a time to drink deeply of what remains, to say your good-bys and to get ready to go home. One has until about sundown to continue the timeless existence which has grown to be the norm, but the event is clearly winding down and the exodus out of the playa is ongoing. It is a time of introspection on this last week on its own events as well as how it relates to the recent history of the event. By afternoon enough people nearby had moved to remind me of the population density of earlier years. We had great neighbors, one man I spoke to had come from Israel, we talked of recent news and of the festival. Later I saw him looking incredulous, grasping his camera and declaring to me that without his photos no one at home would believe his descriptions of what he had experienced!
I chose not to watch the undoubtedly to be delayed temple and Uchronia burns, opting to get as much sleep as possible. I awoke after five hours, having gotten what turned out to be just enough sleep to get me through the long drive ahead. Having stripped away everything but what I needed to sleep, I needed but an hour between nominal awakening time at six A.M. and being in a moving packed vehicle inching my way toward the line. Even at this early hour it was obvious that a lot of other people had the same idea. It took nearly an hour to get to the highway, however I later heard that people waiting until noon could easily spend three hours at this task. The nice breakfast in the medium sized casino in Fernley was invigorating, and the drive alone along the 395 was beautiful. A hour or so of backed up traffic along the mountain passes at the periphery of Southern California delayed me but I finally arrived at my driveway Monday night about nine P.M., after having awoken in my tent on the playa.
I came away from the event both personally refreshed and impressed with the continuity and strength this festival has enjoyed. Burning Man has seemingly reached the point of self perpetuation, thousands of people bringing things to enjoy of all kinds without having to be told to. People see this as a place to let go and to express the humorous, the bizarre, and even the spiritual. Clearly the event is going strong as are the cultural needs which are addressed by what people desire of the event. This year I got around more than I ever had before, covering perhaps 120 miles in the week I rode about there. I interacted with more people in widely different locations than ever before, meeting new friends as well as renewing older ties. In many ways I experienced more of what mattered there than ever before. As the transition to the end of the event happened I felt not the sadness of leaving a desirable dream but a sense of renewal, as if the sum total of what I had experienced was not an overall drain but a source of energy and anticipation of great things to come. To see and be with the works of so many talented and motivated people was enough to rekindle ones faith for what can be done.
One thing I said to many people at the event which was news to everyone was the total Lunar eclipse due to happen at next years event. The Moon will be entirely within the shadow of the Earth between 1:52 and 4:23 AM Tuesday August 28 2007. I will be there in an isolated place near the perimeter fence with a telescope making observations if conditions permit and sharing the view in between my own efforts to record the colors seen in the shadow. Orange and red colors then usually paint the Moon with the glow of all the worlds sunrises and sunsets at that moment 'spilling over' into the shadow.
The Moon which shown on Burning man as a waxing crescent is now in the sky as a waning one of the same cycle. This year the entire lunar cycle of lighting the night is a continuity within which the entire event occurred, which for me ends as I write these words.

Don Davis
September, 2006

Below is the last photo I made from Burning man 2006 just before retiring Sunday night.

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