Week Nine: As the Man Burns

“Big dust storm comin’!” announced a burly ranger, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Best be getting back to your tents… batten down the hatches.” I glanced at my friends, gave a nod, and we wove our way back through the crowds to where our bikes were parked. Recalling the ferocity of yesterday’s storm, we hurriedly pedaled away from the iconic wooden figure of the forty-foot, triangle-headed Man, back across the playa to our encampment. A wall of grayish-brown wind surged through the southern streets of Black Rock City, and I hoped we would make it home in time before the dust made it impossible to navigate.

notice There's more to this story! You're only seeing 11% of the story. Subscribe now to get immediate access to the rest of the story as well as our whole online offering.

Today's Other Stories

© 2016 Snyder Communications/The Evening Sun
29 Lackawanna Avenue, Norwich, NY 13815 - (607) 334-3276
We're on Facebook