It’s hard to describe the feeling of complete isolation that comes with being alone out on the playa in Black Rock Desert. With over 1000 square miles of desert and seemingly endless alkaline flats, your sense of space and time become warped within minutes of arrival. I haven’t been to Burning Man, but now, after a short time on the playa, I understand why people come here. There are no physical bounds, except the ground beneath your feet. You can move in any direction and know that nothing will hinder you except your own willingness to keep going deeper into the empty abyss. It offers a kind of physical and mental freedom that rarely exist in everyday life. We live in a world of obstacles. Artificial constraints are everywhere in the form of physical barriers like traffic lights, fences, buildings, doorways, and the many other constructs of society. Out here on the playa, there are none.
I shouldn’t be here. It’s late December and were it to rain, the silt on the playa would turn into three feet of inescapable mud beneath my five-ton Airstream van. But I’ve checked the weather— twice— and it looks good for the night. So I search for safe passage out onto the playa. The southern playa is still wet and muddy from recent rain, making both the three and twelve mile access points impassable. I head north and take Soldier Meadows road for about twenty miles to an access point near the namesake Black Rock. After about a one mile drive through the desert, I get to the playa. Will it be passable? I get out and walk on foot. The silt feels like hardening clay, not mud. I walk further and see that this edge of the playa is elevated just enough that the recent rains drained further off. So, with fingers-crossed I head out.
There is no one here. Each year, 70,000 people converge on the southern playa for the Burning Man Festival. Today is a festival of one. I took a one night detour here, 100 miles north of Reno, on my way to California for the holidays. I’m not much for festivals– a place like this deserves to be experienced without a cacophony of people, music, and drugs. That said, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as isolated, anywhere, as I do out here.
It’s jarring to the senses to know that you can look to the horizon in any direction and there is no one and nothing else around. You’re on your own here if anything happens. With no connectivity, there is no escaping the isolation by diving into your phone either. You are stripped bare on the playa, with only your own thoughts to keep you company.
After creeping further onto the playa in my van, I realize we will have to stay within about 100 meters of the edge. Going any further means risking getting stuck in the mud. I’m starting to imagine all the things that could go wrong– alien abduction? Roving desert bandits? A sudden thunderstorm that sinks my van up to its engine in mud? Now I’m wondering if this was such a great idea after all. After surveying the area, I find a good natural blind on the playa to hide my van behind. If the aliens come, they will have to work extra hard to find me here.
After settling in, I take my bike out for a ride around the playa. Black Rock, for which the desert is named for, is just across the playa from here– maybe a mile or two– or ten. It’s hard to tell actual distances here. After the bike ride, I settle in to read a book and catch up on some writing. One of the beautiful parts of van life is you can literally roll up to place like this and pick whichever dramatic view suits you. Looking out at the mix of blue skies, alkaline flats, and Kamma mountains made me feel like I was the Alien that just landed on another planet.
It’s just two days before the Winter solstice, so the days are short. Night comes quickly and then, later, the moon light glows across the playa. My senses are on high-alert, making it hard to sleep. So I step out onto the playa to experience it under the waxing gibbous moon. The flats emit a blue-ish white light, looking almost like the surface of the moon. I look around and see one dim light far, far in the distance, but nothing else. It all feels like a waking dream.
The next morning, I wake up early to watch the sun erupt onto the playa. This may be one of the most dazzling sunrises I’ve ever seen. I’m relieved to have survived the night alone here. No aliens or roving bandits– just stunning sights, solitude, and a few precious moments to reflect. As restless as being alone on the playa made me, I’m glad I came. I believe you earn a certain fortitude when you do things that make you uncomfortable. There’s the old saying, “life begins where your comfort zone ends”. If you ever want to get out of your comfort zone, a night or two on the playa is one, really visually stunning, way to get you there.
