What you won't find much of online is the airport. The Black Rock Air Force, Cultural Air Defense, has it's own camp, runway, entry facilities, lounge, prota-potties and is located offset enough from the event to be like sleeping next to a modest waterfall, one that plays techno, vice in a maelstrom of sound. Many of us gifted rides around the Playa for attendees. Now why wouldn't I want to take some hot French, Australian, English or even American chicks, who seemed to perhaps forgotten to put a top on that morning for a ride? I took guys as well. This made you instantly popular and gave access to various camps for additional revelry and merrymaking. Or like in the Lithuanian camp, access to a shower powered by a Gilligan's island type bicycle powered pump.
The crowd at the airport was beyond cool and it was relaxing to hang out after flying, under wings enjoying a cool, or hot, depending if anyone made an ice run, drink. I flew a lot of riders, a whole lot, so much so I blew through about 80 gallons of gas. The plane was, let say, not clean when I left, but rather appropriate for a 185. I'll post some more pics and some video later this week, but real life is intruding and I've got to catch up.

A shot in IR on the airport:

A shot of the Dog with some tall women:

