[This is a continuation of Part 1, published yesterday]

7pm: Golden evening light blankets the playa. It's that magic time of day when photographing becomes a real pleasure. And here at Burning Man, there is never a shortage of subjects. This year's topic is Psyche, so it seems only appropriate that a very large, very purple half-head sticks out of the playa.



Incidentially, the four creators of the large head have dressed up and painted half their heads purple for a photo shoot. They pose for their photographer, but are quickly swarmed by a number of other shutter bugs. I can tell who is press by the green tag on their cameras, and feel a sudden guilt about belonging to their guild.

These people act like paparazzi. Without regard for their subjects or anybody else around them, they muscle their way in to get the shot. You can tell they are not here for the Burning Man experience - they are here to do a job, to get the shot, and then go home again. Quite a few of them have taken the effort to dress in a way that allows them to blend into the crowd, but I highly suspect it wasn't for the love of playing dress up... One woman bystander shakes her head, leans over to me, and comments: "You can't take a shot out here on the playa without having a photographer in the picture." Sadly, I have to agree with her.



8pm: Upon my return to camp, I find my campmate Sarah pacing around the rental mini-van, visibly distressed. "Aaron locked the keys in the car!" she exclaims angrily. "I have to take the bus to Gerlach tomorrow, get a locksmith to come out here, and pay 700 bucks for it! That's what everybody, including the rangers, are telling me." (and since it's a rental car, we couldn't get a second key made earlier.) I'm bummed, but somehow sense that all that won't be necessary. The Playa Will Provide, Gryff told me earlier. I believe it.

A neighbor suddenly shows up with a piece of strong wire. He tries to slide it down the driver's side door and lift the handle, but without luck. Shortly after, yet another neighbor shows up with a crowbar. As it turns out, the guy is a locksmith in the outside world. He doesn't have any tools with him except that crowbar. But it's enough. We pry the door open a bit, he slides the wire down and after a bit of negotiating, is able to push the unlock button. The car is open again.
Hurray. So Gryff was right all along...

Re-energized, I head back out on the playa. At night, Black Rock city comes alive, and with it, there seems to be an overall emergence of color and light in the most psychedelic variations. Glowsticks and L-Wire are the preferred attire for humans - but also the playa art comes alive with sounds and colorful illumination, some static, some pulsating.





I curse my decision to drag my regular Bogen/Manfrotto tripod with me. As it turns out, the thing is far too big and heavy, and it's impossible to strap it on to the back of my bike. So I'm left shooting hand-held, and with the insane flurry of movement and light here, the night becomes a frustration photography-wise. So I end up experimenting with zooming the lens during long exposures, which is actually kind of fun and results in stuff like this:



11pm: It's getting damn cold, so I head back to camp - where I find a new neighbor:
Sham, yet another Canadian. Tall, blond, fair-skinned, and burly - and a Burn-Virgin like me - he came here all alone, camping inside his U-Haul trailer. Sham doesn't waste any time however, and immediate starts working on his buzz. As an Iraq-War veteran, he seems rather unconcerned about what the desert does to you when you ingest large amounts of alcohol (namely totally dehydrate you). I admire him... We chat and I feed him noodle soup, before he heads out into the night to find his own and unique Burning Man adventure.



To be continued with Day 3 ...