Never fear. Google knows.

No kidding!

One of the tenants of Burning Man is "Radical Self-Reliance" and indeed, just getting to the gate tests your preparation and patience.

When we reached Fernley, where you turn off I-80 toward Burning Man, we'd been driving for two days, spotting an increasing number of Burners on the interstate.

How do you spot a vehicle containing Burning Man participants, you ask? It's not difficult. Bikes are the first clue. Western Nevada's tourism sites include few to no bicycle destinations. (That the bikes are furry or sequined is additional evidence.) Another giveaway are decorations on the car, especially some form of the symbol on the right, perhaps smudged onto a rear window.

The two of us did not have bikes or decorations.

In our tinted late-model rent-a-car with the cruise control set to the speed limit, we drove incognito to avoid being pulled over. Despite that we drove drug-free, our license plates advertised the marijuana oasis of Colorado and we did not want to take any chances in being compelled or intimidated into submitting to any kind of search. Mostly because we did not want to re-pack the SUV, already filled to the brim.

Fernley! Such an important little town on the interstate. Why, you ask? Fernley is the last reliable gasoline for the 180-mile round trip to Black Rock City. You can theoretically fill up in one of the half-dozen towns along the small highway up to Burning Man's entrance, but the ones closest to I-80 are still your best chance of finding available gas, so you must plan ahead. I recommend Love's in Fernley. Love's became my new favorite truck stop during our journey here. A welcoming, spacious, well-kept-up place with any snack you could think of.

Clean restrooms welcomed me for my final flush-toilet break before the desert. I won't lie. I worried about the quality of the facilities that lay ahead.

I expected long lines for gas, but we were in and out quickly, pulling out not long after 1:00pm on Saturday afternoon. Although we were arriving on an "early entry" day (with our early entry passes, given to us in order that we could help set up our theme camp), hundreds of other camps were doing the same. Regardless, I expect that the lines increased dramatically on Sunday. ( The Gate officially opened to the ticket-holding public on Sunday at 10:00am this year.)

We pulled out and drove away from I-80 into the unknown.

On this stretch of highway, you are highly advised to Drive The Speed Limit. Seriously. On the parts owned by the Pyramid Lake Paiute tribe, you will have to pay the fine immediately for exceeding the various posted limits (anywhere from 10mph-55mph) along the route.

As we drove, I felt a building, tentative excitement, tempered by both the anticipation of the potential hours-long wait at the Gate and the condition of my next potty break. But the feeling of an Event was in the air. Impossible to ignore. Like a concert or parade, or perhaps a pilgrimage, the air buzzed with a mass of people headed the same direction to do the same thing.

I'd listened to endless tales from Burning Man veterans, read blog after blog, read must-have packing lists, and in general, prepared absurdly for my first adventure in the Black Rock Desert. Yet the feeling of being there is something that no amount of preparation can predict. Part of me worried that some aspect would be too much for me, but I feared more that the experience would be just be meh. My goal was to leave my comfort zone, despite how uncomfortable it is to do that.

The residents of the small towns and Indian reservation along the highway prepared well for the onslaught of creative tourists.

Bikes were commonly for sale. Ice, food, water, goggles, light-up decorations, things that sparkled. Also, multiple signs advertised Indian Tacos. We did not stop. We had plenty of supplies and friend bringing a bike. And more, we just wanted to get there.

Gerlach. This tiny town 10 miles away from Burning Man has a population of about two hundred, but I could not tell that from this amusing Weclome sign.

Above the sign says "Burners please stop in Gerlach / Support local business / Food, Spirits, Ice, Water"

Opinions are apparently mixed about the influx of not-quite-mainstream folk passing through their tiny, humble town, but money doesn't lie. Twenty percent of annual commercial revenue (per Wiki) comes from the week plus that Burning Man participants pass through while arriving or leaving the festival.

At 2:55pm, the pavement ended. We drove onto the surface of the playa.

A Burning Man welcome sign (with people in front posing for photos) as well as a variety other interesting-looking signs stood along the rightmost lane. But as the lanes increased from two to four to six to finally thirteen, marked out by orange cones (some blown over), we could not read any of them. Hundreds of tires rustled up dust as we paced a careful 10 miles per hour in a middle lane.

At 3:08pm, our forward progress stopped.

My companion said we had done well. She had seen the line backed up to pavement in the past. That said, it was impossible to tell how far the line stretched forward. Or how long we would be stopped. We knew that they often did "pulses" which meant that people would stop and turn off their engines and, every hour or so, move forward a mile or two in one burst. Were we mid-Pulse?

It was hot enough to need air conditioning, but far too dusty to open the windows or wander around, so, worried about leaving the car idling too long, we sat in the stuffy heat in our car until we could not bear it and turned back on the A/C to cool off. (We may have been slightly wimpy in this regard.)

Nearly everyone I saw outside their vehicle had goggles and dust masks on. Sunglasses, ATV goggles, ski goggles, every size and variety displayed as burners made their way to one of the port-a-potty outposts. (I saw port-a-potties in groups of six or so every quarter mile along the line.) I did not use one, putting off the moment of port-a-potty dependence until I had no other choice.

As we waited, we listened to The Moth podcast, which appropriately signed off, "We hope you have a story-worthy week!"

After over an hour had passed, we wondered if something else held up the line. We scanned the radio band looking for 94.5, the official Burning Man FM station. In the process, we found the more useful 95.1, which is also a Burning Man station called "Gate Advisory Radio." It was repeating a helpful, but discouraging message:

"The gate is currently closed and not processing cars due to whiteout conditions. Please sit tight."

Dust blew around the waiting line of cars, no question. I could rarely see beyond a dozen vehicles ahead and only caught glimpes of the mountains that ringed the city. But I would not have called it "whiteout". Was the gate still so far away that the weather there was different? If this amount of dust halted progress, how long could we be stuck here?

At 5:00pm, there was still no change to the message on 95.1. The other station 94.5 played reggae and seemed far more cheerful about the weather report. But something else had changed. More and more people were out of their cars now. I heard muffled techno music. I saw people dancing, even in the blowing dust. Party in the line! We stayed in our car, continuing with our intermittent air-conditioning cooldowns, slightly worried about the battery. Volunteers, I assume, walked in between the lines of cars. Not sure what they were checking for.

Finally! Around 5:40, the message on 95.1 changed! It said "Welcome home, hippies" and then listed all the requirements of getting in. If you were missing any of these items by this point, I think you'd be out of luck. Shortly after, we started inching forward in line.

As soon as we started moving again, we theorized that the moving cars *caused* the whiteout conditions by kicking up more dust on an already windy day.

We moved forward in spurts. Stop-and-go-and-stop-and-go for another hour. The sky cleared somewhat. The sun set. And, not long after, the moon - a full moon! - lit up the sky.

At 8:40pm, five-and-a-half hours after we had entered the line, we reached the Gate Keepers. As far as waiting time goes, I had been prepared for a six to twelve-hour wait (indeed, I later heard stories of twelve-hour waits on Sunday), so this was not so bad. The Will Call pull off was right before the Gate, but we already had our tickets in hand. The Gate Keepers are strict. If they find anyone in your car without a ticket, they will turn away the whole car. If you try to hide a stowaway, your tickets will be voided. (Apparently, sneaking into Burning Man is an oft-attempted transgression that they go to great lengths to keep from happening.) A stern-faced woman with a probing flashlight scanned our vehicle pass which we'd stuck to the inside of our windshield a few hours previous and asked us how many tickets we had, then how many early entry passes we had. Then she asked how many people were in the car. The questions seemed ridiculous and self-evident and we were tired and hungry. But we answered, showed her our tickets and moved on.

Some more volunteers stopped us along the road and gave us a survey and some stickers. Finally, just before 9pm, we reached the Greeters.

Beyond the Gate is a different world as evidenced by the three folk, a gray-haired man in a coat and two ladies, one in a bodice, who greeted us.

They asked if it was anyone's first time to Burning Man. My companion pointed me out, so we got out of the car. The older fellow gave me a big hug and said, "Welcome home!" Then he had me lay down and do a dust angel. Then turn over and kiss the playa. Then I got to ring a triangle and yell out "I am a burner!"

(I had been somewhat warned of this ritual ahead of time, which was good. I need to mentally prepare to Get Dirty. I wasn't going to be clean for another 8 days anyway.)

They also, quite importantly, gave us our "What Where When" guidebooks with 150+ pages of events, most unlike any gathering, party, game, bar, or workshop you have ever attended before.

They were also supposed to give us an elaborate map of the city that showed the name and location of all the theme camps. Whether they gave it to us and we misplaced it (certainly possible in our chaotic car) or whether they failed to give us this at all, I was disheartened several days later to find out that everyone else had received this map of awesome but us.

Then we were in the city! From the Gate you enter the city from the bottom on 6:00 road. That said, it was still difficult in the dark to make out where we were until we finally located a street sign. From there, we found our location at 5:00 and Ersatz.

Our sheet of early arrival directions had many warnings like, "Do not assume you've found our actual spot; it's highly unlikely." and recommended having Placers show you where your plot of dirt was. But we just went. Maybe confusion would have ensued had other members of our camp not arrived? Or perhaps, since our camp was lucky enough to actually be on the corner of 5:00 & E instead of say, a lot or two in, that eased locating it. We had no trouble finding our spot.

My camp mates (who I had only met the majority of over online video chat) were awesome and welcoming. Most of the 13 had arrived and the few that hadn't would arrive in the next half hour. Hugs ensued, followed by sausage, fresh tomatoes, and (surprisingly) chocolate. Yum. I'd heard universally to never bring chocolate to Burning Man because it melts astonishingly quickly. But it was fine. Maybe it would get melty in the daytime?

Arriving tired and so late at night was a bit frustrating. Although we'd considered sleeping in the car and setting up tents the next morning, every time I entered the claustrophobic space I'd been in the last two days, I recoiled. Also, there was a lot of confusion over where tents should go since our layout was unexpectedly a corner slot and we wanted to use more of it for our "storefront". As it turned out, this exhausted, confused moment of figuring out if, how, and where to put up my tent was the most stressed I would be the whole trip. I finally just picked a slot, hoping it was okay (our camp leaders had already gone to bed) and roped three other awake camp mates into helping set up the tent after I'd helped set up theirs.

I'd practiced setting up my tent in the backyard and did it all by myself. No problem! But on site, tired, in the dark with a couple lanterns as guidance while the dusty wind blew, the process confounded me more than expected. But, eventually, everyone had a place to sleep.

The four of us still awake passed around some celebratory booze then headed to bed. It was probably close to midnight. Someone blasted Girls Just Want To Have Fun from a nearby camp and the wind pounded my tent. Loud conversations abounded and I had trouble getting comfortable in my sleeping bag. But I eventually drifted off to sleep.

• Black Rock City: The name of the temporary city that hosts the Burning Man festival. Oftened shortened to BRC.
• Playa: the surface of the desert floor. Why is it not called rock, sand, or dirt? Because the Black Rock Desert is "a flat, prehistoric lakebed, composed of a hardpan alkali." I have never seen anything like this substance before! The dust particles are tiny and fine (they get into everything), turn into mud when it water is added (making cleaning difficult and rainstorms brutal), and are prone to blowing (dust storms, ahoy!)
• Burner: A participant of Burning Man.
• FOMO: Fear Of Missing Out. When there, you have to repeat the mantra "I can't see everything. It is impossible." Two people can go to Burning Man the same year and come back with an entirely different set of photos of art, camps, or experiences. There is SO MUCH to see, do, and experience that anxiety over "missing" something is not productive. You will miss things. Accept it and see what you see.
• The Default World: your hometown; the place you are at when you're not at Burning Man.
• Sparkle Pony: a useless, but pretty, person.
• MOOP: anything on the desert floor that wasn't there naturally; trash. The acronym literally stands for Matter Out Of Place. A key principle of the event is Leaving No Trace and the organizers and participants take this very seriously. You and your camp are expected to do a MOOP Sweep before you vacate. The organizers do their own checks for MOOP, creating a MOOP map, and rating your camp red, yellow, or green depending on the amount of MOOP they find, which affects your placements in future years.