OK, because I promised 3 of you already.  Jack Stafford has already 
posted a nice review of what transpired at the Panamint Springs bash 
this past weekend, and I believe the Schwarzmeister is putting the 
finishing touches on some text he was working on, so I'll try to 
touch on things they didn't.  

Unlike the Baja fiasco, we had a good turn out.  As usual, there were 
a few who said to expect them but then didn't show up.  For once, there 
was a person who hadn't announced plans to attend but came anyway, even 
if only for a moment (thanks Roger Bowman!)  Martino of earthlink.com 
fame didn't make his show.  Ric??

Steve "Ratboy" Johnson, unable to attend, will be pleased to know that 
we did not register the campsite in his name this time.  I'm not actually 
sure in who's name it did end up, although it might be better if none of 
you ever publicly "admit" to being a member of our group, just in case.  
It hasn't yet happened that vanagon.lenti has actually been banned 
from returning to a campsite previously visited, but I'm expecting this 
any time we revisit a site.  :)

(BTW Ratboy, I'd like to hear more about that diesel porti-potti of 
yours, since you converted it from electric.  You missed a good one, 
buddy; you better show up for the next one.)    

New member Norberto (an architect, originally from Argentina) and his 
wife joined us for the first time.  When he announced that he and his 
whole family had been kicked out of a restaurant for being obstreperous 
after drinking too much sake, we knew immediately they were our kind of 
people and would fit in with this group just fine.  This was confirmed 
when Norberto kept asking to be awakened if the lady without pants 
showed up again.  Next time, they promised exquisite Argentinean 
culinary delicacies and I can't wait.

Vehicles arrived in the usually disorderly fashion and parked that 
way, too.  The latter was intentional, for we wished to camp at the 
end of the area, putting us on the boundary line between the last 
campsite and miles and miles of open desert.  It wasn't far enough 
away, apparently, for our explosive and pyrotechnical rioting did 
bother some of the others.  It's ok; we're used to that.  It's just 
difficult, sometimes, to find camp locations where we can be isolated 
as we want (and possibly should) be.  At any rate, we purposely parked 
the cars somewhat overlapping to block the view of what we were doing 
from the rest of the public.  Good thing some of us have limo tint.

The customary obscene amount of solid fuel was brought.  Somehow, though, 
we could always use a little more.  I believe I saw out of the corner 
of my eye (although I was pretty wasted on hot mulled wine at the time) 
that a circuit board was sacrificed.  The proverbial type I (magnesium) 
engine case was banked and halved, and we were treated to the 
5400 F degree show each of the two successive evenings.  A friend 
of Schwarze's from not too far away brought something called oxidizer, 
which made the fire poof pretty dramatically.  Or maybe that was the 
5th cup of marsala I was on; I lost track.  For a change, I brought a 
100# bag of coal, because I was feeling "east coast."  A few of you 
thought it stank, but the odor turned out to be the circuit board.

Schwarze brought a computer and a microwave.  Eric from Ridgecrest 
brought a digital guitar and a sampling keyboard.  We recorded a 
bark, assigned it to the keyboard, then watched the Kautz's dog's 
(Zoe) responsive howls.  Pretty funny stuff.  

In answer to some of you and your specific questions:

1.  No, I didn't wear any flannel  

2.  Yes, there were showers, they were hot and open all nite, but 
the water pressure was practically nil.

3.  No, the lady without pants was NOT me.    

Jack made some more of those wonderful rockets he sets off into the 
sky, not to mention some more yummy transporter porter.  Al Knoll 
provided some beautiful sparklers, which we shared with the 4 kids 
present.  Bardley and Schwarze couldn't decide whether they wanted 
to pick fights verbally or go for the jugular, live.  It was finally 
resolved by the use of some plastic dinosaur water pistol, but I'm 
still not sure who had the last point.  Steve Hogue made a dynamite 
guacamole, and Al (thanks for arranging this location for us) a 
firehouse chili, which seemed to "upset" the lower intestines of the 
Kautz's dog.  I heard there was a flatulence frequency contest, but 
I didn't experience it first-hand and I'm not about to mention any 
names.

My 13 year-old daughter Sarah came along, and had a wonderful time 
with 13 year-old Siena Kautz - thanks Dave and Francesca, and also 
for nabbing us the campsites the night before in Yosemite.

We offroaded.  I'm convinced that Schwarze considers grades under 
45% unworthy.  Underbody clearance constraints are meaningless to 
him.  I rode over ravines I previously would have been scared to 
walk on by foot.

What else?  I saw some of the tourist sites and my first coyote 
(not Ron Lussier).  I had my first hangover.  We exploded cans 
of this and that and made cool booms.  I've still got to 
my lawn chairs to see if it was the tomato sauce or the 
tuna that melted on.  The point is, they've been "marked" for life 
by a very special ritual:  for those of you who bail out on 
these camping trips, you are missing out on something 
very special.  For members too far away, let us know when you'll 
be in the area, and we'll come up with some sort of fireworks in 
your honor.  There is a spiritual camaraderie at these events hard 
to describe unless you've been there.  It's at once a fringe lunatic 
dadaistic surrealism walking a fine line between genius and insanity.  
We are bonded.  Personally, I can't imagine vacationing any other 
way now, and have not much desire to take any other type of trip.  
I love you all.  Here's to many more for many years to come....

/martha