|No more elevation markers, but must be down around 100' above sea level. Skirting around SAC.||When I returned to da Vinci, the rear cast was face down and one arm ripped off, the chest cracked.||I stood in the chai line for a few seconds, looked around the room and left. I had that Jane Goodall feeling again. The place was packed with all the wrong people.|
|Made the exit onto I-680, easy exit to miss, done it several times, and no easy turn around.|
|There WAS enough wind to knock the cast back to the ground, but surely not enough to splinter the wooden supports. This was some yahoo. In full daylight.|
|The burn was good but lacked the flair, timing and buildup of past years. Of course I got a few photos, but the image is in the only safe long term storage areas of my brain.|
|Didn't make it all the way to the center ring of the fire. Nearly got trampled getting close enough to toss in a bag with a few thousand firecrackers, but I might as well have been peeing in the ocean.|
|Last greasing of my hands before home. Oakland is behind, San Jose just ahead.|
|There is always a lot of pushing near the fire but it seemed that the soccer hooligans were out in force. Looking to see if someone could maybe get trampled.|
I headed back toward camp with a stop to just sit down for a few minutes. Carnival was in the air, but I was ready to head back into reality.
A second stop at the remains of the Violet Hour camp to say goodbye to fast friends and promise an early reunion. A third stop at the trusty Porta Pot and off in to the night with some major concerns about the state of my hands.
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