Burning Man Fights the Feds To Save Its New Home in the Old West

Standing a two-hour drive north of Reno and hundreds of miles from anywhere else, Gerlach is an Old West ranching and mining outpost with a dozen or so streets and a hundred or so residents. It’s known for its remote desert wilderness, hot springs, dark skies and historic position on some of the emigrant trails that moved covered wagons through the Black Rock Desert on the way to California.

Oh, and Gerlach is the gateway to Burning Man.  

When 80,000 Burners overrun the tiny town on the way to the weeklong Labor Day gathering in the playa 15 miles north, Gerlachians curse the traffic and the commotion. But locals admit that over its 30 years of summer residencies, the Burning Man Project—now a major property owner and employer in the town—has proven to be a pretty good neighbor, and, importantly, an economic lifeline for one of America’s endangered small towns.

Though many old-timers will never fully accept the hordes of transplants, steampunks, artists, partiers and crew members who have transformed their high desert life, Gerlachians agree on one thing: They don’t want their town to become an industrial zone. 

And that is what’s at the heart of a long-brewing, complicated fight pitting the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) against Burning Man, Gerlach residents and environmentalists who have filed a lawsuit to stop the construction of a green energy project in their backyards—literally.

“It’s really frightening what could happen to Gerlach,” said Dave Cooper, a Bureau of Land Management retiree who has lived in town since 2009 and serves on the board of Friends of Black Rock/High Rock, a conservation group that is a co-litigant in the case. “The proposed development could be larger than the town itself. And it will come right up to our outer streets—right outside our windows.”

Opponents of the geothermal energy exploration project say that the BLM approved the plan without doing a sufficient amount of research into its repercussions on Gerlach’s residents and the wilderness surrounding it.

Backers of the proposal say green projects like these are critical in order to meet the nation’s sustainable energy goals and that most disturbances caused by the development can be minimized or mitigated. 

As this 21st-century Wild West showdown moves to the courts, Gerlachians have pinned their hopes on Burning Man, knowing the organization’s funds, legal firepower and media magnetism provide their best shot at preserving their desert way of life.

Since Burning Man’s late founder Larry Harvey and the earliest Burners got kicked off San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1990, the Man has burned in the Black Rock Desert of northwest Nevada. Gerlach—pronounced “gur-lock”—is the closest town to the playa, about 20 minutes away. 

“Back in the early days, we would come into town with our tattoos and piercings, and the locals would go, ‘Whaaaaat?’” said Will Roger, who along with his partner, Crimson Rose, are artists and founding members of Burning Man. Fifteen years ago, Roger bought a home on the very edge of town and now the couple lives year-round on the property, which is studded with art and centered on a labyrinth.

“There’s a peace here that you don’t find in urban areas. I can hear my brain synapses here,” said Roger, who, like many locals, is struck by Gerlach’s reputation as the darkest town in America. “I look up and see meteors in the sky every night.”

Like many Burners who followed him, Roger “fell in love” with the high desert and the town of Gerlach, working summers as the founder of the Black Rock City Department of Public Works, the team of hundreds of workers that sets up and tears down the infrastructure for the annual gathering. 

Keep scrolling to continue reading...

But—as portrayed in the Oscar-winning movie Nomadland—when a mine shut down in the neighboring town of Empire in 2011, Gerlach’s population dropped from around 400 to less than 200, and its economic prospects dove with it. At that point, Roger said, locals began to recognize that Burning Man was genuinely invested in the future of the community. 

“This is a town of rugged individualists—they’re strong-willed because that’s what it takes to survive here,” Roger said. “It took decades, but now Burning Man is seen as a part of the Gerlach family and not seen so much as being different.”

With hundreds of thousands of followers, the San Francisco-based Burning Man Project became a nonprofit in 2012 to “amplify and extend” its culture beyond the playa and its once-a-year gathering.

In 2016, the organization bought Fly Ranch, a 3,800-acre property in the Hualapai Flat 20 miles north of Gerlach, famed for its Fly Geyser. It also bought the 360, an aptly named 360-acre parcel just a mile out of town that will grow into a permanent year-round village and maker space.  

“Burning Man and Gerlach are inextricably linked,” a 2022 blog post explained, characterizing the properties the organization owns there as a “permanent hub for Burning Man culture and community.” The new Burner destinations dovetailed nicely with the town’s plans to attract more tourists. 

Though the pandemic slowed progress, town leaders have received state grants to plan the development of a mobile home park, e-bike tours and other visitor-friendly attractions. Trails connecting historic sites to the Great Boiling Spring, the trippy art along Dooby Lane and the 360 are all in the works, with hopes of turning Gerlach into a Nevada version of Joshua Tree or Marfa, the renowned remote art destination in West Texas.

An industrial construction project next to town would have a huge impact on Gerlach’s nascent status as a quirky tourism destination.

In October, the BLM approved the Gerlach Geothermal Energy Exploration Project to allow the drilling of up to 13 wells along the back side of town, some just a few hundred feet from backyard fences. If the subterranean water is hot and plentiful enough, additional approval would be needed for a power plant, more wells, pipelines and transmission towers to get dozens of megawatts of clean energy to the grid.

The company leading the project, Ormat, owns the rights to the hydrothermal mining leases on the federal land surrounding Gerlach. The $5 billion multinational operates 15 geothermal facilities in Nevada alone, producing enough renewable energy to power 325,000 homes in the state. 

“Nevada is the golden child of geothermal,” said Roland Horne, a professor of earth sciences at Stanford University. The state accounts for 24% of geothermal power generated in the U.S. and powers 9% of its own electricity with geothermal sources. Ormat’s U.S. headquarters and that of several other geothermal companies are located in Reno. 

“In the push to decarbonize our electricity sources, geothermal is a supremely successful choice,” Horne said. Once established, geothermal plants are among the least intrusive power-generating facilities, with a smaller above-ground footprint than solar or wind and the ability to produce energy 24 hours a day. Proponents of the project say new clean energy projects like this are critical to meet the Biden administration’s goal to have America run on zero-carbon power by 2035. 

Green energy advocates say geothermal projects are possible in more areas today because of new binary-cycle technology that can work with aquifers formerly considered not hot enough to generate power. The water is pulled up and reinjected in a closed-loop system that keeps it separate from chemicals.

Ormat called Burning Man’s decision to litigate “unfortunate” in a statement to The Standard. “It is even more disappointing that the organization continues to stoke fears in the Gerlach community instead of collaborating for our shared vision of a more sustainable world.” 

Both the BLM and Burning Man declined to provide comment for this story because of the pending litigation.

Burning Man’s leaders and Gerlach residents say they support green power, pointing to their own sustainability plans and approval of another Ormat facility south of town. And mining has long played a big role in the area’s economy. But building a new plant so close to homes is rare.

“What Ormat is proposing for Gerlach is really unprecedented in the U.S. geothermal industry,” wrote Patrick Donnelly, Great Basin director at the Center for Biological Diversity on his blog. “Normally these geothermal projects are sited far away from communities in the middle of nowhere.” 

Keep scrolling to continue reading...

“It’s easy to say this is just a bunch of rural people complaining—a sort of NIMBY thing—but the question is, of all the options out there, is this the right one?” asked Kristy Evans, who moved to Gerlach 10 years ago from Oakland. “You can have solar fields and geothermal, but you try to put them in areas where they won’t have an impact on people."

Like most Gerlachians, Evans drives four hours round-trip to go to the grocery store or the doctor. "No one moved here to live in an industrial zone," she said.

Whether talking over pizza at Bruno’s, coffee at Miner’s or beer at Joe's, just about every local seems to have read the hundreds of pages of documentation available about how geothermal plants work and what it will be like living next door to one.

The operations plan says each well takes two to three months to drill and Ormat has the OK to drill up to 13 wells over the next five years. 

For each well, a 170-foot-tall rig will bore up to 7,500 feet into the earth, casting light and sound 24/7. To greenlight the project, the BLM issued a “Finding of No Significant Impact,” which stated that the project would not have a significant effect on the human environment, infuriating residents. 

“The town is basically surrounded,” said Andy Moore, a town board member, local property owner and co-litigant in the claim who spoke out at a community meeting in February. Showing how the BLM’s map of the project’s “Area of Interest” carefully skirts private property lines, he spoke directly to Andy Boerigter, the agency’s representative in attendance. “Saying there would be no impact here is not true.” 

But Ormat said its permits require it to protect communities from light or acoustic impacts. Company representatives told The Standard that they have explained to everyone involved that Ormat has no interest in drilling more wells than necessary. The company also points to Burning Man’s own near-term plans to tap into geothermal resources at Fly Ranch and the 360 as evidence that the projects can coexist with the town.

The federal government owns 80% of the land in Nevada—far more than in any other state—and the BLM manages about 84% of it. And though Nevada has geothermal resources scattered throughout the mineral-rich state, not all are easy to access.

Roads are already built to most of the Gerlach site, making it a very attractive location from the perspective of the energy company. And if it eventually becomes a power-generating facility, only 26 miles of power lines would be needed to connect to another Ormat plant on the grid, a big expense for energy projects.

Both Professor Horne and Ormat point to the Steamboat Hills geothermal facility south of Reno as an example of a plant in a residential area. Since the plant began operation in 1986, the town of Reno has expanded southward and now apartments have been built directly across from the facility. 

Over more than 30 years, the Steamboat plant has offset hundreds of millions of pounds of carbon dioxide, an achievement made even greater after a significant capacity expansion in 2020. One-third of its energy is sold directly to the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power—in fact, Ormat says about 37% of the power it produces in Nevada is sent to California.

One big difference between the Reno site and Gerlach is its surrounding location: Steamboat Hills sits next to a multilane highway on the edge of a large city that is already filled with round-the-clock light and sound. 

Environmentalists say the noise and activity from drilling would impact recreation and wildlife in the nearby Black Rock National Conservation Area, a space preserved by Congress in 2000 for its pristine desert environment. The Granite Range and wetlands behind Gerlach are home to bighorn sheep, pronghorn, mule deer, wild horses, golden eagles and chukar—and attract hikers, hunters, off-roaders and campers, as well. 

“Lawsuits are really a last ditch effort,” said Shaaron Netherton, executive director of the Friends of the Nevada Wilderness and a co-litigant in the case. Having worked with various agencies on public lands issues and planning across the state for more than 20 years, Netherton says this is only the second lawsuit her group has been a part of. “Typically, the BLM is pretty responsive to concerns but not this time.” 

The project is all about water—the maker and breaker of life in the desert. The springs bubbling up from deep in the earth create surface pools and wetlands that have been relied on not just by wildlife, but also by native Paiute tribes, pioneers, ranchers and even railroad execs running steam-engine locomotives—all groups that put Gerlach on the map. 

UPDATE: Burning Man Joined by Paiute Tribe, Homeowners in Lawsuit Against the Feds

But evidence is mounting that geothermal drilling can cause hot springs at the surface to dry up. In fact, one research study found changes to surface hot springs so commonly accompany geothermal development that they should be “viewed as the rule, rather than the exception.” 

When asked about the potential impact on Gerlach’s hot springs, Ormat said its new binary air-cooled technology utilizes new geothermal drilling techniques that will not affect surface waters.

But development at another Ormat development in Nevada was halted when the Center for Biological Diversity’s Donnelly succeeded in getting emergency endangered species status for a tiny toad that existed only in a nearby spring.

“In the desert, every spring is sacred whether they have endemic toads or not, they support diversity, birds and every kind of wildlife,” Donnelly said. “So any place next to a hot spring is not a place for a geothermal power plant.” 

David Jamieson, owner of the Great Boiling Spring, is another co-litigant in the suit. Researchers from universities around the world have studied the “fossil waters” in the pools to understand the origin of life on Earth—NASA alone spent nearly $1 million on a recent study. But the historic springs lie directly behind Gerlach and directly within the “Project Area of Interest.” 

Because the town is built directly atop hot springs—the same waters targeted for power generation—many locals fear messing with underground aquifers could cause their homes and businesses to settle or “subside” and become structurally unsafe.

“It could sink the town,” said Jason Walters, a local business owner and father of three who left San Francisco for Gerlach in 2006. Since he has lived in town, Walters has already seen buildings undergo structural work due to subsidence. “It’s very scary for those of us who have sunk our capital into the community,” said Walters.

The BLM report acknowledged that “monitoring and mitigation measures would minimize, but could not completely avoid, long-term effects on the water quantity and quality.” 

“Will [the BLM] pay for my house if they start drilling and my house sinks?" asked Ralph Minetti, a member of a longtime Gerlach family, at a town meeting in the Gerlach Community Center in February. Other speakers at the gathering called the project’s lack of specifics on risk mitigation a “plan to make a plan.”

“Exploiting the land is part of the DNA of this state,” Patrick Donnelly said. “It's a land rush in Nevada right now for geothermal, solar, lithium, gold, copper and some of the most outrageous residential sprawl in the whole world.” He and others in the industry often say there’s no “free lunch” in green power; every project has to be evaluated on its costs and benefits. 

With a tiny population and an unincorporated town, Gerlachians say they are taking all of the risks and receiving nothing from the project—no investment, no jobs, no power and no financial guarantees if problems arise. Any potential upside would come from the construction of a full geothermal facility, at which point millions in tax revenue would go directly to Washoe County, where 99% of the population lives in Reno and Sparks.

Though the drilling project only uses small teams, Ormat contends that residents would reap rewards from the project later on. “Should Ormat eventually develop a power plant, not only would it generate 100% renewable energy, it would also bring new jobs and enhanced infrastructure, including new roads, power lines, telecommunication, and municipal water systems to Gerlach,” the company said in an email to The Standard.

But locals say neither Ormat nor the BLM is doing a great job with community relations. “This meeting was supposed to be an update from Ormat, but they backed out,” said Tina Walters as she opened the February community meeting to discuss the project. As head of the Gerlach Citizens Advisory Board and Jason's wife, she is a top official in town but lacks official power. “In my 17 years on the board, I think this is only the third time the BLM has come to a meeting.” 

Since the BLM informed locals about the drilling proposal, Burning Man, other property owners, residents and environmental organizations have filed pages of detailed concerns with the county and the federal government, as is the normal procedure for such projects.

“In a single word? We feel ignored. The BLM just swept us under the rug,” said Elisabeth Gambrell, who goes by Schatzi. After a career spent in the Pacific, the Navy retiree moved several times before settling down in Gerlach in 2014. 

Gambrell said many townspeople submitted letters of concern, but none was addressed. Noise is a worry considering Gerlach sits on top of a high water table and between two mountain ranges. “They’ve yet to provide data in writing about what the sound level will be when drilling and what it would be in the current version of an operating plant. I know they have that data,” she said. 

The crux of the legal complaint is that the BLM approved the drilling project based on an “Environmental Assessment” rather than a far more rigorous “Environmental Impact Statement” that would typically be required by a significant project on public land near a populated area.

It's a process Burning Man goes through in order to receive a BLM permit because critics have long been concerned about the event's impact on the playa.

Gerlach is crying foul because back in 2020, Ormat proposed the construction of an entire geothermal facility on the site where the explorational drilling is currently approved.

The project included two geothermal power plants, up to 23 wells and several miles of above-ground pipeline. Residents decried the industrial-scale development abutting the small town, which was made worse by the placement of a substation near Passionate Point—a rise on the hill above town where locals hike, walk dogs and hang out to take in the views.

Ormat heard the concerns at an open house in the community and later revised its proposal to include only the first phase of explorational drilling, a project that would require far less BLM analysis. 

“Ormat segmented the initial project so that they didn’t have to look at the cumulative environmental and human impact of the whole development, only the exploration part of it,” said Cooper, who retired with more than 30 years at the BLM, including serving as the Black Rock National Conservation Area manager, planning the development of its visitor center and authorizing permits for the Burning Man event, which is still the largest federal recreation permit in the country.

Acting as spokesman for Friends of Black Rock/High Rock on the litigation, Cooper has deep expertise in the approval process for a mining lease. He believes that it is only a matter of time after the wells are drilled before a power plant would be built in Gerlach. 

“Drilling up to 13 test wells is a considerable expense for Ormat to go through and then not follow up with the construction of a plant to connect them to the grid,” Cooper said. “In my opinion, I would call that a 'reasonable foreseeable future action' that would need to be analyzed before approving the exploration.”

The bottom line? Cooper—and the plaintiffs in the lawsuit—say that the fact that the BLM did not conduct a full Environmental Impact Statement is illegal under the National Environmental Protection Act. 

In a statement to The Standard, the company responded, “Ormat is confident that the BLM comprehensive review process and approval will be upheld in litigation.”

The next step for the federal project involves securing approval from the local authorities. Without a city government, a go-ahead is needed from Washoe County officials.

At a January hearing intended to gather input on both sides of the project, the county’s Board of Adjustments granted Ormat the administrative permit needed to begin drilling; however, Cooper said he and some other Gerlach citizens were not informed about the meeting so could not air their concerns, one being how Ormat will source the millions of gallons of water needed to drill its wells.  

The county permit was then appealed by Burning Man—and then by Ormat, which is the normal procedure for these types of situations, according to Assistant County Manager Dave Solaro. He said the next hearing will happen in April but added that BLM decisions tend to be upheld at the local level. “We at Washoe County have to rely on federal laws and regulations and that the federal managers are doing their jobs.”

After getting little result from calls to elected officials in Carson City and Washington, D.C., many townspeople say their famous neighbor is the best chance for keeping the peace in Gerlach.

“I’m grateful that Burning Man has taken on this case because we need somebody aside from a small group of homeowners to get this situation onto the national stage,” Schatzi Gambrell said. 

Now, locals await the fate of a town that has endured many crises. A clip from a 1973 television special posted on the Gerlach website shows the town’s leaders negotiating a deal to buy its land from the railroad. 

“The uncertainty and danger of the early frontier remains in Gerlach,” narrates a young Leslie Nielsen. “The harsh realities of a life spent in rugged isolation have always produced a particular breed of loner, yet a rough-and-tumble group spirit emerges when faced with a threat.”

And that’s a good thing because while Gerlachians fretted over geothermal drilling behind town, a lithium company bought the mining rights just up the road.

UPDATE: Burning Man and a Tiny Town Stop a Huge Green Energy Project—for Now

This story was edited by Heather Grossmann.