The near motionless line of trucks, trailers and RVs took four dusty hours to negotiate, so we made the most of our enormous truck, supping warm lager on the roof while watching the desert sunset and listening to a weird mixture of field reports and honky tonk playing on Burning Man FM. By the time we got past security it was dark, and driving a honking great truck with a 25 metre turning circle and a reversing klaxon loud enough to cut through club soundsystems seemed a shade inelegant. So, like really cheap, shit Transformers, we grab our 'pre-loved' boneshakers out the back and located a campsite by bike. Adopted by some venerable and generous hippies with a pirate-themed bar and matching ship, we found a plot of land (before they saw the size of our truck) and set up camp.

It's important to be prepared when heading out to spend a week in a desert that wants to kill you. But knowing what to take is hard when the least hospitable environment you've yet encountered is a campsite without hot water in the New Forest. But with a bit of Googling and a few hours hunter-gathering in Walmart, we came away with some large sheets of tarpaulin, dust masks and a decoy pigeon, which fared us pretty well against the sun, sand and vultures. Just kidding, you don't have to worry about vultures - nothing lives out there. Apart from Burning Man, Black Rock Desert is used mostly for setting land speed records and amateur rocketry.

But the people are very nice. We were offered everything from bike ornaments to steak dinners (on two separate occasions), and our kindly neighbours were always checking to see if we wanted to use their pressurised hot shower (though this is possibly because we were upwind and smelled). And of course, all the bars are free as long as you bring a cup. It's difficult for even the most hardened cynic not to be won over by Burning Man friendliness offensive, which always seems inclusive and altruistic. Case in point - the toilets may be the cleanest I've yet used at a festival. Despite the 35C heat, and widespread inebriety, no one shits on the seat. Because only people who hate their fellow man would do that.

Our camp may be well-appointed, and our swarthy neighbours delightful, but you've gotta leave home sometime. To many, the idea of spending a week at a festival may seem a little much, but the things to see and do at Burning Man are not only near-endless, but genuinely varied as well. After a good few years doing British & European festivals, there's only so many chai cafes and herbal high stalls one can take. And those things surely exist here, but without any way to make money it becomes a little pointless taking safe bets, and a giant mobile scorpion becomes a more interesting venture than a burger van.

We visited a pickle party at the Homebrew for a Homebrew bar - cold, briny cucumbers and weird beers are the finest refreshments a man can get in an alkaline desert. We saw a bicycle sky-ride reminiscent of ET, next-door to a hot dog stand. We missed a fisting class at Camp Beaverton (for shame), but found a santa flashmob snow fight. We came across a stilt bar, but weren't tall enough to drink, and walked past a 30 foot topless see-saw, with a sign reading "You must be this topless to ride". Oh, and the nudity. Never have there been so many unclothed breasts this side of the Baltic coast. Scandalised? Reader, truly I was.

Bicycles are a good idea, given the sheer size of the site. Especially if you fancy exploring the mile or so beyond the camping area and main space, where they have such isolated instances of incongruity as this cinema. One fine afternoon we headed out that way to watch the sunset, only to come across what looked in the distance to be a dance stage, but upon closer inspection turned out to be a hundred-person five course banquet, which we joined for a spot of dinner (steak #1 - exquisite) and straight vodka (the champagne having already been polished off).

There's a lot of music at Burning Man, from jazz to breakbeat, classical to house. Almost every vehicle has a sound system, on top of the countless bars, camps and arenas. But the selection weighs predominantly towards electronic, and acts well-known outside the West Coast are in the minority. Having said that, FreQ Nasty, Seth Troxler, Andy C, Crystal Method, MANDY and Meat Katie were playing this year, and if you want to dance, you will not be found wanting.

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At night the whole temporary city transforms, lit up by millions of LEDs, electric wire and a smattering of infernos. The above steampunk octopus machine, dubbed El Pulpo Mecanico by its sculptor Duane Flatmo, was understandably popular with crowds. Not to be outdone, Kaos stage blasted 20 foot jets of fire from a flame-throwing electric guitar, behind a gaggle of fire-swallowers and dancers.

The whole goggles and gasoline side thing is pretty big at Burning Man, and certain quarters become decidedly Mad Max after nightfall. Like the Thunderdome - a giant climbable arena in which people are encouraged to fight, accompanied by the chant "two men enter, one man leaves". It feels like a stark contrast from the hundreds of hippies practicing yoga outside the Opulent Temple at sunrise. And that's truly one of the most successful things about the festival - there really do seem to be very disparate people, attitudes and styles, all having vastly different experiences, but all having a grand old time.

It's a great festival, you should really go. In order to find out more, visit burningman.com