Inaugural · please dress for wind

Burning Woman

The desert was booked. So we took to the Oregon coast and a firepit that already belonged to someone.

Saturday · October 10, 2026 · dusk

Manzanita, Oregon

One gathering. One burn. Home before the tide argues.

If you arrive expecting 80,000 people and a temple, you have the wrong ocean.

What Burning Woman is...

A small circle of people standing around a legal fire on a wet coast in October, calling it an inaugural so it sounds like a plan.

There will be no ticket tier named after a metal. There will be a remark about how the desert gets all the press and the Pacific gets all the weather.

The only thing that will burn will be a piece of driftwood that had it coming.

What it is not...

Not Burning Man. Not a satellite. Not a brand extension. Not a protest against men, fire, or Nevada. The name is a swap. We kept Burning and moved the zip code.

Not a city. Manzanita already is one, and it has opinions about parking and open container laws.

Not a week. October 10 is one calendar square. If you need a week, the desert still exists and will not return our calls.

What to bring...

A coat you respect
A smile, an open mind, and your creativity!
The best joke you ever wrote (or heard), the best story of your life (in under 90 seconds)
No drones, no art cars, no manifesto longer than this page
The expectation that the fire may be a firepit and not an effigy visible from space

House principles (draft, damp)

Leave no trace. There were never enough of us to leave a city.
Radical inclusion. If you fit around the pit, you are in. If you do not, stand in the second row and rotate.
Decommodification. Bring yourself. Do not bring a booth.
Gifting. Bring a smile. Do not bring a workshop on gifting.
Immediacy. Dusk. Then dark. Then home. The coast does not do sunrise yoga in October without resentment.

If you are in Manzanita that Saturday and you see a legal fire and a short speech, you have found it. Dress for the Pacific.