Burning Man, the annual countercultural festival that transforms Nevada’s Black Rock Desert into a temporary city of art, music, and radical self-expression, kicked off its 2025 edition under a cloud—literally. Just hours before the gates officially opened on August 24, a fierce dust storm, with winds reaching up to 50 mph (80 km/h), swept across the playa, wreaking havoc on campsites, art installations, and one of the festival’s most infamous attractions: the Orgy Dome.
According to the San Francisco Chronicle, festivalgoers who had arrived early found themselves engulfed in an eerie haze, unable to see more than half a meter in front of them. Videos posted to social media showed attendees huddled among battered tents, their faces wrapped in scarves and hats to guard against the relentless, stinging dust. The storm’s ferocity was such that it tore tents and camping gear from the ground, sending them tumbling through the air as people scrambled to hold them down. One attendee posted, “Crazy winds at Burning Man pretty much destroyed a lot of camps including ours. Will have to rebuild everything, hope everyone's OK! We had a couple injuries in the camp from poles flying around.”
The storm didn’t just stop at tents and tarps; it also devastated at least one of the festival’s prominent art installations, a blow to an event renowned for its ambitious, ephemeral artworks. The National Weather Service issued a dust storm advisory for Black Rock City, warning of “a wall of blowing dust coming off the Smoke Creek and Black Rock Desert playa areas.” The warning proved prescient. As AXIOS San Francisco reported, drivers heading into the festival faced daunting delays, with wait times stretching to six or even eight hours as visibility dropped and traffic snarled.
Despite the chaos, the festival’s gates opened as scheduled on Sunday morning, but new arrivals were cautioned to “drive safely.” The temporary city, which hosts around 70,000 revelers each year, was battered but not broken. However, the storm forced some hard choices and unexpected cancellations—including the abrupt closure of the Orgy Dome, a fixture of Burning Man’s wilder side.
The Orgy Dome, operated by a group describing themselves as “a sex positive community on a mission to educate the world about consent and the importance of its practice beyond intimate space,” is famous for providing a safe, inclusive environment for group sexual exploration. Inside, participants find mattresses, drapes, couches, and pillows—an oasis of comfort in the harsh desert. But not this year. As reported by The Mirror, the Dome’s build team had spent the previous week laboring to erect the structure, only to see it flattened by the storm. The Dome’s official Instagram account shared, “Our build team worked so hard this past week to erect our lovely space. Unfortunately, the winds yesterday undid all that labor and wrecked our structure. We are still here and thankfully safe, we hope to gift the playa some workshops and will keep you updated.”
The Dome’s destruction was met with a mix of disappointment and gallows humor online. As The Mirror and NBC News noted, some commenters joked, “That’s Jesus Christ saving people from STDs,” and “The wind is doing the lord’s work,” while others offered support, with one local writing, “Sending y’all so much love. We are your neighbors, Viking Bar 2:50 & E mountainside. Serving cold craft brews all week. Stop by for a drink and a chat. We love your camp!” Another supporter added, “Wow. Look at all these sad people in the comments having nothing better to do than give kind and caring people a hard time. Keep on keepin’ on @orgydome ya’ll put on great events and are so incredibly welcoming.”
The Orgy Dome’s absence left a noticeable gap in the festival’s landscape. For some, like Instagram model and golf influencer Bri Teresi, the Dome had been a curiosity—she once claimed, “It was so disgusting in there, there were people doing like all disgusting things. It smelled so bad and I was like I am not doing this and the girl was not doing this so we were just watching and we were cracking up because it looked so ridiculous. We got kicked out, they were like if you are not participating you need to leave. The girl and I kissed and then we just left.” For others, the Dome was a highlight—a place to learn about consent, connect with others, and, as one attendee told Cosmopolitan, “It’s like the DMV: You get a number, then you talk to one guy and take a test on the rules, then you wait some more.” Her partner added that “some areas are designated for couples, and other sections are labeled ‘open for more,’ meaning that those couples can be approached by others who want to join in.”
With the Dome gone, festivalgoers swapped tips on how to stay clean and safe in the dusty, sometimes unsanitary environment. Advice ranged from “Wipes, variety of lubes, nonlatex condoms, and ways to wash off at your camp if you are hosting. A good foot wash can be a panty dropper,” to “Gloves, gloves, gloves. Even if you have the water to scrub your hands, they will be dusty by the time you get inside. Cuticles will be ragged, nails long with playa under them.”
This isn’t the first time Burning Man has been at the mercy of the elements. As 9honey and UNN both pointed out, the festival’s remote setting makes it uniquely vulnerable to extreme and unpredictable weather. In 2023, torrential rains turned the desert into a muddy quagmire, stranding tens of thousands and prompting officials to close roads and urge attendees to conserve food and water. Last year, powerful dust storms again battered the playa, a reminder that the desert is always ready to humble even the most prepared Burners.
The 2025 storm was part of a larger weather system that swept across the southwestern United States, affecting Arizona, Colorado, and Nevada. Several cities were partially paralyzed by the dust cloud, and the National Weather Service issued wind and flood warnings for the region. Four minor injuries were reported at Burning Man due to flying debris, and the festival’s organizers took to social media to warn, “If you are in Black Rock City, batten down the hatches, take care of your camp, and do not drive.” One attendee summed up the experience on Facebook: “50 mile an hour sustained wind for over an hour with higher gusts. The desert is always trying to kill you. Definitely the scariest experience during Burning Man.”
Despite the setbacks, the spirit of Burning Man endures. As the dust settles—literally and figuratively—attendees are already rebuilding, sharing stories, and finding new ways to connect. For many, the chaos is part of the adventure, a reminder that in the desert, nothing is guaranteed except the unexpected.
