Somewhere on the Black Rock Desert playa, Jesse watched his father ring the bell. It was a simple act, a tradition reserved for first-timers arriving at Burning Man, and the older man had almost missed his chance entirely. The moment quietly became the emotional center of a week that neither of them had fully planned to film. For anyone who has ever wondered whether a place like Burning Man can genuinely bridge a generational gap, this is the answer in real time.
A camp called Swing City and a father on his first playa
Jesse arrived this year with a base to return to, something he lacked the previous year. Swing City, run by a man named John, earned a straightforward verdict from Jesse on arrival: ‘this is the best camp on the playa.’ The camp sits right next to a neighborhood known as District, and Swing City’s identity comes from its gymnastics rings, its cyclist crew, and its rotating cast of gymnasts, acrobats, and what Jesse cheerfully called ‘actor yogis.’ Every sunset, the camp rode out together across the playa to watch the light go down, a low-key ritual that somehow felt more grounding than anything louder happening nearby.
The bigger story, though, was Jesse’s father. He had never been to Burning Man before, and Jesse barely mentioned it in advance, letting the experience land without a script. The two of them rode bikes together across the playa, stopped at an art installation powered entirely by human effort, and watched the main structure burn when the appointed night finally arrived. Jesse had to cobble together a makeshift rig to haul his dad’s suitcase on a bicycle to get him to the airport afterward, navigating a city with no cars and no straightforward path out. ‘It’s like a video game,’ Jesse said, laughing.
Ten percent filmed, the rest lived on purpose
Jesse made a deliberate choice early in the week. By his own estimate, he captured only about ten percent of his time there. A friend named Josh, who turned out to be the cousin of someone else Jesse had met at the camp, provided the gear and the skilled camera work behind the more cinematic playa driving shots. A photographer named Jonna came out with Jesse one afternoon for a shoot session. A sandstorm hit hard enough to stop everyone in their tracks. The man burned. Then, a few days later, the temple burned too.
By the final night, Jesse reflected plainly on what the week had actually meant. ‘Definitely the highlight of my Burning Man experience was bringing my dad out here and spending that kind of quality time with my parent,’ he said. ‘It was unbelievable.’
The bell his dad almost didn’t ring
As his father prepared to leave for the airport, Jesse remembered that something had been skipped at the start of the trip. When Jesse had arrived at his very first Burning Man, he had rung the bell, the traditional greeting for newcomers. His dad had come in without doing it. So before the bike-and-suitcase airport run began, Jesse made him go back and ring it.
The older man rang the bell. Jesse Wellens filmed exactly that much.
A week of deliberate unplugging, a makeshift luggage rig, a sunset ride with a camp full of gymnasts, and a father ringing a bell he almost never got to ring. Jesse rode off into the desert to catch the last of the burn, leaving the camera behind. Until the next Burning Man…
