  A very commong sight, we viewed one of these every five miles or so. And how right it was! There were cows everywhere!  We knew we were on the right track when we first spotted this.Where all the stickers came from was beyond me. We were 110 miles from anywhere! A Pleasant BreakThe countryside got more hospitable as we neared the Pahranagat Wildlife Refuge. The elevation increases here, which makes for cooler temperatures in Summer months. There are also a great many rest stops around the refuge as well, some with a great view of the small lakes around there. Those and the green hills make for quite a refreshing break from the surrounding desert. The small towns of Alamo and Ash Springs offered little more than a gas station and a convenience store, but they were still a welcome site for our almost drained gas tanks. We also debated staying the night at the small but comfortable motel, as it was getting dark, but like the true adventurers we are, pressed on. I consider Ash Springs to be the last outpost of humanity on the road to Area 51, and I'm being generous with that term. As we left, we were again held up on the road, this time by an all-white sheriff's car. The reason for this was somewhat less intriguing. In Ash Springs, the main road is also used as an airstrip. The E.T. HighwayThe junction of the 375 and the 93 was marked by the now familiar ruined buildings, these had to be of a warehouse, supermarket or something because they were huge. Just down the road was our first real indication we were on the right track, namely the sticker-coated sign proclaiming the 375 "The Extraterrestrial Highway" just before the more functional roadsign telling us the next town was over 140 miles away.  One of several "towns" listed on our maps. This one was at the 375-93 junction and was by and far one of the largest ruins we saw.  Another abandoned town, not unlike the others we encountered along the highways in the area. This one was actually for sale. The whole town I think! We did spend some quality time clamoring through the place. We had to be careful for scorpians, snakes and other desert vermin. One might wonder why it is that the Nevada State Government allowed this highway to be renamed the Extraterrestrial Highway. After all, UFO groups tend to be one of your more fringe factions in this country, not your basic hard-core- buying-into-the-system lets-make-a-law type of people. That such groups could actually pressure a government into doing anything is quite remarkable in and of itself. The fact is, it was probably pretty easy for one simple reason - there is simply nothing out here. The 375 is a highway that starts nowhere and ends nowhere, all the while going through nowhere. The Nevada governments probably renamed the highway and completely forgot about it, as I find it hard to believe any state council people drive this desolate road to or from work everyday. Rachel and The EnvironsIt took over 75 miles of nothing till we reached Rachel Nevada. The famous Rachel Nevada seen on Sightings, Fox Files and just about any other T.V. show doing an episode with a fringe twist. T.V. shows never seem to show anything more than the Little ALEINN in this little enclave, and when we pulled up I could see why. There was nothing else to show. The entire town (and I'm being generous with this term, village doesn't seem to be appropriate in anything but medieval folklore and European travel guides) consists of a gas station, several small houses, a couple of satellite dishes (the kind used for T.V.) and a heck of a lot of mobile homes strung out along the roadside.  The ALEINN was a permanent type of dwelling, not much larger than my townhouse in Huntington Beach. And it is the center of activity for the town's 98 (so the sign claimed) inhabitants. It is the classic hometown bar and grill. The kind of place where everyone knows everyone and the cook knows what you're going to order before you open your mouth because you've been there so many times before. The people are friendly though, that we noticed right away. Sit right up at the bar and you'll get an earful of just about any kind of government conspiracy theory you can imagine. In fact these were nice intelligent people who could carry on a conversation better than many people I'd met in my life. It was obvious after a few hours that they think about Government conspiracies a lot and to be honest I see why. Rachel doesn't have a great deal to offer in the way of entertainment. It's not like you can just go down to the mall or the movies. The nearest Mall had to be in Vegas and I don't think the Edwards Theater chain would consider putting a cinneplex in a place where the entire population couldn't fill up even one of the stadium theaters. Add to that the fact that Rachel sits only minutes from Area 51 and military jets are flying all over the place and it probably stays in the forefront of their minds every day. There was also a pool table at the Inn and an alien-themed gift shop which took up the whole back corner. Just about anything you'd ever want to gobble up for trinkets and momentos is there, all of it with a smiling gray or flying saucer of one type or another on it. Pens, shirts, forks, spoons, candy, jewelry, posters, a true testament to the commercial ability of we Americans to put an image on anything and sell it. Normally, I shy away from the commercial aspects of ufology, but I just couldn't turn down an Area 51 ashtray, and I don't even smoke. My heart was also touched by a drinking mug with a gray on it and I fell in love with a shot glass with the same image. There were a lot of useful things to be had there as well. We found maps of the area, satellite images of the base (taken from a Soviet spy satellite, no less) and books on the history of the place. As I was paying for my stuff I found out two things. The first was that the Inn doesn't take out-of-state checks. "You a local?" The cashier asked me as I asked for a pen and broke out my checkbook. I hesitated for a moment. In this town the cows outnumbered the people three to one and there weren't even all that many cows, she had to ask if I was a local? "No," I responded, holding back my Irish tendency for a sarcastic comeback. For those Irish out there, you know how hard it can be to fight that instinct. "Then I can't take a check," she said apologetically. Fortunately, they would take American Express. They even had an automatic approval machine. New Allies?Outside, John was smoking a cigarette and talking to a bunch of European tourists who had been convoying out from who-knows-where in a collection of two vans and a jeep. As I approached, one of them, a guy with brightly colored hair wearing a leather jacket grabbed my hand and introduced himself. "Midge," he identified himself. "You guys are the UFO Reporter?" "Yes," I answered, wondering how this guy could wear a leather jacket in 90 degree weather and still be standing up. He wasn't even sweating. "Good," Midge smiled. "Then maybe we can go out together?" It seemed John had filled their heads with the idea of some kind of alliance. Ordinarily, I would have liked the whole group to be in on such a decision. The UFO Reporter is a democracy, and I didn't approve of John committing us to something while we were in buying T-shirts and a round of pool. Uneasy AlliancesJohn's whole angle was that we didn't have any walkie talkies like the tourists did. The tourists had about ten people, way too many for one jeep and those vans were about as useful of road as a bathtub. I could see where this was going. Finally I agreed, albeit hesitantly. As we were setting up the parking lot of the ALEINN, Midge stuck to me like glue. It seemed he had seen the Web site and was very impressed. We poured over the maps and trouble began almost immediately. The tourists wanted to go see the main gate to the base. "The place where the trucks go," as one of the women in their party put it. We told them we could see trucks at home and that the more interesting news was the land the Government had purchased around the base and built new facilities on. It took a while, but I managed to convince Midge that we could see a lot more on the new Western approaches to the base than at some gate. He agreed, then managed to convince the others in his party the soundness of my logic. "Oh, good," Midge's eyes lit up as he saw my 12 gauge racked in the back of the truck. "Then if the guards come at us we can shoot our way out?" That pretty well summed up my problem with people when it comes to UFO hunting. You do not need guns for UFO hunting! Any guards you meet in or around a military installation are bound to be better armed and more numerous than you are. Certainly with something more than a 12 gauge pump. Shooting at them guarantees trouble and likely your own death! At least if you are unarmed they may not shoot at you. I tried to explain to Midge that the shotgun was for snakes, as they can be a real problem in the desert. Seeing as we were hundreds of miles from a hospital it was a prudent safeguard. "But then if you show it," he pressed on about the guards. "They might back off." I sighed. He just didn't get it. No, I replied. If the guards saw we had a gun they would probably just hang back and call in a gunship to fry us! Some people have no idea the firepower available to our government. Next Page |