December 1997
It was just my luck, I finally decide to
head out to Area 51, after years of
procrastanating and what happens? The first
really big storm created by our friend El
Nino thats what! And a big storm it was.
It rained all the way from my home in San
Diego
Califonia, over the mountians, and through
the
desert towns of Victorville and Barstow. We
made a quick stop in Barstow to
have lunch and refuel, just as I had done on
so many trips to Vegas before, then we
continued on our
trek. It was still raining at the
California/Nevada
border, and it continued raining all the way
to Vegas.
My travelling companion Secret Squirrel
and I decided to stop in at the Excaliber
Hotel and Casino to strech our legs and shoot
some craps. After making an easy $40.00 I
decided to quit while I was ahead. It was
still raining when we left the casino.
We continued up the I-15 and turned on to
the 93. After an hour or so on the 93 it was
starting to sink in just how out-of-the-way
this place was. Finally we reached the last
leg of our trip, Hwy 375 "The E.T Highway."
It was about that time that the rain stopped
and the fog set in, shortly there after the
snow started. Being a Southern California
native, driving in snow was a very new
concept.
We proceeded cautiously along the highway,
as we knew that this was all open range and
there was the chance of a cow wandering
across the road, remaining concealed by the
fog until just before impact. A white Ford
F-150 that whipped around us doing at least
85mph apperently was not as concerned as us.
Fortunatly niether the truck, nor us, were
resposible for any cattle mutilations that
evening. After what had seemed like a
lifetime of endless desert driving we reached
our destination of Rachel NV. We saw the
truck in the parking lot
of the Little A'Le'inn as we pulled up.
The trip should have only taken about
seven hours or so, but due to the forces of
nature we encountered along the way, and the
resulting accidents along the I-15 north, it
took just under
thirteen. So, needless to say, the Inn was
indeed a sight for sore eyes.
The A'Le'Inn was a bar/diner/motel and one
of only three commercial businesses in the
area, the other two being the Quik Pik
convenience store/gas station and the Area 51
Research Center. As we entered the inn I was
suprised by what I
saw. Somehow I had expected something a
little darker, and a little more mysterious.
This however looked much like any roadside
truck stop, with the exception of the UFO
photos and alien paraphanelia on the walls,
not to mention the occasional right-wing
slogan. We sat down a the bar and I
ordered a beer, Secret Squirrel ordered a
Coke. The bartender had a shaved head and a
welcoming smile.
"Pretty Foggy out there eh?" He asked.
Before I could respond an obviously
intoxicated local three stools down from me
interjected.
"So, you out here looking for UFO's?" He
slurred.
"Not really" I said, "Just wanted to see
the area for myself."
"You mean you ain't lookin' for
UFO's?"
"Nope."
"Ya know, most people that come through
here start askin' if any of us have seen
any UFO's" He persisted.
The truth was, that my intrest in Area 51
was primarily fueled by the reports I had
heard of UFO sightings in the area. But I
didn't want to come off as some tin-foil hat
wearing moron who was trying to get beamed up
by the mothership. In all honestly, although
I believe in the POSSIBILITY of UFO's, I am
usually as suspicous as any skeptic when I
hear about a sighting.
"Have you?" I asked reluctantly.
"Well, we've all prettly much seen
somethin' in the sky.... Weird lights and
stuff. But I suppose most of it could be
explained as military stuff. Now Pat and Joe,
they've seen some things." He motioned to
Joe,
who was sitting at a stool at the end of the
bar.
I knew that Pat and Joe Travis were the
owners of the A'Le'Inn. I had read about them
in David Darlington's Book Area 51: The
Dreamland Chronicles. as well as on the
Net. I recongized him immediately from the
pictures I had seen. He was a big man with a
long burley gray beard and deep booming
voice.
"Oh yeah, we've seen things" Joe said with
a smile.
"Like what?" I asked.
"One time we were sitting right here and
we saw a blue beam of light come through the
door. Pat turned to me and said 'did you see
that!?' I said 'yep' So I told it to come in
a get a beer. I figured if in could shoot a
beam of light through the door it could pop
open a can of beer." He said with a
chuckle.
I had read about this incident before, but
it was still fun to hear Joe tell it. A few
minutes later Pat yelled out "last call" and
none of the handfull of locals budged. After
nursing my beer for a few minutes I got
up to take a look at the photo's of allegeded
UFO's over Groom Lake taken by Kathrine Ford.
To say the least they were inconclusive, and
certainly no smoking gun. Just a few orange
streaks on a black background and a couple of
orange blobs in the morning sky. About 15
minutes later Pat yelled out "OK,
throw the bums out!" and the locals
reluctantly headed for the door. I got the
sense that this was a closing time
tradition.
Due to the heavy fog skywatching seemed to
be a pointless endevor, and we were tired
from our long trip anyways, so we decided to
retire for the evening. The rooms at the
A'le'Inn were exactly what I had heard them
to be. Mobile homes, sectioned off into 2-3
rooms that shared a common bathroom. I smiled
when I noticed that the walls were decorated
with photographs of UFO's along with a brief
caption for each one explaining were it was
taken. There was no way you could forget
where you were.
On occasion, I had heard the
rooms at the A'Le'Inn refered to as being
"creepy." It wasn't untill I was lying awake
in bed that night that I realized how true
this was. There's an erie quiet in the
desert, something I never really experienced
growing up in a big city. Every sound seems
to be amplified ten-fold. That, combined with
the paper thin walls, a nearby top-secret
military instalation, rumors of abduction,
genetic experimentation, underground tunnels,
and god knows what else, can produce an
uncomfortable feeling at 2:00am. An
experience I highly recommend for anyone with
an over active imagination.
We awoke the next morning and stepped out
into the bitter cold. Once again, being from
Southern California dealing with the cold was
a new concept. At least I had had the
foresight to phone ahead and see how the
weather was before we left. So we were
somewhat prepared.
With the aid of the hazy morning light I
could survey my surroundings for the first
time. Since there are no street lights in
Rachel I hadn't gotten a good look at the
town the night before. Not that there was
much to see. A few Trailers here, a few
trailers there, some dirt roads, some gravel
roads, a few patches of snow hiding in the
shadows, and a dog running loose in the
streets. Other than that there was just the
highway and open desert. Maybe 100 people
living there total.
We waited around outside checking out the
ID4 monument until the Inn opened up so we
could get some breakfast. The monument was a
time capsule that had been left by the
producers of the film Independance Day. The
plaque dictated that the time capsule was to
be
opened in the year 2050 "when visitors from
beyond the stars will no doubt be regulars
guests on our planet" or something to that
effect. I had to wonder if the town of Rachel
would still be around in 2050. It seemed
doubtful.
For breakfast I had to be nostalgic and
try the Alien Burger. Secret Squirrel opted
for a Mexican Omlette. Pat informed him that
they didn't have any salsa available but
she'd be happy to whip some up for him if he
was willing to wait. All and all the Alien
Burger was what I had expected, it wasn't the
greatest burger I had ever tried, but it
wasn't the worst either. This being the only
food around for 60 miles I don't think they
get many complaints. After breakfast Pat came
over to us and half-jokingly apologized for
the "throw the Bums out" statement, saying
she usually only said that when there weren't
any guests from out of town present. We
assured her we took no offense.
Before we left I decided to take a more
thorough look around. There were plenty of
UFO photo's, although most were taken nowhere
near Area 51. There was also a corner
filled with autographed celebrity pictures,
the most memorable being Montel Williams and
Bob Lazar. Pinned to the wall behind the bar
there
were a few right-wing statements that caught
my eye. These included
"Yeah, you can have gun, bullets first!", a
picture of a handgun along with the caption
"Insured by Joe", and my personal favorite
"We don't have a town drunk, we all take
turns." As for souvenirs, there was no
shortage of those. Books, mugs, T-shirts, key
chains, bumper stickers, and just about
anything else you could stamp "Area 51" or an
alien face on.
We departed the Inn and headed towards
the Area 51 research center located at the
other end of town, which was only a few
hundred yards away. Much to my dismay we
found that Research Center was not open. That
put a little dent in our plans, I hadn't
ordered the Area 51 Viewers Guide
ahead of time figuring I would just pick it
up when we arrived. I had seen the Area 51
and S4 Handbook on sale at the Inn, and
although I had heard it was a poor knock off
of the Viewers Guide I decided to head back
and pick one up. I figured it was better than
nothing. Later, after having a chance to
compare the two, I saw what a poor knock off
it was.
With our guide book in hand we proceeded
south along the E.T. Highway to the
mysterious
"Black Mailbox", which was ironically now
white. The owner, a local rancher named Steve
Medlin, apparently got tired of tourists
shooting up his old mailbox (which was
black) so he consructed a new white one, made
of heavy reinforced steel. Apparently, by
painting it white he had hoped to
disassociate in with its place in Area 51
history. No such luck, the clean white
surface was a perfect place for vistors to
leave
thier mark.
There was no mistaking that we had found
the right mailbox, for one, its the only
mailbox around for miles. However, in case
there was any doubt, someone had scrawled
the word "Dreamland" in big letters
vertically along the side. Yes, this was
indeed the right one. This was the tradional
location for Area 51 skywatching. Mainly
because it was the only easily recognizable
landmark along the highway. Even so, it would
be easy to miss if you weren't looking for
it.
I could remember seeing hoards of tourists
gathered around this landmark on countless
UFO specials. I had read about it all over
the Net. I had read about it in books. To me,
this spot seemed almost as important as the
secret base itself. This simple mailbox might
as well have been a shrine to some. It
wouldn't have surprised me in the least to
see some New Age cult holding hands in a
giant circle around it praying to their alien
creators. It was indeed an odd feeling to be
standing there after hearing so much
about it.
After reading what those before us had
inscribed upon it, which wasn't much more
than a few names and oddball comments, we
decided to press on.
Groom Lake Road seemed to stretch across
the desert floor into oblivion. Somewhere
along the horizon it disappeared into the
Jumbled Hills that bordered Area 51's eastern
boundary. It was a dirt road, very well
maintained, and very easy to spot. We reset
the trip odometer and proceeded carefully,
making sure to obey the posted speed limit of
40mph.
After about a half mile Secret Squirrel asked "Do you think they know we're coming?"
I checked the rear view mirror and saw the
enormous dirt trail we we're creating. It
would be pretty amazing if they didn't
see us coming.
"Nah, probably not" I assured him.
After a few minutes we learned just how
easy it was to see a dirt trail in the
distance, because there was one coming down
the road right at us. There were a few tense
minutes as we didn't know if it was guards
coming out to great us or if it was something
else. But as it turned out, it was just some
other tourists returning from the border.
Groom Lake Road ended up being much
longer than it appeared from the highway, and
when we finally got to the border there
wasn't a whole lot to see. Yes, the
Cammo-dudes were there, as were the cameras
and those intimidating signs I had seen so
much of on Area 51 specials and on the Net.
But there wasn't much more.
I waved to the guards as I peered at them
through the spotting scope I had brought
along. Needless to say, they didn't respond.
They just sat there, quietly pearched atop a
hill in their Jeep, one of them was staring
back at me through a pair of binoculars. I
thought about being immature and making some
faces at them, but decided against it.
That being done, we made our way back to
the highway, fueled up in Alamo, and started
on te long road back home.
