The shrine appeared well cared for. It
was about six feet tall, displaying a large
bronze plaque. I glanced over the plaque,
unfortunatly it offered little insight into
the shrines original purpose. If I had been
really interested I could have picked up one
of the Morman pamphlets that were in the
steel
box that housed the register, but I didn't.
In hindsight I
suppose it would have made an interesting
souvinier, but I didn't think of it at the
time.
The register itself wasn't what I had
expected. I had envisioned a leather bound
book, or at least
something that was somewhat durable. Instead
I found what appeared to be a High School
notebook in poor condition, but it was still
functional I suppose. I opened it up, most of
the earlier entries appearred to have been
made by faithful Mormans on some sort of
religious pilgramage. As I flipped through
the book it became apparant that Area 51
enthusiasts were starting to claim this
register as their own.
Much like everything else in the area,
Rachel, Alamo, the Mailbox, even the highway,
the Morman shrine had fallen victim to the
intrusiveness of the Area 51 tourists and
researchers. I smirked at the irony. There I
was, realizing for the first time how the
outsiders had imposed themselves upon the
area, the people, and the land, when I myself
was just as guilty as every other non-Morman
who had inscribed their name in that book.
There was a moment when I reconsidered
writing down my name, but in the end I
decided the damage had already been done.
I surveyed my desert surroundings. Before
I had discovered Area 51 I didn't even like
the desert. Now I embraced it, indeed it
fascinated me. It was a world all unto it's
own. A barren wasteland in which life somehow
still managed to survive. There was a world
hidden beneith the sagebrush, that often went
unnoticed and unapprieciated, especially
here. For the briefest of moments I
questioned why I was drawn there, not just to
the shrine, but to Dreamland.
It was a question I had never really asked
myself. I wasn't seeking to prove that there
were aliens at Area 51, and I certainly
wasn't seeking to disprove it. My interest in
secret aircraft was minimal, and I didn't
believe there was a New World Order being
organized beyond the restricted border. What
was I doing there? It is a question I
am still wrestling with to this day.
I picked up the pen my proceeded to leave
my mark.
"Searching for answers to questions I
don't have......Majestic
(S.L.B.)"
Under which I added a shameless plug for my website.
Below my entry Angie left her mark as
well.
That afternoon we set out towards "Base
Camp", an auxilary air field for the Test
Site.
We headed up the E.T. Highway, past
Rachel, and all the way to where the highway
comes to an end at I-6. The I-6 had been dubbed "Americas Lonliest Highway, and from what I could see of it that certainly seemed true. It was at this intersection that we
found the remains of a small ghost town known
as Warm Springs. Apparently this town was
once a major stage coach stop in the old
west. There wasn't a whole lot left to see
now though, just the remains of some old
buildings, a few foundations, and at least
one old shack that was still standing. There
was an old diner, and although it too had
long since been closed down it seemed to be
the structure in the best shape. According to
the Viewers Guide the payphone out front
still worked.
The most interesting part of this memory
of a town was the warm spring which still
poured down the mountian and into a bath
house that had been fenced off. According to
Darlington's Area 51: The Dreamland
Chronicles the Inteceptor known as Agent
X had been known to utilize this bath house
on occasion.
It was the first time I had ever really
been in a ghost town. It was a little creepy
to think that families had once occupied
these houses, houses that for the most part
weren't even shells anymore. It was a
testiment to the human spirit. Long before
Area 51 and the E.T. Highway a town had been
born, lived through a good part of American
history and died, all out here in the middle
of the nowhere.
I thought of Rachel, and how it too would
most likely end up like Warm Springs. Just a
distant memory. Historians would tell stories
about how UFO watchers would come out there
to look for lights in the sky, and how Area
51 had played a crucial role in UFO folklore.
Perhaps 50 years from now Rachel will warrent
a footnote in some UFO and Government
conspiracy anthology. But for now it was at
it's peak, known the world over, destination
of vistors from around the globe. How long
can it last? I wondered.
In the end Warm Springs turned out to be far more interesting and educational than "Base Camp". Base camp wasn't hard to find. It was right off the highway, there was even a road sign pointing to it. There was a runway, some satilite dishes, and some double wide trailers that were enclosed by chainlink fences with "Government Property- No Trespassing" signs. As we headed down the gravel road a couple of people came out of the trailers to see what we were up too. Being that there is really nothing much out there, seeing us was probably pretty exciting for them.
