Headed outa Vegas on a clear, crispy morning after exchanging my new red Toyota ("arrest me") Celica for a white Chevy with 8062 miles on it. I didn't do that on purpose, but when I went to the airport to turn in the car and re-rent it (a $15 dollar savings over extending one day) I pulled into the return lot where cars get jammed into a one-way. So, I went to get another car, just to save time. Had choices of Toyota, Nissan, and (afterthought) Chevy. I asked for a "white one". Score one Chevy. Headed straight for I-15 and I'm OFF TO DREAMLAND!

Twenty minutes up the pike I exit and head off north on State Route 93. This is the slim north/south corridor surrounded by the vast expanse of Nellis Bomb and Gunnery Range. The road is a two-lane through a valley with high mountain ridge to both sides. There is no traffic in my direction, but there is a steady procession of rec's and campers heading south; they have been up on "America's Alien Highway" looking for signs from God or hangin' with the space bro's. Early on, I see an empty flatbed stopped by a State Patroller right outside of the Kerr-McGee plant. This is the first and last marked cop vehicle of the entire trip. But it gives me a chance to note the type and appearance of a local bear. Twenty miles or so north of Vegas, I start scanning, starting from 30 MHz and working as far up as the receiver will go. There were a characteristic number of aircraft beacons and some encrypted stuff, but for the most part, the airwaves were dead, aside from some yokel radiotelephone calling home crap where it would be expected. Although I had the Lincoln County sheriff's frequency, I heard nothing on the trip up. I opted for Rush Limbaugh on the AM because he was coming in clear (in reference to radio strength...) and the radio would start to crackle real bad at "funny" times, clearly close range intermodulation with some funky local radio source; mostly, it seemed to crackle under powerlines.

I keep a close eye on the left side of the car up into the sky, figuring that since this is restricted airspace, any con-trail or visual sighting would be a potentially interesting military aircraft, or one of the fabled twenty three flights a day from Vegas shuttling commuting workers. I had monitored the Vegas airport sporatically for the two days prior (to which I had a direct visual access, from the twenty second story of Bally's) but since it was Saturday and Sunday, I saw and heard nothing to indicate north-bound shuttle activity. (I was monitoring approach, ground control, and departure hand-off). I did, however, manage to get photos of the "charter terminal" from which these flights originate. During the trip up, I see only one clearly discernable con-trail, northbound, to my left, and clearly on an intercept with Groom Lake. This was about 10:30 am. It was the only aircraft I saw in the morning.

The scenery is fantastic, with near-winter contrasts and the hills light up with the illumination. Clearly, this is a day meant for taking photographs! I slide through one town, a collection of four buildings, on the 85 mile trip up 93. Then, I come to the hey-look-at-me intersection at 375. It's kinda "obvious" because once you turn left, people pretty much know where you're heading, especially when you don't drive a farm vehicle. It's about fourteen miles to Area 51's front driveway, but I still haven't seen an ostensible cut through the ridge to my left. And not knowing what to expect, I put away my $400 camera and pull out the first of two Kodak disposables (ie., "confiscatables"). I am still seeing a few RV's and campers heading out; there must have been some kinda "get-together" out there over the weekend or something. I see a building on the left as soon as I make the turn. It's a mobile home and in the front there's a cool alien motif sign advertising the "Little Ale-Inn" over in Rachel, where I'm heading (It's the only advertizing on the entire hundred mile highway stretch). I stop and snap some shots. I am now on America's Alien Highway!

I head up a very nicely maintained mountain overpass and in no time, I'm winding down the other side, looking at a second range directly in front of me, with a single white gravel road stretching nearly straight across to and over it. The road I'm on descends to the valley floor, makes a bend to the right, and heads north again parallel with these two ranges. At the point where the bend occurs, a single stopsign sits on the left side of the road, with a friendly looking little white gravel road stretching straight up into the next range. This is the road to Dreamland, and to Freedom Ridge, where presumably, some of the southbound traffic had come from. I just keep going (I'm snapping pictures like it's the gameshow Let's Cop A Photo) and a minute later, the FAMOUS BLACK MAILBOX is on my left. This I gotta see. I turn left into another white gravel road with a single black mailbox at the intersection. This is the spot where UFO pilgrims come to get abducted. I get outa the car and start snapping. For good politics, I snap AWAY from the Groom, thinking that it'll put the casual security onlooker somewhat more at ease. This was good. After I pull out and continue north (again, away from Groom's driveway), I pick up my first (and in hindsight, my only) tail. True to form, this elusive and hard-to-photograph quarry keeps his distance, about a hundred yards. I slow down, he slows down. I speed up, he speeds up. His front lights are on the entire time. No blues or reds were engaged. Apparently, this is their common behavior. After about five miles, he pulls off (like one second he's there, and the next second he's not). In the rear view mirror, I notice that the vehicle is a tan Suburban looking thing, the predecessor of the more recent white Cherokees. Other than incidental white Cherokees I see later in the day, this was about the only "official" vehicle I noticed, with the exception of a coupla USAF security vehicles spotted when I first hit the area; the front vehicle was a faded USAF pickup carrying a small ATV followed by a van sporting maybe three antennas.

So I head up to Rachel, which sits just north of Groom Lake. In fact, there's another dry lake across the street from Rachel which is recommended for Further Fun with Yer Rental Car. The road bends left now, custom built to skirt the Groom Range and Lake. Rachel sits on the left side of the road, in the middle of the valley. On the other side, a rise into the next set of ridges heads off toward Tonopah. site of another secret airbase housing the operational wing of Stealth F117's. I pull into Rachel, which is all of two dozen buildings. All buildings are half-wide mobile homes, adapted to functionality in various ways. The first private one I see has "AREA 51 RESEARCH CENTER". This place is a TRIP! I park the car behind the mobile home and get out to look around. At the head of this dwelling is an anatomically reconstructed series of cattle mutilations, done with the original materials, green and metallic parts of a military aircraft after a crash, and a Halloween Alien Beatnik. It's Glenn's Hangout. I open the gate and walk up to the door. There's an envelope with handouts (errata to the Area-51 Visitor's Guide) and a note from Glenn saying he'll be back at noon. Plus a note saying that the Area 51 Visitor's Guide is on sale next door at the quickmart. I get back in the car and start to pull across the street when a late model tan Toyota Forerunner with scanning antennas on the top meets me at the intersection. He stops and rolls down the window. I stop and roll down mine. I recognise him from Larry King. He asks me if I'm looking for him and say "Indeed, if you have a few minutes." We park, and go inside. His trailer is a comfortably cramped collection of Americana celebrating all things Alien, including of course, those which he sells.

I tell him I'm In Search Of the coolest in American Collectibles, and I'll start off with Hats and Patches. He sidles on up to the computer and powers up, but not before I launch my First Official Glenn Question, "How do you handle all yer E-mail?" He says he doesn't. He tells me that he's just gone to Alamo to file some legal papers regarding the LandGrab thing, and that earlier in the day he took a journalist up to the Ridge. He says that the AF scrubbed an early morning launch because, as he picked up on his radio, "that Campbell dude is here again." I go, "COOL dude" cause I figure it pretty much works for him, so I can cop the scene too. Meanwhile, I'm wearing my TANDEM T-shirt, with a truly weird logo on the front - the Surveyor Satellite with a cryptic double helix strand of stars, and a dozen different UNIX motifs on the back. He doesn't initiate conversation much but he's crankin' on the keyboard but quite accomodating and free with his time, as long as I can talk while he hacks on his laptop. I ask him what kind of engineer he was before he came out here and he replies "computer programmer". I him what I've always wanted to know, "Contracter?" and he says, "no, employee at a company in Boston writing Banking Software." He didn't say what company, but in any event, I'd have been embarassed, too, so I didn't push it...

I had already collected up all the loot I could afford in cash, since he doesn't do credit cards yet. He was real cool about the money thing, like I could write him a check or start an invoice. His PC is fired up now, and he's into some program which requires my name. I tell him "Shaw...Bill Shaw" (he didn't offer me anything to drink so I couldn't do the "Shaken... not Stirred" thing). He immediately comes back with "wshaw at gate.net - will be here late October" so he's cross-referenced and archived ALL his e-mail. I say, that's right. Here I am. I tell him I know he's busy an' all, but I wanna ask just one question. He says OK. "What first attracted you to come out here?" He says, "The Aliens... there was too much to pass up and the stories were strong." He recounted the logistics of coming out for a month, then coming out again, then moving out here. He went through the rap about what he's seen, what he hasn't seen, and how the people thing interests him the most. I had told him how much I appreciated his "Paranoid" mags, and he said regretably that it just didn't go. He said that he found out that UFO types would pay money for memorabilia and such, and he was gonna hang on it. That's too cool! He's like a Dead-head for Groom! About the UFO thing, he didn't discount near as much as I thought he would. He told me about a guy from Vegas who told him about his work; this guy built "spaceship flight simulators" for pilot training used at Groom. Glenn didn't do much anecdotal recounting, but he did share this one, so I figure it must have meant something to him, or that he thought it might mean something for me. I told him about the spaceship gas-station sign in the middle of Vegas, and how I found out that it was erected in the early fifties. This was a new one on him. He pressed until he understood exactly where it is.

I think he really wants to see something. Especially, he said that the attraction of aliens would be "new and different culture". I still can't get a grip on this stylized dude, but I took the opportunity to recount his quote from Larry King, where "When the aliens come, we'll still hafta get up and go to work in the morning." Well, I took my leave and went across the street to get a Coke. Then I went down to Rachel's "Little ALE-INN" and snapped more photos, including the sign and facade. There were more alien motifs and some AF fighter wreckage. It was pure America. I didn't eat an AlienBurger, although I really should have. They have kickass UFO memorabilia and info, but I was hot for Groom. Besides, I had LOOT. The trip was already in the bag.

I traveled south again, stopping every so often for photos. This time, however, I had no company. Brazen, I went to the intersection where the gravel road to Area 51 hits the highway, and started to get outa the car with my camera. It AMAZES me how fast you can have company when just a second ago there was nothing - empty road. This company was an AF faded blue pickup and two young looking t-shirted dudes that simply passed by. But I already had too many shots in the camera to lose it now. I jumped back in the car and headed up the pass away from Dreamland. Except that I stopped every two minutes and got more pix. A few minutes later, I was at the crest of the pass, where there happens to be a rest stop. I had pulled off to the rest stop earlier to piss. So on the return trip, I pulled in again, this time more certain about my orientation and relationship to the desired photos. I packed up and left the car, hiking back up some ridge to the top. When I got there, I was STOKED. I had a commanding view of the Groom road (although the base itself was on the other side of the next ridge) and a good view of the security huts from which camera-grabbers would be a good twenty minutes away. This spot had a commanding view of the airspace over both Papoose Lake (secret saucer base, dontcha know) and Groom Lake. The place is above Hancock Summit and quite private, when tempered with a fourty minute hike up the slopes.

Perpendicular to Groom Ridge and the Tikapoo ("Steve's Valley") valley below, was a SECOND valley, running east/west into which I could see, but only from the vantage point at which I stood. I took loads of shots of the Groom road, including (since the sun was now behind where I was looking) all the dust from traveling CammoDude Cherokees. In the reflecting sunlight, I could make out their hangout, and even better, I could see the con-trails from any aircraft approaching from the west. East was in the bag since I was on top of the eastern approach (if there even was one). There were pairs of con-trails coming in from the west, but they were hard to photograph in the setting sun.

From my vantage, I could monitor traffic from the Groom security huts AND see the approach in the valley to the east, so when the dust trails from Groom started kickin', I could clearly discern the Cherokees twenty minutes before they got to where I was. That was when I heard the "ThumpThump's". Helicopters would be good because I could photograph them up close. Helicopters would be bad because they would confiscate my cameras AND be pissed off. First, I saw the white Cherokee that I'd photographed coming outa Groom, then I heard the chopper sounds. Well, it didn't materialize. The white Cherokee came right up the road to where I was parked, and passed right on by. The car was back in the scrub about a hundred yards and I was a half hour up the ridge. I never saw him again. The chopper sound went away, to be replaced by a huffin' empty flatbed which could have accounted for the original noise.

I spent the next half hour listening to the characteristic jet noises of - walla, a place for jets. But there was an unusual dissonant rumble that steadily grew. It sounded like an off- rhythm 1-34 in 4-4 time with an occasional miss. It was hollow, and getting more persistent. I thought maybe I'll see something new. Then, on the same approach that the B1's took, I saw two more aircraft, using the same fore-and-aft formation. These were farther away, and hard to photograph (not that I didn't), but I suspect that they were something mundane, like turbo-prop cargo craft. They didn't do any snappy maneuvers, and they had a low rumble that kept interfering with itself. And I mighta saw four-prop cargoes earlier in the day.

I hiked back down to the car, and packed it in. It was getting dark. HALLOWEEN IN DREAMLAND. I did the adjacent valley, looking for more returning aircraft. I could hear jet activity, but nothing visual. As I traveled east back to 93, I kept an eye on the approach pattern in the valley to the north, but the best I could do was kickass scenery and the satisfaction of not having been hassled. (Although I didn't come close to pushing it, because like the wimp that I am, I didn't go up Groom Lake Road.)

It got dark pretty quick, and then they came out to play. Now I know why so many people get "the experience" they look for tramping out here to see UFOs. First, you see flashes that don't repeat. Then you see lights that disappear. Then, you see impossibly fast aircraft maneuvers. Then it starts all over again. With lotsa color.

First I saw a single flashing strobe. Once. Then I saw it again a quarter of the sky away. Then I pulled off the road to get a GOOD view of this shit. An F16 flying at about six hundred feet passed over me to my right (Groom side of a south-bound highway) with a strobe light that flashed once every fifteen seconds (I know, it's a new one on me too). As soon as it passed by, it nosed up and climbed, with no further illumination. I saw afterburners or the glow of engine as it climbed. On the other side of the highway, I saw a twin formation just like earlier, and still illuminated by sunlight. They were too distant to type, so I just started snapping shots. They passed over some really cool terrain, so I thought it would make for interesting pix. As it went dark, I saw a single light directly in front of me as if a plane had just turned on its landing lights; it was a bright white light. Two seconds later, the light turned yellow and then red, then promptly disappeared. When the light first appeared, I would have placed its distance at around a mile from me. Nonetheless, I heard no afterburner (first impression of appearance) and thereafter saw nothing more. I saw more of these appearances but none of them "fell", ruling out flairs, unless they were parachuted. I carry away an image of seeing the tail section of afterburners, but the whiteness of the original light is still a mystery. Chalk it up to my lack of knowledge about supersonic aircraft. But if I were on a life's-ambition UFO charter trip with an unscrupulous guide, I would have seen my first three "real" UFOs. Obviously I didn't see anything "special" insofar as I was on a public highway and I wouldn't know "special" until it abducted me.

However, I did see even more cooler shit when I got near Nellis AFB, but it was pretty clear to me what I was watching; a plane took off from the south of me going east (ie., I was watching its port side) so I saw a steady red light (its port navigation light) and it was HAWLIN' ASS right from the runway. THIS was something I haven't seen before. It was probably an F15, and it took off, climbed as it turned toward and over me, and went over the horizon in the space of about 15 seconds. It had a stobe on its belly, but the illusion was of a second aircraft trailing it; the red light was steady and truckin' while the strobe only fired every few seconds. So it came off to my eye as if the strobe just couldn't keep up. This would garner the illusion of a helicopter trying to chase something fast and red.

My impression of the after-dark experience is that these aircraft are using unusually slow strobes. In fact, I saw about two dozen single strobes that never repeated. So if they were set for a long duration, and were gone before the second firing, it would play havoc on an observer trying to track them visually. But then again, I don't hang out at AFB's. They might do this all the time.

Then as the last dark hill falls away and reveals Vegas, bright lights and a ribbon of aircraft precessing through this city, I know that any surprise from here on out will cost me money.

Thank God there was an airbase nearby. If I didn't know there was a TOP SECRET aircraft operation in this remote area of public Nevada land, I woulda swore I saw a Yew Ef Oh.