Encounters: The UFO Phenomenon, Exposed!/Encounters - The UFO Phenomenon, Exposed (1995).iso/misc1/misc103.txt

Internet Message Format | 1995-10-20 | 24KB

From: [e-mail] (William Shaw)
Subject: Dreamland
Date: 3 Dec 1994 23:31:11 -0500
Organization: Cybergate, Inc.


          VISIT TO DREAMLAND GOES OFF WITHOUT A HITCH
        NO ARREST - ONE HUNDRED TWENTY SIX PHOTOS TAKEN
                PLUS! SOUVENIRS WITH PSYCHOSPY!

        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.

        SNATCHING MARLIN FIRST TIME OUT

        The goal of this type of behavior is to have something military
        in your camera when you leave. Up til now, there was virtually
        nothing visible to let on that the Earth's most secret airbase
        is ten miles away. You'd hafta wanna get arrested to actually
        prove it (or hike up to Freedom Ridge, which by now was out of
        the question considering how provoked these folks were earlier
        in the day from Campbell's trip with the journalist and whatever
        else). Nonetheless, from my vantage point of two intersecting
        canyons, I saw the
        first of three pairs of sightings. The first pair of aircraft I
        saw were the best booty. Coming in from the east, below my vantage,
        were two black darty looking wings, which I managed to get with
        my telephoto. I believe that they were in fact, B1 bombers in
        an all-black color scheme, or else some kinda aircraft I don't
        know how to type. In any event, I saw the lead craft bank enough
        to get a decent angled view of the port and underside. Whatever it
        was, it looked alot like a B1, and the trailing craft appeared
        identical. The wind was a steady westerly, and these craft were
        approaching from the east, so I figured I was under Groom approach.
        To make matters even better, I was legal and at least twelve miles
        from Restricted Land, so I pulled out the good camera and shot my
        wad with the rest of the roll. Then I broke out another Kodak.

        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.


        IN SUMMATION -

        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.