A Campout Night to Remember

Since this is my first post, I want to flashback about 5 years ago to a hot summer afternoon in Logandale, NV—Logandale is where I grew up. Like other small towns in southern Nevada, many Logandale residents believe they have seen UFOs flying across the desert sky. Alien spacecrafts, secret military flying machines…you name it, people have seen them hovering and have the stories to make anyone a believer—particularly at the barbershop, though…where all of the best stories are told. Of course my buddies Dave, Joe, Ito, and I felt obligated to go out and investigate. We wanted to learn the truth about these UFOs, Area 51, aliens, everything… And we decided this could only be achieved by driving out to remote and restricted parts of the state.

We planned our UFO hunt in great detail. Our first destination would be in Alamo, NV to meet and interview an older gentleman named “Dog House.” Dog House was a former top secret government employee who had plenty of inside information he agreed to provide us. Mr. Dog House was also a musician, craftsman, gardener, rock collector, entrepreneur, and highly prolific “published” poet, though all of his poems were weird and way overpriced.

Next we would travel to Rachel, NV, a very small town off of Nevada State Route 375, also known as “Extraterrestrial Highway.” Rachel, NV is home to a UFO research group, as well as the world renowned restaurant, The Little A’Le’Inn. We planned to eat cheeseburgers for dinner—referred to as “Alien Burgers with Secretions” on the menu—and then hold a meeting to become fully briefed according to the research findings of Chuck Clark, a local legend and Area 51 gadfly who has written a variety of pamphlets aimed at exposing the secret military base.

After our stop in Rachel, NV we would drive 20 miles back south to the infamous “Black Mailbox”—which is now white—and turn down a desolate dirt path known as “Groom Lake Road,” which in turn would eventually lead us into the mountains and perimeter of Area 51…our final destination of the evening where we would setup camp.

On the eve of our trip we stocked up on necessary supplies: still-photo cameras, video cameras, tape recorders, walkie-talkies, food, tinfoil, etc. We spent the night in Dave’s basement prepping ourselves and studying the true account of an alien abduction in Snowflake, AZ—watching our favorite movie, “Fire in the Sky.” We were reminded of the serious risk involved in chasing flying saucers. Since Joe was the biggest, slowest, and by far the most out-of-shape of us all, we made an agreement that if aliens did attempt to abduct us…we would all simply outrun Joe. It was a good plan and practical escape tactic which we all voted on, 3-1.

We departed the next morning. Since none of us owned a camouflage jeep we took Mrs. Hardy’s purple Cutlass Ciera instead. Joe occupied the entire backseat himself while the rest of us squished together in the front. But we did have a good working radio and a Beach Boys cassette tape, so…

Our first visit with Dog House went well, and would’ve been even more entertaining had we not been a little scared for our lives. In any event we left with some good information and agreed to stop back at his house on our return home—if we returned home. We then drove up to Rachel, NV to have dinner. Our waiter at the restaurant was a friendly fellow named “Devon Lovings,” probably a little more friendly than normal. Devon served us good food and performed many magic tricks throughout, but by the end of dinner I thought our $2 tip was more than generous. We laid maps and pamphlets out on the table and analyzed them thoroughly before departing to head back toward the “Black Mailbox” and on to Area 51.

As the four of us drove slowly up the secluded dirt road toward the mountains, none of us really knew what we were getting ourselves into. The deeper we travelled the more we noticed strange looking tripods positioned around the barren desert landscape—we had heard before about the existence of road sensors setup throughout the area. After what seemed like hours we finally arrived to a gateway in the road with signs posted all around, “NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT,” and “Photography is Prohibited,” and “Violators will be Shot.” Such a gateway seemed odd and unnecessary since we were alone in the middle of nowhere…or so we thought. Strangely we noticed about 500 yards in the distance was an unmarked utility vehicle with two military-looking personnel inside, parked in a spot facing directly toward us. A closer look through the binoculars (and video camera) revealed they each were equipped with what appeared to be M-16 fully-automatic machine rifles. We never expected to see this, and with our headlights shining right on the marked gateway we all sat quietly and could hear the low sound of our car engine drift away through the open mountains. We were only 7 or 8 feet away from getting mowed down with machinegun fire. And evidently this was enough distance to hold a campout because that is exactly what we did.

We turned off the engine and with great joy and some disbelief we began unloading everything from the trunk: blankets, sleeping bags, lawn chairs…We knew we had arrived to the right destination.

(Next post I’ll add some photos and conclude the story)