Alamo, Nevada

 

The Alamo, Texas

Going on a road trip is awesome. The planning, the packing, the pressure, the pain, and then the panic.

“I’m going to be gone for two or three weeks,” I looked at Laureen. “Who’s going to make your coffee each morning?”

My trip to northern Nevada, Western Idaho, Eastern Oregon, and Northern California had been in the works for awhile. I do, occasionally plan trips but most of the time I wing it. This time I had some destinations in mind - actually I didn’t but pretended I did.

My friend Paul asked, “Where are you going?”

“The byways, my friend.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

I really didn’t but I knew I would be driving north at the beginning of August. Then Laureen changed my plans.

She broke her right foot. I think it was the metamucil or the metacognitive bone, but I probably have that wrong - I do remember Laureen explaining which bone it was that was broken after the x-ray but I wasn’t really listening.

Being the dutiful husband I am, I postponed the trip to be at her beck and call. And in the following six weeks, there was a lot of beckoning and a lot of calling 

She mended just fine but I was exhausted. I had to get on the road for some relaxation.

One hurdle while driving north on Interstate 15 toward northern Nevada is that the traveler must navigate the traffic of Las Vegas.

The economy may not be looking so great right now but try explaining that to the builders in Sin City.

New housing projects are popping up like weeds. Huge industrial complexes are sprouting like weeds. Hotels and apartment buildings are growing like weeds. And medicinal cannabis clinics are appearing like - well, weeds.

It was so confusing driving in stop and go traffic along Interstate 15 with all the freeway ramps and lanes closed that finally my GPS sent me a message: ‘you are now on your own.’

Laureen called me on my second day on the trip.

“Where are you?”

“I’m on Flamingo Boulevard for the thirtieth time in the past forty-eight hours.”

“So, stop and ask for help,” she replied.

Something no true man wants to do, but I had. A kindly Las Vegas police officer advised me, “I’ve been on Tropicana for the past three days. I don’t know where I am now.”

A week later, I located Route 93 and headed north. Nearly two hours after that, I came to the small quaint village by the name of Alamo.

The sun was slowly setting in the west, as it usually does, and my energy levels were in sync with that blazing bag of  hydrogen and helium.

Since I was pulling the tent trailer, or pop-up trailer as some like to call it, I pulled into Pickett’s RV Park and obtained a space.

It was a nice place to stay for the night. Courteous folks, large sites, and shady trees.

I did not know much about this berg but soon learned it is very small. Took thirty seconds to come to that realization. No stop sign. No traffic signal. Just the long black pavement of the highway bustling past a Sinclair gas station.

The town has a population of around 1,000 people and is pretty rural. Sitting along State Route 95 only 90 miles north of Las Vegas does allow the small locale plenty of byway travelers which support the couple of gas stations and motels in the area.

Sitting at nearly 3,500 feet in elevation gives the area a coolness that the folks down the hill in Vegas never feel.

“The pavements are melting,” one resident of Las Vegas may say to another during the summer. “Let’s head to Alamo.”

“What can we do there?”

“Not become a pile of liquid goo.”

A post office has been in operation since 1905, so Alamo is not a ghost town per definition.

I took a few moments (after setting up a very bougie sort of camp with carpets, a welcome mat that I do not really mean, and exterior solar lights), to drive the few streets the town has to offer in the way of neighborhoods.

It was impressive. Beautiful green lawns, tall billowing trees set against the background of neatly painted and well-kept houses. The schools I drove by would be the envy of any larger town.

Alamo has it going on, except for a lack of restaurants and bars.

The town was founded by a group of Mormons and with their religious beliefs concerning abstinence from alcohol, none was allowed within the town limits.

That changed earlier this year, when the town board started allowing alcohol sales in gas stations and supermarkets, but bars were still a no-no. 

No issue for this traveling writer - always carry a large ice chest just in case you end up in a dry county or town. 

Many believe the founders of the town wanted to immortalize the battle which took place nearly 1,400 miles southeast of their mainly ranching community.

But, the true story may be that when the community was imagined by Fred Allen, Mike Botts, Bert Riggs, and William Stewart, they thought the name Alamo, which is Spanish for poplar, would be appropriate because of all the poplar trees growing in the area.

“Remember the Alamo trees,” Riggs may have yelled at a community meeting.

“Let’s forgo the tree part, shall we,” Stewart may have returned.

Alamo is located within the Pahranagat Valley, and no matter how hard I tried I could not pronounce that name, but it is a beautiful long valley with soft rolling hills dotted here and there with ranches. Long white fences squaring off grasslands where horses and cattle seem pretty happy just munching away.

A few miles to the south along Route 93 is the Pahranagat National Wildlife Refuge. 

It is over a 100 years old and was started by the locals as a respite for migratory fowl which would be flying here and there on their way somewhere. 

The over 5,000 acre refuge actually wasn’t created officially until August of 1963 in Lincoln County and is part of the larger Desert National Wildlife Refuge Complex. This complex, at nearly 2 million acres, happens to be the largest such refuge in the lower 48 states. 

Rumor has it that Hawaii did not return a phone call since it was embarrassed that all they had was a bunch of islands, and Alaska scoffed saying that the average citizen there had that many acres in their front yards.

I drove to the refuge and found it very relaxing and peaceful just sitting on one of the many benches that surround a large lake.

People in motorhomes, camping vans, and tents seemed very content while sitting in their lawn chairs in the designated campsites staring out across the sparkling blue waters toward the Badger Mountains to the west.

“We love it here,” Beatrice told me. “We’re from Henderson and like to get away up here and away from the hustle and bustle of city life.”

Her husband, Anthony, told me he likes to look for the green-winged teal, various mallards, pintails, and shovelers.

I had no idea what he was talking about but smiled as though I did. “Any luck today?”

“A beautiful mallard, but that’s about it,” Anthony stated. “Though to be honest, I’m just relaxing.”

Easy to see how that can be the call of the day. A slight breeze with the temperature in the mid-seventies made for a perfect outing.

The entire valley has seen humans strolling around its lush lakes and rolling hills for thousands of years.

Evidence of early American Indian tribes have either lived or traveled through the valley for the past 8,000 to 13,000 years ago. With all the abundant wildlife available in the area it was a no-brainer for the native tribes to settle here.

Deer, elk, antelope roam the hills and valleys freely making hunting relatively easy for experienced  hunters. The lakes and streams are full of trout, crappie, and catfish. Tens of thousands of fowl, of every species, make their way across this vast land giving the opportunity of those living here to have plenty to eat.

This valley had it all from ancient inhabitants all the way to the modern ones.

So, is Alamo worth a visit on its own? Not sure I would make it a final destination, but for a place to slow down for the night and relax, then definitely yes.

And, besides - it is only 13 miles to the most eastern section of the Extraterrestrial Highway.

Happy Halloween - In search of Ghosts

My watch showed me that it was nearly midnight, but I really did not need the timepiece to alert me to such an hour.

I had been wandering here and there, albeit carefully, through the deep clean sands of the Mojave River bed just northeast of the town of Daggett.

Nothing but lonely sands in the riverbed

In search of the spectral Hatchet Lady of Newberry Springs.

I was in search of one of the most terrifying hauntings in the High Desert, according to a news article in the Victorville Daily Press dated October 26, 2010.

In fact, the article entitled, ‘High Desert’s Most Haunted Places,’ describes this ghostly apparition’s path listed as the ninth most haunted place around. 

‘Newberry Springs. Legend has it that the “hatchet lady” roams the Mojave River bottom at night.’

That sounded rather sinister, and thus the reason I was traipsing through the ankle deep sand in search of this specter recently.

That is what I do for a weekly column, especially for the month of October.

This ghostly apparition is not a very nice ghost. According to the Urban Dictionary, ‘The Hatchet Lady caught her husband cheating, and in a fit of rage she lopped off his head with a hatchet, and then committed a gory suicide in the same swing of her arm.’

Seems a little extreme to ‘lop’ off someone’s head when caught cheating while playing poker. But perhaps it wasn’t a card game.

Now, this demented and thwarted woman patrols the Mojave River bed looking for her next victim between Minneola Road and Harvard Road in Newberry Springs.

Dirt trails, possibly leading to the Hatchet Lady

Rumor has it she shrieks in the air like a banshee. Though I have never heard a banshee but just the name sends shivers up and down my arms.

There is quite a distance in miles between both roads and after walking and stumbling through the near total darkness for an hour, while yelling out for the Hatchet Lady, I was tired.

“Hey, Hatchet Lady,” I yelled, while nearly tripping over a rather large abandoned truck tire. “I’ve got a deadline here, show yourself.”

Suddenly, out of the darkness near a tall other-worldly looking tamarisk flew one of the largest owls I had ever witnessed.

I was glad to have worn Depends this particular evening. I did not shout my presence again.

Another hour later, I was really tired and made my way back to my truck parked along Minneola Road. 

Perhaps the hatchet swinging damsel had set hours and I had merely missed them.

The following day I ended up at the Barn along Route 66 in Newberry Springs. I knew I would find the truth about the Hatchet Lady from the patrons there. If not, a cold adult libation would certainly find its way in front of me.

Wes, a local, was wetting his whistle. “Nope, never heard of her and I’ve lived here over ten years.”

Renee, the owner of the bar, shook her head. “Sounds scary, but I’ve had the place over at Lake Jodie for decades and nada.”

Joel, the maintenance manager for the Barn also shook his head. “That’s interesting, I’ve lived here for five years and haven’t heard of her.”

I took out my phone, found four different websites about the Hatchet Lady and showed it around the bar.

Blank faces stared back at me.

“But you know, this place is haunted,” Joel stated.

Huh?

Turns out that both Joel and Renee have felt and seen strange happenings at the establishment.

“I was working one night after the place closed,” Joel started, “when suddenly I heard the men’s bathroom door slam shut.”

“Okay,” I replied. “Doors slam shut.”

He then walked me over to the bathroom door and pointed at a large cinder block holding the door open.

“We leave it open using that,” he said. “When I came over that night, the block was over there.”

He pointed to a spot across the hall at least eight feet away.

“Interesting,” I replied.

He then filled me in on other strange occurrences that had been going on at the Barn.

“The kitchen light came on and when I checked on it, the switch was in the off position. I checked the wires and they were correct. I turned it off and while walking away the light went back on, but the switch was still turned off.”

Ghostly happenings at the Barn in Newberry Springs

Renee happened by the two of us. “One time I was sitting listening to a band, taking a break from the bar when I felt a hand on my shoulder that gave me a squeeze. I thought it was a patron wanting my attention but when I turned around there was no one there.”

“As I was laying some new flooring behind the bar after closing hours,” Joel added, “I heard the freezer door open and then slam shut. Then footsteps walked from the kitchen, across the dining area and disappeared into the rear of the building. I was alone at the time.”

“What did you do then?” I asked.

“Went home.” Joel replied.

I asked Renee who the spirit - a great term to use in a bar, maybe.

“I’m not sure, but I do not believe it means any harm,” Renee responded. “Sort of like it is keeping an eye on the place.”

Sometimes when investigating a locale or event nothing happens - a big fat zero, like I found out with the river bed wandering banshee who hefts a mighty hatchet.

Though, I did sort of wonder how a person could cut off her cheating husband’s head and then cleanly decapitate themselves with one swing.

Perhaps Hatchet Lady should have saved that swing for the majors?

“You know, John,” Renee stated. “Lake Jodie is haunted.”

Joel, who also lives at Lake Jodie piped up. “There have been times when I see shadow people by the lakeside, and when they see me looking they disappear.”

A shadow person, per paranormal sources, is a shadowy figure or black mass resembling a humanoid figure. Often they are interpreted as the presence of a spirit or other entity by believers in the paranormal or supernatural realm.

Lake Jodie, where shadow people are often seen

My interpretation is, these black blobs walk around scaring people without uttering a word - like watching an IRS agent sitting behind their desk and staring at you during an audit.

Both would be equally frightening. 

“I’ve heard footsteps on the exterior steps and then something walking to the water’s edge, but there is nothing there,” Joel continued. “I actually had someone grab my left shoulder one evening while I was sitting on the steps outback, as though using me for leverage to make it down the stairs.”

Footsteps can be heard but no one is there

As Joel is telling me this tale, I noticed large goosebumps on both of his arms. He pointed at them, “See, I hate even thinking about the shadow people and other things I’ve witnessed out there.”

At that point I knew I had to contact the ghostbusters team of Cody Dare and Shawn Warren of The New Reality Paranormal investigative team.

Arrangements were made to meet at one of the houses at Lake Jodie (in all transparency - Lake Jodie is a gated community and no address will be supplied in this column) at a certain date and time.

Like many things in life, other duties turned up and I was not able to be there while Cody and Shawn did their paranormal activity. I believe I had a mani-pedi scheduled instead.

Cody got back to me. “Dude, there is a lot going on there. The place was lighting up like crazy.”

That’s paranormal lingo for, “Wow, Dude, the place was lighting up like crazy.”

“This place has all kinds of different energies just wanting to be heard. They actually want to talk to you.”

Why me, I wondered.

Shawn punched into the conversation. “There is a little girl there who is very prominent. It’s very heartbreaking to know she’s still there.”

Both these professionals know I am a skeptic, but not about their work. They have investigated dozens of places with supposed paranormal activity and have told me things that neither they nor I can explain.

And, that is paranormal, folks.

Though I didn’t locate Hatchet Lady, probably better for my noggin, I did learn that many people in the Newberry Springs area have experienced things there are no seemingly logical explanations for.

And who doesn’t like a bit of mystery or goose bumps in their life?

 Happy Halloween!

It is that time of year to get your scare on! Yep, October is the month for spooks and goblins to be wandering the streets in hopes of administering a whole lot of fear in us mere humans.

Well, for those that believe.

According to a United States government survey conducted in 2021, 41% of Americans believe in ghosts, the other 59% are too afraid to say either way.

“What if I’m wrong and Casper shows up in my bedroom floating around angrily?” one participant may have asked.

So, with October here, I thought I’d check in with my buddy, Cody Dare, of The New Reality, to learn what haunts I needed to check out.

“Dude, you gotta go to the All Saints Lunatic Asylum in Apple Valley,” Cody said. “There’s a lot of paranormal action going on there.”

Halls you may not want to enter

It has also been a professional Haunted House in the High Desert for the past eight years. Of course it is haunted - it is supposed to be.

Can’t be a lunatic asylum if all the patients are sitting around in Lazy-boys watching sit-coms and telling each other they are fine.

Nope, a lunatic asylum has to be a place of horror, torture, grief, terror, and all the other things that make people afraid to enter. No one is afraid to enter a lunatic asylum that resembles something like Friends.

“Oh, Rachel,” Monica may say. “You look just horrible with that leather mask strapped to your face while bound to a shopping cart.”

Rachel will only snarl and drool, but we all know it will work out for the best by the end of the episode.

Never saw this in 'Friends'

I drove to Apple Valley to check out this lunatic asylum, making sure I took my get out of asylum free card with me - just in case.

Christy and Richard Cerreto, the owners of the All Saints Lunatic Asylum met me at the double glass doors of their haunting business.

They were normal looking people. Not sure what I was expecting, but a couple who enjoy scaring the bejesus out of people may have looked like they had just exited a wild rage of Alice Cooper enthusiasts.

Nope, and to boot, they are college professors. Perhaps the place is haunted - making demons appear like well-educated humans.

How dastardly!

Actually, the couple were a lovely duo who just like to be surrounded by ghoulish and bloody exhibits.

“It started at our home,” Christy explained. “We love Halloween and would sit on our front porch handing out candy and scaring the trick-or-treaters.”

“Then it branched out to a maze of fear in our backyard for the neighbor children,” Richard chimed in.

I was wondering if this was my cue that it was time to leave. I’ve seen too many films where this could go wrong - I was just hoping there wasn’t a shed I’d hide in and learn it was full of chainsaws.

“We don’t use chainsaws here,” Christy reassured me.

Huh? I thought I had just said that quietly inside my own head.

No chain saws, but ....

Prior to showing up for my personal tour of the fear factory, I had contacted Cody Dare and Shawn Warren from The New Reality - the paranormal investigative group.

“All Saints Lunatic Asylum has always given me an uneasiness, a feeling of darkness, and never feeling alone,” Cody shared with me. Now, Shawn is pretty amazing when it comes to the paranormal stuff - him being a psychic medium and all - not sure what that means, but he is good at it.

He continued. “You can feel the oppression as soon as you walk into the door, always making me feel disoriented.”

Nervous? Just talk to the nurse at the asylum

Richard, Christy and I were in the lobby, where visitors to their macabre realm check in, and I did not feel any of the things Cody or Shawn had shared with me.

Then again, I generally state when someone insults me, “You hurt my feeling.” Perhaps I left that feeling by the glass entry doors.

“The New Reality has been here,” Christy commented. “It was awesome to see how professional they are.”

Richard nodded. “They always try to find a logical reason for any strange occurrences, then they can rule them out.”

And that is the case for legitimate paranormal investigators. At least 95% of weird stuff can be put down as wind, clouds, imagination, or other issues which may be nothing. It is the remaining 5% that cannot be explained that intrigues these investigators of the unknown.

It is much like when my beautiful wife, Laureen, shops and tells me she is saving money by buying a whole lot of stuff we don’t need because it is on sale.

Cody takes more of an intuitive empath approach - again, no idea what that means.

“The place is off the charts with paranormal activity. There is something very dark in the chapel room.”

The asylum is broken up into many rooms. There is the administrative room, the morgue, the children's room, the hospital room, the dentist office, the chapel, the Sasquatch cage, and so much more to entertain and delight.

Welcome to the Asylum

“When the crew was here,” Christy started, “They were conducting an EVP and clearly a doll was directing one of the female members to choose a certain doll in the room. When she chose the wrong doll, the voice told her ‘no’ and directed her to the correct one.”

For the neophytes, an EVP is in reference to an electronic voice phenomena which are sounds found on electronic recordings that are interpreted as spirit voices.

Though I have been on an investigation with Cody and Shawn, I still have no idea what that means except in layman terms it may be when Betelgeuse insults us and we can hear him.

“Sorry, Betelgeuse, but I left my feeling at the door,” I may return.

I asked both Richard and Christy if the building in which the asylum is located in Apple Valley was built on some sort of sacred Native American land. Perhaps an old western cemetery? Perhaps a devil worshiping pond?

“Nope,” Richard replied. “A stripmall built in the 1970s. I think there was a butcher shop here, a church and who knows.”

A butcher shop. Hmm.

“Cody got struck by a screw, right into his chest,” Christy told me. 

Haunted casket?

“I’ve stepped on nails, right through my foot when I was picking up dog poop in the backyard,” I replied.

She stared at me. “No, when they were filming by the casket, Cody was conducting a sensory deprivation when suddenly a screw flew at him from the casket, right into his chest.”

I nodded as if I understood.

“They caught it on tape,” Richard shared.

At that point the tour through all the rooms was conducted by my guests and it was enlightening, thrilling, and terrifying. But, I am not going into detail since I would not want to ruin the surprise for any potential visitors.

Besides, I had my eyes closed most of the time. When I saw Granny rocking in her wheelchair with a face that would terrify Jeffrey Dahmer, I knew this place was the real thing.

And here's Granny

As I learned during the tour, pretty much everything within the walls of the asylum are antiques acquired from actual places where folks may have not been treated as well as they should have been while alive, or even after death.

Could it be that it is not the actual building where the asylum is located that is haunted but the artifacts contained there? Does the very existence of these items conjure up dark energy that then releases itself on unsuspecting humans? Does the culmination of all these objects together in one place open the portal to the underworld? Is this where the beginning meets the end?

I don’t know - but it is very cool.

Just before I left, Richard pointed out a slew, or should I say a slaying of awards earned by his and Christy’s haunted enterprise. It was quite impressive: best live theater, best innovative business, best place to work, best place to have a birthday party, and my favorite - best place to wet your pants in public.

Lots of spooky awards

Did I feel any paranormal activities while at the asylum?

Nope, but that does not mean there isn’t. I know this though, wandering those dark halls and viewing actual pieces obtained from real asylums, mortuaries, hospitals, morgues, and who knows where else, there could be very well stuff happening there no one can explain.

Perhaps there is some sort of energy present at this asylum. Perhaps there is not - but, the only way to find out personally is to visit.

And no, I am not a paid spokesperson for the All Saints Lunatic Asylum. In fact, both Richard and Christy asked me to come back when it was open for guests for free. I turned them down.

I like my pants dry.

For more information: http://www.allsaintsasylum.com/

Catch Cody and Shawn on their Youtube channel - The New Reality Paranormal