There's Space Aliens in Rachel, Nevada

Little A'Le'Inn, in Rachel, Nevada

 According to Michael, a staff member at the Little A’Le’Inn, in the very tiny town of Rachel, Nevada, “I’ve seen things in the night sky that should not be there.”

“Aliens?” I asked, a hunch since I had just driven the Extraterrestrial Highway.

The sign says it all near Rachel, Nevada

He looked at me. “Not sure, but whatever I was looking at did not maneuver like a plane or helicopter should. Just bizarre really.”

Being a bit peckish, I had stopped by the very uniquely colorful restaurant along Nevada State Route 375 for a spot of breakfast.

Strange sights to be seen at the Little A'Le'Inn, Rachel, Nevada

The eggs, home fries and sour dough toast were yummy.

Nikki, the unofficial manager said, “I’ve lived here all my life. The night skies are almost scary since they are so full of stars. We have no light pollution at all.”

This area of Nevada is so removed from city lights, especially lying in the middle of a valley that no city lights could interrupt the celestial ceilings of the night sky.

“And you?” I asked. 

A moment of silence. “Yeah, I’ve seen things that I can not explain. A green comet, I thought, streaking across the desert sky at night. I’ve seen lots of meteorites but nothing that looked like that. Green, almost effervescent.”

That was strange, but I just happened to be in the middle of alien country and anything could be expected. 

Rachel is less than 28 miles from Area 51, the once top-secret military installation that houses aliens and alien aircraft - wait, I’ve been listening to too many conspiracy podcasts.

The existence of Area 51 was finally acknowledged by the United States Government in 2013, but as of yet, no public tours are allowed.

Heed the warning near Rachel, Nevada

Now, that’s a way to get rid of the national debt.

“Dude, I just shook hands with a Grey,” one enthusiast may blush. “I’d pay another gazillion dollars for that again.”

Driving into Rachel from the small town of Alamo was rather lonely. Fifty-two miles along Route 375 leaves a person wondering what could occur in these isolated night skies.

Lonely and Alien looking landscape toward Rachel, Nevada

Forget the night skies for a moment since it was daytime. 

As I was driving I pulled over for a moment as a huge flock of birds, not sure if they were sparrows but from a distance they appeared to be, blocked the roadway.

I got out and just stood there.

There must have been hundreds just walking around the black top, not paying any attention to me - and I was only 30 yards or so away from them.

I studied the birds for a moment wondering why they were gathered as such when suddenly like a black cloud they all took to wing. For a moment the sun was lost in their ascension.

Glancing across the sky there was nothing unusual, bright blue backdrop with a few puffy white clouds.

As I climbed back into my truck, there were noticeable goosebumps on both of my arms. 

It was very eerie and disconcerting.

I mentioned my incident to Nikki. “Yeah, the birds do act strange around here once in a while.”

It should be noted that just prior to my unnatural experience with the flock of birds, I had stopped by the iconic black mailbox.

The Black Mailbox, Rachel, Nevada

The mailbox that folks can leave messages to aliens if they choose along 375.

I did not since I was not sure of the postage cost to a galaxy far far away.

Rachel is located at the southern end of Sand Springs Valley. Driving through it. there is nothing to see in this empty bowl-shaped place which measures about 25 miles wide but with the emptiness, it seemed a lot wider and more desolate.

Northwest of Rachel is a dry lake bed with no name. Suspicious?

And if that isn’t strange enough, the history of the valley will surely raise eyebrows - much like Science Officer Spock does when he is inquisitive about some space anomaly. 

Seems that near this locale is something called the Alamo breccia - an ancient layer of sea sediment from an inland sea over 50 million years ago.

There have been a lot of past inland seas, thus a person can wander many deserts and find seashells and other fossils - no big deal.

But the fossils found in this breccia layer are not supposed to be there. Fossils of these deep water fish at one time in the past were violently thrown to the shore of the sea to mix with the more typical and newer shallow based life. Now, these fossils are all mixed together - hardly what a scientist would expect.

Geologists theorize that a massive meteorite smashed into the land about 375 million years ago. This would have caused the older and deeper sea life to crash onto the shoreline and later mix with the shallower sea life once the sea dried up.

“Well, what about the crater? Where is it?” one geologist may have asked.

Years counting in the hundreds of millions would have filled the crater leaving no sign of it today.

This only leads more and more people to believe there is something ‘alien’ about the lands surrounding Rachel.

And this brings in the curious. So, there is a welcomer. 

Little Fidget, the greeter dog, greeted me with a wag of its tail and a sniff of my leg. 

“He loves guests, and gets plenty of attention,” Michael stated. “We get anywhere from one hundred to five hundred visitors daily during our top season.”

The crush of tour buses, mellow biker gangs, families on vacation, foreigners looking for space foreigners, and men dressed in black, occurs during the months of March through October.

For a tiny hole-in-the-wall joint, Little A’Le’Inn is truly worth a visit.

There are alien statues outside, a mock-up (maybe) of an alien craft hanging off the rear of a tow truck, plaques dedicated to this and that, and just the vastness of the desert is enough for any visitor to enjoy.

One plaque explaining the importance of Rachel, Nevada

The large valley used to be home to various bands of the Paiute Indians and in the hills around Rachel petroglyphs, arrowheads and other signs of early native American settlement can be found.

There is no evidence that any long term residency had taken place from any of the tribes moving through the area though.

Rumor has it that for more of a permanent residency they traveled to south to Las Vegas - perhaps at Caesar’s.

Then the miners moved into the local mountains seeking their fortunes. Like all such dreams, there were good and bad times in the search for fabulous wealth.

There are dozens of abandoned mines and ghost towns within an hour of Rachel.

One example is the town of Logan, approximately ten miles west from the town of Hiko and three miles south of Mount Irish Peak. Here a settlement was founded after silver ore was discovered in 1865. But, like many mining camps, this one did not last long either.

A post office opened in 1868 and closed in 1871 when the mines played out.

It became a ghost town, and there are others to explore such as Crescent, Freiburg, and Groom.

Yes, the same name as was given that humongous dry lake bed which Area 51 now occupies: Groom Lake.

A note of caution on two aspects of traveling through these deserts.

When wandering through a ghost town with mine shafts, be very careful where you tread.

These are remote areas that have been unoccupied for many decades and anything that once may have been sturdy in the mines probably isn’t now. Folks can and do lose their lives exploring where they probably should not have.

And, when approaching Area 51, the signs concerning the use of deadly force are real. I have been escorted away from the tall chain link fences in the past by a couple of not-so-friendly security personnel.

One of them had the strangest eyes too, they sort of had an inner lid - but perhaps it was the sunlight.

Nikky told me a story about the production of the 2011 film Paul. A parody of many science fiction movies and some scenes were supposed to take place within the Little A’Le’Inn.

“A film crew came in, took photos, did sound checks and then left.” she stated. “Then they copied the interior and filmed it someplace else. So, if you watch the movie Paul, it didn’t happen here.”

Ah, the magic of Hollywood.

I have never viewed the film but plan to now, so I can tell anyone in the room watching that it wasn’t filmed where it looks like it was.

I stood outside after my adieus and looked across the vastness of this huge empty valley. 

Tens of thousands of people from all around the globe come here to visit, but are only those from planet earth?

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!