Page 81 - 2003 DT 12 Issues

What’s Inside!

Featured Article
Directions to No Place........................1

Special
Boot Tracks..........................................5

Departments
November 2003 News & Notes......................................2
Programs & Hikes...............................4
Desk Schedule.....................................6
Bulletin Board.....................................8

DIRECTIONS watching him through binoculars. I hope Road to Freedom Ridge and actually see
the thrill was enough to send him safely
the buildings and runways . . . everything.
TO NO PLACE to Rachel, about 50 miles north of the They had surveillance cameras tucked in
surveyor’s blank box, without challeng- Joshua trees and motion detectors under
ing NO TRESPASSING signs that end the sage—even scent detectors that knew
by Jack Ryan with USE OF DEADLY FORCE human-smell from a coyote’s.
AUTHORIZED. And the things we seen! I seen a
Stealth 10 years before the Nellis guys did.
he wiry young man stashed his rock Rachel is a roadside eyesore consist-
climbing gear in a corner and came ing of a couple of mom and pop Blackbirds and airships nobody seen
Tup to me as I worked behind the businesses, a clutch of mobile homes and before or after. And at night there’d be
blinding flashes like strobe lights going off
information desk at the Visitor Center. I a flexible population of techies,
here, there, overhead. Oh, the things we seen!”
assumed he wanted directions to a climb- spaceheads and plain voyeurs. They
ing trail. “How far is Groom Lake from spend their days explaining the inexpli- In those days Freedom Ridge hosted
here?” he asked. busloads of tourists from all over the
world. Families arrived in RV’s harken-
“There’s no rock climbing up there,”
I hope the thrill was enough to ing to stories about the bodies of space
I quipped. No reaction. I took the hint
send him safely to Rachel, aliens kept in deep-freeze coffins in
and became more serious. “It’s about a
about 50 miles north of the those block-long metal buildings shimmer-
hundred miles north of here,” I said, ing 15 miles across the dry lake bed. On a
pointing to the dry lakebed on the map surveyor’s blank box, without given weekend, hundreds might trek up
under the glass countertop. challenging NO TRESPASSING the ridge with folding beach chairs, pic-
The young man took notes of the signs that end with USE OF nic lunches, long range cameras,
lake’s location. “You may be disap- DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED. telescopes and night scopes, sleeping bags,
pointed if you go up there,” I said. “No coolers of Bud Lite, and wild hopes of
more spying on the super-secrets. Too cable to innocents seeking knowledge of sighting the future of flight.
much nosey around and you’ll get some the US’s secret base for developing The guardians of Area 51 were rela-
tough harassing.” think-tank aberrations for killing people. tively tolerant of pesky peekers. Private
The youth just grinned. The grin, The temple at Rachel is the Little A security guards—camo dudes to the illu-
though, said it all: “Yeah, that’d be cool.” ‘Le’ Inn, the best-known little roadhouse minati—acted the part of good ole boys
I never saw him again, but I’m not in the world. Its attached prefab homes are who tended to go along with the joke as
worried. I can guess what happened. He dominated by a huge photomural of an long as it wasn’t on them.
drove his pickup on 1-95 to above Area 51 building complex, circa 1985. The ClA’s enclave began modestly
Alamo, went southeast on 375 about 20 Extra-terrestrials, staring silently and enough in the 1930s with the U.S. Air
miles. He stopped at the endless scar sightless into outer space, sit with you at Corps’ informal testing of fighter biplanes.
across the desert bottom that’s Groom tables waiting to be served “alien burgers.” During World War II, the Corps officially
restricted thousands of acres of desert
Lake Road. Maybe he hung around un- But if the aliens observe a covert silence,
north of Las Vegas for an aerial gunnery
til he saw an unmarked white jeep kick the earthling denizens of the Little A ‘Le’
up a tail of dust on Groom Lake road; or Inn don’t.
was thrilled to see, through his binocu- “You shudda been here in the ’80s,”
lars, someone in desert camouflage you’ll hear. “You could drive Groom Lake Directions, continued on p.6