Aliens in Nevada and New Mexico

There’s something about the American Southwest that makes you believe in ghosts, gods and little green men. Maybe it’s the desolation, with miles of scorched earth and silence that hums like static. Maybe it’s the isolation, or the towns that feel like they were abandoned mid-sentence. Or maybe it’s just the sunburned weirdos and late-night AM radio.

Extraterrestrial Highway.

I find myself driving on a lonely stretch of Nevada’s Highway 375, proudly rebranded the “Extraterrestrial Highway”. Even though its a barren desert, there are things out here that reveal this is no ordinary place. Military signs that say “Keep Out” with the kind of urgency that makes you want to poke the bear. Unmarked runways, men in trucks parked on ridgelines with binoculars, watching, always watching.

Little A’Le’Inn

In the middle of nowhere we arrived at the small town of Rachel. It would probably not exist if it weren’t for the legions of alien hunters who has roamed through the area for several decades.

They certainly know how to catch the eye of by-passers with UFO signs and a small flying saucer towed by a truck. Because in the absence of hard truth, mythology steps in to fill the gaps.

Don’t fly and drive.

Rachel practically consists of a small building called Little A’Le’Inn. I park the car and notice a sign on the roof saying “self parking” for saucers. Starved as usual, I order their “Alien Burger” and have look around at the cluttered decorations. The place was featured in the X-Files season six episode “Dreamland II”, which makes it a compulsory stop for any alien hunter. Now where’s my tin foil hat?

Little A’Le’Inn. Earthlings welcome.

Black Mailbox

One of the strangest items in the area is the so-called Black Mailbox, located on Route 375 where the dirt road intersection starts towards Area 51. According to UFO lore it was supposed to be the actual mailbox of Area 51, which made it a place of interest for weird people who somehow expected to find classified documents in there.

It actually belongs to a local farmer who got quite irritated at crazy tourists going through his mail all the time. This made him replace the black mailbox with a white one, equipped with a sturdy padlock, and the original one was sold on eBay in 1996.

“Mulder, I found something.”

Area 51

Area 51 is the non-official designation of the desert area including Nellis Test Range and Groom Lake in Nevada. The name originated from the 1950s when different areas were given numbers for nuclear testing, while the US government denied the existence of the area until 1995. It has also been used for development of aircraft such as Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird.

I make a hard right unto an unmarked dirt road, where it was almost impossible not to start humming on the X-Files theme. The car quickly got covered in dirt before arriving at the Back Gate of Area 51. It felt like arriving at the Black Gate of Mordor, so close but still a dead end.

At the Front Gate of Area 51.

Put in reverse and went down another dirt road, past countless Joshua trees until reaching the Front Gate of Area 51. Of course, you can’t get in, unless you fancy a dance with federal agents, but you can loiter at the perimeter and squint into the heat haze like Mulder on a bender.

Perched on a nearby hill, a no-nonsense officer aimed a pair of binoculars aimed in my general direction. Two official-looking trucks were passing in high speed while I was standing next by the gate, perhaps not carrying extra-terrestrial remains but it still tickled the mind.

Anybody past these signs will be arrested, no questions asked, and probably receive an alien probe somewhere as well.

Roswell

Ah yes, Roswell. Just had to visit the Disneyland of UFO lore. It’s quite a bit of road between Area 51 in Nevada and Roswell in New Mexico, but that’s what cars are made for.

Searching for clues at the UFO library in Roswell.

Roswell is ground zero for America’s alien obsession, thanks to a 1947 crash of a weather balloon or whatever. It gave birth to a thousand legends, pulp tabloids and questionable documentaries narrated by guys with unsettling facial hair. Seen as a once in a lifetime opportunity for the local townsfolk, they swiftly turned their sleepy town into an urban Christmas tree decorated with all things alien, profiting off the paradox of belief and skepticism in equal measure.

On a short walk down Main Street, past alien streetlights and Martian murals, little green men and plastic flying saucers can be seen everywhere. There is even a UFO museum that takes itself just seriously enough. Only thing missing was Mulder’s poster with “I want to believe”.

Alien street light in Roswell.

Is any of it real? Does it even matter? The thing about these quirky places is that they tap into something ancient. A need to look up and wonder. A need to believe that we’re not alone, or at the very least, that someone out there gives a damn enough to visit.

Remember, the truth is out there. But gas stations are not, so I would recommend careful planning before undertaking any serious alien hunting. Bring sunglasses, an open mind and maybe, just maybe, a little foil for your hat.