Dave Schmitz (a.k.a the writer) currently lives in San Francisco. He works as a Software Engineer contractor for the NASA Ames Research Center.
The Middle of the Fucking Desert II (Return to Groom Lake)
Yes, another trip. My second. For those of you who accidentally missed my first story let me give you a little background along with a few lame reasons why I do this to myself. There lies an area out in southwestern Nevada, about 125-150 miles north of Las Vegas (translation: the middle of the fucking desert) which was used for above-ground nuclear testing back in the 50’s and ’60s. This section of land is called the Nevada Test Site.
Adjacent to this land is another area of desert called the Nellis Bombing and Gunnery Range. This land is used for military exercises and flight testing. Within this area, which is all controlled by the federal government, lies an smaller area know as Area51. This is a secret military (Air Force?) installation totally unacknowledged by the government. It’s hangers, radar dishes, buildings and 7-mile long runway are built right next to a dry lake bed which is called Groom Lake (dry). It is at this secret (unacknowledged) base where the newest aircraft are developed and tested. History shows that the high altitude U-2 reconnaissance plane, the supersonic SR-71, and the new F-117 stealth fighter were all developed here.
It is rumored that the successor to the SR-71 is being flown here today. This plane is called the Aurora and rumors abound about its technologies and capabilities.
There is also a second area southwest of the Groom Lake complex (about 10 to 15 miles) called Papoose Lake. For years it has been rumored that a section (dubbed Area S-4) is the official government parking lot for UFOs that the government has found over the years. The saucer base is believed to built into the side of the Papoose Range which runs parallel to the nearby Groom Range.
There has been testimony from S-4 workers, including a public acknowledgment by Mr. Robert Lazar, that the government’s goal is to reverse engineer the craft with the hope of reproducing the technology with materials found here on earth. Although only stories and rumors identify the Papoose Lake Facility, the Groom Lake complex, its employees, and security forces are real and active today. However, all activity remains untouchable by state and local laws (including tax laws) along with all environmental monitoring by the Environmental Protection Agency. Anything could happen here and there is no one on the outside who has the right to know about it.
My first trip to this desolate section of the desert was quite an adventure.
Although many ‘locals‘ would deem this trip as boring and blown out of proportion. I tried to convey my feelings, anxieties, and emotions which were happening at the time. I will try to do the same here as I tell of my return to Groom Lake. This trip starts off about 450 miles away from Groom Lake, in the smog-filled valleys of Los Angeles.
I flew down to visit one of my best friends who was coming to Los Angeles for business reasons. After telling him of my first trip to Groom he was intrigued and wanted to go see for himself what strange things lurk in the middle of the fucking desert. I, of course, wanted to return and finish off what I started two and a half months earlier. I arrived in Los Angeles at around 8:00 am and was greeted by my friend the art director (a.k.a. ‘The Den-man’).
We wandered over to the Alamo rental car Agency and picked up our reserved, white-colored (paid extra for that) 4 wheel drive, Mitsubishi Montero. This brand spanking’ new Montero (about 9000 miles on it) was one of the nicest cars I’ve ever driven. It made my little white rental car from the first trip look like an old, 76′ Ford Pinto. After initialing all the insurance acceptance blanks and signing all the proper visa credit slips we decided to pick up a few snacks and hit the road. (Snacks included: a nice barrel of Copenhagen chew, a pack of cloves, a bag of Scoop Fritos and some road sodas)
Interstate 15 from L.A. to Vegas was the road of choice. Actually, it was the only choice that would get up near the Nellis Range before sunset. We drove at 75 to 85 miles per hour (heading towards the highest-priced gasoline station in America). We hoped to have extra time to ride the newly opened Stateline roller-coaster and do a little gaming before heading out into the vast and empty desert. In a way, we were already gambling. Our competitors, however, were not the slot machines or blackjack decks of the Las Vegas casino. Our first competitor was the California State Highway patrol.
We continued cruising (stealth-like). After we were about a half-hour outside of L.A., I started the newly bought, voice-activated, 29 U.S. dollar, Sony microcassette recorder. This handy little piece of available technology would keep track of mile markers, interesting stories and screams if we were to be shot by the now annoyed government or abducted by our little grey (or green, your choice) alien friends (or enemies, again, your choice). This little device has also been extremely handy while writing this story.
As expected, the drive was long and filled with only desert landscape and our insane, nutcase behavior which most people who have taken road trips will understand. The temperature outside at around ten in the morning was 99. The temperature inside the plush Montero was a cool 65.
Mile marker number 1. We crossed the Nevada border early in the afternoon, (accidentally passing the highest-priced gasoline station in America.) I believe we arrived around 1:00. Our first stop was to relax and stretch not only our legs but hopefully our wallets also. Our first stop was Jean, Nevada – better know as Stateline. Here we played some slots and blackjack.
We road the newest tourist attraction to this barren land, the brand-spanking’ new Buffalo Bills roller-coaster. A bargain at half the price. In our case, the price was 3 U.S. dollars each, although the cost was, thoughtfully, paid for by the slots and craps tables at Buffalo Bills Casino. It was here that our microcassette recorder was temporarily confiscated. You see, we attempted to bring it aboard the coaster to bring our fans to live coverage. However, soon after settling into the molded plastic seats, our cover was blown.
We were asked to relinquish the recorder by a highly qualified, well trained in roller-coaster safety procedure, teenage attendant. So, much of the excitement and memories of the coaster-O-fun (and banged up and bleeding kneecaps) have been lost due to lack of tape – please forgive me. After several Cape Cod-ers, the disappearance of 10 U.S. dollars (to the slot machines), and several hands of blackjack, we were ready to drive on to Vegas.
(Gaming summary: Dave +35, Den +16 U.S. Dollars)