For many people the name “Dulce” is instantly recognizable. If you google for < dulce+ufo >, you’ll bring up 247,000 possible webpages. Pictured above, to the right of the light poles, is the nefarious Archuleta Mesa, where the reptilian aliens from Outer Space supposedly have an underground base of at least seven levels, the lowermost of which extend out under the sleepy, little Apache Indian village of Dulce itself.
All sorts of horrific experiments are reportedly being conducted on these various levels, especially at levels six and seven. For example, they are said to be conducting experiments to determine how to extract the “soul” and “spirit” from a human being and “transplant” them into some of their reptilian volunteers. Perhaps this is part of the “training process” for reptilian spies who infiltrate human society, by masquerading as humans.
The word “dulce” is Spanish for primarily the English word “sweet”, but it can also mean “fresh” or “pleasant” or “agreeable”. Probably the Spanish conquistadores thought that Dulce was a “pleasant” place to live and so named it that.
As the crow flies, Dulce is only about five miles from the Colorado border, and the Archuleta Mesa rises north of Dulce about halfway in between. The following graphic is from Google maps, a hybrid graphic with the highway overlaid on the topographical satellite image. Dulce is easy to find because it is located exactly at the V-shaped turn of the highway. I have placed a reddish dot on the graphic at the location of Dulce. There is a dirt road that runs from Dulce to the top of Archuleta Mesa, just above the shadowy ridges north of Dulce. As I recall, one of the local Apache men said that it was a distance of about six miles, since this dirt road would be going uphill and curving around at the same time, making it longer than the straight-line distance.
As soon as I decided to visit New Mexico, I knew at once that I would have to visit Dulce, since I have heard so much about it. Carrie and I arrived in Dulce around mid-afternoon, following an easy drive through the mountains and across the Continental Divide, which near Dulce reaches an elevation of about 11,000 feet. Most of the scenery along the route from Tierra Amarilla to Chama and Dulce looked about the same as the scenery elsewhere, so I did not waste any time stopping for additional photographs.
Approaching the town, we saw a billboard advertising the Best Western Inn and Restaurant at Dulce. I suggested that we first stop there and make some inquiries. Dulce’s population is only about 2,700. To a certain extent, it is merely a “wide spot” in the road, although it does host the Jicarilla Apache Headquarters and the Apache Nugget Casino, which according to the Official New Mexico State Atlas is located about halfway between Dulce and Archuleta. As with other Indian casinos, this Apache Casino must be drawing people into Dulce to gamble, even from southern Colorado. Gamblers would think nothing of driving only an hour to the nearest casino. Nevertheless, for all practical purposes Dulce is way out in the middle of nowhere, and I had no idea of what to expect to hear about the Alien Base. Near the Best Western Inn there was also a sign indicating that visitor information could be obtained here, so we turned in and parked.
Inside the motel we were greeted by a tall, handsome Apache man. “May I help you?” he inquired with a smile.
“We’re looking for the information service,” I said.
“Well, here it is!” he grinned broadly and gestured around at the small motel lobby. “This is it. What were you wanting to know?”
“Well, actually, we came here to see if we could find out anything about the reptilian Alien Base underneath the Archuleta Mesa. Do you know anything about it?”
At this point, he broke out laughing. “You are just in time! There’s a conversation going on in the restaurant right now about this Alien Base. Were you planning to eat?”
“No, but we’d like to have some coffee,” I replied.
“Follow me,” he said and escorted us into the restaurant. Two other tables were occupied, one by two Apache women and the other by an Anglo man who was having coffee and a snack and conversing with a second Apache man, who was standing beside his table and who, it turned out, also worked for the motel and restaurant.
The man who showed us in promptly introduced us to the second man, and we introduced ourselves to the Anglo who said that he had driven to Dulce from Duncan, Oklahoma, just north of Fort Worth, Texas. Everyone exchanged the usual pleasantries.
Then I said, “So, y’all are talking about the Alien Base?”
The Oklahoma man told us that he’d read all about Dulce on the Internet and had come to see it for himself, as was the case with Carrie and me. Then the second Apache man, whose name I have forgotten, began to expound at length about this Alien Base, and I paraphrase him here.
“Let me tell you a story,” he began. “It is rather long, but you’ll find it interesting, I think. In our Indian traditions we have a custom that we follow for boys who reach one year of age. They say that if you shave a boy’s head on his first birthday, when he gets older, his hair will grow long and thick. After I got married and had a son, on his first birthday we went to visit my grandmother, so that she could shave his head. This was the first time we’d had a good look at his skull without any hair, and suddenly I saw that both of his ears were pierced at the top. We had never noticed this before, and we were quite perplexed. But at the time I didn’t really think much about it.
“Then my wife had a second son, and on his first birthday, we drove to my grandmother’s again so she could shave his head. After she finished, we found two tiny holes or dents in his scalp, right on top of his head.” He pointed at the top of his own head. “Now I was starting to wonder about these things, because clearly this is not normal. A couple of years later, my wife had a third son, and again we drove to my grandmother’s for the head-shaving ceremony. This third boy had a hole in the side of his right ear, about in the middle. I didn’t know what to think about it.
“Around 8 o’clock we left my grandmother’s to drive back to Dulce. Usually this ride takes about an hour and 45 minutes. About 9 o’clock, we were still about 45 minutes from home, when my wife and I noticed a strange light or object flying low across the horizon. I pulled over beside the road to check it out. We sat there for a while, and we saw one UFO after another, five in all, I think, one following the other, all going in the same direction, like a caravan. The three boys were getting cranky in the back seat, and we needed to get home. It was dark, and I didn’t have a watch. But when we walked in the door at home and looked at the clock, it was 11:15. I said to my wife, ‘Why did it take us so long to get back? What happened?’ But she didn’t know either. Somehow we had ‘lost’ an hour, and we were certain that we hadn’t stopped that long to watch the UFOs. It was very odd.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Do you think that you were abducted or something?”
He shrugged and nervously laughed. “I don’t know, but it was definitely very strange.”
“And,” I asked him further, “do you think that those ‘holes’ in your boys’ heads have something to do with the Alien Base?”
Again he said that he didn’t know, but there was no reason at all for him to have been fabricating such a peculiar tale.
He then turned to the subject of cattle mutilations. He said that there are regular cattle mutilations around Dulce, and he pointed to one of the Indian women who were sitting at another table. “One of her cattle got mutilated last spring.” The woman smiled and agreed that it had, and she said that the incisions were quite precise, not like a wild animal or human would make, that they were “laser-like” incisions, similar to the precision cuts that were made during the near epidemic of cattle mutilations throughout the Southwest in the 1970s. Carrie remarked to me later that she believed what this woman said because Indian people have no reason to concoct such fictions, that they are too down-to-earth and level-headed to play these sorts of games.
“I’ll tell you,” said the loquacious Apache man, “everybody in Dulce has a story to tell about what they’ve seen around Archuleta Mesa. There are secret doors in the mesa. UFOs have been seen flying into these doors. But when somebody goes up to try to find these doors, they have been camouflaged again and can’t be located. During the 1950s, or maybe 60s, a U.S. Army convoy went up to look for these doors, and they disappeared inside the mountain and were never seen again.”
He paused for a moment and continued. “I was searching for Dulce information on the Internet, and I found a website about a Bigfoot Conference that was held in Dulce a couple of years ago. There were all these men in camouflage fatigues. They camped out near a small lake south of town.”
“Did they spot a Bigfoot? I never heard of Bigfoots in these parts before.”
“I don’t know what they did,” he said. “I’ve never seen a Bigfoot, and I’ve lived here all my life.”
He was about 35 years old.
“And you know something else?” he asked. “People in Dulce are going deaf.”
“Going deaf? What do you mean?”
“I mean, they can come into this restaurant, and the music is playing in the background, and I’ll say to someone, I really like that song, and the person will ask me, ‘What song?’ ‘Can’t you hear the music?’ I ask them.” He pointed at a speaker, over which radio station music was playing quietly in the background. “They say, ‘No, I can’t hear any music.’ This has happened many times.”
“Why?” I mused. “Do you think that some noise like the Taos Hum is causing them to lose their hearing?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? But people are going deaf.”
Everybody in the restaurant seemed most sincere. I generally know when people are trying to put something over on me, and I didn’t get that feeling here. Neither did Carrie nor the man from Oklahoma. The three of us got up to leave and pay our bills. We thanked everybody for their stories and information and walked outside.
The Archuleta Mesa looms large on the northern horizon of Dulce. I took my photo from the Best Western parking lot. On the opposite of the mesa there is a small river, but north of that there is nothing except national forest and Indian reservations well into southern Colorado. There is no telling what might be happening on the northern side of the mesa out of view of the citizens of Dulce. There are no roads or towns for miles. This is an ideally isolated location for such an Alien Base, still close enough to a small bastion of civilization for convenience but far enough off the beaten path to be ignored by most tourists and others who might pass through Dulce unaware of anything.
Atop Archuleta Mesa is a cluster of antennae. We were told that these antennae are used by local television stations and other communications businesses to transmit images and data. And I personally have no doubt about that. On the other hand, if the reptilian aliens who are conducting all these high-tech experiments inside the mesa are so advanced, then it would certainly be no problem for them to tap into these transmission antennae and, if nothing else, watch some local television programs. Don’t you know they get a chuckle out of that?!
Carrie and I said goodbye to the man from Oklahoma, and I gave him one of my calling cards with my website URLs. Then Carrie and I got into her car. Just as we were pulling out of the Best Western parking lot, the boombox in the back seat came on, all by itself.
“Did you turn that on?” I asked Carrie.
“No. Did you?” she said.
“No.” I leaned over into the back seat and turned it off. “I wonder what caused that to happen,” I mused to Carrie.
“Yes, I wonder.” She glanced quickly at me and then drove out onto the highway back to Chama.
