Heading south on U.S. 375 past Rachel at around 70 miles an hour and in between Bald Mountain on my right and Mt. Irish to my left, I noted a set of brighter-than-normal headlights quickly coming up from behind. They had to be moving closer to 100 miles per hour as they quickly drew up on the back bumper of my truck.
After nearly three miles of the vehicle’s tailgating, I slowed and pulled to the right, off the road, into what I perceived as a turnout. I wanted the S.O.B. off my butt, so I could get back to enjoying my darktime drive.
But as I slowed and pulled from the road, the vehicle also slowed and then stopped as I had. That’s never a good sign out in the middle of nowhere, so I took my pistol from the center console and waited.
A couple of minutes later, I slowly rolled back onto the blacktop and steadily built up my speed to the posted limit of 65. The vehicle had not followed me directly but quickly caught up as I pushed my truck to near 90.
Instead of pulling over again, I slowed to nearly 40 miles an hour. Another few miles and the vehicle stopped before proceeding to back up at a high rate of speed.
Eventually, the headlights became the size of pinheads before blinking out. Still on edge, I kept my firearm tucked between myself and the edge of my seat.
I enjoyed the remainder of my drive to Crystal Springs as the sun began to show itself, where I fueled up my truck and bought a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, been some weird lights out there this morning,” the woman behind the counter said. “Had three people in here telling me about them.”
“Does that happen often?” I asked.
“I think so,” she said, “But then it’s my first to be told directly. I always heard this stuff from others but never had anyone say anything to me till tonight.”
“Did you see them?” I asked.
“Naw,” she answered. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I did anyway.”
I said nothing about what I had experienced, knowing I didn’t want to engage in any more conversation than necessary since going to Pahranagat was my idea of escaping having to interact with people. Half an hour later, I pulled into the park.
Throughout the day, I explored the refuge and played tourist. That evening, I cooked myself a small meal and ate before prepping the bed of my truck with a couple of sleeping pads and my sleeping bag.
The sky was dark, and I studied the stars as I fell asleep. My night was peaceful until about 3 a.m. when I awoke for no reason that I could understand at first.
As I lay there, having rolled onto my back, I noted how the stars seemed to have vanished. I studied the sky, looking for clouds or anything that could be causing them to disappear like they were doing.
Suddenly, I jumped with a start. I was lying beneath a large floating object. It was larger than at least three or four football fields.
Immediately, I thought about my pistol tucked beneath my pillow at my head. Then it dawned on me that it would do little to reach for it because I sensed I was under observation, and anything I did would draw attention.
After 15 or 20 minutes, I watched as the thing above me gradually moved eastward, raising quietly upward, before speeding away so fast that I did perceive its departure. There was no more sleep that morning.
Once the sun was up and as I was making coffee, I heard other campers, adults and children, talking about the late night, early morning visitor. That is how I learned of the time in which this happened.
At about 8 a.m., I packed up my meager camp and returned to the road, heading north towards Reno and home. I could avoid people or whatever the hell was out there, as well as any other place.
The Old Blog in the Desert 