Living in Las Vegas has been a mostly positive experience. The desert has grown on me, and the opportunities of things to do are just endless. However, I'm a midwestern girl at heart and sometimes I get just absolutely sick of being in a big city. I almost start to feel claustrophobic . . . and I've been feeling that way a lot lately. Luckily, with Labor Day coming up, I knew my husband and I had a chance to escape. But where to go?
We threw around the usual ideas (the Grand Canyon, San Diego, even Mt. Charleston) but there was one problem: on Labor Day weekend, all of those places would be crawling with people, the exact opposite of what we were looking for. So, since most people in this area seemed to be traveling south for the weekend, we decided to go north. What's in northern Nevada? A whole lot of nothing. Did that stop us? Of course not. I'm just lucky I married a man whose idea of fun is as quirky and weird as my own.
Don't tell anyone, but when I was a kid, I was a sic-fi nut. I adored the 'X-Files' (okay, well, really I adored David Duchovny) and read just about everything I could get my hands on about UFOs. And, as geeky as this sounds, I have always wanted to visit Area 51. Logically, I know that it has absolutely nothing to do with aliens, but the kid in me thinks maybe, just maybe, the truth really is out there. And since we live only a few hours away, my 11 year-old self just couldn't pass up the opportunity. So we took a little jaunt up to Highway 375, which borders Area 51 and is known (tongue-in-cheek, mind you) as the Extraterrestrial Highway.
And once we got on it, there was no one (and nothing) for miles. Bliss.
Not to say there wasn't your occasional odd-ball roadside attraction. :)
Now, obviously, you can't actually visit Area 51. I mean, the government only recently admitted its existence; they may have de-classified some information most people already assumed (the 'UFOs' everyone was seeing were actually test flights of the U-2) but those guards still have authorization to shoot you if you try to cross the border. But there are a few 'Area 51' folklore sites worth seeing along the way. Like this: the Black Mailbox.
(And yes, I realize it's white. But it's still called the Black Mailbox). Located just off the Extraterrestrial Highway, a lot of people think its the mailbox for Area 51. In reality, it belongs to a local rancher who owns a lot of the land around Area 51. It was originally just an ordinary black mailbox (hence the name) but after the owner started finding mail addressed to Area 51 in it and (according to folklore) discovered it riddled with bullet holes, he replaced it with this sturdier white, padlocked mailbox. It's still a major landmark for UFO watchers, who claim its a great spot to see mysterious lights in the night sky.
The Black Mailbox is situated along the road that leads you to right to Area 51's main gate. No, we did not drive back there. I was scared of getting shot. Jonathan was worried about the car getting all dusty.
The ONLY town on the Extraterrestrial Highway is Rachel, population 54. Yes, you read that right. 54.
And the only business in town? (And I do mean only). The Little A'Le'Inn, a restaurant, bar, motel, and tourist hub for UFO nuts. Totally cheesy, silly, and quirky . . . and I loved every inch of this place.
Rachel was once a mining town but, since it closed in 1988 and the last of the miners pulled out, the town has struggled to survive. The owners of this little pub decided to capitalize on the Area 51/UFO seekers who constantly streamed through town . . . and it has worked. I mean, it got us to drive all the way out into the middle of nowhere, right?
The movie 'Independence Day' gifted this time capsule to the town of Rachel and the A'Le'Inn, and it sits under this monument outside the shop. (You might remember that we humans defeated the aliens in that movie by utilizing alien technology kept secretly by the government in--you guessed it--Area 51). Anyways, the plaque reads: "On the eighteenth day of April, A.D. 1996, Twentieth Century Fox hereby dedicates this time capsule and beacon for visitors from distant stars, to the State of Nevada and the 'Extraterrestrial Highway.' This time capsule will serve as a beacon, to be opened in the year A.D. 2050, by which time interplanetary travelers shall be regular guests of our planet Earth. Governor Bob Miller of the State of Nevada; Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation; the filmmakers and cast of 'Independence Day.'"
Like I said, totally quirky and totally awesome.
How could we not stop and support such a fun local business? (Not only that, it was lunch time, we were starving, and--as I mentioned before--this was the ONLY place on the ENTIRE Extraterrestrial Highway). The owner, Pat, and her friendly employees were all too happy to help with our grumbling stomachs.
The world famous Alien Burger? Count me in!
And it did not disappoint. Why is it that small-town dives have the BEST food?
Jonathan went with the 'Saucer Burger.' He said it was delicious, and it must have been. He ate it so fast I didn't even get a chance to try it.
Even Matty seemed to enjoy the place. Of course, it might have helped that the entire staff went nuts over him, bending over backwards to find him crayons and stickers (aliens, of course) and spending most of our meal mooning over him in an attempt to make him laugh. I'm guessing that very few UFO nerds bring their kids here. Or, now that I think about it, even have kids. All that time sky-watching probably makes it hard to find time to get a girlfriend.
Before we hit the road again, it was time for some photo ops outside.
If you ever get a wild hair up your bum and decide to do something totally random (like driving out into the middle of the Nevada desert to look for UFOs), I highly recommend making a stop at the A'Le'Inn. Great food, great service, and almost more silliness than you can stand. You won't be disappointed.
With a full belly, we got brave enough to make one more attempt at Area 51. The road leading to the back gate sits just south of Rachel. I conquered my fear of getting shot and Jonathan suppressed his fear of getting the car dirty to take the 5-6 mile jaunt down a gravel road all the way to the old guard shack. Its no longer manned, but there are cameras everywhere; you can feel yourself being watched. And with big signs advertising the use of deadly force . . . well, this is as close as I'd get. I snapped this one picture (without even getting out of the car), and we peeled off back towards the safety of the highway.
Nevada has been hit steadily for almost two weeks by one tropical storm after another (which I know sounds like an oxymoron). This means it has been raining like crazy, even flooding out several areas of the state. While we were eating lunch, the storm clouds were brewing, and we knew it was likely we'd get into some rain. We were right (but hey--it did wash my car!).
Most of the desert north of Las Vegas is open range, with cows roaming as they please. We were warned to be on the look-out but didn't really see any wildlife until after the rain had ended. Then, suddenly, they were all around us . . . and right in front of us. This stubborn cow just stood in the middle of the road, not moving, despite us inching forward, honking and yelling. He just stood there, chewing his cud and staring. When he finally did move on, his look told us plainly that he was moving not because we wanted him to but because he wanted to.
As we were looking for a place to stay after our alien adventure, our choices were severely limited. In fact, there is really only one "major" city north of Las Vegas containing hotels that looked like we wouldn't catch a disease or be murdered in our sleep while staying there: Tonopah, a boom town that arose out of the discovery of silver in the area around 1900. Over $121 million dollars in ore came from the town's mines between 1900 and 1921. Unfortunately, the Great Depression, World War II, and the end of the railroad age brought an end to the town's glory days.
Jonathan agreed to go along on my Area 51 adventure if I agreed to let him indulge in one of his quirks: ghosts. More specifically, spending the night in the supposedly haunted Mizpah Hotel. (See season 5, episode 2 of Ghost Adventures, which re-aired, coincidentally, the weekend before we left for this trip.)
The Mizpah Hotel was originally built in 1907 and has numerous closings and re-openings throughout its long history. Most recently, the hotel was renovated and reopened in 2011.
Walking through the doors, you are instantly transported back to another time and place. Even though renovated, the place still feels like you're in an early twentieth century saloon/hotel. It was beautiful.
But back to the ghosts. The place is supposedly full of them. From old miners to party revelers, many patrons have reported seeing apparitions throughout the building. The most famous of these, however, is the Lady in Red, the ghost of a prostitute who was murdered on the 5th floor of the building, supposedly by a jealous ex-boyfriend. There's even a plaque outside the room in which this crime took place.
Is it true? I have no idea. All I know is that, while I didn't see or hear anything unusual that night, I didn't sleep a wink either. However, I attribute that more to the fact that a two year old in my bed was kicking and punching in his sleep than to any ghostly spirits hovering around our room.
Anyways, Tonopah was/is primarily known as a mining town. But, unlike so many mining towns that have fallen away, Tonopah has preserved its mining history by building a park over the site of the original mining claims that brought the rush to the town. In fact, the Tonopah Historic Mining Park encompasses four of the original mining companies and covers more 100 acres of ground. It's littered with old equipment and buildings, not to mention the collapsed section of one of the mines, seen here:
Not only was this place amazing, we were the only people in the park. We had over 100 acres to explore ourselves silly on the mountains around Tonopah. Pure. Joy.
One of the mines included in the park is the Mizpah Mine, which had the first steel headframe in the country (seen here).
Matty only cared about the replica train.
Some of the old mining equipment, left behind after the mine closed.
These are some of the original ties from the Tonopah-Goldfield Railroad, which stopped running in 1948 and was the final "nail in the coffin" to mark the end of Tonopah's golden years. They still lay across the only remaining section of the track, a trestle that led to one of three different spurs running throughout the area, carrying ore from all four of the mines that used to lay within the park's borders.
A view of the trestle from the ground.
The Burro Tunnel is one of Jim Butler's (the founder of Tonopah) original discovery sites. You can actually walk through the restored tunnel to the end where, in the heyday of the mine, an elevator would wait to ferry you over 1500 feet down into the earth.
A metal grate now sits over the top of the elevator shaft, and you can look straight down into the abyss. This is a far as I'd go out over it. It gave me the heebie jeebies. *Shudder.*
Embedded into the wall of the tunnel is an old rusted drill-bit, presumably left by a frustrated miner who couldn't get it back out of the solid rock wall.
The headframe of the nearby Silver Top Mine.
The Silver Top Grizzly, built in 1905, where workers would hand-sort the ore. Good ore went into the bins and was sent to the mill; bad ore was sent to the waste pile. You can still walk across the old railway tracks that led to the building and stand underneath the creaking structure, where a large chute directed ore into carts.
A view of Tonopah from the surrounding mountains. A random place for a vacation? Yes. A truly unique and unforgettable way to escape Las Vegas? Absolutely.
Unfortunately, the weekend went by too quickly, as weekends tend to do, and we were soon headed back towards the bright lights of the big city. Our route home took us through Goldfield, another famous Nevada boomtown. Most of the town was destroyed by a fire in 1923, although a few buildings survived. By then, however, most of the town's population had already disappeared.
Another weird thing I enjoy doing is visiting old cemeteries. So, of course, we stopped. The trip had already been random enough. Why not?
It's just always so distressing to me to think that these non-descript, neglected wooden crosses and small stones, most of them without names, mark the end of someone's life. A real person who lived and died in this now nearly abandoned town. These cemeteries and these people are mainly forgotten; a part of me always feels like I have to stop and pay my respects. To just drive on by would be wrong.
Goldfield is mainly a tourist spot now. It's filled with very few "ghost town" relicts and reminders of the past. Instead, its streets are lined with antique shops and vendors selling flea market goods. We decided to just keep on going . . . with one small exception: The Goldfield Hotel.
Why here? The hotel is one of the few original structures to survive the fire of 1923. It's also said to be extremely haunted. (It's been featured in several really creepy episodes of Ghost Adventures). Luckily for me, this building is closed, boarded up, and off limits to the public. All we could do is snap a picture from the outside. My husband was disappointed. I wasn't sad to see it disappear in the rearview mirror.
