When Peggy and I were planning our three-week foray into Nevada recently, we decided to include Area 51, that most secret of secret places.

And how secret is it, you ask?

Since we are talking about aliens, let me ask a probing question– or two. Do you believe that UFOs exist? Or even more to the point, have you ever seen one? Consider this: If they do exist and one actually crashed at Roswell, New Mexico, Area 51 is where the US Government would have it stored and tested. That’s how secret the facility is.

For decades, the government even refused to admit it existed. Top-secret clearance might get folks through the first gate, but not necessarily the second. Workers were flown in on Monday and flown home on Friday. They couldn’t tell anybody, not even their spouses, where they had been. No wonder the area became a legendary breeding ground for conspiracy theories about the government hiding things.The government was hiding things.

The U-2 spy plane was tested here, as was its more sophisticated sibling, the A-17, and almost every other secret airplane the US has developed since. When the US captured a Soviet Mig at the height of the Cold War, it was brought to Area 51 to check it capabilities. Top Gun pilots from the navy were brought in to fly against it. Think drones are new? The CIA was experimenting with them here in 1962. And I can’t begin to imagine what we don’t know about.

But what about UFOs, the mysterious flying saucers that seem to appear from time to time. There were several ‘sightings’ in Northern California and Southern Oregon earlier this year. Glowing objects flew across the sky in unison, stopped to hover, and then zipped off at lightning speed. Reports appeared on local TV shows. Flying saucer aficionados will swear they were the real things. Naysayers will argue vehemently that they weren’t. Neither Peggy nor I saw them. Darn.

I did see one once, however. Or at least I can’t think of what else it might have been. I was standing on my porch in Sacramento in 1969. A movement caught my attention and I looked up just in time to see a round, saucer-shaped, grey metallic object disappear into a cloud. As my jaw dropped and my rational mind shouted at me to toss the scotch, the object flew out the cloud in the opposite direction and accelerated away, disappearing in a matter of seconds.

Needless to say, I have been interested in UFOs ever since. Hundreds, if not thousands of other people have had similar experiences including both Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan– not to mention several astronauts.

Area 51 is a mecca for UFO enthusiasts. The big story is that the remains from Roswell are housed here. But frequent sightings of UFOs are also reported in the region. A government explanation is that the experimental planes being tested are what people see. It seems plausible. A plane flying at 60,000 feet while traveling over 2000 MPH is pretty UFO-ish. There have even been correlations made between when the test flights have been held and UFOs spotted.

A good conspiracy theorist will be quick to point out, however, that the correlations have been made for some, but not all of the sightings. She might also argue that when the flights are made is when you would expect to see UFOs. The little green men with big eyes are checking us out. The experimental flights represent some of the world’s top technology, the gateways to space… the final frontier. And do the little green men really want us out among the stars?

A possible reason for not is right next-door– where America carried out the majority of her nuclear bomb testing. Over 100 above ground tests and 800 underground tests were performed between 1951 and 1992 when President Clinton finally shut down the operation. It makes you want to travel through the area with a Geiger counter as well as your binoculars and a camera– the latter to capture UFOs and the former to check out how much radiation your body is absorbing.

And where do I stand on Area 51? Amused. Okay, and I confess curious. The region makes me want to break out theme music from the 1962 Twilight Zone TV series: neenar-neenar, neenar-neenar, and do a UFO dance. Hey it works for rain, right? Maybe I could attract a flying saucer.

I was in the Nevada town of Tonopah doing my research on Area 51 and the Extra Terrestrial Highway when I discovered the tiny community of Rachel and its sole motel: the Little A’le’Inn. Boy did I get excited. Rachel backs up to Area 51. We could stay at the A’le’Inn. I called and made reservations. The next morning, Peggy and I were up early and on the road.

Driving the back roads of Nevada is a lonely occupation. Thirty minutes or more can pass between meeting cars. I like it. We headed east out of Tonopah on Highway 6, passed by the Tonopah Test Range and climbed over Warm Springs Summit, which brought us to Highway 375, the Extraterrestrial Highway. The highway received its designation in 1996 when the Nevada Tourism Commission thought it might serve to draw tourists to this remote part of Nevada.

The ET designation definitely caught the attention of Twentieth Century Fox. The media giant used the highway’s renaming as a promotion for its movie, Independence Day, which revolves around an alien invasion of the world, features Area 51 prominently, and came out in 1996. It’s one of Peggy’s favorite movies, which means I see it a lot, every July Fourth to be exact.

Rachel is located about halfway along the 98-mile road. One sticker-covered sign outside of town proclaimed we were on the Extraterrestrial Highway. Another welcomed us to Rachel and announced that the community is made up of humans and possibly aliens. You can’t miss the A’le’Inn. A tow truck carrying a flying saucer is parked out front.

We walked into the bar/restaurant/motel office. It was crammed full of ET memorabilia and souvenirs. The ceiling of the bar was covered with dollar bills hanging down in rows. An older woman, looking a touch crusty, was perched on a bar stool while a younger woman stood behind the bar. I mentioned we had a reservation. “But do you have a name,” the bar stool occupant demanded. I gave it, our reservation was found in a card box, and the bartender/waitress was directed to show us to our room. She strolled across the restaurant, opened the back door and pointed to a blue and white trailer about 100 yards away.

“Oh, and by the way, you will be sharing the trailer and its bathroom with another family tonight.”

With some trepidation about who our ‘neighbors’ might be, we drove over to check out our accommodations and unpack. The neighbors weren’t there yet so we did a walk-through. An old style kitchen gave way to a living room with comfortable furniture,  bright red curtains and an old, non-working TV. Our small bedroom contained an even smaller bed. We’d have a cozy night. The joint bathroom was next. Two more bedrooms finished off the trailer. Apparently the kitchen and living room were also common property. We’d be one big happy family.

We had just unpacked when a car drove up to the back door. I soon heard keys rattling but apparently the lock didn’t want to cooperate. I walked over to the door and opened it, and met (drum roll please)… aliens. I kid you not. The Hibberts were from England. And they were delightful. Within 30 minutes we were sitting around the living room, drinking wine and swapping tales.

Roy travelled the world for the software giant Citrix. On his off time he travelled more but he also delivered medicine in Africa by motorcycle. Lynne was a Sister at a hospital in Bolton, where they lived near Liverpool. I was still getting my head around Lynne being a nun and having a family when she explained that Sisters in English hospitals are what we call nurses in the US. Apparently, she was a jack-of-all-trades, assisting in everything from open-heart surgery to baby delivery. You’d want to keep your operations straight. Their son, Ryan, was a student, presently studying Russian as he prepared for a road trip to Russia. He already spoke French.

“How did you choose this remote corner of the earth to visit?” Peggy asked with a leading question. Peggy’s good at leading questions; she’d make a great detective.

“It was the movie Paul,” Roy explained. “It was filmed here.” We looked blank. “You haven’t seen Paul?” he asked, his voice dripping in disbelief. The family jumped in to enlighten us.

We found the movie a few nights later when we were channel surfing on our TV at the Hilton Grand in Las Vegas. I would describe Paul as an R-rated ET. He’s got the same look, but his language is a lot more colorful than “ET call home.” Besides being peppered with swear words and probing jokes, the movie pokes fun at religion and has references to numerous sci-fi movies ranging from Star Wars, to Men in Black, to Close Encounters. Sci-fi movie buffs must love it. There is even a cameo voice appearance by Steven Spielberg. Peggy and I found the movie quite funny, but we do recommend reviewing it before sharing with children.

Our discussion with the Hibberts continued over dinner at the restaurant. A movie poster signed by Paul and the cast of the film overlooked out table. We learned from our waitress that the movie wasn’t actually filmed on location, much to the dismay of the motel’s owners. A replica of the A’le’Inn was recreated in New Mexico. Roy was even more dismayed. He’d come a long ways to see the original setting.

We parted from our new friends the next morning. They were headed back to Las Vegas (via Santa Barbara) and we were headed out to the back gate of Area 51. Fortunately, the A’le’Inn had a 25-cent map. There are no marked roads. In fact our GPS didn’t show a road. It did show, however, that we were rapidly approaching somewhere we definitely shouldn’t be. In case there was any doubt, numerous signs at the gate made it abundantly clear: Keep Out. Having satisfied our curiosity we took a few photos and headed back for the Extraterrestrial Highway. We had a final stop to make: the Black Mailbox.

The Black Mailbox is the only sign you will find marking the front entrance to Area 51. Flying saucer fans claim it is one of the best places in America to see UFOs. They gather around it at night and scan the skies. Actually, the mailbox belongs to a local rancher and is now painted white; or it is if you can see through the graffiti and stickers.

We were taking photos of the mailbox when a car screeched to a stop across the highway and a guy jumped out. He dashed into the desert. My first thought was, wow, that guy really has to go. But he ran back to his car, jumped in and took off like a hundred mad aliens were on his tail. “What the heck?” we wondered. And then it struck me. He was involved in the sport of geocaching where you find hidden treasures along the road. Apparently it is quite popular on the Extraterrestrial Highway. I took a picture of the area. It was time to leave the lonely desert and head for the bright lights of Las Vegas, where many more treasures are lost than found. But back to my original questions: 1) Do you believe in flying saucers? 2) Have you ever seen one?