The Blue Charley Chronicles: The Extra-Terrestrial Highway

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Nevada’s Highway 375, connecting Highways 6 & 93 in the southern half of the state, is known as “The Extra-Terrestrial Highway.” Indeed, you will see aliens on your travels here; real or imagined, it’s your perception.

The first half of the highway is pretty much like the highways on either end – sagebrush country, with mountains in the distance – layers of soft oranges, light greens, navy blues, and cool purples. There is a distinction however: the cows are free range.

The guide at the Tonopah Historic Mining Park had warned me about this, and when I half chuckled she said “No, I’m serious…watch out for the cows.”

When you are driving solo for long periods across desert landscape, your mind has to play games to stay alert. So I imagined alien spaceships descending from the heavens, beaming pools of light onto groups of cows before sucking them up to take them back to their planets.

About halfway through, you come to the first official outpost in the tiny town of Rachel: the Little A’le’Inn motel, bar, and restaurant. Outside, a crane is lifting a large metal spaceship next to the sign which includes an alien head and the moniker “EARTHLINGS WELCOME”.

The building, from a distance, assumes the same look as the surrounding ones: white, one story, blue trim. But this one also has an alien sculpture out front and a variety of art on the walls. Inside, it’s a cornucopia of souvenirs, kitsch, posters, books, and so much more alien-related. There’s also a sea of dollar bills hanging from the ceiling above the bar.

Some customers are dining, some are at the bar, some are surveying the souvenirs, and others are checking in. Clearly, the Inn has capitalized on the UFO theme and taken advantage of the fact that they’re located in really the only civilized area along the highway.

The Extra-Terrestrial Highway came about because of Area 51, a United States Air Force facility whose purpose is clothed in secrecy. Area 51 is believed by some to have harbored alien spacecraft or aliens, is tied to conspiracy theories, and may involve top secret aircraft testing.

I ordered the “Famous Alien Burger” because well, frankly, there wasn’t much to choose from. It arrives as a cheeseburger on a hoagie, basically, and there is nothing memorable about the dish itself. But that’s okay, because there are no better options for miles and I can say I ate there – near where an alien peeks out a window, in a room which features a kind of wall of fame of UFO sightings, underneath a mass of dollar bills all decorated in permanent marker by patrons past.

When I check out, there’s only one waitress afoot. I try to start up a conversation. “Every day I can’t believe how many people come through here,” she says, adding that she’s never personally seen an alien, but knows people who say they did.

Twenty miles up the road, I stop at what appears to be a transient campsite. Upon closer examination, it includes a black mailbox with a picture of an alien on it, a mannequin head lying on its side, a pile of small rocks and litter, and a very weathered lawn chair.

Inside the mailbox are a bunch of letters from people addressed to aliens. Many are in a foreign language. A few people have left their photos. Someone contributed a dollar bill. The messages run the gamut of tone and purpose.

“Dear Aliens,” one reads, “Please erase my student debt 117K and everyone elses [sic] too.”

Another is in French but has one sentence in English, “Ready for abduction.”

Mary Stanton tells about her husband’s interest in UFO matters; he passed away four years ago but Mary invites the aliens to land in their garden and adds, “Maybe he is with you now.”

Audrey writes, “Don’t forget to come once in Belgium to taste our good beers (do you like beers? Every species must taste it once!).”

And there’s the more topical note from an L.A. resident, who states “Please abduct Donald Trump and put him in Uranus.”

Suddenly, I am getting almost weepy. I must leave a note for the aliens! Mine is a bit long-winded but it will do.

My final stop on the highway is the Alien Research Center. This appears to be a huge metal, curved barn. Standing tall and out front is a giant – and I do mean giant – sheet metal alien. Inside, there is an ordinary man – an older gentleman – who runs the place. You can’t really call it a “Research Center” – it is just a gift shop, though a memorable one at that.

The man has a red face and wispy gray hair. “I’ve lived here since ’68,” he says. When he was a teenager he’d hitchhike up Highway 93, and not see a car for up to 12 hours. “The cops would offer to arrest me so I’d have a warm place to stay.”

Is it hard being so far away from services? I asked.

“It’s a trade-off. Vegas has Popeye’s, Taco Bell, McDonald’s…I don’t want any of it. People that move here want to put in stoplights. There’s not a stoplight in the county, not even one.”

The center has not been open the entire time since its inception or with regularity until recently. “It was desolate,” he says, “but now there’s thousands of people that go through it.”

Soon after this experience, I joined up with Highway 93. At that junction there is a place selling “E.T. Fresh Jerky” with a beautiful mural on the outside. I didn’t have time to stop in, but if I were a fan of jerky I would have anyway.

The Extra-Terrestrial Highway adds a lot of fun to what would otherwise be a rather droll drive through the Nevada desert. If you have even the tiniest interest in UFOs, aliens, or pop culture, you won’t be disappointed. Indeed, they are waiting for you...