Tonopah Station Hotel Casino Restaurant and RV Park ...

Creech and Nellis split up

One of the things first time visitors to the NTTR (Nellis Test and Training Range) is drive the loop around the range. You head north on I-15, head up 93, get gas in Alamo, hang a left on 318, visit the ET highway sign, then head down 375. Pretty much you visit the front gate, see the LittleAleInn, then you are done. But to appreciate the size of the NTTR, most continue north on 375 to 6. Detour east on 6 to annoy Basecamp, then west on 6 to Tonopah. Get gas and finally head south on 95. The last stop is Creech AFB.
Creech used to be Indian Springs Auxiliary Airfield, with the auxiliary meaning Nellis ran the place. The Thunderbirds practiced there. Not much else was happening. Then the Predator drone came along. If you hung out there long enough, you could catch a Predator in flight. The deal with Indian Springs is the adjacent controlled airspace. You could fly a drone without a chase plane. (If you hang out around the General Atomics test facilities, they fly Cessna chase aircraft with the drones.) At Indian Springs, you could smack a drone into the side of a mountain and nobody except the taxpayer would get upset.
Eventually drones became mainstream and Indian Springs became Creech. But there were no services. Worse yet, civilian infrastructure was right next to the base. The local casino started to serve Predator burgers, named after the drone, not road kill. Some photographer, OK me, was greeted by base security for photographing drones and shooting video of the Tbirds. Ultimately the base did a little eminent domain and stole all the civilian land adjacent to the base. Yeah the owners were paid but locals lost jobs.
Now we have this:
There is enough activity at Creech that they just can't justify the trip to Nellis for base services. When Creech looks for bids on, we will know the divorce is complete.
submitted by therealgariac to area51 [link] [comments]

Writing a story that takes place in the desert-Any interesting/weird places in the U.S. to visit for inspiration?

Burnt out from job and need to do something new. Always been interested in the desert. Mojave Phone booth, Area 51, ghost towns, Route 66, etc.
submitted by backmost to travel [link] [comments]


I'll preface this by apologizing for the length. My grandson recommended that I post my story here. He said that the people here would like it.
I was an investigator for the Las Vegas division of the FBI for nearly 27 years. I worked on kidnappings, bank robberies, fugitive tracking, murders, casino rackets – you name it, Special Agent Paul Laramie handled it. If my parents were still alive they'd look on all my accomplishments with pride, giving me his trademark crooked smile. Paul Laramie, son of rugged David and little ol' Margaret, an eff-bee-eye agent. To their credit they did their fair share of bragging on me before they passed, and I told them stories that they could share with the doctors whenever I visited.
But there's one case I never told them about, and to this day I still don't know if I made the right choice in doing that.
To get the full picture it's important to know some background.
I was born in Goldfield, Nevada in 1949. Goldfield was, and still is, just one of three communities surviving in Esmerelda County, and enjoys minor fame for being the residence of Wyatt and Virgil Earp for a short time. Esmeralda is mostly comprised of ghost towns that became that way after the mining boom of the early 20th century died out. The gold disappeared, and so did most of the inhabitants. The leftover communities – Goldfield, Dyer, and Silver Peak - are somehow still standing.
I started elementary school in 1954, in a brand new building that was erected due to the weak foundation of the high school across the street, which had been used for all grades below 9th grade. The high schoolers were bussed to Tonopah every day. If it wasn't already evident enough, Goldfield was a small, small town even back then, so there wasn't much need for big schools.
The first friend I ever made in elementary school was Henry Clarkson, the son of a miner who hadn't yet accepted that the gold was dried up. We hit it off and became inseparable.
Back then children like us had to get creative for any entertainment. Children living in Nevada had to get doubly creative, since we were surrounded by dry desert for miles in every direction. But that didn't stop us from roaming around playing cowboy.
One day, when Henry and I were in the 2nd grade, were doing just that. We chased each other around, fingers curled into the shape of a gun, pow pow “Got you, Paul!” “No you didn't!”. We always argued who got to be Wyatt, and that day I was the famed gunslinger. We were playing in the hills behind my house, which was a twenty minute walk from the old mines. Somehow our shootout led us away from my house and into the mining camp, but we barely noticed, too busy riding on our imaginary horses.
Henry was the first to realize we were far from home. The mining operations in Goldfield had ceased years ago, so the camp was completely deserted, a fact that we took advantage of to go explore. Instead of the sounds of workers shouting and hauling wood or tools, the only thing we heard was the familiar whistle of the desert wind in our ears.
It wasn't terribly exciting around there. Nearly all of the equipment had been removed from the camp, and each building was cleared of almost everything, leaving only dust. In one building I shouted "ECHO!" at the ceiling, and giggled as my voice bounced around the empty space. Soon Henry and I lost interest in the camp and went looking for the nearby cave. We both knew about the ghost stories our classmates told about the dead miners who haunted the caves, so we wanted a look for ourselves.
The cave was in the back of the camp, somewhat hidden by one of the lodges that stood in front. Neither of us had a lantern or a flashlight, so we had to rely on the evening sun to guide us. Each step we took scraped against the ground, moving rocks and dirt. At one point it got cramped and Henry and I kept bumping into each other. Our laughs and jeers reverberated through the cave, crashing into our ears, scaring ourselves. We moved quietly after that. It only took a minute before and Henry and I soon reached a point where the sun wasn't doing us any good anymore, so we decided to leave. Looking back, though, I could swear that I saw the very faintest glow of orange light just around the corner.
That's when I heard a roar come from behind us.
It was a massive sound. It's hard to explain just how loud it was because not a whole lot of people have been inside a cave, so the closest thing I can think of is an explosion. But that's only similar to the deafening nature of the sound. What Henry and I heard was most definitely a roar. It was deep, guttural, gravelly, and absolutely terrifying. The echoes crashed all around us, and immediately we hauled ass out of there. We both thought we'd just woken up a dragon.
As we hurried through the cave the roar was joined by a scream so ear-piercing I thought my head was going to explode. It was high-pitched, a woman's cry for help. Both the screaming and roaring joined together in a cacophony of horrific proportions. I looked to my right and saw tears rushing from Henry's eyes. I didn't blame him - we were both scared out of our minds. The echoes were chasing us, biting at our heels. I thought we were done for. In our rush, Henry tripped and cut his cheek on a rock that jutted out from the wall. I quickly helped him back up.
The moment we stepped out into the light of day, the roar stopped. Instantly. Like if you were listening to music and pressed the off button on your speakers. But the scream kept going, unabated. It bled out into the desert sun and stayed in my mind for weeks to come. Henry and I ran and ran and ran, all the way back to my house. The twenty minute walk became a five minute sprint, even with our little legs.
Gasping for breath, both of us frantically told my mother what had happened. Neither Henry nor I had a reputation for crying wolf, but I didn't think she would buy a word of what we were saying. When we got to the screaming woman my mother went into action. She told me to stay here and instructed Henry to go to his house and find his dad. My mom used our telephone, one of those old rotary gadgets, to call the police. She asked them if they could get my dad back from town, too.
Two hours passed before a posse was gathered to go investigate - police and various men from the town. My dad was included as well. They thought that we probably had a run-in with a coyote or a bobcat, but I don't think they quite believed that. We rarely saw those animals in Goldfield. Regardless, everyone was armed with a gun and lantern and went to the cave. When my dad came back an hour later he said that what they found was nothing they had ever expected.
A man, tall and thin, had set himself up in the cave. From what the posse gathered he had been living in there for several weeks. That orange glow I thought I'd imagined turned out to be a fire he had made to cook food, mostly rabbits. The man was practically comatose – he spat nonsense at the men, who tried to talk him down. According to my dad the man looked like he hadn't slept in days. Further more, the walls of the cave were covered, floor to ceiling, in blood. It splashed in puddles, dripped from the stalactites that hung above. On the ground the name SOLOMON was written in crimson, right in the middle of a symbol that looked like a pentagram. There was a bloodied knife in the man's possession.
But there was no woman.
The posse searched deep into the recesses of the cave but didn't find a body, human or animal, anywhere. The man didn't have any wounds on his own body, so the blood couldn't have come from himself. When the posse returned Henry and I were questioned again and we both stood our ground, saying that we definitely heard a woman's scream. The police grimly considered the possibility of cannibalism, but since there weren't any remains that were found during the search, they had to abandon that conclusion.
Henry and I were the talk of the class for the next couple weeks. I loved all the attention, but Henry wasn't as keen for it. He had a scar on his cheek from the fall in the cave, which all our classmates marveled at, but Henry was shy about. He would leave the group whenever I was asked to tell the story and became noticeably more quiet than before. But we stayed good friends and played regularly, so I didn't put too much thought to it.
From what I gathered from my dad, the crazy man was taken away to some mental institution far away, the cave was boarded up, and the mystery was never truly solved. There were so many unanswered questions that haunted the town sherif for several years afterward. But to me, the little town of Goldfield had a burst of excitement, and then everything went back to normal.
Until two months later, when Henry Clarkson vanished into thin air.
submitted by Paul_Laramie to nosleep [link] [comments]

Day 4-9 Roadtrip From Coast to Mountains to Desert

Days 1-3 can be found here:
So we left Crescent City and had to modify our plans a bit. Originally we had wanted to drive up the coast of Oregon and then cut across to Bend, OR. it was a bit too much to drive and considering the road conditions of Hwy 20 probably for the best.
Most of the roads in OR were okay for us - didn't need to chain up our tires in the Subaru Impreza. All in all our car did pretty good! We came along an accident on hwy 126 on the way to Hwy 20. Stopped to help dig a guy out of his flipped truck stuck in a snow bank. We had a shovel in the car for situations that would need us to dig out snow. Luckily he wasn't injured I think a little confused though.
Took forever to get over hwy 20 because someone was "snow scared" in an SUV... We were seriously only going 15mph. Finally the lady pulled out white knuckling her steering wheel and allowed us all to continue on at a better pace. Needless to say, we made it to the Bison Ranch.
Next day, we headed out to Mt. Bachelor for some dog sledding. Those dogs are super awesome. So happy and excited. The guide put together the dog sled team and we were off. I quickly learned that they poop on the run... It was thrilling - they can go pretty fast!
Hit up lunch at a local brewery in Sunriver. Had some local brews and some great food before we headed out to the Sunriver Stables for a one horse open sleigh along the Deschutes River. Peaceful... we saw a bit of wild life - some squirrels, woodpeckers, Herons and Canadian Geese. A nice way to wrap up an awesome winterfest of fun.
Following day we said our good byes to Oregon and headed back into California. Husband was glad to get back across the state line so he could pump his own gas. we had forgotten that in OR the attendant has to pump the gas. This annoyed him so much! I found it comical - I mean think about it, you don't have to leave your car to pump gas when it's snowy out! That said, we were STARVING by the time we got to Reno. We had decided not to eat in Kalmath Falls which is basically the last bit of civilization until you hit Reno... Everything you drive through is pretty much ghost town like... at least in the winter. But we did make it to Reno. And the casino's have plenty of food and drinks.
Got our room at Circus Circus. Top floor! Hit up the casino and drinks and food... plenty of fun to go around. Oh man we played those slots pretty much all day on New Year's eve. Got in a little Black Jack. Alas, we did not win the jackpot. But we did have the jackpot room on watching fireworks in comfort. Happy New Year!
Onwards to Tonopah... drove past Walker Lake... All the other small towns were the slow decline of nowhere's ville. Made it to the Clown Motel. It was really not that scary but then again I don't have a fear of clowns. It's old and out dated for sure, but it was clean. That smell of bleach mixed with that musty carpet smell... we left the door open for a while even though it was cold to try and air it out. No luck really. Uneventful... time to head home through Death Valley.
Headed home... Scotty's Castle Road is closed due to flash floods of October 2015. Went down through Beatty to enter the park. Had a great time driving through Furnace Creek Camp - took a hike through Golden Canyon to the Red Cathedral. Headed down to the Badwater Basin Salt Flats. Tasted the salt - because why not? Yup, it was salt. Headed south down Badwater Rd unknowing that the road closed at Jubilee pass to Shoshone due to the floods. Found a Cyote along the way which came right up to our car. People must have been feeding them. They should be afraid of humans. It was cute and I was grateful for the photo opportunity - but damn.
With the road closed, we had two options... Turn back and find another way out which would take us two hours at least out of the way... or a dirt road out of the park... Eh... what's a little wash boarding and deep sand.. and river crossing? Yup... that happened... Luckily it wasn't too much for us and we were able to make it out of Death Valley in one piece. The rest of the trip was traffic due to people returning from Vegas. We were back in civilization and made it home.
We did so much on this trip... Went through so many biomes. We faced different weather conditions and made it safely through while meeting so many nice people. Now to plan the next road trip...
submitted by Whisgo to roadtrip [link] [comments]

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Tonopah Station Hotel and Casino - Tonopah Hotels, Nevada ...

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