I’m boondocking today, comfortably slouching in my camp chair on the warm side of my Dodge van, protected from a chilly northeast wind.  The temperature is 48 degrees, the sky, a cloudless blue canopy.  I’m camped one half mile west of Hatch Point Road, 30 miles southwest of Moab, Utah, at 5,975 feet above mean sea level.   The snow-covered LaSalle Mountains are low on the northeast horizon in sharp contrast to the sapphire sky.  I’m parked near the rim of an unnamed canyon, a tributary of Lockhart, sharply descending and widening to the northwest, ultimately merging with the Colorado River.   My site is on a northeast dipping upland surface draped in scattered juniper and pinyon pine, desert shrubs, crusty biogenic soils, gramma grass, and invasive Russian thistle, an artifact of over grazing.  With binoculars I see mountain bluebirds, an unidentified flycatcher, maybe a western kingbird, and flocks of sparrows.  Antelope are grazing east of the county road. 

My description is sensory reality, except for my comment about Russian thistle, which is an interpretation, a valid one based on research conducted on the damage overgrazing does to soils and ecosystems.  The overabundance of mummified cow pies near me supports my theory.  I’m mulling over these things when I notice yet another fact about my current location.  I hear and then see a jet plane high above, dragging a long condensation trail, its distant roar lagging well behind.  That’s what happens at nearly the speed of sound.  That’s also reality. 

Webster defines reality as a real event, an entity, or state of affairs based on sensory perceptions.  As an example, it says that Reality TV is programming that features actual (real) events for entertainment.  Hmmmm.  The Urban Dictionary says that alternate realities result when humans believe that reality is different from what data in the real world tells them.  The contrail reminds me of Norah and Noah, or was it Liam and Emma?

I can’t recall their real names, but they were in their early- to mid-40s, well spoken, outgoing.  They told me they were from New York City, but I already considered that based on their accents.  We stopped to chat on the trail.  The early evening was calm and cool, a magic moment when the sun drops to the western horizon and the fading colors of the eastern mountains are first bright orange, then pink and maroon and finally dull gray.  Noah and Emma were artists.  They had recently rented a commercial building in downtown Carrizozo to escape urban America and create art.  We were at Valley of Fires BLM Recreation Site in central-eastern New Mexico, a volcanic enclave protecting a 5,000-year-old eruption, a 30-square-mile impenetrable lava field of irregular shapes, millennial contortions frozen in time, a spectacular setting offering breathtaking views in every direction.  Nearby Carrizozo (population 760) is a memorable hamlet, a place where one has the feeling of remoteness, the middle of nowhere, a home to eclectic artists, misfits, a few retirees, some non-conformists, cowboys, and miscellaneous Ne’er-do-wells. The ramshackle downtown is only two blocks long.  It’s a popular venue for filming Hollywood movies with post-apocalyptic themes.  It’s also the county seat of Lincoln County, the former home of Billy the Kid and the Lincoln County wars of the 1880s when violence-prone ranchers fought over who received the government contract to feed nearby Fort Stanton.

Our conversation was animated, a free exchange of information about a variety of subjects.  They were good schmoozers.  When I identified myself as a geologist, Noah immediately mentioned contrails. They presumed that since I was a science guy, I must be an expert on atmospheric physics.  Noah asked if I thought contrails were part of a secret government plot to control our minds by releasing psycho-chemicals into the atmosphere using jet engines.  I managed to keep a straight face and remained silent for a few seconds while I thought of an answer that wouldn’t insult my new acquaintances.  I responded with something like: “Well, I doubt that very much.  Conspiracies of that magnitude would be extremely hard to keep secret.  Someone would ultimately spill the beans.  They’d never get away with that in a country with a free investigative press.”  I added that contrails are nothing more than water vapor from jet engines condensing to form clouds of ice crystals in very low temperatures.  Of course, I didn’t mention General Bat Guano and the fluoride conspiracy theory about drinking water in the Peter Sellers movie, Dr. Strangelove, but I considered it.  Later, I just couldn’t get Noah and Olivia (or was Liam and Emma) out of my mind.  I decided to do some research on conspiracies and conspiracy theories.

According to Wikipedia, a conspiracy is a secret plan or plot between two or more people to perpetrate a harmful or unlawful act, especially with a political or authoritarian motive for power and control.  Public awareness must be minimized.  Secrecy is critical.  Conspiracies are rampant throughout human history.  In 44 BCE, 60 Roman senators including Marcus Junius Brutus conspired to assassinate Julius Caesar because of his authoritarian behavior.  Caesar became increasingly monarchical, and senators who opposed him were fearful of his conduct and murdered him.  On the eve of the invasion of Poland in late August 1939, the Nazis planned and executed a series of events to give the impression that Poland was planning immediate aggression against Germany.  In one instance, German troops, disguised as Polish military, attacked German customs border posts.  Operation Himmler, as it is known by some, also staged false flag attacks on innocent German concentration camp prisoners to conduct a propaganda operation against the Poles.  This was the beginning of World War II. 

Sooner or later, most conspiracies are exposed and scandals result, like the Black Sox scandal of 1919 when the Chicago White Sox fixed the World Series for money, or the Watergate Scandal when operatives working for Richard Nixon broke into the offices of the Democratic National Committee but were caught, or even the Snow White scandal involving the Church of Scientology coverup to destroy government documents about the church.  The list goes on.

A conspiracy theory is an explanation for an event or situation that invokes a conspiracy when in actuality, other explanations are far more likely.  Conspiracy theorists share many (but maybe not all of these) beliefs:  distrust, low levels of analytical thinking, circular reasoning, paranoia, narcissism, powerlessness, social isolation, grandiosity, competition, antagonism, anxiety, anger, and insecurity.  Many psychologists believe these tendencies are wired into human brains and are evolutionary in nature, yet another phenomena of natural selection, just a part of our tribal nature.  Heavy stuff.  Conspiracy theories cover a wide range of subjects: unexplained deaths, death on a massive scale, polarized social and/or political views, or a history of lying or avoiding the truth by the government or military.  The bottom line is that conspiracy theorists believe information that coincides with their fundamental beliefs, regardless of reality.  Often, the theories originate with or are promoted by individuals seeking power or control over others.  Baseless or erroneous views become a matter of faith.  The World becomes black and white.  Unfortunately, conspiracies and conspiracy theories have been linked to wars, genocide, propaganda, prejudice, social upheaval, and general outlandish behavior.  Modern social media spreads these lies exponentially, and they flourish when like minds come together in a supportive culture of reinforcement, resulting in hyper-nationalism, religious fundamentalism, and authoritarianism.  Conspiracy theories are not limited to the far right of the political spectrum.  The far left uses collusion to promote violence in support environmental and political extremism.  Fringe beliefs run across a spectrum of weirdness. 

I’m a scientist trained in the real world of critical thinking where hypotheses are used to create theories that are continually tested.  Scientists gather information by reading the literature, working in the field, and using laboratory and analytical tools to test their theories in order to objectively solve problems.  With that said, everyone has preconceived notions and opinions and may not use critical thinking skills in their personal lives outside the office.  The world is full of symbols.  Humans have preconceived notions based on personal prejudices and beliefs.  We create symbols to support our belief systems of national identify, religion, politics, and culture.  Beliefs can fabricate environments ripe for alternate realities.  Years ago, I worked with a colleague, a PhD-level scientist, a devout Catholic who told me that homosexuality was an acquired condition based on misguided beliefs and actions, an environmental malady.  I was floored, especially because this individual wrote a doctoral dissertation on the evolutionary development of microfossils through geologic time, a work based on natural selection and the biologic basis of life.  His religious beliefs leaked into his scientific thinking.  He became irrational. 

Christians say they are not conspiracists and use their faith for good intentions, but their belief system still requires a suspension of reason.  Seemingly, there is no nefarious intent in their thinking, no malice, but their beliefs are often riddled with violence.  Christianity brings attention to the concept of evil, apocalyptic cleansing, the Day of Judgement, biblical themes of spiritual warfare, and eternal damnation.  Leaders of fringe religious denominations may have other agendas, like power and control to introduce fear or devotion in their supplicants.  Fringe beliefs take on a life of their own and become matters of faith.  It’s hard for humans to accept the idea that we may live in a cold, impersonal Universe where humanity is insignificant.  My view is not based on fact either, but is simply my perception of the real world of physical laws and science.  Alternatively, religious beliefs can be a buffer against conspiratorial thinking by invoking a belief in God, a power that can be trusted.  But can the church leaders be trusted? I’ve often thought about attending the Council of Nicea in the year 325, as a fly on the wall listening to the arguments of a congregation of old white men deciding whether or not Jesus was truly God, nearly 300 years after the death of the historical Jesus.   

In a recent the New York Times essay, Adrian Rivera subdivided humans into two end member camps when tragedy strikes, maybe a pandemic, war, anything that causes group pain.  On one end are the conspiracists who create stories about events that may have nothing to do with reality.  The stories may make them feel better about the world.  On the other end of the spectrum, reformists analyze data and create real scenarios based on available information.  According to Rivera, “We humans need narratives to process what happens around us or in the world at large”.  The Israeli historian and philosopher, Yuval Noah Harari has also said: “The truly unique trait of Sapiens is our ability to create and believe fiction. All other animals use their sensory communication system to describe reality. We use our communication system to create alternative realities”.  As Harari recently said in an interview, “If it’s true that the story in which you believe shapes the society that you create”, then reformists, with their efforts to eliminate systemic malfunctions [in society], are working toward a better world, or at the very least, a more safe and just one”.  Rivera rationalizes conspiracist behaviors as a fictional narrative, part of the human condition, a world they feel comfortable with.

A complete list of current and historical conspiracy theories is a long one and far beyond the purpose of my musings here.  They cross political and cultural boundaries, all age groups, and social-political viewpoints.  The list covers a large range of subjects in society that have the potential for intellectual conflict: travel, death, economics, ethnicity and race, religion, extraterrestrials and UFO’s, politics, science and medicine, espionage and national security, and much more.  A short list of subjects includes Pam Am flight 103, chemtrails, JFK assassination, The New World Order, Denver International Airport, George Soros, antisemitism, Antichrist, The Bible, white and black genocide, Roswell UFOs, Covid-19, water fluoridation, vaccinations, moon landing, climate change, AIDS, child trafficking, and pop culture.

I’m on the road again.  I was birding in southern Oregon, trying to follow the spring water fowl migrations at some wildlife refuges.  My route takes me through south-central Nevada on the Extraterrestrial Highway, Nevada route 375.  Except for a few large ranches far from the roadway, there’s nothing but arid mountains and scrub desert between Warm Springs (ghost town site) and Ash Springs 100 miles away, a route through the Middle of Nowhere with names like Queen and Hancock summits, and Reveille and Railroad valleys.  It’s smart to check your gas gauge before driving the route.  I love the lonely highway and always stop at Rachel (population 54), the only settlement along the route.

The highway earned its nickname because it skirts the Nevada Test and Training Range, home to Area 51, Yucca Mountain Nuclear Repository, Yucca Flat Nuclear Test Site, Nellis AFB, and the Astronaut Training Center.  Area 51 dates back to the mid-1950s when first created as a test site for secret experimental weapons systems and aircraft, including the Lockhead U-2 spy plane and later the A-12 Mach-3 reconnaissance aircraft.  It wasn’t even recognized as a base until 2013 when the CIA confirmed the fact after a freedom of information request.  Intense secrecy at the base makes it ripe for conspiracy theories involving the storage of a spacecraft from the Roswell Incident, meetings with extraterrestrials, weather control experimentation, time travel, and teleportation research. 

It’s a cool breezy afternoon in late April.  The high peaks of the Nellis Range have a smattering of snow from yesterday’s storm.  I leave route 375, turn onto Cedar Gate Road and drive west.  The road leads to the northern entrance of the Test and Training Range.  I’m on BLM land, part of the Great Basin physiographic province.  There are Indian petroglyphs, abandoned mines, deserted ranch houses and fascinating geology in a region that has experienced geologic upheaval, compression and later extension, a conflicting topography of basins and ranges.  I’m now 10 miles west of highway 375 and turn off Cedar Gate Road onto a dirt track.  I drive north and west for two very slow miles and stop.  Larks and sparrows flutter as the wind gusts.  Gently sloping bajadas merge onto a flat plain where Reveille Valley intersects Railroad valley.  More distant ranges peek above the valley floor.  A multistory basalt monolith protects me from strong north winds.  The 100-ft tall rock mass is severely weathered and dissected by eons of rain, snow and wind.  I step away from my van and decide to camp here for the night.  I walk toward a draw cut into the ridge and follow the steeply walled drainage, down into a narrow canyon, nearly a slot with walls of dark irregular rock, red-brown like hematite.  An abandoned owl nest with white phosphatized streaks of scat is lodged in an open crack high above me.  Faint rock art is etched into the weathered wall.  The only evidence of modern humans is a smashed beer can, a few strips of rusted barbed wire, and a plastic grocery bag blown in from Tonopah.  I continue for a few hundred feet.  The narrow canyon soon opens into the broad Reveille Valley and a panoramic view of the Grant Range far to the northeast.

It’s a 30-mile drive from my campsite to Rachel, just a short jaunt in Nevada lingo.  Considering the absence of traffic, I doubt potential campers will steal my site. There’s no one around, except for a lone pickup heading up the valley a mile away, a rancher no doubt checking his cows.  On my way to Cedar Gate Road, I pass a broken 60s utility van and an odd makeshift rocket sitting atop a dilapidated flatbed cargo trailer.  The missile-like contraption appears to be constructed from highway culvert piping, old barrels, some stove pipes, and a plethora of sheet metal.  Amazing.  I wonder who built the rocket-like contraption, and what was it used for?  When I reach Cedar Gate Road, I drive west to check out the entrance (Cedar Gate) to Nevada Test and Training Range, home of Area 51.  I already know what the sign at the locked gate will say: No Trespassing, Federal Property, Keep Out, Criminal Trespass, long prison sentences, etc.

I remember reading about the Area 51 Raid, a Facebook event in September, 2019.  On September 20^th, about 150 people showed up to take selfies at the gate just outside the perimeter, several coincident music festivals were organized, and memorabilia were hawked.  Military and law enforcement showed up, but there were few arrests, mostly for alcohol consumption, public urination, and indecent exposure. Matty Roberts, the organizer, later admitted that the event was a joke.  So much for a conspiracy theory. It became a conspiracy party.  Some of the party goers may have towed the makeshift rocket to Cedar Gate.

I turn around and head toward Rachel.  At the top of a rise 30 minutes later, I see it in the distance, and there isn’t much to it.  I pass a single vehicle on the drive there, an old pickup flat out, headed west into Nowhere, Nevada, maybe a cowboy heading to Tonopah or just some lost soul heading into the desert.  I think we were both going about 80.  That would have been one bad head on collision.  As I approach the hamlet, I see a sign, probably posting Rachel Pop 54, but it’s unintelligible because stickers are plastered on most of the surface, remnants of youthful visitors imbibing in local culture.  The town is only a half mile long.  There are numerous dilapidated buildings, some doublewide trailers but only two businesses: The Little A’Le’Inn and the Alien Cowpoke Gas and General Store.  I slowdown and then park in a large lot at the A’Le”Inn next to an old flatbed work truck with a cabled hoist sporting a steel reincarnation of a flying saucer.  

I open the front door and walk into to a large dining area and bar.  The place seems deserted, so I grab a stool and view the amazing décor: posters and sculptures of little green aliens, framed news clippings of alien sightings, a Tullamore Dew banner, rows of liquor bottles, photos of spy planes, racks of t-shirts sporting extraterrestrials, and most intriguingly, thousands of one dollar bills hanging from the ceiling and walls, interspersed with a few Asian and European notes.  There must be a fortune in cash stapled to the surfaces.  I ponder the consequences of a fire at the Little A’Le’Inn when the bartender, a friendly fiftyish woman, whom I assumed was the owner, greets me.  I snap out of my trance and order an Alien Amber Ale, while attempting to exhibit an air of nonchalance.  We chat while I glance at the menu, a short list of extraterrestrial delights.  I continue to gawk at the galactic trivia surrounding me while my host departs for the kitchen to prepare my earthly meal.  My thoughts focus on conspiracies that morph into entertaining pop-culture experiences in the Middle of Nowhere, Nevada.