Tuesday, July 14, 2015

ESE on the Road, pt 3








Those aren't windows. Those are fucking rocks."

That statement from a man named Hoyt Velarde may very well encapsulate the true meaning of the mystery of Dulce. 

Bernard (Lee) and I (Capote) made our way into Dulce shortly before nine this morning (Mountain Time). We drove along an empty road in the middle of purple sage brush and intermittent oil derricks. Bernard tuned the radio to the one and only radio station in Dulce, KCIE. They play country. I'm talking polish your belt buckle, slant your Stetson country. I tolerate it.

The road winds past scenic overlooks and through sharp turns down the side of  a hill before placing us in Dulce. We come to the Wild Horse Casino where we will being staying for the next few days. Dogs wander wild through town. It saddens me. I am hoping these dogs have homes and families, but I also know that the philosophy of caring for such animals is different here. Dulce sits on the Jicarilla Apache reservation. I am a stranger in someone else's land. That fact must never leave my mind.

A construction pick up truck pulls under the awning of the casino, towing a trailer with a gigantic drainage culvert upon it. The driver goes into the casino and then gets back into the cab. As the truck makes a turn out of the awning, the trailer hits a decorative rock column and sends pieces clattering to the pavement.

Consternation ensues.

Hoyt Velarde arrives to meet us. He has had 30+ years of experience in law enforcement on the reservation. In talking with him, I begin to learn that he has pretty much seen it all. UFOs, Bigfoot, cattle mutilations, Hoyt is living witness to the paranormal potpourri that is Dulce.

Displaying uncommon graciousness, Hoyt devotes the full day to us, driving us around from location to location in the Dulce saga. A picturesque bluff allowed us a view of Archuleta Peak and Mt. Archuleta (two distinctly different locales as I hope to make clear with my book.) You could see lighter-colored, horizontal stripes in the strata of the mesa's side. Conspiracy theorists saw them and said they were windows of the base deep within the mountain, possibly hangar doors for the "lightships" many speak of 

That prompted Hoyt to make the comment I opened with.

The sheer amount of experiences Hoyt shared with us could fill volumes. Far more than I can relate in this post. Hell, it's going to be tough to edit it down for the book. Suffice to say, I retain my ardent skepticism as to any "base" in Dulce, but I've since grown more convinced strange things are happening.

Not scowling, just squinting.




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