The desert town claims some of the most frequent alien sightings in the world.
By Edmund Vallance from The Independent:
Outside The Red Planet Diner, in the high desert town of Sedona, the model of a flying saucer hovered at an awkward angle, its battered body forever anchored to the asphalt. Scanning the restaurant floor, I found a table with a view of the towering red mountains beyond the car park – a backdrop worthy of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Joining me for dinner that evening was Melinda Leslie, manager of the nearby Centre For The New Age. I had signed up for Melinda’s UFO-spotting tour, which employs military goggles to scan the night sky. As our food arrived, she recounted a few of her otherworldly experiences.
“My first abduction was in San Bernardino, California, in 1993,” she said, very matter of factly.
“We were taken into a low-lit room and undressed, then put through a series of examinations. They took some eggs from me, then they attempted to extract sperm from my friend, Mike.” She paused to take a delicate bite of mashed potato. “Unfortunately, he had a vasectomy – so they had some trouble with that...”
Smiling weakly, I tried not to choke on my Space Burger.
Outside The Red Planet Diner, in the high desert town of Sedona, the model of a flying saucer hovered at an awkward angle, its battered body forever anchored to the asphalt. Scanning the restaurant floor, I found a table with a view of the towering red mountains beyond the car park – a backdrop worthy of 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Joining me for dinner that evening was Melinda Leslie, manager of the nearby Centre For The New Age. I had signed up for Melinda’s UFO-spotting tour, which employs military goggles to scan the night sky. As our food arrived, she recounted a few of her otherworldly experiences.
“My first abduction was in San Bernardino, California, in 1993,” she said, very matter of factly.
“We were taken into a low-lit room and undressed, then put through a series of examinations. They took some eggs from me, then they attempted to extract sperm from my friend, Mike.” She paused to take a delicate bite of mashed potato. “Unfortunately, he had a vasectomy – so they had some trouble with that...”
Smiling weakly, I tried not to choke on my Space Burger.
I had been in Sedona for less than an hour, and already I felt like a peripheral character in a 1950s B-movie. Looking up from my plate, Melinda’s face was framed in a lurid, scarlet sunset, the mountains behind her glowing with alien light.
I had come to Arizona hopeful, fearful and skeptical in roughly equal measure. If I was going to have a close encounter with a flying saucer – or a sperm-hungry extraterrestrial for that matter – I had certainly come to the right place. Sedona is 4,500 meters above sea level, with some of the clearest night skies in North America. Here, shamanic healings, psychic readings and past life regressions are commonplace. Alien abduction seemed only a hop and a skip away.
But tonight was not my lucky night. “Those clouds don’t look good,” said Melinda, pointing out of the window. “I think we’re going to have to postpone our tour until tomorrow.”
The following morning, the sky was clear, and the evening forecast looked promising. Feeling encouraged, I headed towards Spaceship Rock, a saucer-shaped outcrop about an hour’s hike from the Bell Rock trailhead. At close range, Sedona’s mountains are curiously intimidating. As I squinted up at Bell Rock rising from the dust like an angry, crimson dinosaur, my mouth became suddenly very dry. What if strange beings really did use this high elevation as some sort of light-speed playground? What if all my preconceptions were about to be obliterated, like a planet in the path of an alien death ray? In 1997, the former-governor of Arizona, Fife Symington, admitted to observing “an enormous and inexplicable” craft. Many ridiculed him, but he was adamant: the ship was metallic, with “a constant shape” and “a geometric outline”.
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