versing after Mass, the men uniformlyrnshaded by their wide straw hats.rnAbandoning the search for a way up tornthe Robledos, I returned to town andrndrove out on Highway 70 toward San AugustinrnPass, in the Organ Mountains.rnEast of the pass the country changes dramaticallyrnwith the wide valley stretchingrnnorth and south between the Organsrnand the Sacramento Mountains. Therngreater part of the valley is occupied byrnthe White Sands Missile Range, closedrnaway from the public behind lockedrngates posted with signs reading AVISO,rnWARNING, NO PHOTOGRAPHSrn(the self-importance, combined with thernparanoia, of the United States government).rnWhen viewed from the east thernOrgans appear almost as a differentrnrange, curving concavely away from therngreen valley heavily shadowed this afternoonrnby storm clouds lifting above thernSacramentos. The Trinity Site, open tornthe public, lies at the north end of thernmissile range; eastward, beyond thernmountains, is the city of Roswell, currentlyrncelebrating a half-century of notoriety.rnWhat happened in Roswell 50rnyears ago—what actually was discoveredrnthere—is more of a mystery than sophisticatedrnpeople wish to think. Strangernthings have been seen in New Mexico,rnand continue to be seen. Returningrnfrom Albuquerque to Belen some yearsrnago, Jim Rauen observed an unfamiliarrncontrail across the midafternoon sky: arnsingle vapor trail interrupted at intervalsrnby a sequence of spaces occupied by arnpair of vapor dots set side by side. He laterrndescribed what he had seen to an engineerrnof his acquaintance, who explainedrnthat the trail could have beenrnFor Immediate ServicernCHRONICLESrnNEW SUBSCRIBERSrnTOLL-FREE NUMBERrn1-800-877-5459rnproduced only by a pulse engine. Jimrnwas satisfied, until the man added thatrnthe pulse engine, existing only theoretically,rnhad not been built yet. On anotherrnoccasion Jim’s sister Betty, visitingrnfrom Chicago, was setting up her telescopernon the portal when she and herrnbrother both saw a collection of lightsrnabove the Manzano Mountains, like starsrndoing a kind of celestial jig. The lightsrnmoved vertically and horizontally, uprnand down, backwards and sideways—alwaysrnat terrific speed and with impossiblernchanges of direction—until, drawingrntogether suddenly, they all at once shotrnaway toward the southwest, followed fivernminutes later by a flight of fighter planesrnfrom the Air Force Base in Albuquerquernin hot pursuit. On his way out of thernbosque along the Rio Grande, carryingrnhis gun and the birds he had shotrnthat evening, a goose hunter from LosrnChavez observed the same lights. Morernrecently, a neighbor of Jim’s living onrnTierra Grande and two friends werernamazed to see a strange triangular craftrnpass overhead, so low—it seemed tornthem—that they watched breathless,rnexpecting the plane to crash into thernmountainside. Instead, it cleared thern10,000-foot summit easily and vanishedrnfrom sight, causing them to revise theirrninitial estimate of the craft’s size, whichrnmust have been colossal. What does thernfederal government know? AVISO.rnI recrossed the pass to the little townrnof Organ where I found a dirt road andrnfollowed as it skirted the mountains,rnheading south to Baylor Canyon. On thernother side of a low rise something layrnstretched on the gravel ahead. I stopped,rnand lifted a broom from the truck bed.rnThe snake was two feet long and dustylooking,rntorpid with the late afternoonrnheat. I prodded him delicately with thernbroom; he chose to ignore me. Takingrnup a handful of light pebbles I tossedrnthem underhand at him; he put hisrntongue out, but otherwise failed to react.rnI prodded harder with the broom andrnwas rewarded as the snake came alive allrnover, whipping sideways into a sinuousrnstriking position and sounding his dry,rnsmall, deadly buzz. DON’T TREADrnON ME. You have to admire a rattlesnake;rnhe has more gumption andrncourage than the average Americanrncitizen. He struck and struck again atrnthe broom until I felt a little guilty: arnmouthful of bristies is an unpleasant experiencernby anyone’s standard. The rattlerrndodged sideways and slid under therntruck, where he assumed a defensive posturernagainst the tire. Feeling like a boyrnwho has tied a tin can to a dog’s tail andrnrepented of it, I chased him from underrnthe tire between the wheels and watchedrnhim pile himself up in a circular pyramid,rnhis black tongue flicking, his poisonrnsacs bulging. I drove the truck ahead,rnand walked back for another look. Nowrnhe was coiled down inside himself, onlyrnthe tip of his snout pointing above thernthickness of the outer wrap. Assuredrnthat he would not be run over by thernnext passing vehicle I left him to relax,rnuncoil, and go in search of an earlyrnsupper.rnLeaving the truck canted in the borrowrnpit I walked off into the desert in therndirection of the mountains, climbing uprnthrough lush desert foliage until, lookingrnback, I could see the Rio Grande Trenchrnfar away and below and the city within it,rnspilling onto the mesa. I climbed slowly,rnadmiring the light on the mountains andrnwatching for snakes; preoccupied by thernrock, earth, and cactus that drew my attentionrnfrom the sky. Surprised by thunderrnI stopped climbing and faced aboutrnto the west and a bolus of cloud propellingrnitself upon the mountains, dazzlingrnwhite in its upper reaches—sharpedgedrnagainst the blue sky—and arnwrathful purple-black below, above thernslanting rain. The storm came on rapidly,rnboiling higher into the sky and spreadingrnfarther over the desert, and as I ran Irnheard a voice cry, “Lord, it is good for mernto be here!” I took cover between twornboulders, close set enough for protectionrnfrom the lightning but with space betweenrnthem to observe the onslaught.rnThe whirling dust advanced in a rushrnand was beaten down by the rain, thernwind shrieked and hissed, lightningrnglared in sheets across black chaos, thunderrncrashed, and water torrented in therngullies and arroyos.rnSoaked by the warm rain I kept myrnhead down and my back against the rockrnuntil the storm had passed behind thernmountain barrier, emerging after thernlightning ceased and the wind had diedrninto a transformed world of light andrnshadow, sky and cloud, penetrated byrninsubstantial rock spires and arced by arndouble rainbow. It seemed an inhnitelyrnhigh world, as if the mountains had beenrnrelocated, drawn up into another dimensionrnof existence, and I was hardly surprisedrnto discover, staring into the murkrnbelow, that neither the city nor the plainrnwas visible from here at all. crn50/CHRONICLESrnrnrn