the number 123 and the Laughlin UFO conference

A page from my notebook, complete with tiny cartoon of exit 123, and four cats. I wrote this down the morning after the event. Double click on the image for a HI-rez view.

Here are a few more curious anecdotes from the 2010 Laughlin conference. Both involve the number 123, something that I’ve been seeing a lot lately.

We drove from Sedona to the ugly casino on the night of February 20th. In the car with me was Natascha and Joseph Mark. We went north to Flagstaff, and then headed west, and the driving was sort of miserable because it was snowing sideways, and interstate 40 was a parade of huge trucks.

Exit 123 near the Nevada Arizona border.

As we got closer to the Nevada border, the weather eased up, and Joseph asked for a bathroom break, so I said I would pull off at the next exit. Well, the next exit was marked 123. We pulled into the lonely gas station, and there was a car parked next to us and Natascha noticed it first, but there were four cats in the car! For some reason, this struck me as so funny. The window was down just enough that I could put my hand in and pet them. We never saw the driver of the car, but there was a guy with a U-Haul truck who said that it was his wife’s car, and he didn’t seem at all bothered that I would stick my hand in her car.

Nothing beyond that - I just thought it was funny. (I’ll add that Natascha doesn’t think this story is nearly as funny as I do)
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Laughlin and the number 123

The Aquarius Casino on the dreary strip in Laughlin Nevada

Natascha and I shared a hotel room in the tacky Casino for the 2010 Laughlin UFO conference.

Here's one more weird story; in the middle of the night we were both jolted awake by a very loud pounding on the door. The way I remember it, it sounded like a big strong guy hit the door twice, as hard as he could. I was instantly awake and my heart was pounding.

My instantaneous thought was: IT'S THEM!

I rolled over and looked at the clock, and it was 1:23 AM. Let me add that I before rolling over that I knew what time it would be. I never got up to answer the door, I felt like I knew there was nobody there. I’ll also add that this hotel wasn’t filled with rowdy kids, in fact, we were in a section that didn’t allow children at all. And the clientele in Laughlin is mostly senior citizens. No good explanation about why anyone would pound on our door like that.

Okay, now let’s jump to the next morning.

I was in line at the Starbucks in the lobby, and right in front of me was Paola Harris, she saw me and said, “This is so weird, but Natascha was in my hotel room last night.”

I didn’t know what she meant, and I asked her to tell me more.

She explained that she was woken out of a sound sleep (she didn’t say what time) and she heard someone with a German accent say: “Paola!” Right away, she knew it was Natascha, who she had met previously in Barcelona. We both knew full well that Natascha wasn’t in her room, but it was an odd way to start the day.

Also, I heard from a few other people at the conference had subtle (but odd) experiences that same night.

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Mac Tonnies on Dreamland

I had the chance to praise Mac for almost an hour with Whitley Strieber, I was interviewed for his podcast DREAMLAND. I was deeply honored to talk about my friend and his amazing insights, the time was simply too short, there was a lot more I was eager to share.

This show is now on-line.

You can listen for free by clicking on the LISTEN NOW Dreamland icon in the upper right corner of the UNKNOWN-COUNTRY homepage.

We spoke about Mac's book, The Cryptoterrestrials, and how Whitley's own insights with the UFO phenomenon dovetailed closely with Mac's. It was sad to know that they never had the chance to share their ideas.

See this previous post (and it's curious synchronicity) for more info.

another street light event

During the time together in the Four Corners area in May, Natascha and I had an extremely intense conversation at a restaurant. We were both left kind of confused and overwhelmed by the magnitude of what we had talked about. After leaving the restaurant we were walking back to our Motel thru the quiet streets of Moab at night.

I remember saying something like: "Oh God, this is SO weird. Are we on the right path with all of this?"

And - right at that exact instant - the street light above us blinked off.

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sweat lodge and a curious scratch

Sketch book image of the very humble sweat lodge in Arizona. A simple structure made from arching re-bar, old blankets and canvas. In the foreground is a fire pit with collection of VERY hot rocks. Double click on the image for a hi-rez view.

part ONE of this story HERE

After the intensely scary events in the tent (story posted below) in Delores Colorado, Natascha and I were basically stuck in the four corners area with my Subaru in the shop. We had a rent-a-car and a few days of time. We went to the groovy coffee shop in Cortez and we used skype to contact Miriam Delicado and we asked her what we should do. She told us we needed to do a sweat lodge with a Navajo Shaman named Howard. So we drove to south west to Canyon De Chelly in Arizona.

Canyon De Chelly is on of the most beautiful and magical places on earth, and it’s all on Navajo land, so to enter into the bottom of the canyon requires a guide. We spent the day with wet feet in the cold muddy river with a wonderful guide named Francine. Afterwards we went to the Spider Rock Campground, a ramshackle establishment run by Howard. We were all set up to have the sweat the next morning, along with a few other folk at the campground.

Natascha, Howard and me (with a cat) early in the morning at the Canyon De Chelly Spider Rock campground.

I was curiously unaware of what I was getting myself into, it felt like I was proceeding without intention. It was more like I was being pulled toward the sweat lodge, rather than actively seeking it.

At some point that day I took my shirt off and I found a curious scratch that ran roughly from above my belly button up toward my left shoulder. (see sketch to the left) I had been in the tent in Delores Colorado that morning, and this would have been the first time I took my shirt off since the scary events the previous night.

Scratch isn’t quite the right term, if you looked at it closely it was actually some sort of rash. It wasn’t an abrasion, instead it was a bumpy length of tiny blisters in a long straight line. These were long rows of little bubbles of yellowish fluid right at the surface of my skin, each little blister was smaller than a grain of rice. It was weird, and I've never seen anything like it (on me or anyone else).

I’m color blind, and even I could see the thin red line. It looked like some allergic reaction, like someone took a pen full of poison ivy ink and drew a straight line on my chest.

It didn’t itch or feel bad, but it was certainly curious. It healed up slowly and cleanly over the next few weeks.

Did this red line happen the previous night in the tent in Delores? Was is associated with those terrifying memories? At the time both Natascha and I asked the same thing, and we we quick to dismiss those thoughts. It might have come from some desert cactus, but I did not do anything the previous few days with my shirt off. I have no memory of getting scratched by any plant, like a poison oak (a common tree in that area).

Now, over a month later I’m left questioning how I got that weird scratch and I don’t have an answer. Could it have happened that creepy night in Delores? Why didn’t I think to take a photo?

When I entered the lodge I wore a bathing suit, and my bare chest displayed that long red scratch. There were eight of us in the dark cramped shelter, with a pit in the center for the very hot rocks.

Howard lead a really impressive ceremony. It was mystical and playful all at the same time. I felt rooted in my own world, and simultaneously connected with something beautiful and ancient. The overriding theme was to surrender to the heat.

There were four separate sessions within the dark little lodge, each one getting progressively hotter. The final session was berserkly hot, and everyone inside was forced to lie down so as to breathe the cooler air near the dirt floor.

The whole thing lasted a few hours, and when it was over everyone was fatigued and quiet. I spent the rest of that very pleasant day drinking water and napping. Natascha took a long walk with Howard’s little dog.

The next day Natascha and I said good-bye to Howard in the morning, and slept in Valley of the Gods (in Utah) that night. And that - is another interesting story.

Myself and Natascha smiling above the Gooseneck Canyons in the Colorado River in the Four Corners area of southern Utah.