Back in ’76 or ’77, when I was 7 or 8 years old, my dad took the whole family on a hunting and camping trip deep into the Uintah Mountains. It was the opening of deer season, and the weather was beautiful.

That night, while we were sitting around the campfire, one of my brothers said he needed to go to the outhouse. Because of the risk of mountain lions and other creatures, a group of us went with him. The outhouse was a short distance from camp, and the path to it went through a thicket of trees. It was located on top of a ridge overlooking a gully that stretched back around two miles or so.

My brother pointed out an area that was lit up about 1½ to 1¾ miles away. You could tell it was a building. There were two craft landed—one on a landing pad on top of the building and the other on a pad in front of it. Two more were hovering just above the area.

The craft were disc-shaped with multicolored lights flashing around the edges. My dad sent my brother and me back to camp to get his binoculars. When we returned, we all took turns watching. We saw humans in military uniforms and solid-colored jumpsuits—red and yellow—along with short greys, tall off-white beings, and reptilian aliens unloading and loading crates and boxes onto hovering carts with no wheels at all.

We figured the humans probably rotated in and out as well. Once the two landed craft were finished, they closed up by drawing in their ramps, rose above the area, and in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Then the two that had been hovering would land, and almost instantly, two more would be hovering above.

We watched this for a little over an hour. I remember my dad telling us not to say anything to anyone about it—ever. He said there would be consequences if we did.

After that, I started noticing ships that were always in the sky. We were living in the Weber County area in Ogden at the time.

I also witnessed some strange things out at Dugway Proving Ground when I was moving furniture for Jones Moving & Storage. One time, I caught a fruit moth there that barely fit inside a shoebox made for a size 12 pair of shoes—that’s huge for a fruit moth. I called it my “Dugway Mutation.”

You’d get the weirdest feelings being out there, especially when you had to spend extended time packing, loading, or delivering household goods on base. Most of the base is subterranean. There isn’t much above ground except housing and a few select buildings and hangars.