Alien Base: The Evidence for Extraterrestrial Colonization of Earth – A Pantomime of Unrealities – THE CRAFT
In a clearing beside the river, no more than 70 or 80 feet wide, stood the aircraft. Fully expecting it to be some type of conventional plane, Coe was astounded by what he saw.
A round silver disc, about 20 feet in diameter, was standing on three legs in the form of a tripod, without propeller, engine, wings or fuselage. As we approached, I noticed a number of small slots around the rim, and it sloped up to a rounded central dome. I had to duck to walk with him underneath, between the legs, although it was slightly concave and only about four and a half feet from the ground.
He said, ‘Surprised?’ That wasn’t actually the word for it, but I did not press him with questions, realizing he was suffering a great deal of pain. The only thing I was trying to figure was, how the hell does the damn thing fly? ‘I grabbed hold of him and he said, “Take me toward the centre of the craft.”
He reached into the end of one of three recessed panels in its bottom that fanned out centerwise from the base of each leg, pressed a button, and a door swung down with two ladder rungs moulded on its inner surface. I clasped my hands under his good foot and boosted him in. He peered down at me over the rim of the opening, and said, “I will never forget you for this day. Remember to keep your promise, and stand clear when I take off.”‘ Coe retraced his steps to just within the trees at the edge of the clearing and turned round to watch.
I was musing over its lack of windows or portholes and wondered how he could see out, unless they were on the other side. Just then, the perimeter edge began to revolve. At first it gave off a low whistling sound, picked up speed mounting to a high-pitched whine, finally going above the audible capabilities of the ear. At that time I experienced a throbbing sensation, which was felt rather than heard. It seemed to compress me within myself. As it lifted a few feet above the ground, it paused with a slight fluttering, the legs folded into the recesses as it swiftly rose with the effortless ease of thistledown caught in an updraft of air, and was gone.
Coe set off back towards camp in a state of bewilderment. ‘It all seemed like a pantomime of unrealities,’ he commented. ‘It was an episode lasting not much more than an hour that may have carried me a thousand years into the future, and yet left an uneasy feeling of witnessing something that did not actually exist, an impression of disconnected sequences only found in dreams.’
He ran back to hunt for the tackle-box, without success, but part of a blood- stained bandanna, the lever pole, its stump and branches were all still there. Coe and Rod prepared for their journey along the Mattawa River, the conditions of which turned out exactly as the stranger had indicated. Eventually, they joined the Ottawa River and spent the next two weeks enjoying their vacation in the wilderness.
One night, less than a day’s paddle from Ottawa, while Rod was inside the tent, Coe relaxed outside beside their camp fire. ‘My musing was interrupted as I caught a glint of silver over the tree-darkened outline of the hills across the river that disappeared for a few seconds, and then I was sure,’ said Coe. ‘Framed in a background of stars was my strange friend’s stranger plane. He hovered motionless, not more than 70 feet above me and just off the shoreline, then dipped from side to side in an unmistakable gesture of hello . . . I knew that it was his way of telling me he was well again, and I made a mental note, if ever I did meet him, to surely question [him] as to how he could know my exact location in the darkness of the night.’