Unlocking the Atmospheric Secrets of the
Marfa Mystery Lights
West Texas: It is the land where pioneer legends and fantastic tales of the Wild West were created under cloud-studded skies and deep-black nights. Here, where the brightness of the stars remain undimmed by civilization’s lights, it seems only natural that a mystery surrounding the vast emptiness of this impressive country should crop up.
Planning a cross-country road trip a while back, my eyes lingered on the emptiness of West Texas on my roadmap: the Chihuahuan Desert, the widely-spaced and oddly named frontier towns, the lack of freeways. A few days later, with more than 1,000 miles of 4-lane highway in my rearview mirror, I broke free of the Interstate network at Van Horn, Texas, and headed south on U.S. 90, intending to skirt the United States/Mexico border before merging back onto the Interstate grid. As the shadow of dusk swept across a mile-high, wind-raked plateau, I aimed for a town named Marfa, urged there by, more than anything, my gas gauge. From Marfa I’d continue my exploration of West Texas into the far reaches of the Big Bend region of the Rio Grande.
“You here for the lights?” A local rancher asked me as I topped off my tank a short while later, my bright white California license plate revealing me as an outsider.
“Huh?” I responded.
“The Mystery Lights. The Marfa Mystery Lights,” he said. “Supposed to guide aliens and extraterrestrials and all that to come to Earth,” he said with a smirk. “Right here, in Marfa! Gateway to Earth!”
“No. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff,” I responded.
“I don’t either,” he laughed. “You know what they really are?” he asked. I shrugged in response. “They’re car headlights! On Route 67, south of here, connecting Marfa with Mexico! Still pretty interesting to look at, though. And hey, you’re here just in time. Gettin’ dark! Head on down the highway, ‘bout 10 more miles. They got a viewing station on the right side of the road!”
“Right. Thanks.”
“Welcome to Texas,” the rancher continued, then, pausing, “welcome to Marfa, Texas!” I thanked him, bought some potato chips, and then split, immediately forgetting about the aliens and their purported navigational aids.
But those aliens jumped back into my thoughts not 10 minutes later as “their” lights popped into my field of vision. Miles to my south, out of the burgeoning darkness, a bluish-white flash snapped my attention and shifted it to thoughts of another world. I then glimpsed a sign from this world: MARFA’S MYSTERY LIGHTS VIEWING AREA, the block-lettered words announced as I blew past. I skidded my 1971 Volkswagen Bug to a halt at a small turnout just beyond the sign, then jumped into the cold January air. I stared intensely into the dark, squinting in an attempt to identify the source of the lights.
