It isn’t often that my feelings on a subject are so right. I get by, I believe by luck or some helpful directive occasionally, you know a hunch.

The trip to Orrick spurred by some memories of a friend there and my misunderstanding of issues there earlier almost two decades ago became a bit of an obsession. Something I knew we had to do.

Lori and my trips have by no means slowed , and the chronological order of this adventure with those previous is, yes, a bit out of skew.

We have numerous photos from closer to home, so disturbing that they may have also been catalysts for this trip further away.

Maybe I thought I’d find my buddy again and Lori, he, and I would have dinner together and remember old times, but the storm which also brewed around Harrisonville was not empty. I was making a comment, as I took the first photo, that we were probably wasting our time with the weather as it was. I couldn’t have been more wrong. That first photo had an orb moving horizontally across the highway right over the signs . We would not know this until later. The size of this sphere, estimating it’s distance, was probably between 50 to 100 feet in diameter.

Once we arrived, the only old times to be had were the sight of the abandoned farm and the hillside across the street that was the base for many of my adventures with my friend there years ago, the mines. As it was in the past, what had been pretty much a louse operation, was now a clean tight business, with no trespassing signs and a well sculpted and manicured entry to the hillside.

The traffic was slim to none. Could we have walked up the trail, parking the car in a hidden spot ? Sure, but the ethics of what we’re doing, our previous claims to respect property, are important to us.

So there was no mine search, no survey of the plateau.

As it was we drove about in a storm that hung impotently over us like a beautiful, dark blue blanket of anger. We mapped out the town in the last dregs of daylight, after a sandwich, as well as the entries and exits.

We finally decided that doing a detailed run of O- highway was the right thing to do before leaving. This was the road running past the mine, heavily wooded on one side. What we found by the end of the evening is amazing, all the more, because again, it was not visible to the eye.

Surely by now we are firm believers in different forms of cloaking. It has forced a playback of each photo after its taking. I’m still amazed at the fact that digital photography, can somehow, catch these objects that are hidden from the human eye. On this trip, this was a small concern because, we believe they made a serious concerted effort to drive us away on two occasions.

Just as was recorded with the Flatwood Monster, we were subjected to a blast of fowl odor that reminded us of rotten eggs and sulfur. We also believe the other odor we smelled, strong and toxic again, was from the ship photographed. We even got a picture of what we believe was the releasing of one of these gasses next to Lori’s jeep.

The photo is odd because it shows a jet of air almost in the fashion of muzzle blast from an airgun. Only this opening had to be the size of a football. There is a reflection of light that runs along the rim of the hidden tube it is emitted from. Strangely detailed, this opening and what is propelled from it, both are very clear as was the almost toxic mixture that may have been possibly responsible for illness in the following days.

The photos speak for themselves.

This first photo represents the same object, larger orange object . Initially in this form it was small, coming out of the bank of the stream. Later we found what we believe to be its landing place, where it was in a much larger form. We believe possible 15-20 feet in height. (see following photos)