West Divide Creek | Black Triangle | UAP NHI
Nov 26, 2025
Colorado. Summer. Early 2010’s.
I had just let my German Shepard outside for a midday respite while I stood not far from the front porch, facing East.
I was gazing out over a nearby valley which, for many years, had been subjected to intense, ongoing environmental degradation.
I was heavily contemplating the implications of a renewed surge in destruction, again denied by environmental regulators - despite finding a recently paralyzed frog floating, struggling in creek waters.
“This is not a science experiment”, they had disdainfully replied to my denied request for water sampling.
Of course it was a science experiment, but not mine. It was a fast-tracked drilling/fracking operation from 2003... 2004.
Forlorn and frustrated by a vacuous lack of objective regional study, I was suddenly startled by an afternoon eclipse - which had happened once before, while driving.
I looked up, however, to see a large black triangle silently drifting about twenty-eight feet directly overhead, just clearing the apex of our second story roof.
Habitually counting during such moments of investigative observation, I ticked off several seconds for the craft to slowly sail into view, revealing its full form. I then clocked more seconds, taking in every detail - which were few:
A perfectly proportioned isosceles... sides only very slightly longer than the rear... carbon-black undercarriage - very sharp angles, each with a perfectly proportioned circular, LED-appearing cobalt blue recessed light, softly illuminated and tucked near each corner. That was it. No sound. No wind. No temperature shift nor visual distortion, scent nor noted electromagnetic effects.
I considered any potential occupants and sensed an interested though emotionally distant presence and calm, reciprocal observation.
I knew of the recent innovation of carbon nanotubes, and noted the craft reflected a decidedly human aesthetic. ‘Must be us’, I thought - as irritated by this intrusion as I had been by the unmarked black helicopters which had flown over the valley more than once since it had been struck by industrial havoc.
Ancient, ancestral ground. Sacred to burial ceremony. For decades, continually threatened, invaded, desecrated.
I scrutinized every observable aspect. The perfection of the proportions stood out among its few singular, yet highly prominent features. Too sophisticated... beyond human patience or appreciation, I speculated. And it was mathematically perfect. Better, I thought, than a human could conceive. I stood offering my sincere regard for the beautiful, truly exquisite engineering - regardless of who or what may have manufactured it.
In that moment, overcome with frustration that it was probably our own military craft, I turned away in disgust at the intrusion. At not knowing. At the overlay of ambiguity in so many events, and being continually robbed of truth.
Seven seconds, total observation time.
So, of course, I never saw nor felt its manner of departure. Which, of course was regretted. The cost of my own autonomy.
More frustration.
I didn’t look back.
Simple helium or solar military platform? Genuine UAP?
We may never know. But we should know the nature of our collective reality.
We must know in order to better correlate, integrate and more broadly authenticate experienced reality with ongoing discovery.
Our natural right to consciously evolve.
Within a week of the encounter, an image was revealed to my heart while walking with my dog. An image of many - maybe thirty or so - independent scientists closely observing and bustling about the area, sampling, studying, noting... later publishing.
Contributing revelations of the unseen to the ongoing story, the indelible history of West Divide Creek.
Two weeks later, we would see the spontaneous launch of the ‘Summer of Science’.
(C) 2024 L Bracken
All Rights Reserved
First published on LinkedIn 2025