We parked our minivan in the shadow of a decrepit hangar and looked toward the old airfield. The hangar’s fading edifice towered over rows of late-model cars and trucks, its worn walls and dust-caked windows a testament to its nearly 70-year legacy.

Unintelligible words and distorted musical strains wisped across the airfield’s concrete ramp like ghostly transmissions from the past. As we approached, the sounds grew recognizable as air-traffic control over classic rock. Various aircraft sat perched on the ramp, their owners keeping a close watch as passersby snapped pictures.

We hadn’t yet entered the gates when I recalled the primary reason I take my boys to the annual Wendover Air Show. Sure, the vintage aircraft are amazing and the military jets mind-blowing. But even more awesome for me is the setting itself — a collection of nearly forgotten World War II relics against the backdrop of the Great Salt Lake Desert.

Wendover itself is the quintessential desert town — a seemingly random mix of dilapidated buildings and glitzy casinos where the concept of time seems completely out of place. And as unremarkable as it looks, the Wendover area evokes a spirit of mystery and exploration like no other place in the county.

This dusty no-man’s-land is a jackpot of adventure opportunities — from brain-bending mirages to endless salt flats and Indian caves in the Silver Island Mountains. Whether it’s the last gas stop before a remote ghost-town excursion or a welcome trace of civilization after a lonely ride across the Pony Express Route, the sleepy sibling towns straddling the Utah-Nevada border have always been the adventurers’ hub.  

Perhaps the most ironic thing about Wendover is that its true treasures lie east of the state line. Tooele County residents living between the Oquirrh and Stansbury ranges are accustomed to a desert environment, but the geographic, visual, and existential differences between Tooele Valley and the county’s western border are staggering. In these respects, the quick jaunt to Wendover is a journey to another world.

Like last weekend’s trip, my first visit to Wendover as a child was to see the air show. Grandpa had driven my younger brother and me out to the old Army airbase to spend a day watching the skies. I was taken by the planes, the base, and the landscape surrounding it. Later, after lunch at one of the casino restaurants, my non-gambling savvy grandpa gave each of us a quarter and sent us over to the gaming area. To us kids, the slot machines were merely anticlimactic arcade games. The funny scrolling pictures bewildered us.

As did the serious-looking men in security uniforms that came to chat with Grandpa.

Needless to say, our first shot at the strange pinball machines was also our last. But the sights and experiences of that day were engraved in my mind — aside from a fascination with airplanes and the desert, I was probably the only kid at school that played pretend casino at recess.

Since it was only 100 miles from home, Wendover was the perfect destination for mini family vacations. Bright lights, prime rib buffets and a futuristic skywalk — to this youngster it might as well have been Las Vegas. And then there were the salt flats, old buildings and haunting mountains. Though it was purely unintentional, it seems oddly appropriate that my wife and I ended up in Wendover on our honeymoon.

Before we left our desolate paradise to begin married life, we were drawn to the old airbase and took a drive through the complex. Walking among the weathered structures, I was once again taken by the uncanny feeling that saturates them. I began to study the buildings and the airbase’s historic significance.

It’s no surprise that Wendover was chosen as the place to develop a bombing and gunnery training base during the Second World War. Aside from its remote locale and flat terrain, the area is considered meteorologically sterile, averaging more than 300 sunny days per year.

Construction began in 1940 and was mandated to be of “Theater of Operations” type, meaning that the entire base was to be built quickly and for temporary use, using only the cheapest materials available. Military personnel began to arrive in August of the next year, raising the area’s population from around 100 to more than 20,000 by 1943. By 1945, the base boasted 668 buildings and 8,100 feet of runway.

Among the base’s personnel component in 1944 were Col. Paul W. Tibbets and his 509th Composite Group, who were tasked with delivering the first atomic bomb. Tibbets and crew spent their time at Wendover practicing the necessary maneuvers aboard B-29 Superfortress bombers. Training for Operation Silverplate began at Wendover 64 years ago this month.   

The bedraggled hangar at the extreme east end of the airfield is referred to as the “Enola Gay Hangar” after the B-29 of that name commanded by Tibbets in the Hiroshima mission. The structure is in disrepair and is inaccessible to air show patrons, but guided shuttle tours pass close to it and point it out.  

Two things amaze me about the old airbase — that 120 of those “temporary” buildings still stand mostly intact, and that their deep historic significance has been essentially overlooked. Though aircraft are the central attractions at the show, I often find myself looking away from the runways, back at those massive old hangars

When the events were finished, we drove slowly past the barracks before heading into town for dinner.

“Hey, video games!” 7-year-old Bridger exclaimed when we walked into the truck stop. “No, wait,” he caught himself. “Those are adult gambling computers.” 

I thought about Grandpa and smiled. 

Clint Thomsen is a Stansbury Park resident who grew up climbing mountains, wandering desert paths and exploring Utah’s wilds. He may be contacted via his Web site at www.bonnevillemariner.com.