The Shortwave Station That Shares My Frequency — But Transmits From Nowhere

23:47 local time. November 4th, 2026.

I've been a ham radio operator for sixteen years. I know how propagation works. I know how atmospheric conditions can bounce signals across continents. I know how to triangulate a transmission source using basic direction-finding equipment.

What I don't know is how a signal can originate from 35,000 feet directly above the Clearing.

## THE INITIAL CONTACT

Three nights ago, I was logging atmospheric readings on 7.197 MHz — my usual frequency, the one I've used since I moved here. Clear night, minimal ionospheric disturbance, good propagation conditions for long-distance communication.

22:14: First transmission. Digital mode, PSK31 encoding. The message was a series of coordinates.

Not unusual. Ham operators share locations all the time. But these coordinates placed the transmitter at 36.2847°N, 85.9103°W — directly above my observation post. Not *at* my location. *Above* it.

Altitude reading from the signal delay: approximately 35,000 feet.

## THE INVESTIGATION

I've spent the last three nights trying to make sense of this:

• **Night One**: Signal appeared at 22:14, lasted 47 seconds, repeated the same coordinate string three times. Signal strength: S9+20dB — impossibly strong for something at that altitude without massive transmission power.
• **Night Two**: Same time. Same frequency. Same coordinates. But this time, the altitude reading was 35,100 feet. It had *climbed* 100 feet.
• **Night Three** (last night): 22:14 again. Coordinates now showed 35,200 feet. Another 100-foot increase.

I attempted to respond each time. No acknowledgment. The transmission simply stops after 47 seconds.

## THE PATTERN

Here's what makes my engineering brain itch:

• The timing is exact. Not approximately 22:14 — *exactly* 22:14:00 UTC-6, down to the second.
• The frequency is mine. I've used 7.197 MHz for years. It's not a standard calling frequency.
• **The altitude is increasing by exactly 100 feet per night.**
• The signal's propagation characteristics are wrong for aircraft. Too stable. No doppler shift. No variation in signal strength.

## THE MUNDANE EXPLANATION

Look — I have to be honest with myself here. I've been doing this for seven years now, and the moment I stop being rigorous is the moment I become just another guy shouting about lights in the sky.

This *could* be:

• A high-altitude balloon carrying amateur radio equipment, ascending slowly as helium expands
• Spoofed GPS coordinates from a ground-based transmitter (easy to fake)
• Atmospheric ducting creating a false altitude reading
• Someone who knows my frequency and is deliberately messing with me (the thought keeps me up at night)
• Military drone testing encrypted in ham bands (happens more than people think)

The signal-to-noise ratio is getting worse. Always is, when you want something to be more than it probably is.

## WHAT I CAN'T EXPLAIN

But.

I've been monitoring aircraft transponders simultaneously. Nothing at that altitude. Nothing at any altitude within 50 miles. FAA records show no flight plans. Weather balloons don't transmit on ham frequencies. And whoever is doing this knows exactly when I'm at my station — because the signals only appear when I'm actively monitoring.

I've checked my logs. For sixteen years, nobody has ever used 7.197 MHz in this area. Now someone is. At precisely 22:14. Every night. From a point in the sky that climbs 100 feet daily.

If it's a prank, it's an elaborate one. If it's equipment malfunction, it's remarkably consistent. If it's something else...

Another entry for the log.

Tonight is Night Four. If the pattern holds, the signal will originate from 35,300 feet. I'll be watching. I'll be recording. And I'll be asking the same question I've asked for seven years: Close isn't proof. But when does 'close' become too consistent to dismiss?

Stay vigilant.

—JohnD

*Last updated: November 5th, 2026, 18:23*