Rainbow Basin, Barstow, CA

Though I have traveled down this narrow, winding dirt path multiple times in the past, it seemed as if it were the first time I’d taken the route.

That is the amazing mystery of adventuring here and there. You may have visited a certain park, lake, town, or some other destination multiple times in the past but suddenly the experience seems like a first.

I’m the usual suspect in the driver’s seat when motoring here or there. Mostly, because I travel alone on the byways the majority of the time. But on those occasions when company is present, they tend to sit in the passenger seat looking out the window trying to ignore my storytelling. 

“Stop me if you’ve heard this story,” I may say to Laureen, my lovely wife. “I was almost run over by a five thousand pound bull in Pamplona . . .”

“Stop.”

“Did I ever tell you the time a Sasquatch and I sat by the campfire in western Oregon, sharing a bottle of Macallan and a smooth Fuente y Padron?” I may ask Paul, a sometimes traveling friend.

“Stop.”

So, as I idled through the twisty twists of Rainbow Basin, my thoughts turned back to wondering if I had ever seen these natural geologic formations before.  I had, and yet somehow they appeared fresh and new, like a pair of white socks when washed in hot water and not cold. Laureen taught me that trick, and to this day, beige (used to be white) socks will never again caress my feet.

Rainbow Basin is passable by most vehicles 

Rainbow Basin lies just a few miles northwest of Barstow and is maintained by the Bureau of Land Management. It is easy to find right off Irwin Road with a large sign that points north telling the traveler the basin lies just another few miles away along a wide but oftentimes bumpy dirt road.

Any vehicle can cruise along the road but no large vehicles should attempt to enter the trail which leads through Rainbow Basin itself. Some of those humongous monstrosities from the Mad Max films may find the hairpin turns a bit challenging. Otherwise, have at it.

Well, motorhomes and trucks pulling trailers should not try the canyon road either. AAA doesn’t have a policy for Stupid.

One photo says it all - pay attention to road hazards

According to some geology know-it-alls, ‘Underneath Rainbow Basin is the massive batholith that lies below much of the western Mojave. Made from a type of rock called quartz monzonite, this batholith dates to either the Cretaceous or possibly the late Jurassic period.’

I have no idea what that means but I do know what Jurassic means - I’ve watched the movie Jurassic Park a million times - though in all transparency, most of the dinosaurs used in the film were really from the Cretaceous period and not the Jurassic period.

The Jurassic period was roughly 201 to 145 million years ago, whereas the Cretaceous period came into being roughly 145 million years ago until that nasty old meteorite turned the dinosaurs' day into the eternal night 66 million years ago.

So, T-Rex, the star of the 1993 film lived during the Cretaceous period, 90 million years ago, and not during the Jurassic period.

You better run, Little Man!

When asked about this small ‘time’ issue, it is rumored that the director, Steven Spielberg when asked simply said, “Who can say Cretaceous Park? Jurassic Park sounds so much cooler, and we’ve already had the Jeep decals printed. Back on set!”

Batholith is made up of two ancient Greek words, bathos meaning depth and lithos meaning rock. Those Greeks think of everything - deep large rocks that form when molten magma cools far down in the Earth’s crust. 

During the early years of the Cenozoic Era, roughly 66 million years ago, the batholith was exposed in the Rainbow Basin area and was molded downward with the immense pressure of the faults, creating some truly amazing geologic landscape for the traveler to gaze at.

Lots of beautiful landscape to explore

Through the eons of the Cenozoic Era, which includes the modern day, more movement by the faults in the area, including the Garlock Fault, created otherworldly geologic wonders.

Now, if I have gotten any of the geology mambo-jumbo incorrect, let it go - it does sound rather brainy.

Driving through the canyons, a visitor can park in pullouts and get up close and personal with the sandstone formation which makes up most of the area surrounding Rainbow Basin and the nearby Owl Canyon, where there happens to be a large and welcoming campground for those with longer stays in mind.

One noticeable thing about Rainbow Basin is the beautiful array of colors, and thus the name, I imagine.

There are vivid shades of green-gray, yellow-gray, and some almost red. As I wandered the canyon it was amazing how the colors from the land seemed to melt into each other while still leaving their own definable individualism on the landscape.

It was a weekday, so there were no cars honking at me to move from the center of the roadway while I studied the various formations while taking the occasional photograph.

The formations at Rainbow Basin are spectacular

My buddy, Paul, had traveled with me on this one-night excursion and was thoroughly enjoying himself climbing ridgelines to get a better gander at the joys mother nature had made.

Of course, as any true outdoors person, we both took care not to disturb anything in the way of plants, animals, or space aliens we may have come across.

To travel is to respect where one travels. 

Spending over two hours along the drive through the canyon gave both of us a better appreciation of how nature can turn simple things like sand, granite, and other geology thingies into works of art.

Our base camp at Owl Canyon Campground had been set up earlier in the day and we headed back to relax and discuss the day's adventure.

“I think I’m going to sit and relax a bit when we get back to camp,” Paul said.

With a nod, I agreed. “Yes, then we can discuss the geologic wonders we witnessed today.”

He rolled his eyes, a trick I swear he learned from Laureen. “Nope, I’m going to discuss having a nice cold one, it’s hot.”

It was warm and there was not nearly a breeze to cool two adventurous souls who only wanted to sit, relax, and go over the adventure of the day.

Owl Canyon Campground is a wonderful place for individuals, families, loners, and college geology classes who want to spend quality time outside while enjoying the openness of the desert.

A great trail doggie and humans, Laureen and our buddy Paul Bakas

Laureen and I, along with our doggies, camped here in our motorhome years ago and it turned out to be a wonderful experience. However, our Doberman, Dobie, decided that sliding down a steep ‘uplift’ in the canyon would be adventurous. It was not and after a few hair-raising moments, we were able to coax her up the steep sides and into the arms of Laureen. After that, Dobbie believed well-marked hiking trails were the next best thing to Minties.

Our furry companions exhausted after a day of exploring

Since it was a weekday, there were only a few other campers taking any of the numerous campsites. It was quiet, the sky was blue, barely a breeze, and made for a perfect ending to the day of exploring.

A warm campfire in the desert is a welcomed delight

Owl Canyon Campground is on a ‘first come’ basis, so the weekends during Fall, Winter, and Spring can be tricky to find a spot, but in summer - the place is wide open. With no electric hookups and very little water, it is a place for campers to think twice about before adventuring for the overnight. Daytime, no issue, just bring plenty of water, sunscreen, a yummy lunch, and a copy of one of my traveling columns, and it is a setting for a perfect outing.

A trip to Rainbow Basin is a must for locals and visitors from far away. It is where geology comes into contact with humans to understand how precious this floating globe in space is. 

For more information: https://www.blm.gov/visit/rainbow-basin-natural-area

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

The Cabot Trail

John R Beyer ready to explore the Cabot Trail, Nova Scotia

It was not always easy to be an early explorer. Take Christopher Columbus for example: in August of 1492, he took off with the ships from modern day Spain and headed for India.

In October of that same year, his tired and ocean-weary band of sailors arrived in what would later be known as the Caribbean.

Columbus, being rather hard-headed, referred to the folks they found paddling around the island in canoes Indians, believing he had ventured all the way across the great waters to South Asia.

A rumor is that one of his sailors pointed out the ‘Indians’ were drinking foo-foo drinks from coconuts with little plastic umbrellas stuck in them, and did not seem like the people they were supposed to meet.

“Are they not supposed to be wearing dupattas, your Excellency?”

“Senza senso,” Columbus may have replied.

Even when the natives started shouting, “It’s gotta be five o’clock somewhere,” the expedition leader continued to tell his men it was nonsense and they had reached India.

“But, let’s not advise Isabella,” he may have said. “She gets sort of touchy now and then.”

And even when the explorer John Cabot left England in 1496 after being given permission by King Henry VII to explore the coast of North America, all did not go as planned.

A letter written by John Day, a Bristol merchant, stated the following of Cabot’s first venture into the unknown: ‘He went with one ship, his crew confused him, he was short of supplies and ran into bad weather, and he decided to turn back.’

Sounds a lot like me when my lovely wife, Laureen, sends me to Target.

“Where’s the bread?” she may inquire.

“I got beer, it’s sort of like liquid bread.”

But Cabot’s second venture turned out a lot better and he landed on the North American coastline on June 24, 1497. The exact location is not truly known, since GPS was a couple of years away, but it is believed the adventurer landed either on Cape Bonavista, near St. John’s in Newfoundland, or on Cape Breton in Nova Scotia.

Since we were in Cape Breton, that is where I chose to believe he made landfall 527 years ago.

Our home for a few days was the small fishing village of Baddeck, which lies upon the gorgeous waters of Bras d’ Or Lake. One thing we learned while traveling Nova Scotia is that most places you'd want to visit are within a few hours’ drive and so, having a home base made a lot of sense.

It also saved my back a lot of pain toting Laureen’s ten suitcases from the rental car to a different hotel room each evening.

The roadway which supposedly shows the route Cabot sailed and trapsied around Cape Breton is 185 miles long - it is a well-paved, winding road that reveals some of the most stunning scenery I have ever witnessed.

Majestic coastline along the Cabot Trail, Nova Scotia

Trunk 30 is the main path to follow the Cabot Trail and since I had never heard of a trunk except for the rear of a vehicle where goombas used to stash bodies or rich folks use when traveling on luxury cruises, I was puzzled.

A trunk road in Nova Scotia is used for long-distance and freight traffic. They are the recommended routes between cities, ports, airports, and other places. Of course, since most are single lane each way and possibly narrower than highways, visitors should expect slower times in reaching destinations.

The term is also utilized to perplex out-of-country drivers.

“Should we pack a picnic?” Laureen asked, the morning we were going to venture around the Cabot Trail.

I nodded. “Yes, how about Scotch eggs, apple pie with pickled figs, and black pudding?”

“Nope, just bring your wallet for when I get peckish,” Laureen replied. No homemade picnic basket would be accompanying us that day - that would also mean no pear pies, drat!

Driving around Cape Breton takes a person with nerves of steel and a head on a swivel. There is a constant gorgeous coastline, tracts of green trees, cute little forest creatures darting here and yonder, and houses hugging the shore with docks.

Forests right down to the ocean's edge, Nova Scotia

A house with a dock means there is a boat, and I love boats.

That concept was mentioned enough that Laureen finally stopped me, “I know, that house with that dock means our pontoon tied to the cleats there.

“No, that house deserves a fifty-foot Grand Banks,” I replied. 

I drove on and at every curve of the road the view never changed, it was all beautiful. Of course, being a Desert Rat, seeing green trees, green bushes, green grass, green moss, and sometimes people green with envy is a wonderful treat.

I wrote about Baddeck in an earlier column but we also drove through tiny towns or villages by the names of St. Anns, North Shore, French River, and Nell’s Harbor while traveling north. Each place was a photo stop - and none were better than the last.

We stopped at a town by the name of Ingonish which boasts one of the top 100 golf courses in the world. Since I had not brought my clubs and was wearing a pair of ankle high Keenes, I did not think I would be allowed to play.

“Puhleez, the servants quarters are in the back,” the golf pro stated at the Cape Breton Highland Links.

Traveling often reveals things a person did not know, of course that is a good enough reason to travel. We discovered that Ingonish has a wonderful winter skiing resort by the name of Cape Smokey. We stopped by to see what this was all about and were pleasantly surprised by what we learned.

It is a four season resort for skiing, hiking, having lunch, or just taking a gondola ride to the top of Cape Smokey to enjoy the views of the Atlantic Ocean and the Cape Breton Highlands National Park.

Unfortunately, we did not have the time to travel up to the 1,000 feet to the top of Cape Smokey on this trip and marveled that folks can ski at such a low elevation.

I asked a staff member at the gift shop. 

“It’s cold here in the winter and everything is covered with snow,” she replied.

In winter, Ingonish has an average temperature of 32 degrees fahrenheit during the day and 18 degrees at night. A person could ski on their driveway for most of the winter is my guess.

We took our time touring the Trunk and stopped here and there for photographs or just to enjoy the immense beauty of nature along the Cabot Trail.

There are hundreds of spots for a walk along the coastline, Nova Scotia

Around oneish, we both were getting ready for a bit of lunch and found a wonderful little restaurant high on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. 

Tables were set outside but since the weather had turned suddenly, such is the way in Nova Scotia, and the wind was now howling and we could see reindeer in the air, we chose the interior which was warm and friendly.

The owner smiled, “You should be here when the wind really blows.” At that moment a Prius was hurled down upon the rocky shores.

“I see,” I replied.

My order was a basket of fried shrimp with scallops and Laureen ordered something - I don’t recall. But my lunch was fabulous with a cold Big Spruce as a chaser.

One of the most picturesque stops was the town of Cheticamp which is heading south toward our temporary home of Baddeck.

A fishing boat heading out for a late day of fishing

The name of the town probably comes from the native Mi’kmaq which means ‘rarely full’, indicating the harbor was rarely full of sand which allowed boats to enter unhindered by Mother Nature.

And I enjoyed the name because if you say it multiple times fast enough it sounds rather naughty.

We stopped, even though we had eaten lunch a mere two hours earlier at the DoryMan Pub and Grill because it sat waterside and the sun was shining. 

“It is so beautiful here,” said our waitress. “I’ve only lived in town a couple of years but I could not imagine living anywhere else.”

“How about winter?” I asked.

“Wear heavier clothing.”

We wandered the boardwalk, and just enjoyed the brilliance of this now late afternoon summer day on Cape Breton.

On the drive back to Baddeck we passed other towns such as Margaree Harbour, and Lake O’Law and appreciated the stoic folks who founded these towns so many centuries ago, but also the resilient people who still live here battling the brutal winters.

Five hours is recommended for the route and we spent nearly nine. It was not even close to what was needed to take in all that the Cabot Trail and the lovely citizens along its route had to offer.

Memorial to those service members who would not be returning home

John can be reached at: beyersbyways@gmail.com 

Anne of Green Gables

The bridge to find the home of Lucy Maud Montgomery.

I have had the privilege of visiting the residences of Hemingway, Steinbeck, Wilde, Stoker, Doyle, and so many other writers of renowned fame.

Recently while traveling through Nova Scotia, Laureen, my darling wife, and I had a chance to stand next to JK Rowling’s 290-foot yacht, moored by the boardwalk in Halifax. The rain was pounding our umbrellas but we did not care - the ship was gorgeous and I was hoping Joanie (as I call her) would look out and say, “Johnny, don’t be a silly sod and get your waterlogged behind onboard.”

Turns out that she may or may not have been aboard, but nevertheless, the invitation never came.

Writers can be criticized, and I get my fair share for my columns, but one thing I learned at a young age is if there were no writers, there would be no readers.

That almost sounded profound.

The truth is that I love to read: fiction, historical fiction, non-fiction, somewhat non-fiction, newspapers, magazines, and I truly love real estate magazines.

Oh, there are other books out there, just saying.

So, when we traversed the Confederation Bridge and landed on Prince Edward Island, Laureen looked at me and smiled.

“This is where Lucy Maud Montgomery spent much of her life.”

I drew a blank. “Is that before or after she used to snag the football from beneath Charlie Brown’s foot when he went in for a kick?”

The roll of her eyes almost threw us back across that eight-mile bridge we had just crossed.

“Anne of Green Gables? The books our girls read while growing up,” she said.

I remember reading to our girls all the time. But they were fun books about how body parts made funny noises - usually Laureen was not within earshot for those bedtime readings.

‘What sound does the elephant make before going to sleep?’ And our daughters would roll with laughter as I impersonated a gaseous elephant in the forest. If Laureen happened to come in, the reading topic would suddenly change to something by Niccolo Machiavelli.

I wanted our children to be well-rounded when it came to literature.

It seems on Prince Edward Island, Lucy Maud Montgomery is very important, and rightfully so. 

We drove into the town of Cavendish and spent a couple of days looking here and there. What we learned was there was nowhere we looked that the name of Lucy Maud Montgomery wasn’t present.

She put this small village on the map - well, it was actually on the map already but she made it famous.

It is very similar when people mention Riverside, California.

“That’s where John R. Beyer was born, right?”

Cavendish is an old town, founded back in 1790 by three families who had moved from Scotland. It was not a sea town with a large harbor but what it lacked there, it made up with wonderfully rolling green farmlands and the town flourished.

We drove around in the pelting rain, loving every moment of it since we came from the desert and rain is simply something one reads in the history books.

Montgomery was born around November 30th, 1874 (exact dates at this time period were not always exact) and died on April 24, 1942. During that time she was able to write 20 novels, 530 short stories, 500 poems, 30 essays, and knit a full-length replica of the Canadian Red Ensign.

She also was married and had three children. And my kids believe getting up before eight in the morning is a hardship.

Growing up in the idyllic countryside of Prince Edward Island, Montgomery came up with an incredible story of a young orphaned girl, Anne of Green Gables, being taken in by a brother and sister to work their farm. They had wanted a boy to work the land but by mistake, they were sent a girl, Anne Shirley.

This was before Amazon and returns were not easy to accomplish.

As Laureen told me, and I nodded, this fictional brother and sister who got Anne by mistake were meanies but later, due to Anne’s wonderful personal demeanor, loving spirit, goodness, and the fact she could pull a plow across rocky ground without the aid of a horse proved she was a wonderful asset to the community.

The point the author was making was that this young woman, no matter her dire background, succeeded due to her ‘youthful idealism and spirituality.’

The novel, Anne of Green Gables, was an immediate success and the young author gained both national and international fame.

Later in life, Montgomery tried for a new series entitled, Joey of Yellow Gables, but it did not do very well.

We visited a wonderful public park in Cavendish, Montgomery Park, where there are kiosks describing Lucy’s life and what her inspirations were as she spent her life telling tales for her readers.

Bronze benches lined a walkway around the park where the visitor can sit and reflect amidst beautiful green treed lanes. There is a bench dedicated to the writer with a full-size metal sculpture of her gazing into the sky while two black cats saunter nearby.

Bronze bench with the author and her cat.

We wandered the park and then ducked beneath overhanging tree branches as we made our way to the home in which the author grew up. There is a wonderful visitor center and gift shop at the site and docents who explain everything one would want to learn about Montgomery.

“It is sad,” a male docent told us. “Even though she was a famous writer and her books sold well, she never made the same money as her male contemporaries did.”

“Talk about misogyny,” I retorted, in solidarity with women.

He looked at me, “No, she had a bad literary agent. She made good money later on with her writing.”

We walked the grounds despite the gale-force winds and soaking rain and learned that this writer did not grow up in a land of the rich. Simple wood-structured buildings were her home with large rock foundations laid as the floors. A small kitchen, which was refurbished for the museum site, showed a very modest room with rudimentary furnishings.

The original kitchen where Lucy grew up.

“So, is this Green Gables house real?” I asked as Laureen was shaking off her umbrella.

The docent looked at Laureen who only slowly rolled her eyes. “Ask him if he ever heard of the book before this trip.”

Foundations of the original home where Lucy grew up.

Thirty minutes later we found ourselves at another museum in honor of Lucy Maud Montgomery and this one was huge. The entire life story of the author was on display, as well as the actual house that inspired the story of Anne Shirley.

A beautiful two-story, not counting basement, farmhouse-styled structure painted white with green gables.

The original 'Green Gables' home

Tourists, despite the continual rain, were traipsing here and there across the grounds and as we toured the home, the docent reminded us to wipe our feet.

“We need to keep the home as pristine as possible and water tracked in can ruin the period carpets.”

I wanted to mention that this section of Prince Edward Island receives about 600 days of rain each year but kept that to myself.

It is a beautiful home, but the best part was the exterior trail leading to the Haunted Woods.

Once again grabbing our umbrellas, we traipsed through the mud into the thick and dark woods behind the home and looked for ghosts or anything else that would be haunting. There was nothing scary except plants that looked very similar to poison ivy. Then I remembered I was an adult and Montgomery would have written her stories about a young girl entering these dark woods alone.

The narrow tree-clogged trail could easily allow the imagination of a young girl to expect something terrifying to emerge at any moment. When Laureen was turning her head from the trail I jumped up and yelled, “Boogie boogie boo!”

Trails to the haunted woods.

I did not know that the swelling of an eye could last a week even with ice packs.

Anne of Green Gables is still a must-read for young folks, both boys and girls since it is a series that shows the reader diversity in one’s life is no excuse for failure. Anne knew that and with her inspiration and positive attitude achieved wonderful things in her life.

Laureen explained that - but I do know the noises elephants make in the forest.

John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com