We at J and L Research and Exploration want to wish everyone a wonderful and Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy time with family and friends during this upcoming Holiday Season - it is truly a special time of year.
As President John F. Kennedy once said; "We must find the time to stop and thank the people who make a difference in our lives."
Perhaps that should be an every day occurrence.
I’ve written about Calico Ghost Town numerous times for various publications. In fact, one of those articles is still up on the County of San Bernardino’s website about the old mining camp not far north of Interstate 15, just northeast of Barstow.
It is a wonderful place to spend the day or a couple of days while camping in the various rough or full hook-up spots that Calico has to offer. There’s a lot to see and do at Calico, but one experience that I had not explored was off-roading in and around the famous ghost town.
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| One of many off-roading trails near Calico Ghost Town |
Recently, I decided to do just that. Contacting my good buddy, Paul, we grabbed a few days and loaded up my Can-Am, and off we went to see what there was to see along miles upon miles of dirt trails.
We were not going to be disappointed.
Just before leaving, a good friend of mine, Trevor, looked the car over and gave it a thumbs up for any activity but one.
“Stay away from Odessa Canyon,” he said. “It’s pretty gnarly and you have to be practically an expert on it.”
“You’re saying I’m not an expert at off-roading?” I asked.
We’ve been on rides together in the past. “No.”
I like Trevor, a straight shooter who has seen me cringe on a 15-degree hill. Of course, I’ve seen him power up a 90-degree monster hill with no issue. Impossible? You haven’t seen him drive.
“What did Trevor say?” Paul asked.
“For me to stay on the flat paths.”
The surrounding BLM lands bordering Calico offer any type of off-roader a plethora of options.
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| An easy off-roading trail near Calico Ghost Town |
There’s Mule Canyon, an easy ten-mile drive that allows for panoramic views of the desert while still enjoying the thrill of cutting up a few hills.
There’s the Wall Street Canyon, which is a moderate road that most should have no issue with. I had to go and check on my portfolio - I’m going to tell my lovely wife, Laureen, time for a new Can-Am and a boat.
Then there are the more difficult routes available, like Doran Canyon, which is seven miles of steep inclines and steeper declines. It is suggested that the driver is good behind the wheel, has 360-degree vision, and has not been drinking a six-pack of beer before attempting this trail.
Then there is the Odessa Canyon. Eight miles of death-defying madness, including rock climbing - in a vehicle over waterfalls, huge boulders, steep walls, and the occasional Sasquatch.
We did enter the canyon but turned around when I saw the posted sign, Think Hard!
So, I turned the car around and headed out on the path - John has no idea where he is going.
For the next seven hours, the Beast, which is what Laureen refers to as our Can-Am, Paul and I drove here and there. Up and down across the desert, canyons, ridges, and across a lake full of reeds.
No, that was in Peru.
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| The Beast |
Anyway, we had a great outing, as we did the following day, not knowing where we were but always finding our way back to camp for an evening of lying about our adventures.
That is what guys do.
The purpose of being outdoors, either with an off-road vehicle or not, is to relish in what nature has to offer. Peace and solitude.
Sure, off-roaders may be noisy, but most drive to see things they haven’t seen and then stop, pull out some folding chairs, sit, and talk about the adventure.
Most of the time, there are no phones, internet - just communicating with friends and sometimes people you have just met while on the trails.
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| Obviously, plenty of trails to choose from |
Paul and I ran into, figuratively, Sam - a retired army vet who was camping near the Early Man site off of Minneola Road near Yermo.
Sam had been camping in his motorhome for nearly two weeks. A nice guy who sat with us on one of our stops.
It was only a twenty-minute talk with him, but enough to appreciate how much he loved this country, obviously by his 25 years in the service, and was now crossing the country to see what he could see.
Once back at camp, we decided to wander up to the town itself, where we met Britney Swenson working behind the bar at Lil’s Saloon.
Britney has worked at Lil’s Saloon for years and entertained us with tales concerning the ghost town and the myriad of visitors exploring the old mining town. But the most interesting thing about Britney is the fact that she is in the Guinness Book of World Records. She is credited with weaving a blind horse, Smoke, through 5 poles in 6.5 seconds during the Desert Empire Fairgrounds and Event Center in Ridgecrest on November 19, 2023.
I can’t even make it to the bathroom that fast in the middle of the night.
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| John R Beyer with Britney Swenson |
After an hour and maybe a cold one or two, we called it quits and bade farewell to the Champ.
As we packed up to leave for home the following day, I knew there would be an article, not about the town but the wonderful dirt trails awaiting those with an adventurous spirit. But caution needs to be taken seriously.
According to Truckbrigade.com, off-roaders need to be careful while venturing around and about the trails near Calico Ghost Town.
Never enter open mines or mine shafts. These historic sites contain deadly hazards, including unstable rock, bad air, deep shafts, and rotted timbers. Observe mining ruins from safe distances. Taking artifacts is illegal and destroys California's gold rush history for future generations.
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| One of the signs telling the visitor the history of mining near Calico |
Years in the past, I would purchase a series of books titled Death in the National Parks by Randi Minetor and Michael P. Ghiglieri. The books detailed how people died in the many National Parks around the nation.
An example would be a tourist who would want to take a selfie with a bison in Yellowstone National Park. The bison may be having a bad hair day and gore them while tossing them into the hinterlands. This could also be referred to as the Darwin Effect.
So, the idea is to read the signs and not enter when instructed. Ride and enjoy the wonderful off-road trail offered near Calico Ghost Town, but do not become the next chapter in someone else’s book about what not to do when you are dumb.
For further information:
https://truckbrigade.com/blogs/trail-guides/calico-ghost-town-off-road-trails
https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/world-records/709862-fastest-time-for-a-blind-horse-to-weave-five-poles
https://parks.sbcounty.gov/park/calico-ghost-town-regional-park/
https://parks.sbcounty.gov/park/calico-ghost-town-regional-park/#tab-food
John can be reached at: beyersbyways@gmail.com
We at J and L Research and Exploration want to wish each Veteran out there a happy and safe Veterans Day.
All those men and women who have served this country so honorably truly deserve more than a single day per year to honor the sacrifices you have made for this wonderful United States in our opinion.
Our gratitude extends to each and every one of you for keeping us safe in our homeland. We would not be without you.
Thanks and God Bless.
“It’s okay to doubt. We don’t master God, and sometimes doubt plays an important role in our faith,” Brother Minh (pronounced Ming) said.
We were sitting in a very comfortable kitchen for visitors at the Saint Joseph Monastery in Lucerne Valley. I had just met the Cistercian monk a few moments before, and it was very easy to talk with him about all things, spiritual or secular.
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| Overview of Saint Joseph Monastery in Lucerne Valley |
My friend, Paul, and I had traveled northward along Highway 247 in search of a place we had both watched on a YouTube video. We were hunting for a supposed abandoned nuclear launch pad located somewhere near the Sandwinder Gold mine.
What we learned was two things. Number 1: Don't believe everything on the internet. There was no missile silo standing anywhere near where we had traversed, searching for hours across the Mojave Desert.
“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t we film a couple of buildings from Bodie and post them on YouTube and tell viewers that they are located in Holcomb Valley. That could be fun.”
I would not do that.
The second thing we learned on this new adventure was that in Lucerne Valley, not far off Highway 247, was a most beautiful place for meditation and worship.
“We often have many visitors come and spend time with us,” Minh said. “In fact, if people come here, we will offer to celebrate a mass with them, no matter the time of day.”
The Cistercian order, to which all nine current resident monks belong, is a very old part of the Roman Catholic Church. The name for the order comes from the place it was founded, the Citeaux Abbey in France, in the year 1098. The monks follow the beliefs of St. Benedict - embracing a life of manual labor, contemplation, prayer, and spiritual pursuits.
Minh smiled. “For us, monk means to pray and work.”
And these monks have worked since the monastery opened its doors 17 years ago in a secluded canyon in the Mojave Desert. All the work seen, including the multitude of buildings, storage sheds, beautiful intricate concrete walkways, pagoda-style sitting areas located everywhere, and the multitude of carefully handcrafted sculptures, was all done by the monks.
“Now, we do have volunteers that assist us, but most of the work is done by the monks here,” Minh stated.
Prior to meeting Brother Minh, Paul and I had spent an hour walking around the grounds of the monastery, taking in the elaborately paved walkways leading the visitor to dozens of statues of Jesus Christ and Saints.
One trail, rather steep and long, wound up a small hill, and every few yards was a sculpture indicating one of the Stations of the Cross - that’s Catholic speak for the 14 stations that point to key events of Christ’s passion and death on the way to Calvary, including his burial.
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| One of the many hand made statues at Saint Joseph Monastery |
I remember those stations very well from attending St. Catherine’s Elementary and then Notre Dame in Riverside, California.
All the monks are part of the Congregation of the Holy Family of Vietnam, and Minh has been a resident at the monastery for 13 years.
“Do you ever get bored?” I asked.
“Yes, we are bored sometimes, and being human, we’re not always happy, but always peaceful. Happiness is short, but peace is long-lasting and from God.”
Paul brightened up. “I’m happy when a cold beer is near, but not so much when it’s empty.”
“But peace is knowing that there are more at the store,” I said.
Minh smiled. “Exactly.”
It was interesting sitting with Minh in the coolness of the kitchen, just talking. He was cheerful, at times funny, and at other times, serious.
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| Brother Minh and John R Beyer |
I asked him about the turmoil in the world and how everyone in our country seems so divided against one another.
“When people fall away from God, we divide and only think about ourselves. But with God we learn to love others, and perhaps love ourselves a bit more.”
He was one smart and spiritual guy, this Brother Minh.
“If a person smiles at you while walking by, how does it make you feel?”
“Better,” I said.
“Imagine if we smiled more and complained less?” Minh replied.
Our discussions continued, and while we sipped on bottles of cold water (yes, water), we moved into the idea that more and more young people seemed to be moving toward a more heartfelt faith in God than in the near past.
“Do you believe there is a resurgence in young people coming back to church?” Paul asked.
“Yes, I think young people are looking for something,” Minh said. “They are tired of social media, trying to keep up with one another, and then learning that most things they are hearing are not true. There’s a lot of emptiness out there in people’s hearts, and they are looking for true answers to fill that emptiness. God is doing that for them.”
I found it strange that this monk would know about social media.
“We keep up on modern events,” Minh smiled. “It's hard to assist others if we do not know what is going on.”
The monastery currently encompasses 300 acres of land, with plans to increase to 600 acres, a nearly one square mile of respite from the outside world.
We were given a tour of the chapel, which was actually designed by a Buddhist Monk and has the entry in the image of praying hands - it is a masterful work of art that visitors pass through on their way to services.
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| The gorgeous chapel at Saint Joseph Monastery in Lucerne Valley |
The public, all denominations, are welcome to the daily masses, and as stated earlier, the monks will have a mass or prayer services for visitors whenever the need or desire arises.
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| The monastery is easy to find right off of Highway 247 |
These monks are true men of their word when they state they are here to serve their fellow citizens in search of peace and harmony.
Before leaving, Brother Minh said, “We will never fully understand God, even the angels don’t understand God, so how can we? And, that is fine - that is faith.”
For more information: http://www.saintjosephmonasteryca.org/
John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com
I’ve been asked more than once, if I believe in ghosts. Well, what is the definition of a ghost?
Per Merriam-Webster - A disembodied soul especially: the soul of a dead person believed to be an inhabitant of the unseen world or to appear to the living in bodily likeness.
Well, that wouldn’t be Casper would it?
So, I’m not sure that I believe or disbelieve in ghosts. I’ve seen, or thought I’d seen, things that I can’t really explain. On a bet, when I was a teenager, I spent the night sleeping in a cemetery in the city of Corona. It was supposed to be haunted by a spectra by the name of Mona. I never saw an apparition, and only learned one thing from that experience.
Teenage boys are stupid.
But, being a researcher, I do have some gadgets that are quite prevalent on those ghost hunting shows, like The New Reality, Ghost Adventures, The UnXplained, and I’m Frightened Just To Be Here (ok, I made that one up).
And those gadgets the professionals use would be: a digital voice recorder (so there is proof of you screaming hysterically when encountering a ghost), an EMF sensor (no idea, but it sounds cool), Ghost Box (in case you catch a ghost, I guess), camera with night vision (duh), an infrared thermometer, and a box of pampers (just in case you encounter a real ghost).
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| An activated Ghost Box with a ghost |
Ah, with all the mention of television series, why not start in Hollywood? And what better place than the Hollywood Sign?
The Hollywood sign was not intended to be an advertisement for the film industry. Actually, it was an idea to advertise a housing development in the hills above the Hollywood district of Los Angeles. An area less expensive than the homes located closer to the studios.
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As the brochure stated, “Hollywoodland, a superb environment without excessive cost on the Hollywood side of the hills.”
The sign went up in 1923, by home builder Harry Chandler, who contracted with the Crescent Sign Company. The original sign read, Hollywoodland, and each letter was 50 feet tall and 30 feet wide. They had to use mules to haul up the steel support beams – wow, mules. How quaint.
Chandler believed the sign would be only up for about a year and a half but after ninety-seven years, it’s still there – just missing the last four letters.
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Hollywood had become a household name around the globe by the late twenties, and what better tool to use reminding all cinema fanatics of the flash and dash of movie town then a huge sign. In the early forties, the word ‘land’ was removed from the original sign.
It is by far, one of the most iconic visual advertisements of the film industry anywhere on earth, not just Los Angeles.
Millions of people view it in person, commercials, documentaries, television series, and films yearly. It is one of the most photographed places in the United States, and you can hike to it.
But is it haunted? Supposed to be, and it’s truly a sadly tragic story.
A beautiful young English actress by the name of, Millicent Lillian ‘Peg’ Entwistle, had immigrated to America to find work in New York City. At first, there were some minor roles in the theatre, but soon directors realized how talented this Peg Entwistle truly was.
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| The beautiful actress, Millicent Lillian 'Peg' Entwistle |
In fact, a very young Bette Davis, saw Entwistle perform in the 1925 play, The Wild Duck, and told her mother, that someday she would be as good as the 17 year old Entwistle. For the rest of her life, Davis would often mention that it was watching Entwistle that made her yearn for the acting career which made her so famous.
Entwistle stayed in New York working Broadway until 1932. It was midst of the great depression and theatres were closing down due to lack of audiences. She moved to Hollywood the same year and picked up some roles in theatres here and there.
As with many actors, she was discovered by Radio Pictures (RKO) and soon had a studio contract in hand.
Her first, and sadly, only film credit was a supporting role as Hazel Cousins, in David O. Selznick’s film, Thirteen Women.
However, most of Entwistle’s parts were removed, ending up on the editing floor, and she was devastated. On top of that, the studio cancelled her contract.
At the tender age of twenty-four years – she believed her dreams were gone. And, on September 16th, 1932, Peg Entwistle decided there was nothing left to live for. She climbed the hills above Hollywoodland, climbed a ladder to the top of the ‘H’, and jumped to her death.
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| A sensational suicide in the tabloids |
So, on this 93th anniversary of that tragic day, I decided to see if this young actress still haunted the hillside, as so many people have sworn she does.
Ghoulish, perhaps, but if I didn’t see her ghost, the least I could do was say a prayer for a young girl who gave up too early.
Getting to the Hollywood sign isn’t that difficult. There are numerous hikes, some moderate and some not so moderate. I chose an easier route and drove through the neighborhood of Hollywoodland – yes, there actually is such a neighborhood, with modestly priced homes for the likes of Saudi princes.
I drove along a winding narrow road up into the hills behind Hollywoodland – there was sign that stated the road was only for locals. Being a native California, now a Nevadan, I believed that still made me a local.
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| The path leading to the Hollywood sign |
After parking, I located an access route to one of the main trails, which was surprisingly crowded with people hiking up that trail. They were huffing and puffing, as well as sweating. I felt great - an air conditioned drive can do that for a person.
The view was spectacular.
And, when I looked at the large white sign on the hillside, I felt saddened to think a young woman, was so distraught that she felt the only option left was to leap off the letter ‘H’.
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I didn’t bother telling the others around me about the history of the sign. They were laughing and taking dozens of selfies and group photos with their phones.
No reason to spoil their day with the sorrowful story of Peg Entwistle
There is still another twist to Entwistle’s death. The day after she committed suicide, a letter was delivered at her residence, with an offer for an upcoming film. She was to play a young woman driven to suicide.
Spooky!
For further information: https://www.hollywoodsign.org/history/a-sign-is-born
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peg_Entwistle
On a recent Saturday, I asked Laureen is she had any specific plans for the day.
She knew what that meant.
“A road trip?” she responded.
And, within forty minutes we were on our way to Big Bear, in the San Bernardino Mountains. It is one of our favorite haunts.
Haunts – I like that, since it is October. That spooky time of year.
Big Bear – there is Big Bear City and Big Bear Lake, for those who haven’t travelled Highway 18 to either of those locales. Traveling this road is to witness tall glorious pine trees, a blue lake, hiking trails, off-road trails, eating and shopping in the Village, and so much more.
We love the Big Bear area.
“I love the Big Bear area,” I stated.
“I know,” Laureen responded. “Where are we going to lunch?”
I knew the right spot. A place that is internationally known as a very haunted and goose bumpily place. The Captains Anchorage.
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“We haven’t been there in a dozen years,” Laureen stated.
“And the spirits are angry about that,” I said. “The tip you left last time was rather vacuous.”
Laureen ignored that.
Driving by the Mitsubishi cement plant, south of the town of Lucerne Valley on Highway 18, always reminds me of a space colony. Huge round storage buildings with conveyer belts going this way and that way has an out of this world appearance.
“Doesn’t it look like space aliens have captured humans and sent them to work in their factory?” I asked Laureen as we drove by the place.
She shook her head. “Looks like a cement factory.”
“Human, we do not enjoy your remarks – to the mines with you.” I stated.
Laureen ignored me again.
As we swung around Baldwin Lake, we had some time to kill before the restaurant would be open, and decided to take the scenic route through Holcomb Valley. Actually, I had intended on the drive to snap a photograph of the ‘hanging tree’ in the area where the old mining town of Belleville once stood.
I wrote a column on Holcomb Valley for the Daily Press Newspaper, back in June of 2020, but I won’t go into any detail about that trip now. I don’t like repeating myself – unless it is to our children, and I can go on and on and on about the same subject for weeks.
Since Belleville, like many mining camps, could be a violent place – there had to be some place to punish those who thought killing one another was a perfectly fine way in dealing with personal disputes.
It was the Wild West, after-all.
So, the townsfolk found a nice big and tall Juniper tree to string up the really bad hombres. Is the tree haunted? Don’t know and never asked – but with its outstretched tree limbs and prominent location in the valley, it could be.
“Almost lunch time,” I said to Laureen.
As we headed out of the valley, we came across a tree that made the hanging tree look downright tame.
There in the middle of a clearing, we were staring at an apparition that film director, Tim Burton would find alluring.
Gnarled leafless branches tweaked in such a way, it appeared as if it was alive and trying to reach and grab any unsuspecting person sauntering by. Not a stich of green on it – only the tall barren trunk hunkered down in the soil.
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| The Hanging tree in Holcomb Valley |
“That looks as if it’s haunted?” Laureen asked.
“I’ll come back, and pick you up in the morning – let me know about your research.”
We headed out for lunch at that time.
The Captain’s Anchorage, is located in Big Bear Lake, and has been a landmark for the city since 1947, when the owner, Andy Devine opened it. The famous actor turned restaurateur, wanted something special to entertain his Hollywood friends, and thus the restaurant and bar became the center point not only for the locals, but many other famous actors. Roy Rogers, John Wayne, Lee Marvin, Jimmy Stewart, and many more made the long drive from Los Angeles to the mountain community of Big Bear Lake to partake in the extensive menu offerings.
The original name of the place was the Sportsman’s Tavern, and remained that way until 1972, when it was renamed The Captains Anchorage by Woodrow and Charlotte Meier, who had purchased the restaurant from Devine in 1966.
It is a beautiful building full of character and grace – and it is haunted.
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| Besides being haunted, a great place to eat |
As we entered the business, I walked over to the dark wood bar, located in the Andy Devine Room, and snapped some photographs. That’s what I do – don’t look at the menu first – just snap some shots. Perhaps there will be an orb floating somewhere in the photograph when I download it later.
“Have you come to see George?” Natalie asked from behind the bar. Natalie has worked at the Captains Anchorage a long time, and knows a bit about the history.
“George is our local ghost,” she stated. “He likes to hang around the bar, causing some mischief now and then, but doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“You’re a believer then?” I asked.
“I don’t belong to a cult, if that’s what you are asking?”
“No, not that kind of a believer,” I replied. “Have you had any interaction with George?”
Natalie nodded. “Once in a while a light will turn on when no one is here but me, or the glass washer will suddenly light up. Those kinds of things.”
Laureen was standing to the right of the bar, near the kitchen entrance, and I saw a peculiar look on her face.
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| The main bar at the Captains Anchorage |
“You feeling something?”
“Yes, there’s something here between the bar and the fireplace,” she responded. “It’s like someone being anxious. As they are troubled by something – I really can feel the emotions.”
Laureen is so much more sensitive than me, when it comes to practically anything – except those sad mistreated dog commercials – they tear me up. A box of tissues, please.
“Did you feel anything?” she asked me.
I nodded. “Yes, I feel the bar is calling me over for a cold one.”
According to Patti Scriven, the current owner and daughter of the Meier’s, George was Andy Devine’s ‘bookkeeper’. During the time period that Devine was the owner, there was lots and lots of rumors of illegal gambling going on at the Sportsman’s Tavern. In fact, upstairs are small booths which are original to the design of the restaurant, that look like the perfect size for a slot machine placement. Poker games, roulette, and possibly betting on horse races, may have taken place in the establishment.
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| John R Beyer and Patti Scriven in the Captains Anchorage |
Was George just a bookkeeper or perhaps a bookie also?
“Rumor has it that George may have been embezzling profits from the illegal gambling,” stated Patti. “He may had been afraid of getting caught and committed suicide at his house, not far from here."
“Then why would he haunt this place?” Laureen asked.
“We have had numerous of those paranormal investigators out here, and they all say the same thing, he was the most happy here at the restaurant,” Patti replied.
“It is a very nice place to haunt,” I stated.
Some research I conducted, showed George may have also been killed by some angry gamblers or those who caught him skimming money off the top of the receipts.
Either suicide or murder makes for a possible haunting.
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| Once an illegal gambling booth now a nice place to sit and eat |
It seems as though George does truly like haunting the restaurant, its patrons and staff. He, according to Patti, has never caused any harm to anyone personally.
“There’s been some liquor bottles shattering behind the bar when no one was present, some tromping of heavy footsteps up and down the stairs, blowing out some candles, and the like. Pretty harmless – more like pranks.”
Shattering an expensive bottle of spirits is not a prank. That would be a felony in any ghostly realm.
“Listen, Mr. Ghost man – I don’t care if it was a prank – that was an expensive bottle of Dalmore sixty-two, there you decided to shatter. Who is going to pay for it?”
Patti entertained us with more tales of the mischievous George, but stated she had never had a true other-worldly experience with the ghost from the Captains Anchorage.
“I wish Rita were here,” Patti stated. “She really has had some recent experiences with George.”
“Please, go on,” I asked.
“Well, recently Rita was near the kitchen when she suddenly saw a dark shadow sweep right beside Hugo, our chef, who was busy cooking. She was scared to death and screamed. When I asked Hugo if he saw or felt anything, he replied just before Rita screamed, he had felt a presence swoosh by him, almost touching him. But, there was nothing there when he glanced around.”
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| One of the kitchens at the Captains Anchorage |
“Yes, Rita won’t even go upstairs to get a bottle of wine,” Patti said. “I tease her that a customer wants a certain vintage and will she go up and get it, she just tells me no.”
“I don’t blame her,” Laureen stated.
“Neither do I,” Pattie stated. “I just like to tease her that way.”
Is the Captains Anchorage haunted? I don’t know, but I do know they have great food and a greater tale for their customers.
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For further information: https://captainsanchorage.com/
It is that time of year that brings communities together. To laugh, to share, and to just find the joy in being alive.
It is October – and that can only mean one thing – Halloween.
Ghosts, goblins, witches, and cryptids do their best to scare us to an unpleasant place.
It is the month to mutilate the pumpkin and paint the cat black.
One of my favorite seasons.
As Laureen and I were driving west along Route 66, after visiting Winslow, Arizona – we decided to stop by a place that is so haunted, so scary, so unnaturally spooky that most humans would not dare to tread there.
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| Laureen Beyer standing on a street corner in Winslow, Arizona |
Not being like most humans, we knew it was an experience we just had to visit on our very own.
Laureen is not that fancy on these spectral sorts of sites but since I was driving . . .
After pulling south off Route 66 by the ruins of the town of Two Guns, I was busy scanning my hand-held GPS looking for the scariest area near Two Guns.
“I don’t think this thing is working,” I told Laureen. “If I’m holding it correctly, we’re somewhere between Vienna and Salzburg.”
No reply from Laureen.
Suddenly I heard her from about 50 feet away. “It’s right here, I can feel it.”
The reason Laureen does not like to travel to many supposedly haunted places is due to the fact she actually ‘feels’ something. A sense or foreboding of what may have occurred in the past at such a place.
Me, I usually feel hungry or thirsty.
As in earlier articles concerning ‘haunted places’ I tend to be a bit of a skeptic. Don’t really think folks from the afterlife are lingering around waiting for me to invade their space.
“Hey, you are now in my personal ghost space. So rude of you that I will throw this antique rocking chair at your head.”
Of course, I do have to admit I have heard or seen things that I can not explain while traveling here and there.
I once saw a boy scout escort an elderly woman across the street in Houston, and I thought that only happened in Hallmark films.
“What is right here that you can feel it?” I asked Laureen, finally giving up on the hand-held GPS which had me now somewhere east of Moscow.
“The cave, it’s right here,” she replied.
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| The Apache Death Cave in Two Guns, Arizona |
The cave, Laureen was mentioning, was the famed Apache Death Cave located about 12 miles west of Meteor Crater in Arizona along Route 66.
The legend is terrifically sad.
In the late 19th century, the two dominate native tribes residing in the area were the Apache and the Navajo. These two groups did not get a long well together and often raided and killed each other over territory or perhaps because they did not like each other.
But in 1878 it is rumored that some Apaches entered two Navajo camps and killed everyone except three young girls whom they kidnapped.
Other Navajo warriors hearing of this diabolical action started to chase the Apache to seek their revenge and get the girls back.
The Navajo were closing the gap of the fleeing Apache but suddenly lost sight of them near the edge of the Canyon Diablo, a long arroyo that meanders through the territory.
Getting off their horses, the Navajo looked high and low and low and high but could not locate the Apache.
Just then, as the story goes, one of the Navajo thought he heard voices coming from somewhere below him and then found a deep cave carved into the Kaibab Limestone.
Sure enough, the Apache had ridden into the large cave with their horses and captives hoping to trick the tracking Navajo.
The ruse did not work.
Grabbing a lot of sagebrush, the Navajo decided to smoke the Apache out of the cave by lighting the bushes on fire.
Moments later, a few Apache ran from the cave but were immediately killed by the waiting Navajo.
It only took a few minutes to realize the captives had been murdered by the Apache, so the rest of the Navajo posse decided to finish the job and continued to throw large amounts of burning sagebrush into the mouth of the cave.
There was no chance for escape for any of the Apache trapped within the walls of the cave. 42 Apache succumbed to the smoke and fire.
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| Perhaps a memorial for the Apache who tragically died here |
I wandered over to where Laureen was standing by a small rock border, and she pointed downward. Sure enough, there was a cave which seemed as though the walls may have been smoke damaged sometime in the past.
“The hairs are standing up on head,” she stated.
Looking at her perfectly quaffed hair, I did not know what to say. So, I said nothing.
An old wooden ladder type of bridge ran across the width of the cave allowing the visitor a chance to get closer into the cave.
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| The ladder was not truly stable looking |
“You first,” I said.
“Me never,” Laureen replied.
After a few tense moments of rock scrambling and teetering on the wooden bridge, I found myself at the bottom of the cave.
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| Laureen Beyer going very slowly toward the cave |
It was dark inside the cave.
“Do you feel anything?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Wow, what?”
“I think I dislocated my right shoulder.”
The cave was longer than I had thought it would be. I wandered a bit bumping into this wall or that wall, once nearly knocking off the top of my head on a low ceiling and thought that if the ghosts of the murdered Apache were not going to talk to me, it was time to call this adventure off.
Besides, it did seem rather spooky in that dark hole in the ground alone.
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| One needs to very careful exploring such places |
“You want to come down, and see?”
“Nope.”
After dusting myself off and making sure my forehead was not bleeding, I noticed that Laureen was not looking quite herself.
She told me that there was something in the immediate surroundings she could sense. A sense of doom, of tragedy, of unmistakable horror.
“They were afraid to die in such a way.”
I do not question her feelings. I may do it inwardly but not outwardly.
But there was something different in that cave – I am not saying I felt what Laureen did, but it was rather oppressive in the cave. Almost suffocating, but that could be the close quarters and wandering around in a dark place by yourself.
New Reality paranormal investigators, Shawn and Cody, had visited the Apache Death Cave in the past and recorded their investigation for their hit series.
They felt and heard things while pulling their stint within that cave.
We spent time with them when they investigated a haunted ranch house in Lucerne. We all heard and experienced things that long haunting night.
These guys are experts in this paranormal field.
But I am still a skeptic. I am waiting for Casper to come sit next to me on the sofa and explain clearly why he is a ghost and why I need to believe.
In 1881, a bridge was built across Canyon Diablo by the Atlantic and Pacific Railroad and a small tent city, named Canyon Diablo was constructed for the workers.
But that little tent city grew up to be a rootin’-tootin’ full-time town which made Tombstone look like a children’s nursery school.
The population boomed to 2,000 folks overnight and there was at least one killing in the streets near the dozen saloons, gambling halls, and brothels each day.
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| Some of the ruins at Two Guns, Arizona |
In fact, the first Marshall hired to protect the town was shot dead three hours later. It was a lawless town.
Boot Hill became so full that the undertaker ran out of room for any new customers.
One problem with this tale, according to the Republic Newspaper out of Arizona, is that this town probably never existed.
In an article written by Scott Craven, the town had been created by a fictional writer by the name of Gladwell Richardson who passed away in 1980 who had written nearly 300 western novels under various pseudonyms.
When the bridge was completed, the tent city moved on.
It was also Richardson who first wrote about the Apache Death Cave in his only non-fiction book about the town of Two Guns, Arizona. Prior to him writing about it in his book the tragic event had never seen print.
Seems, that both a town so wild Doc Holiday would have circumvented it and a horrific story such as the Apache Death Cave had occurred there should be more mention of it in the history books.
But, as with many historical records, things may get a bit exaggerated by those writing those histories.
Those silly writers. Who do they think they are embellishing here and there?
We walked around studying the layout, checking this out and checking that out and Laureen said she could still feel that something tragic had occurred here in the past.
Perhaps something had happened to the Apache and Navajo in the 19th century and perhaps not.
A town may have been here that was totally lawless but perhaps not.
That is the way with myths and legends, they grow stronger as the decades slip by.
Are they true or does it really matter?
For further information: https://azdot.gov/adot-blog/two-guns-sordid-history-i-40
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| The White House - summer of 2025 |
“People are often curious about what it’s like to be different in the trade, but honestly, once you’re on site, it all comes down to what gets the job done,” Brianna said. “The stone doesn’t care who you are, as long as you show up, care about what you’re doing, and put in the effort.”
To be honest, I had no idea there were still stone masons in existence. I was under the mistaken belief that they had been phased out during the Industrial Revolution in the 19th century. But here I was being schooled by a modern-day stone mason.
Actually, Brianna Castelli is known as a Restoration and Conservation Mason or Heritage Stonemason, and she is very good at her trade.
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| Brianna Castelli taking questions from the audience |
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| Lots of hands-on activities for guests at the Folklife Festival |
My lovely wife, Laureen, and I had been walking through the Folklife Festival on the National Mall in Washington, D.C., during the week-long 4th of July celebration when we entered an area featuring the Building Trades. There were large exhibits discussing the history and current state of various hands-on trades, and it was fascinating.
Brianna was busy discussing her trade with a group of visitors. With a gentle nudge of a wooden mallet, she easily and cleanly chipped off a rough edge from a large piece of granite with a medium-sized chisel. The cut was perfect, and she talked the entire time.
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| Brianna Castelli showing off her skills at the Folklife Festival |
I can’t talk while I shave, or Laureen may have to phone for the paramedics.
Not only did we find Brianna a very talented artist, but also an inspiration for anyone looking to go into the building trades.
It turns out that Brianna had never thought of going into a construction trade. No, her focus was on going to college.
“I was always told to go to college,” Brianna said. “I had no idea what I wanted as a career, but I knew college was the way to go.”
That did not turn out the way this young lady had planned. She moved to Philadelphia, where her brother was living, and took a job as a barista at a coffee shop. Then she learned that because she was from out of state, the college tuition was going to be based on that fact.
“When I found out that my tuition was going to be more expensive because I was not a resident of Pennsylvania, college was not a possibility,” she said. “Though I still had no idea what I wanted to do for a career.”
Working as a barista, Brianna came into a myriad of customers, and one day a fellow told her she should contact the Bricklayers and Allied Craftworkers union. She did and learned they had openings for an earn as you learn apprenticeship.
“Stone masonry,” Brianna said, “I never even heard of such a thing, but once I got into the union, which they paid for all my training, minus dues, I knew I was hooked. Forty-five hundred hours of internship taught me everything I needed to know about this wonderful craft of maintaining and repairing historical structures here and around the country.”
Turns out that the union that took Brianna on as an apprentice may not have known at the time that their pupil would soon be working on restoring the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C., after the devastating earthquake that shook the nation’s capital to its knees in 2011.
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| National Cathedral currently under reconstruction |
“I have a five-year job here,” Brianna said. “What an honor to assist in repairing such an iconic structure. It is a privilege just to be climbing the scaffolds on a daily basis and using the skills I learned from my instructors to ensure this building will be here for many generations in the future.”
Scaffolds? I asked her about that.
“I have no fear of heights, and when I’m on top overlooking the gorgeous scenery surrounding our capital, I feel as though I have the best job in the world.”
Brianna, along with all the rest of the craftsmen working on the National Cathedral, deserves our respect and admiration.
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| There are a lot of various crafts on display at the Folklife Festival |
It is these artists who will allow the rest of us to enjoy for decades what was built in the far past to remind us of our present.
For more information:
https://www.si.edu/250
https://nwfolklife.org/programs/
John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com
I have driven Interstate 40 east of Barstow more times than I can count, even using all my toes and fingers, but I had never heard of the longest personal driveway in the United States being just a few hundred feet north of the roadway.
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| Just a short section of the longest driveway in America |
While attending an event at Roy’s Hotel and Cafe in Amboy a few months ago, a gentleman asked me if I had ever visited Mrs. Orcutt’s driveway. I thought it was a personal question, but since I did not know any Mrs. Orcutt, I told him no.
He then went on to explain that in Newberry Springs, there is a four-mile-long driveway that runs parallel to Interstate 40 all the way to the remains of Mrs. Orcutt’s home.
This sounded intriguing, and I knew that it was a place to investigate - I like finding places to investigate.
According to author C.V. Wooster’s book, Mrs. Orcutt’s Driveway, recently published in June of 2025, Margaret ‘Bonnie’ Orcutt was not a woman to mess around with.
Born on September 7th, 1909, in Boone County, Indiana, to Wolford and Fern McMains, Bonnie would stay there until she was three years old and then moved with her family to Indianapolis, where her father owned a car dealership. In 1927, the family moved again to Richmond, Indiana, where her father’s new dealership was really taking off. This era was the true birth of America’s love affair with the automobile.
Watching her father’s work ethic made Bonnie realize that to be successful, she had to search out and go after things of interest for her. She was eclectic in those areas - botany, music, faith, science, and many other avenues.
In fact, she attended numerous schools of higher learning, including Earlham College, Butler University, DePauw University, and the Arthur Jordan Conservatory of Music. She was such a dedicated student of music that it was said she had reached a concert-level proficiency as a harpist.
And it was that harp playing in 1948 that introduced Bonnie to her future husband, Kenneth Orcutt.
He heard her play, and it was all over for him except for the church bells. Their courtship lasted just a short time, and they were married.
This research was going along well until I read that Kenneth had been killed in an air crash in 1953 in the state of Iowa at the young age of 33.
Margaret ‘Bonnie’ Orcutt was now a widow. And she moved west all the way to Newberry Springs the same year her husband had died.
She purchased a hundred acres just northeast of Newberry Springs, built a small but comfortable adobe home, and even hand-dug a 14-foot-deep, quarter-mile pond with a small island in the middle and filled it with fish.
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| A section of the adobe wall of Mrs. Orcutt's home |
It was a quiet life, and that was the way she wanted it. Time to learn all the desert had to offer her.
Then, in 1964, government surveyors - yeah, the government - started putting boundary stakes across the southern end of her property.
“Interstate 40 is coming, Bonnie, and you'd better get out of the way,” one of the surveyors may have said.
So, Bonnie had a conundrum; the stakes for the new highway indicated that the road she used to drive into Newberry Springs would no longer be there. Lanes of newly poured asphalt would block her only exit from her home.
She did not want to sell, and she said so, but the stakes kept getting pounded into her beloved desert soil.
A typewriter seemed to always be clicking away inside Bonnie’s house, as she contacted this person and that person, demanding that the interstate not cut through her property. She wrote letter after letter and supposedly even wrote to President Lyndon Johnson and then Mrs. President Lady Bird Johnson - a rumor is she sent a few to Santa Claus.
It paid off, and the government agreed to pay $100,000 to build a four-mile private driveway from the new offramp at National’s Trails Highway to her house. Of course, the government men insisted that it was actually their driveway, but since Bonnie’s home was the only one at the end of the long black asphalt, she only nodded and smiled.
It was such a straight and wide road, and still is, that people started coming out and drag-racing on it - in the 1970s and 1980s, the magazine, Car and Driver, wrote about this driveway and folks started using it to test for speed.
In 1984, the magazine conducted the last test on the roadway with a modified Pontiac Trans Am, which reached the speed of 204 mph.
That is fast.
In 1986, Bonnie Orcutt passed away, and the property has fallen onto some pretty hard times with the sun beating down, and the winds blowing through sometimes with nearly hurricane force.
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| What is left of Mrs. Orcutt's home in Newberry Springs |
After learning of the history of the property and the feisty, government-fighting woman, I knew a trip was needed to check things out.
No GPS is needed - head east on Interstate 40, take the National Trails Highway exit for Newberry Springs, make a stop at the end of the ramp, turn left, go around the Chevron Station to Pioneer Road, and there you are. Opposite if you are heading west, obviously.
The road, no matter the reports, is in pretty good shape and straight as an arrow for the whole four miles.
At the end is a large circular cul-de-sac, and to the right is what remains of Mrs. Orcutt’s adobe home. Not much, but with imagination, as you walk about the property, images of better days come to mind.
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| The end of the driveway in front of Mrs. Orcutt's home |
It must have been a comfortable home with sidewalks, what looks like the possible remains of a front yard fountain, a couple of outbuildings, and, of course, the huge empty pool in the back yard.
As cars and trucks streaked by on Interstate 40 less than a hundred yards away, I wondered what it must have been like for this strong woman to live alone in what could be referred to as a pretty desolate stretch of desert.
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| Remains of Mrs. Orcutt's home showing the rear yard |
Did she still play the harp? Did she write letters on her typewriter to friends and family back east? Did she have a fulfilling social life in the Mojave Desert?
I wandered and pondered - and hoped she had.
For further information:
https://www.amazon.com/Mrs-Orcutts-Driveway-Legendary-Unstoppable-ebook/dp/B0DN9R8KVN
John can be reached at beyersbyways@gmail.com
