Off-Roading near Calico Ghost Town

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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

A Bit of Nostalgia at Peggy's Sue's

An awesome place to stop and visit

As most travelers realize, there are three essential items needed for an adventure: a mode of transportation, fuel for that mode of transportation, and fuel for the travelers themselves.

Transportation comes in many forms but all need fuel - not many folks feel confident if an airline pilot states rather joyfully over the intercom, “Welcome folks to We May Make It Airlines. On today's flight, we may have just enough fuel to make our final destination. My co-pilot already has his rosary beads out, just in case.”

Nope, not booking that airline.

According to the American Automobile Association, most traveling is conducted by driving the highways and byways in personal vehicles - of course, a pair of open eyes when driving anywhere in Southern California will prove that also.

“Doesn’t anyone work?” one driver may ask while sipping on his Mango Dragonfruit Refresher - of course with added coconut milk. “It’s two in the afternoon and we’re at a standstill in the Cajon Pass.”

All conveyances that transport folks from here and there need fuel, no matter which type of energy-producing fuel that may be.

Pull up to a gas station and within minutes the traveling group is back on the road, or pull your EV into one of those plug-in thingies and then take a long lunch and a nap and then you are back on the road again, eventually.

But the inner fuel for the travelers is one of the best parts of getting from point A to point B. There are so many choices along the roadways of America. Small diners, chain restaurants, fast food joints, curbside entrepreneurs, and places that have not seen an ‘A’ in their window since opening day.

There are also those favorite spots that we find ourselves drawn to time and again while traveling familiar territory, and one of those for me and my beautiful wife, Laureen, is Peggy Sue’s along Interstate 15 in the small town of Yermo.

A lot of 'nice' rides show up at Peggy Sue's

Not only is the eclectic eatery a great place to fill up the old stomach, but it is a fun destination to stretch one’s bones while wandering the interior and exterior of the establishment.

My personal history with the iconic restaurant goes back decades. In another life, I taught at the small but academically strong Silver Valley High School. A great place where staff really worked with their students to ensure a good quality education.

One of the programs I was involved with, Peer Counseling, had students interacting with fellow students to resolve various negative issues that may be causing personal angst. And nobody likes angst. It dealt with students talking with their peers on a one-on-one basis which is often more beneficial than an adult trying to make sense out of a teenager's life.

“My parents don’t understand me,” one teenager may say to a Peer Counselor.

“That’s because parents are dolts who often wear mismatched socks,” may have been the reply from my well-trained Peer Counselor. I always thought humor was a great way to get to the root of any issue.

I also used to say, ‘If you have issues, we have tissues.’ The point was, that my students believed in their heart of hearts that they could be the ears and voice for teenagers to listen to without giving advice, unlike adults who always had concrete solid answers for every problem that a fourteen-year-old was dealing with.

Really?

We raised four daughters - I still don’t know half of what the girls said for the entirety of their teenage years. I just nodded or told them to ask Mom.

Besides being a legitimate school class, we also operated a school club so we could hold various fund-raisers in which we could put on events schoolwide for the students at Silver Valley High School. And, that is where I came into contact with Peggy Sue Gabler, the owner, who along with her husband Champ, purchased the establishment in 1987.

Our Peer Counseling Club held its first car wash at the famed restaurant and Peggy Sue herself assisted, so naturally, it was a great success. She was charming and affable and even gave my students a good tip for washing her car in addition to free pizza and soft drinks.

It’s a good memory, and so Peggy Sue’s has been a favorite stopping place whenever we travel north or south along Interstate 15.

But, even without those personal recollections on my part, the joint is a cacophony of sights and sounds - and just a downright fun place to wander, even if putting on the feedbag isn’t the traveler's number one priority.

However, who could turn down anything on a menu that features such sandwiches as the Patti Page Patty Melt, the Mickey Mouse Club Sandwich, the Fabian French Dip, or the Big Bopper BLT?

If it sounds as though the customer may have stepped into a time warp when entering the double doors of Peggy Sue’s, they would be correct.

In fact, the front doors are ensconced below a huge facade of a 1950s jukebox. Don’t ever say Rock and Roll is dead in Yermo!

When Champ and Peggy Sue bought the restaurant, it was small and in need of a major facelift. They did not hesitate to sink hard-earned money from the time Champ spent working at Knott’s Berry Farm and the Hollywood acting career of Peggy Sue. In fact, she was so well-known in those Hollywood circles that as a person wandered through the restaurant, they would spy dozens upon dozens of movie posters and personal photographs showing Peggy Sue sidling up to some of the most notable actors from the silver screen.

On our last stop, there was a photo of Whoopi Goldberg telling the owners what a wonderful place they had going on the wall by our booth.

As posted on their website, Peggy Sue wrote; ‘We wanted good homemade food and great 50s music.’

And that they accomplished. But as the business grew, and more and more customers came in from the bustling Interstate just to the north, the restaurant had to expand to make room for the deluge of customers they were having every day.

The place reminds me of the Winchester House, without the hauntings, just keep adding on until there’s no more room to add onto.

The couple also realized they had a hit on their hands and decided year after year to not only expand in size but to make stopping at the restaurant not only a food fanfare but a true destination all by itself.

‘We opened a 50s style Five & Dime store with curios and memorabilia, soda fountain, ice cream parlor, and a pizza parlor,’ as stated on the website. "We even created our own Dinosaur park.’

Giant gorillas and dinosaurs await the visitor

As Laureen and I toured the exterior, after refueling our innards for the journey northward, we marveled at what had been created at Peggy Sue’s.

There are tall broad trees that give ample shade during the hot summer months with cooling blue water ponds surrounded by large swaths of green grass giving the entire experience a feeling of entering an oasis within the Mojave Desert.

As oasis for pirates, dinosaurs, and visitors

There is a bandstand that is used regularly for the enjoyment of locals and visitors alike - with bands that no one has heard of and those that may be just shy of getting that record label contract to shoot them into the stratosphere.

Get ready to Rock and Roll

As we wandered the park-like grounds, families were marveling at the life-sized metal sculptures of dinosaurs that show the differences between carnivores and herbivores. A paleontologist's dream for their own backyard.

Of course, my favorite is the giant sculpture of King Kong looking down upon us rather hauntingly - as any oversized ultra-intelligent simian would.

But before leaving this rather fanciful world that Champ and Peggy Sue created, a must-see is the gift shop where every piece of the 50s and 60s reside. There are full-sized posters of Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley, and not far off, there are a couple of hardened plastic sculptures of the Blues Brothers.

The Blues Brothers as Peggy Sue's, Yermo, California

The King, Elvis, not Kong, is ever present - in fact, as a person enters the establishment Elvis is offering to tell the future of anyone brave enough to drop a coin into the slot of the fortune-telling machine.

The King awaits

I dropped one in. 

“Viva Las Vegas,” the mechanical Elvis sang to me while nodding his Elvis face with a turban attached to the dark and perfect hair. “I see in your future not a thing worthwhile. Now the pretty lady beside you, yowie!”

It was time to leave. 

Peggy Sue’s is a must-stop for a quick bite or a lingering to take it all in. No traveler will be disappointed. 

For further information; https://www.peggysuesdiner.com/

John can be contacted at; beyersbyways@gmail.com

 

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

Happy 2025!!

With each new year, there is a chance to reflect and make each one of us a much better person - the world needs that, and together it can become a reality.

Happy New Year!

Your success and happiness lies in you. Resolve to keep happy, and your joy and you shall form an invincible host against difficulties.

 Helen Keller

Merry Christmas

 

As we travel through this Holiday Season, we want to wish all our friends and loved ones a very Warm and Merry Christmas - and to always remember the reason for the season is - 

John 3:16 - 'For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' 

In Search of Puffins

 Laureen, my wonderful wife, promised we would be seeing Puffins in Nova Scotia. She wanted to see Puffins in Nova Scotia. She was excited to see Puffins in Nova Scotia.

I always thought a Puffin was something Pillsbury made for breakfast.

Actually, a Puffin is any of three species of small alcids (auks) in the bird genus Fratercula. These are pelagic seabirds that feed primarily by diving in the water. They breed in large colonies on coastal cliffs or offshore islands, nesting in crevices among rocks or burrows in the soil.

A Puffin just enjoying life

Not being an Ornithologist, I have no idea what all that means except a Puffin is a sea bird and Laureen was keen on seeing them.

Being the doting husband I am, it would be Puffin-hunting season when we arrived in Nova Scotia - figuratively speaking only. How could anyone want to harm these little clowns of the sea? With their black and white bodies, orange feet, and a multicolored beak sporting stripes of orange, yellow, white, and black, they definitely appear ready to jump out of a Volkswagen with 300 of their closest aquatic friends.

We crossed the eight-mile-long Confederation Bridge from New Brunswick to Prince Edward Island and I suggested Laureen take a gander far below at the beautiful but somewhat foggy surface of the Northumberland Strait.

“Nope,” was her reply. She doesn’t like bridges of any height or length - the Confederation Bridge is very long and very high above the ocean.

It was so cool. “Do you feel it vibrating?”

Spotting a gift shop as soon as we crossed over into the town of Borden-Carleton, I realized I would soon be paying for my smarmy remark about the shaking bridge.

We stopped at the Gateway Village and soon were patrolling huge shops filled floor to ceiling with every sort of tourist trinket, tourist apparel, tourist photographs, and so many other tourist items that I truly believed locals were not allowed into the village.

Approaching a clerk while Laureen was loading up a couple of shopping carts, I asked the woman where we could see some Puffins.

“That would be New-Found-Land,” she replied. “There be no Puffins on Prince Edward Island.”

It was at that time I came to the rationalization that we would not be seeing Puffins and I had pronounced Newfoundland wrong for my entire life.

I was taught by a teacher in elementary school that New-fun-lund was somewhere in Canada.

So much for the private school my parents had paid for while growing up in Riverside, California.

With the boot, which is a trunk in Canada, full of loot I broke the news to Laureen.

She merely shook her head and said, “I have faith we will see a lot of cute Puffins.”

A week later we saw the elusive Puffins and they were not in Newfoundland, but in Cape Breton Island near the very small town of Englishtown along St Anns Bay - which happens to be part of Nova Scotia,

Driving along the 105 toward Baddeck I saw a road sign advertising Puffins tours. I hit the brakes, threw out the anchor, and careened onto the 312.

“What are you doing?” Laureen asked while hanging onto the handgrip near the passenger seat of the rental.

“Keeping your faith alive.”

Within a few kilometers, which is really cool since they are shorter than miles, we pulled up to  Donelda’s Puffin Boat Tours.

All of us lining up for the Puffin Tour

Turns out that the owner of the boat tour, Donelda has run the business for over 28 years with her husband John - sadly we were informed that John had passed away recently, but Donelda was keeping the tours as well as their lobster business alive in his honor.

Donelda is known as the ‘Puffin Lady’ around St. Ann’s Bay.

We signed up for a three-hour tour, which gave me a bit of an apprehensive feeling, thanks to growing up with the television show, Gilligan’s Island.

I shrugged it off but it suddenly came back as we were about to board the sightseeing boat, Highland Lass, when I heard a man ask, “Lovey, did you remember to bring stacks of money?”

The tour would include visiting an official bird sanctuary located off Cape Dauphin which consists of actually two islands - Hertford and Ciboux.

I asked the owner just prior to casting off if people could land on either of the islands.

Donelda replied, “I’ve been doing these tours for a long time and let me tell you, I or any other tour operator would not stand by idly if we saw trespassers on these islanders. By law, no human can set foot on either island so the natural habitats of these sea birds will remain pristine.”

Though she was a very warm and funny person, I was sure that if she caught someone trespassing on either of the Bird Islands, she would tow them back to the harbor in a lobster trap.

One of the Bird Islands the tour investigates

As we powered out into the bay for the tour, Donelda went through a few minutes of boat safety in case the boat was struck by a mine, iceberg, or torpedo. Then for the next forty minutes, the woman explained the various types of marine life we would be observing.

Donelda going through the safety drill with passengers.

“We will be seeing a lot of different sea birds during this tour,” Donelda said while holding up large colored photographs.

“There will be Artic Terms, Common Loons . . .”

“Don’t,” Laureen whispered to me.

“. . . Common Elders . . .”

“Don’t,” again the whisper.

“. . . Red-breasted Mergansers, Belted Kingfishers, Great Blue Heron, and of course many Bald Eagles.”

Almost on cue, the Captain, who did not resemble Alan Hale Jr., stated that to the port, that is the left side of the boat facing the bow, was a Bald Eagle. Instantly, Donelda climbed out to the exterior and grabbed a large Mackerel out of a bucket.

“Watch the fish,” she yelled while tossing the fish into the waters beside us. Within moments that huge majestic Bald Eagle swept by within yards of the 41-foot Highland Lass and snatched the fish up with its huge talons.

It was marvelous to see this bird, so cleanly drop from the sky and quickly pick up the fish floating on top of the water.

During that tour, if we did not see three dozen Bald Eagles I would be surprised.

Eagle catching a fish right next to our boat

Soon we plowed through the semi-rough waters and reached the bird sanctuaries - and Laureen got her wish. Besides all the birds Donelda had mentioned were on full view darting here and there, there were hundreds of the tiny little Puffins.

Some were floating in the water, where they actually spend most of their lives, and others sitting atop the craggy cliffs of the islands, safely tucked away in the nooks and crannies carved into the rock faces created by wind and waves.

I was somewhat shocked at how small the Puffins were. Photographs I had seen in the past gave me the impression they were just a bit smaller than Arctic Penguins. Nope, they were tiny - but they did waddle a bit like penguins. Reminded me of Charlie Chaplin, if he was a Puffin walking around on the Bird Islands.

The Captain slowed the boat and for the next hour or so, we cruised within yards of the islands snapping photos with phones and cameras marveling at how many different varieties of birds lived together in this sometimes harsh environment.

“They are so cute,” Laureen said with a large smile while pointing at the Puffins. It made me happy to see her light up while looking across the waters toward these little Clowns of the Sea.

After taking so many photographs, we just went outside to the aft and took in all of what nature had to offer that afternoon.

And nature had a lot to offer.

Cool blue waters with brilliantly white wisps of waves curling here and there on the surface, dozens of sea birds flying overhead in the clear sunlight, families of Harbor Seals frolicking along the shorelines or just out sunning themselves, and feeling the ocean breezes against our faces made for a perfect day of adventure.

Show Off!

As the Highland Lass headed back to its berth near Englishtown, Donelda told us that the area near the small fishing port dates back to 1597 by the French, later becoming part of the English Empire.

 It is one of the oldest towns in North America.

Mission accomplished - the search for the Puffins was complete and I knew once we bumped into the wooded docks, there may be a new search for a pub near Englishtown, which seemed apropos.

For more information: https://Puffinsboattours.com/our-tours/

John can be reached at: beyersbyways@gmail.com

Happy Thanksgiving

 

Often, between Halloween - a Holiday we love, and Christmas - a Holyday we love, we often forget the importance of the Holiday of Thanksgiving.

It is not only a day to spend with family and friends over a lavish feast spinning tales or watching sports but one of simply being thankful for those we love.

That is the utmost importance. To be 'Thankful' for those we love, present and past.

So, this upcoming Thanksgiving, please remember the words of Marcie, from A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

'We should just be thankful for being together. I think that's what they mean by Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.'

To be just -

The Rebirth of the Ghost Town of Amboy

Welcome to Amboy, CA

According to Ken Large, Operations and Logistics Manager for Roy’s Motel and Cafe in Amboy, there are ongoing plans to rejuvenate this once prospering town into something for the future.

“When Albert passed away in 2023,” Ken said, “I wondered what would become of his dream of turning this once vibrant town into a go-to destination for those traveling along Route 66.”

Albert Okura, the founder of the popular restaurant chain Juan Pollo in Southern California, had purchased the nearly forgotten town of Amboy in 2005. Albert loved history, especially the history of Southern California and more importantly Route 66. When he purchased the town of Amboy, his wish was to do all he could to turn it back into the iconic spot where travelers from across the United States would stop along America’s Highway during its heyday.

The original sign is lit up nightly in Amboy, CA

He had big plans, but that was nothing unusual for this man who created a chain of cookeries which would later label him the Chicken Man for the delicious food served in his nearly 30 various locations.

Albert knew he could recreate the thrill of travelers along Route 66 that was once felt after the route was completed in 1926. Sadly, Albert passed away on January 27, 2023 at the young age of 72 in Ontario, California. 

But, his dream did not die. “His family have been wonderful in keeping Albert’s dreams alive here in Amboy,” Ken said. “Take a walk around and see for yourself all the construction being conducted to complete this place by the summer of 2026.”

That summer would be the 100th anniversary of the completion of Route 66, and there are huge plans being developed along that long river of asphalt stretching from Chicago all the way to Santa Monica.”

Rumor has it that a family of Sasquatches may attend the festivities somewhere along the nearly 2,500 mile highway - but of course, that is on a need-to-know-basis.

And, I need to know!

Before I started walking the property, Ken did inform me that finishing the entire project may be a bit of a stretch but “...knowing Albert’s family as I do, I think we may indeed have everything up and running for the huge crowds that will be coming through. They are an awesome group of folks and I am sure keeping Albert’s legacy alive will be in the forefront of their thoughts.”

I’ve been through Amboy more times than I can count - either heading east or heading west. Did I stop each time? No, but every time I passed by those stark white empty cabins, the large paned windowed reception area of the motel, and the gas station with its huge sign out front welcoming visitors, I felt a slight tug at my heart.

Road monument with unfished cabins in the rear at Amboy, CA

Amboy, once a bustling and hustling railroad stop for miners, travelers, shippers, receivers, and those that just wanted an adventure which then, as many such towns did, turned into a ghost town and was now being brought back to life, makes me smile.

The last time I visited and spoke with Ken, a large tour bus had just pulled up and about a million tourists exited. It was a very large custom made bus.

“We sometimes get up to three thousand people visiting a day,” he said. I just saw a million, so I suppose his math could be accurate, rounded off for the year.

As I was taking a snap of some of the construction going on, a tourist walked to me and in a very German accent and said he recognized me.

“Yes, I am John R. Beyer, the world-renowned travel writer,” I humbly responded.

“Nein,” he retorted. “You look like the restroom attendant. Paper is needed in stall three.”

I nodded and then mumbled, “You probably meant number two.”

Ken advised me that 50% of the visitors are European, 35% from the United States, 10% from South and Central America and the remainder from Asia or perhaps the territory of Nauru.

As I wandered here and there, teams of construction personnel were wiring this, harnessing that, and pretty much doing what construction personnel did. They were busy rebuilding Amboy into what Albert Okura had imagined.

New construction in the works in Amboy, CA

A town full of life which invited the tourist to stop for a spell for a rest, and perhaps a meal and then back onto the historic byway or Route 66.

In fact, in keeping to Albert’s plans, Ken explained that they hoped to have rooms ready to rent, a fully functioning restaurant, and other amenities which made staying in Amboy for more than a couple of hours a reality.

I asked about the family and their thoughts about Albert’s visions.

“I must say that Kyle, one of Albert’s children, comes here quite often and spends long weekends checking out how much work is getting done. Often, Mrs. Okura and other family members accompany him and they love it out here. They are a great and loving family.”

Years ago, my lovely wife Laureen, along with one of our daughters, Kelly, drove through Amboy and were delighted to see the site was being used as a Fly- In. Planes of all makes and models were actually landing along Route 66 and taxing to the small airport located there.

Music, food, and other entertainment were in abundance for all to share in.

Other events which are being coordinated by Ken, the other staff members, and the family are motorcycle rendezvous, classic car shows, airplane fly-ins, music festivals, space alien conventions, and the list goes on and on.

And gas is available at the original pumps

“We also are also a venue for those who want to rent the place out for movie shoots, television ads, music videos, weddings, and the like,” Ken stated.

Recently a Polish singer by the name of Daria Zawailaow utilized the town for a music video. It is spunky, riveting, and I have no idea what she is singing about - my Polish is rather limited except for some old and now inappropriate jokes.

The below link will show just one of the musical talents who visited Amboy and wanted to share with their audiences what an iconic place this little town is and why it is important to visit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=CoMFkWwevjA

For more information: https://visitamboy.com/ 

John can be contacted at; beyersbyways@gmail.com