Tidal Bore Rafting on the Bay of Fundy

John R Beyer near the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia

According to Ed, “Retirement, as I view it comes in three realities. Go-go. Slow-go. Or, No-go. I am going to enjoy the first as long as I can.”

Ed is a full time RVer, along with his wife Trish. They winter in Florida and spend the rest of the year wandering here and there.

This particular here was where my lovely wife, Laureen, and I caught up with the two along the Shubenacadie River which empties into the Bay of Fundy.

The weather was warm for Nova Scotia in mid-June and we were ready for an adventure on this natural phenomenon known as the tidal bore, the shift between low and high tides in the Bay of Fundy.

We had donned our life jackets and were just awaiting instructions from our white water river guides before climbing aboard the small red Zodiac rubber raft with a 60 horsepower outboard attached aft.

Derrick, the man at the helm, announced that we would be traveling out toward the bay while the river was at its shallowest.

“I know it looks like all the water is gone but we will navigate through some channels cut out naturally by the ebb and flow of the river which will give us all a great chance to see how marvelous this experience can be.”

A view of the bottom of the Bay of Fundy after water recedes

In the past, I have run white water rapids on the Colorado River, the Kern River, the Stanislaus River, and the American River - so this should not be too much of an experience in all reality. 

Riding an incoming tide from an ocean? 

The Bay of Fundy has two extensive tides that retreat into the Atlantic Ocean twice a day - roughly twelve hours apart. The tide goes out and boats that have been photographed millions of times are seen sitting on the muddy floor of the bay. Then a few hours later the tide returns and the boats miraculously start to float beautifully upon the waters waiting for their owners to get on board as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Laureen Beyer standing on the floor of the Bay of Fundy, Nova Scotia

So, here we were near the small enclave of Green Oaks, approximately 60 miles northeast of Halifax getting ready for our four hour cruise along the Shubenacadie River.

Old Railroad bridge spanning the Shubenacadie River, Nova Scotia

“Sounds like a Rolling Stones song,” I mentioned to Laureen as we made our way down a rather steep incline to the floor of the now empty river. “I can’t get no satisfaction from my Shubenacadie. I can’t get no . . .”

“Stop,” she replied. 

“The mud can get a bit slippery here,” said Steph, a guide who would be accompanying us on our wild rapids journey.

I smiled but then suddenly found myself sliding down the path to the river as though I had just donned a pair of snow skis for a downhill slalom. I was out of control.

“A hand here,” I yelled. 

“I think Laureen pushed me,” I said when regaining my balance next to the Zodiac.

We had signed up with Fundy Tidal Bore Adventures for this excursion along the Shubenacadie to see what all the hub-hub was with these Bay of Fundy tides.

I had never heard of a tidal bore. Though, it is very true that I have met a lot of bores in my life, and perhaps one or two by a tide, but this phenomenon was new to me.

The definition is quite simple: ‘A tidal bore, often simply given as bore in context, is a tidal phenomenon in which the leading edge of the incoming tide forms a wave (or waves) of water that travels up a river or narrow bay, reversing the direction of the river or bay's current. It is a strong tide that pushes up the river, against the current.’

Huh?

We had witnessed the water in various rivers upon our travels in this region of Nova Scotia over the past few days to marvel how a river or bay is full of water and then within a couple of hours you can be having a lobster roll on the dry bed.

In fact, the lobster rolls were delicious and backed by a cold Nine Locks Dirty Blonde made eating on the muddy floor of a waterway that much better.

When the water retreats and then returns to fill in the bay or river, the fluctuation can be amazing. These tidal bores only occur in a very few remarkable areas around the world and usually have a difference of about 20 feet between ebb and flow.

The Bay of Fundy is one of the grandest of them all, with a difference of sometimes over 40 feet - in fact at Burntcoat Head Park, approximately 40 miles west of Green Oaks on the Bay of Fundy, 54 feet of water difference is not uncommon.

Some people actually surf the Tidal Bore on the Bay of Fundy

We were off heading toward the bay as our captain, Derrick, piloted the small raft with great expertise finding this channel or that channel.

“Look up at the tall cliffs surrounding us,” he directed. And we did. “When the tidal bore comes in it will not be long until those cliffs are only a few feet above us instead of the sixty they are now.”

Suddenly a bald eagle soared out of the tall green trees atop those very same cliffs and circled high above us. 

"You’ll see a lot of those today,” Steph said, and in fact, we counted at least fourteen flying high and wide across the Shubenacadie in the next four hours.

Soon we were beached along a huge sand bar in the middle of the river. “We’ll be here for about thirty minutes until the tide comes in, and then it’s off to the races.”

“I read that the tidal bore can be only a few inches in height as it comes in,” I said to Ed and Laureen who were standing near me. “Doesn’t sound very thrilling.”

We chatted about this and that when suddenly we all noticed the once dry sand bar was quickly going under water and we were ankle deep in the incoming waters. The tide was coming in at a rate of about two inches a minute.

“Let’s get aboard,” Derrick said as we all climbed back into the raft and took our positions sitting on top of the inflated sides. “Make sure to hold tight to the ropes behind you when we actually hit the tidal bore.”

Warnings were given to all us customers not to bring any personal belongings upon the raft - cell phones, cameras, jewelry, car keys, or anything else of value. Morgan, the owner of the company, had told us before casting off that the waves would be so brutal that it would be nearly impossible to hold onto anything but the ropes looped around the exterior of the raft.

“I’m sure this will be a nothing burger that we paid good money for,” I skeptically replied.

Forty minutes later they could hear my girlie-man screams all the way to Prince Edward Island.

The tidal bore was anything but boring as it smacked straight into the waters of the river and with the narrow channels filling up, created pockets of swirling masses of white water, and our raft bounded into the air like a fish fighting for its life.

“You noticed when the water was out there were dips here and there across the surface of the river,” Derrick yelled across the raft. “That is what’s creating the rapids.”

At this point, I had swallowed enough of the Shubenacadie to become a local and we weren’t done yet.

“Now, off to the washing machine!” Derrick yelled, as he throttled the raft to maximum velocity.

In moments the entire bow of the raft, where Ed and I happened to be sitting was engulfed in mammoth waves. It was thrilling. It was wonderful. It was scary, as I lost my grip of the rope with my left hand and ended up on the floor of the raft, which happened to be full of water.

“I can still see the top of the boat,” Ed yelled. “Is this all you got?”

Derrick took the challenge and plunged us head first into the first set of six footers which ran over the length of the Zodiac. I lost count on how many sets there were. 

That is when, for the briefest moment, I hated Ed.

It was probably the best ride of my life. Nerve wracking and all, but to experience a tidal bore so up close and personal was beyond marvelous.

Fishing boats get stranded twice a day on the Bay of Fundy

We survived and I had to agree with Ed - this trip to Nova Scotia was going to be a Go-go. 

For further information: https://www.tidalboreadventures.ca/contact

John can be reached at beyersbyways@gmail.com

Bonnie and Clyde's Death Car

The Death Car in Primm, Nevada

 “I know it had been parked in that spot,” I told Laureen.

“How do you lose a car?” She asked.

I didn’t know but I knew who would, the friendly bartender across the room.

No, I had not misplaced my own vehicle after imbibing in an adult beverage. We were looking for the bullet-riddled Bonnie and Clyde V8 Ford which had been last seen at Whiskey Pete’s in Primm, Nevada.

This couple of midwestern small-time thieves and killers met their fateful end while driving the stolen Ford on a country road on May 23, 1934. Law enforcement officers were waiting for the duo and greeted them with a barrage of lead. They were not about to take any chances with the pair wanted for the cold-blooded murders of at least 13 people and countless robberies. Nope, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker met their end with at least 112 bullets fired at them.

“You want to know where the car is?” Frank, the bartender asked me. It was nine in the morning and even though we had stopped at the Casino, it was too early to belly up to the bar, even for me. We just needed some information and the smiling man was only too eager to supply it.

I nodded. “You guys do have all the answers and even know the question before it is even asked.”

Laureen, my lovely wife, merely shook her head. I’ve noticed she does that a lot lately when I talk.

“They moved it across the interstate to Buffalo Bill’s,” he told us. And he also informed us that the car may be haunted. “I’ve never seen anything spooky, but a friend of mine who works late once said he saw a shadowy figure in clothing from the thirties standing beside the rear bumper. When he went over, no one was there.”

And off we went to see the car and see if perhaps Clyde Barrow was actually wandering around wondering why his shirt had so many holes in it.

‘Bonnie had just laundered it by the old crick and I could swear there were no holes in it when she had me put it on,’ his specter may be wondering.

It should be noted that I am not a fan of the killers who were so famously shot up as they rode in their stolen car - quite the opposite. These murderers are unfortunately a slice of Americana during the time of the Great Depression. Unemployment was over 25 percent, food lines were a norm in large cities, folks leaving their homes in the East and heading West with hopes of finding work, and there were people like Bonnie and Clyde stealing and killing, sometimes just for fun.

It was also the era of gangsters like Pretty Boy Floyd, Machine Gun Kelly, John Dillinger, Toots Galore, and many more.

“Wonder why they moved it?” Laureen asked as we returned to our own non-shot-up car in the parking lot of Whiskey Pete’s.

“Perhaps it just appeared there,” I replied. “Like magic…or worse.”

Turns out that after the killing duo met their demise, there were a lot of shot-up ‘Bonnie and Clyde Death Cars’ making the rounds in the United States. People would plop down a nickel and then get a chance to ooh and aah counting the bullet holes that had torn through the metal of the V8.

“I counted fifty, ma,” Little Richtie may have told his ma.

“Man said there were over a hundred,” Ma may have replied. “Count 'em agin.”

But the one now located within Buffalo Bill’s is the real deal. The Ford had been put on display after the killings for nearly 30 years in carnivals, amusement parks, state fairs, and other such public places where people could get a glimpse of the last sitting spot of Bonnie and Clyde,

For a dollar, folks could sit in the front seat for a photo-op when the car turned up in Las Vegas in the 1970s. 

“Smile pretty,” the photographer may have said to a paying customer. “Don’t mind the blood spots.”

Over the next couple of decades, the death car moved from various locations until finally stopping at Whiskey Pete’s, and more recently, it was moved to an entire gangster-styled wing at Buffalo Bill’s.

It was easy to find as we wandered the rather eclectic Buffalo Bill’s casino interior.

“There it is,” I said, as in the short distance the death car - that is the name it goes by - I could make out the bullet-riddled remains of the V8 surrounded by tall and thick plexiglass.

The bullet riddled driver's door

Inside the enclosure are also two dummies made to look like the two dummies that met their untimely end within the car. Did I mention I was not a fan of Bonnie and Clyde?

The location of the car is rather unique and the lighting is a bit dim as to represent a darkness about the car and the people killed inside it, perhaps. But it had an interesting effect, on purpose or not.

Near the vehicle is a large kiosk with photographs showing the aftermath of the gunfight, along with newspaper articles from the period, and other artifacts including personal effects of the couple from when they were alive.

A mirror created by Clyde Barrow

From when they were dead is the blood-stained bullet-ridden shirt Clyde had been wearing while killed behind the wheel.

One sadly interesting artifact is a news clipping stating that over 20,000 people attended Bonnie’s funeral and over 15,000 attended Clyde’s. It is believed through the articles on display that many people in the country believed that the couple were more like a pair of Robin Hoods than just the plain thugs they were.

Crowds of people staring in at the death car

There is no evidence they gave away their stolen loot to the poor of the time.

Also, a place to sit for a few moments and watch a short video of the couple runs 24/7 for those wanting to remember Bonnie and Clyde and their life story.

We skipped the screening.

A short distance away, we found the 1931 black Lincoln bulletproof sedan once owned by New York gangster, Dutch Schultz, which, in turn, was then taken by Al Capone after Schultz’s murder in 1935. It was then rumored that the car was used by President Franklin D. Roosevelt after it had been confiscated by the federal government and Capone sent to Alcatraz.

The armored car owned by mobster Dutch Schultz

A little-known fact, Dutch Schultz was murdered while using a urinal at an upscale restaurant in Newark, New Jersey. The urinal is not on display at Buffalo Bill’s.

Having written a column about the Mob Museum in Las Vegas, it was interesting to find such a vehicle located in Primm, Nevada. A lot of history and violence tied to both cars on display but again another piece of Americana. Not the best part of the United States history but with all countries there is the good and bad - and we must be able to view it and perhaps learn from it.

Visitors were snapping selfies, taking group photos, and just taking in the scene of two vehicles that have been seen and portrayed in both docudramas and Hollywood films.

Speaking of Hollywood, the 1967 movie Bonnie and Clyde, starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway was a box office smash.

As we were leaving Buffalo Bill’s, I took another tour of the couple’s car and wondered how many lives these two ruthless killers changed for the worse. 

Too many, I imagined.

For more information: https://primmvalleyresorts.com/hotel/hotel-amenities/bonnie-clyde-exhibition/

Cottonwood Cove, a respite from the heat in Nevada

Entrance to Cottonwood Cove via the town of Searchlight, Nevada

One of the most memorable aspects of traveling is not the places visited, though that has a lot to do with the traveling, but the people you meet along the way.

I’ve been fortunate to meet famous folks, ordinary folks, and sometimes some unsavory folks along the byways. But all were wonderful in their own right.

Laureen, my lovely wife, and I decided recently to boat up to Cottonwood Cove Resort and Marina on Lake Mohave, approximately 35 miles north of Davis Dam on the Nevada side of the lake. We would leisurely cruise the blue waters of the Colorado River and spend the night at the Cottonwood Cove Motel along the shores of the marina.

Beautiful view of Lake Mohave from Cottonwood Cove

A wonderful way to spend a weekend. Sun, fun, and burning through a whole lot of fuel which made my wallet feel a lot lighter when we docked at the marina gas station.

“I bet we’re still a buck cheaper than Katherine Landing,” a young man said while pumping fuel into the tank on our boat.

“Yes, you are,” I replied not feeling any more chipper as I handed him a hundred and received no change back.

“Did you bring snacks?” I asked Laureen. “I don’t think we can afford the cafe for dinner.”

The winds had picked up about halfway along the trip and the lake often looked like a churning clothes washer. But we were out in the fresh air, tunes blasting away on the pontoon, and getting splashed by cold lake water was just part of the adventure.

Even with some pretty rough water, we made Cottonwood Cover in a little less than two hours and decided to chug further north to Nelson’s Landing on the Nevada side of the lake.

And this is where we encountered two young men who were in desperate need of help.

I wrote about the tragedy that had taken place on September 14th, 1974 when a monsoon west of the landing created a sudden flood which led to a 40-foot wave of water roaring through Nelson’s Landing, killing nine people.

Nelson Landing along the Colorado River

We had only seen the beach from the land and decided to take a gander at the site from the water's edge.

As we slowly pulled into the cove, which was packed with swimmers, Laureen noticed a young man frantically waving a white Frisbee at us.

I waved back.

“I believe he wants to talk to us,” Laureen said, with a slight shaking of her head in my direction.

Turns out two of their friends had paddled across the lake to the Arizona side, about a mile or more in distance, and had not returned. The choice of craft for the adventurers to cross some pretty rough water was a small inflatable raft with two short plastic paddles.

“It’s an orange raft and we lost sight of them,” the Frisbee-waving twenty-something yelled out to us from his perch on a high cliff.

A young woman beside him asked if we would mind going and looking for them. And off we went across the lake in search of a small orange raft.

Fast forward to the end.  We did locate the two boys on the Arizona side - Gavin and Westin - hefted the raft and them aboard our boat and drove them back across the lake to their very relieved friends on shore.

“I think I underestimated the river,” Gavin stated.

“Lots of folks do,” I replied, while Laureen draped a towel over Westin’s shivering shoulders. It may have been early May and the sun beaming from above but the water temperature is still in the mid-60s, which is pretty chilly when a person has been hanging onto the side of a flimsy raft for hours. 

We dropped the guys off and waved goodbye. Laureen laughed and asked if I had seen the t-shirt the girl had been wearing.

A white t-shirt with an arrow pointing to the left with the words, ‘I’m with stupid.’

“Probably should have made it plural,” I replied. Oh, the irony.

Actually, the two young men were just inexperienced. They were also very nice and appreciative. They wanted to know how they could repay us for saving them. Simple I advised, if they were ever out boating, return the favor and help someone else in need.

Good Karma is needed when on the water.

Nelson Landing, packed with sun worshipers

After doing our good deed for the day, we returned to Cottonwood Cove, tied off at a courtesy dock, and went to the store to see about a guest boat slip for the night.

And this is where we met a woman with an incredible sense of humor, by the name of Hope Full. “Yes, that’s my name.”

“Well, in that case, we are hopeful that a slip is available,” I replied.

“Never heard that one before,” Hope said, rolling her eyes just a bit. “Yes, Lisa called us this morning from Boulder Beach and reserved one for you.”

At this time, the manager came over and introduced himself. “I’m Mark Anthony, we exchanged emails about your trip here.”

Laureen turned her back to me. “Don’t say it.”

I smiled, “Is Cleopatra around?”

“Never heard that one before,” Mark said.

Mark is the manager at the resort and we did share some emails about Laureen’s and my plans for the weekend. He was awesome, as well as the entire team at Cottonwood Cove - helping us with anything we needed.

But this was not just a mini-vacation destination, there is a truly interesting history of this place.

Once long ago there, was a rather large island in the middle of the Colorado River named Cottonwood Island. This was before dams were built on the Colorado, forming Lake Mead, Lake Mohave, and Lake Havasu when steamboats navigated the wide river for nearly 500 miles. 

According to the-wandering.com, the island measured nearly ten miles long and three miles wide with a huge concentration of cottonwood trees. The river flowed around the island making access to it rather easy from either shore - Nevada or Arizona.

The Mohave people used the island for agriculture. Then mining began in the 1860s, and the cottonwood trees were felled to sell to the steamboats for fuel making their way to the local mining areas, bringing supplies and retrieving the ore for the smelters down south.

In 1867, the military placed a small outpost on the island to raise cattle, but in the same year, a flood wiped the camp out and drowned all the cattle. That experiment was not tried again, though miners would still graze their cattle from time to time on the island.

Eventually, with the construction of Davis Dam and the creation of Lake Mohave in 1951, the island disappeared for good under the blue waters. Nothing can be seen of this once popular and historic land mass.

We wandered a bit before our motel room was ready and saw families with and without boats enjoying the warm afternoon weather while taking dips in the cool waters along the two swimming areas near the marina.

The Cottonwood Cove Motel, plenty of room for guests

This resort within the Lake Mead National Recreation Area has something for everyone - though I still get confused with the name of the place, since we were on Lake Mohave. A large campground is available for those coming east from Searchlight, a cafe, general store, motel, houseboat rentals for long and short term, hiking trails galore and so much more.

Gorgeous beaches gazing over at the marinas

Cottonwood Cove was part of the Mission 66 project which was started by the National Park Service in 1955 as a way to enhance visitors' outdoor experience and originally followed Route 66 when more and more people hit the roads in their own jalopies. 

After checking into our room, we opted for an early dinner at the cafe, and as I sat looking out across the sandy beach, the softly blowing tall palm trees, the sparkling blue waters I knew what I was going to order.

“What are you having?” Laureen asked.

“No choice but to follow Jimmy Buffet’s advice,” I said. “A cheeseburger in paradise.”

And I did.

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