FINDING HELP AMONG AMAZING BEAUTY

My camper’s air conditioning works just fine!  I finally gave in on Saturday evening [July 23^rd] while working on my blog.  I thought maybe if I felt a little cooler I would finish faster.  It did help. 

Sunday morning [July 24^th] I decided to stay another day at the Grand Island KOA to read and rest and lounge around the pool.  Towards early evening it got cloudy, the wind picked up, and it rained!  It was a much needed downpour, I didn’t even mind when the power went out twice.   

It was a very nice Monday morning [July 25^th] when I woke up and within the hour I was on my way, driving along Rt. 2 W and enjoying the breeze through my windows.  At Broken Bow, a fairly nice size town, I found the Custer County Museum, which was located on downtown’s main street, but it took me some time to find a place to park.  Like a lot of small towns in this part of the country, parking is diagonal – not my most comfortable kind of parking, especially with the truck camper.  Seeing that I had no choice I managed to find a section that was mostly free of cars and parked there, taking up two and a half spaces.  Folks will understand, I reasoned as I walked the one block over to the museum. 

Closed!  Whaaaat!?!  The lights were off and the door was locked.  I looked at the posted hours.  They are open on Monday.  Today is Monday.  They are open from 10:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.  My watch told me it was after 10:00 a.m. and before 4:00 p.m.  There was no other sign, no explanation, no anybody.  There’s an item in the museum I wanted to see – a piece of an Indian’s broken bow.  And after all that trouble looking for a place to park…

A few miles later I turned onto Spur Rt. 21A and crossed the railroad tracks to the town of Anselmo.  And right there on the deserted main street stood the second small jail I’ve seen on this trip.  This wooden jail, built around the late 1800s, was constructed without any nails.  Walking around the jail I found some nails, but I’m guessing those were added later in an effort to keep the historic structure intact.  The area around the jail was unkempt, there was overgrowth everywhere.  The door was not locked and I was able to open it a bit to take a peek inside.  “Watch for snakes” was the mantra in the back of my mind but there weren’t any, apparently, here or around the old “soddy” next to the jail. 

Historic Jail in Anselmo, Nebraska.

A close up of the jail to show how it was constructed.

Further up the spur road I pulled into the Victoria Springs State Recreation Area.  There’s a small lake here but it was covered with algae.  As I prepared to back into my site I said hello to this fellow who was cutting the grass.  Catching his eye later I gestured with my finger that I had a question and when he cut the engine I approached him.  I told him that ever since I arrived in Nebraska in early July I’d been wondering what all that fluffy white stuff was that’s “floating” down from the trees.  I had paper and pen with me and he wrote that those were seeds from the Cottonwood trees.  He pointed out the trees to me and said that the white stuff falls from the trees for about two months each summer.  As I thanked him I offered him some water but he had some and so he went back to work.  I sat outside later and watched a robin hop around, cock its head, hop some more, and pick something from the ground.  They do that all day…every day…we can learn something about patience and persistence just by watching them.

Around 2:30 a.m. lightning flashes woke me up.  Oh, another thunderstorm.  Waking up again later [on Tuesday, July 26^th] the sky was blue and there was a slight breeze.  A really nice day, I decided, for today’s adventure along Rt. 2 – the “Sandhills Journey Scenic Byway.”  This is the highway that will transport me through some very extraordinary terrain.  And this is in Nebraska?  Who knew?!

If you look at a map of Nebraska you will note that the central part of the state, on the western half, appears barren.  There aren’t many roads and very few towns.  Looking down from space and tracing the outline of the USA by its city lights, you’ll find this region of Nebraska easily enough because it will be entirely blacked out.      

This is the Sandhills Region.  This is 19,000 square miles of sand dunes.  The sand dunes are covered with grass.  It’s a carpet of green grass, gently rolling and rolling, on and on -- just like an ocean of sand dunes -- but, wait, these ARE sand dunes! 

The settlers who arrived to this region quickly discovered they couldn’t farm the land.  The grass, they later discovered, was perfect for grazing.  It goes without saying that there are more cattle than people in this entire region.  Some interesting facts and quotes from various pamphlets –

• The Nebraska Sandhills are the largest, unbroken grassland in North America.
• The Sandhills contains more than 13 million acres of grass-covered sand.  The area of sand dunes is larger than Vermont and New Hampshire combined.
• Virtually untouched by the hand of man, this is Nebraska’s last unexplored frontier: a timeless, wind blown ocean of undulating dunes, native grass and vivid blue lakes.
• Some of the hills are 400 feet tall and 20 miles wide.  They look like giant waves frozen in time by grass in a storm-tossed sea.

The Rt. 2 scenic byway traverses 272 miles from Grand Island to Alliance.  I’m stopping in Thedford tonight, but first, a side trip. 

Going north from Thedford on Rt. 83 for about 40 miles, I arrived at the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge.  The 72,000-acre refuge, in the heart of the Sandhills, is a haven for prairie wildlife.  The lakes on the refuge, several of which are open for fishing (including ice fishing), provide a resting spot in spring and fall for migratory birds, notably the Sandhill Cranes and the endangered Whooping Cranes.  In April and early May, visitors come to the refuge to view and photograph prairie chicken and sharp-tailed grouse courtship displays from behind an observation blind.  In addition to fishing, seasonable hunting is permitted on the refuge.

Locating the dirt road access, I entered the refuge and drove slowly through.  The nine-mile dirt road was wide enough for one vehicle.  Fortunately, I encountered only one car coming from the opposite direction and that driver was kind enough to pull over to let me and my behemoth pass.  I stopped for about 30 minutes at Clear Lake, enjoying the scenery of lake and sandhills and eating an apple for lunch.   Except for a group of five or six geese, I saw no wildlife.  I had plenty of company, though.  Lots of grasshoppers, dragonflies, and other winged insects hopped in or flew through my truck.  That happens when I leave my windows open.  One dragonfly landed on my wrist and several found their footing on the dashboard.   



Driving through the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge, accompanied by a grasshopper on the windshield. 

 

Clear Lake, bordered by sandhills - Valentine National Wildlife Refuge.


The dirt road exited at Spur Rt. 16B and I took that road a few miles around the refuge to the Civilian Conservation Corps (the historic Depression-era CCC) Nature Trail.  The half-mile trail led to an old fire tower which has an observation deck about 30 steps up.  Rule of thumb on trails like this: wear light colored clothing – all the better to spot the ticks.  Appropriately attired, I just needed to ditch my ecco sandals and put on socks and hiking shoes.  Boy, those ticks waste no time!  I happened to look down at the beginning of the trail and there was one on my sock!  I flicked it off and checked myself very often while walking on the trail.  My fingers also, quite often, found their way to my head.  Just making sure, all’s I was doin’…

From the fire tower the panoramic view of the sandhills and nearby Hackberry Lake was just wonderful.  So was the cool breeze.  I was the only person there.  Unable to check my back, I thought why don’t I take off my t-shirt and shake it out for good measure?  Yeah, who’s gonna see?  Then it occurred to me – the refuge headquarters is right down the road.  I had just come from there because I had questions about the fire tower.  Did they maybe install video cameras here?  I left my shirt on.  

The spur road connected to Rt. 83 and I drove south back to Thedford where I got a site at the Arrowhead Lodge & Café.  I got dinner at the café and not long after I settled down in the camper, clouds rolled in.  Still another thunderstorm was in store for tonight! 

View of sandhills from the CCC fire tower, just outside the boundaries of Valentine National Wildlife Refuge.

The distance from Thedford to Alliance is 124 miles and it was a beautiful drive on Rt. 2 [on Wednesday, July 27^th].  The Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) Railroad cuts through the Sandhills alongside Rt. 2 and I greatly enjoyed driving alongside these trains.  At one spot a curve on the tracks happened to merge a train right next to my truck and I was neck-to-neck with the front locomotive, keeping pace with the engineer’s 50 mph speed for about a mile or two.  I couldn't see the engineer through his small windows but he was probably grinning along with me! 

The Sandhills are dotted with windmills, essential for pumping water for the cattle.  Visible on the hills, here and there, are erosions called “blowouts.”  I stopped at one just off the side of the road for a closer look and feel of the white stuff.  ‘Twas sand alright.  Past the town of Ellsworth, and on the approach to Alliance, the terrain leveled out into a flat prairie.  I stopped for the night in Alliance, getting a site at the Sunset Motel & RV Campground.  This was a most lovely drive -- it ranks up there among the most beautiful I’ve driven in the camper.



Entrance to a private ranch, along Route 2, the "Sandhills Journey Scenic Byway."

 

Just a few of the thousands of cows on the Sandhills.



A sandhills "blowout" - along Rt. 2. 

 

A sunflower blossoming just fine on a sandy "blowout."

The next morning [Thursday, July 28^th] I took a quick side trip north on Rt. 87 to see Carhenge --

“…a replica of Stonehenge, England’s ancient alignment of stones that chart the phases of the sun and the moon.  Created from [38] Vintage automobiles, the dimensions of Carhenge replicate Stonehenge.  The cars are primarily from the 1950s and 1960s.  They are planted trunk down and rise 15 to 17 feet.  The cars are approximately 7 feet wide; the same size as the standing stones of Stonehenge.”

All the cars are painted gray, to look like stones.  It was an interesting display but I didn’t stick around long enough to find out who came up with this idea and why.  It was cloudy and very cool during my visit to Carhenge.  How appropriate, I thought, even the weather is just like England!    

Carhenge, near Alliance, NE.

Picking up on Rt. 2 W back at Alliance I resumed my drive heading northward towards Crawford, in the northern part of the Panhandle Region.  An electric time/temp sign in one of the towns I drove through declared that it was 69 degrees.  There was even a bit of fog as I drove north.  The sun came out eventually but that cool respite sure felt wonderful.

The Crawford area is where I crossed into when I arrived in Nebraska on July 5^th.  While traveling around Nebraska this past month I picked up information about some interesting places to visit in this area so I decided to swing back up here.  This time I got a site for tonight at the historic Fort Robinson State Park.  This is a very nice state park, especially for families.  They offer special events throughout the year and a variety of activities such as horseback trail rides, jeep rides, water activities, chuck wagon cookouts, hayrides.  The campground is well kept and the young lady at the registration desk was also nice enough to give me a site right next to Soldier Creek. 

You always hope otherwise but shit can and does happen when you travel.  If my life experience has taught me anything, there’s “bad shit” and then there’s “good shit.”  Bad shit is when your truck breaks down at some isolated area.  Good shit is when the breakdown happens where help is within reach.

Ready to head on out this morning [Friday, July 29^th] my truck wouldn’t start.  I stared at the engine gauge in disbelief.  I tried again.  Truck still wouldn’t start.  I then started to feel ticked off because I had the truck serviced about a week before I left home.  And then when it really hit me, I felt immense relief and gratitude that the breakdown happened right here and not somewhere else.  

Remembering exactly where the Campground Host was located, I walked there and the Host (whose name I did not get) drove his truck over to mine.  Using my jumper cables, we tried but couldn’t get my truck to start.  He then drove me to the registration office where a different young lady called maintenance.  Back at my site with the CG Host, we waited a minute or two and this other fellow arrived.  As it turned out, he knew fingerspelling and said his name was DJ.  The CG Host then left and DJ tried with his cables but wasn’t able to start my truck.  DJ said he’s really a carpenter (and an EMT and a former Marine) so he called Mike, who’s a mechanic.  Mike used different equipment and got my truck started.  He said, however – and DJ interpreted – that I should take the truck to a garage and have both batteries (my truck has two) checked out.  Based on a gauge he was using, he had a feeling the cells were both bad.

As I was asking “Where is…,” DJ fingerspelled “Follow me!” and he led me directly to this garage in Crawford.  He explained the situation to Tristan and got him to drop whatever he was doing and check my batteries.  He did that and the consensus was I should get new batteries.  I agreed and within 20 minutes I was on my way.  I don’t know how many times but I kept thanking DJ and I kept hugging him.  I hugged Tristan and I hugged Mike earlier, too.  DJ was just wonderful, staying with me to the very end and keeping me informed throughout.  I couldn’t have asked for a better guy to help me out. 

Back on track I found Rt. 20 E, turned briefly onto Rt. 71 N, and then got on a dirt and gravel road through the Oglala National Grassland to the High Plains Homestead, “Home of the Drifter Cookshack and Bunkhouse,” which is described as “An Old West Cowtown, clinging to the open prairie, surrounded by rugged Badlands, and framed by the northwest Nebraska ponderosa-clad Pine Ridge.”  Owned and operated by the Kesselring Family, the “town” is built up with old buildings that were transported here from elsewhere.  There’s a mercantile, a livery, a blacksmith shop, a school, a sheriff’s office and jail, a saloon, a post office, an abandoned house and barn.  The family collected and filled these buildings with homestead-era tools, household items and implements, farm equipment, old wagons, old school supplies and books.  There were a couple of buffalo in the field, some chickens, and several cats.  Private rooms are available for overnight stays and they even have an above-ground swimming pool.  They also serve breakfast, lunch, and supper, and after walking around for a little over an hour, I was ready for lunch.  I ordered the Indian Taco and it was excellent!  

A good idea to set up the Sheriff's Office (and jail) across from the saloon!  High Plains Homestead, NE

From there I drove about three miles further up the road to the Hudson-Meng Bison Bonebed.  To quote from the pamphlet, in part –

“…is the site of one of the most important Paleo-Indian archaeological discoveries in North America.  Approximately 10,000 years ago, up to 600 Bison Antiquus (an extinct form of the modern bison we see today) perished in a small, sheltered valley in northwestern Nebraska.” 

The site I visited is an archaeological excavation of the bones of these bison that died 10,000 years ago.  Uncovered by a bulldozer in 1954, major excavations started in the early 1970s and are ongoing today.  Initially, the bison were thought to have died as a result of some sort of natural disaster, but since the excavations have turned up ancient stone spear points and skinning tools, it is now believed humans played a part in many of the deaths.  A young man, an archaeological student who also could finger spell (tis my lucky day!), answered my questions and explained the excavation process.  It is slow and painstaking work and requires precise mapping, photographing, and recording of everything found, bones, seeds, human artifacts, etc.  And this is just one site.  They will continue to dig down and beyond the current mapped boundary as long as they find bones.

Just one excavation area of bison bones, Hudson-Meng Bison Bonebed.

 

Storm clouds - and a raindrop on my camera lens - on the dirt road after visiting the Bison Bonebed. 

Still on the dirt and gravel road I then headed for the Toadstool Geologic Park where I planned to spend the night.  The campground has only six sites and there was me, a couple with a tent, and an individual camping out in his SUV.  A few visitors came to walk on the trail.  That I’m doing tomorrow.  There are no hookups here so I’m dry-docking tonight. 

There are also no lights around the campground.  There’s no moon and the clouds have moved on.  Ideal conditions!  When it became completely dark by 10:00 p.m., I grabbed my flashlight and stepped outside.  Shining my light on the ground around and near me to make sure the coast was clear I then turned off the flashlight and looked up.  This was the perfect night and the perfect place for stargazing.  It was just awesome.  The sky was filled with stars -- the Big Dipper I did find and the Milky Way was so clear, so wow!  It’s a rare opportunity for me to see the stars like this and I stood out there for a long time, remembering every now and then to shine my flashlight around.

The Toadstool Geologic Park is a landscape of badlands – “rugged arid lands with heavy clay soils that are eroded by wind and water” – that date 30 million years.  Fossils of prehistoric animals have been found here and their tracks can be seen on some of the stones.  A toadstool is a “…sandstone slab resting on a clay pedestal, resembling a mushroom.”  Described as “other-worldly,” these barren hills do stand out in stark contrast with the open Nebraska grassland.

Trail guide in hand, I walked on the 1-mile loop trail through this landscape.  It was easy walking at first and then it became more rugged, making it necessary for me to climb up, down, and around the rocks.  At one spot the descending slope wasn’t that steep but because of the loose stones and pebbles, I decided it would be safer to scoot down on my butt.  At another spot I thought I had to climb down these piles of slabs to the dry riverbed and then climb up another pile to get to the other side.  I almost started to do that when I spotted the barely visible narrow path.  That saved me about 30 minutes, not to mention the potential for another type of pain.  After about 90 minutes my camper came into view.  Coming back up to this corner of Nebraska was an excellent decision!

A "toadstool" rock formation, Toadstool Geologic Park.

The "badlands" of Toadstool Geologic Park.

 

My camper as seen from among the rocks at Toadstool Geologic Park.


It took 30 minutes to drive the 12 miles or so of dirt road back to the paved highway.  I turned toward Chadron on Rt. 20 E and then turned south on Rt. 385, the “Gold Rush Scenic Byway.”  One final Nebraska landmark to see – Chimney Rock, located near Bayard.  Created over millions of years by forces of nature, the rock is a round base with a 120-foot spire that juts skyward from the top of the base.  Chimney Rock could be seen for days by wagon train travelers as they slowly made their approach on the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails.  It was a very significant guidepost for these folks and it gave them a psychological boost.  Rare and other old photographs of Chimney Rock show that the shape of the spire has changed over the years and there remains speculation that the spire could topple one day.  It’s a fragile place and visitors are not allowed close proximity to the rock.  



Chimney Rock, as seen by the wagon trains on the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails, near Bayard, NE.



I got a site for tonight and tomorrow at Cabela’s RV Park in Sidney.  Cabela’s, the sporting goods store, was founded here and its 85,000-sq-ft showroom is right next door to the RV Park.  It will be worth a visit while I’m here.

My most fabulous month-long trip around Nebraska ends here in Sidney.  On Monday I will head for Colorado.  Nebraska was a delight to visit!  It’s not all about the corn here.  There’s so much history and so much geological diversity.  There are no mountains, but the state is hardly flat.  Sandhills and badlands and rivers and lakes and waterfalls – who knew?!