Niobrara Blue Skies

It started with the intent of finding skies uncluttered by multiple layers of clouds, an effort to rediscover wide expanses of blue that had been missing for what seemed like months now. It had really only been a couple of weeks, but other factors had inflated the feeling of nausea at facing another yet day in the gray.

The clouds began to peel away near Hamburg in Iowa, setting the stage for a perfect day of wandering distractions. It had been more than 10 years since traveling this particular path and the favorable weather encouraged a diversion from the interstate out onto the two lane highways of Nebraska.

Quite by accident, the first stop of the day found a few oddities lurking about a site that had languished in the backlog for a couple of years. There is more to Arbor Lodge State Historic Site in Nebraska City than noted on a previous brief expedition, stimulating thoughts of a more thorough investigation on the next pass through.

The point most responsible for the diversion through Nebraska City appeared in short order, offering up a cool, shaded walk through the woods to a small waterfall at Platte River State Park. The flow across the limestone bed was probably as spectacular as it gets with all the recent rain, unless one happens to be on-site during a heavy downpour. The winding trails to and from enabled the perfect respite from the road nonetheless.

Gasoline became of paramount importance after departing the previous scene and wanting to avoid the more populated Omaha, nearby Ashland seemed as good as any destination to fulfill that need. Open farmland flowed by offering few sites until suddenly and unexpectedly an SR-71a Blackbird and an array of rockets ready for launch standing in the late morning sun demanded a pause. Unprepared for an in depth investigation, the Strategic Air Command & Aerospace Museum was only noted for future exploration. Plans for a return to this site are already in the works.

Continuing to meander northward, clouds threatened to spoil the sky and adventures of the day near Fremont. They were not a welcome sight, having only just left a region recently buried in the gloom of clouds and rain. Sitting and waiting on a train to pass for what seemed an eternity, the clouds moved along about as quickly as the train, and skies slowly cleared over the next few hours.

The clouds thinned and dissipated as the journey seemed to go and on with nothing of significance along the way. That Kansas feeling was creeping in and thinking there might be an interesting artifact or two lingering in the town of West Point, course heading was adjusted to make contact. The calculation proved accurate. A beautiful memorial stands where a vacant house once rested, thanks to about a million dollars in donations. It features several bronze sculptures, which are considerably life-like, as moments frozen in time. Granite spires and flags representing each military branch, along with a Wall of Honor featuring 600 veterans also adorn the site, presenting a peaceful spot for reflection.

Angling to the northeast, across open fields in various levels of construction, the general plan was to land in Ponca State Park by sunset. There was so much daylight remaining within 60 km of the site that another diversion quickly became obligatory. Plan B was to overnight at Cottonwood Recreation Area, just below Gavins Point Dam and Lewis & Clark Lake. Arriving there about an hour later, yet more daylight encouraged traveling on to Plan C.

Niobrara State Park demanded a stay for the night. The setting sun contributed to the decision as much. There was enough time to locate the perfect site on a bluff above the Niobrara River and setup camp across from a pond, shaded by a nearby hillside.

As the last moments of daylight faded away and the campfire died away, creatures of the night became more restless and nosy. Several times, I heard beasts passing near accommodations for the evening. A couple of critters spent some time curiously sniffing the boundaries of the tent before moving on. It made for an interesting experience, but nothing too discouraging. Sitting quietly and waiting for them to pass seemed just and fair. There was no call to go jumping out of what was obviously a strange and foreign object in their path and frightening them. They eventually moved on and frogs, crickets, and birds slowly faded away into a tranquil soundtrack for a good night's rest.

. . .

Increasing birdsong led to awakening to a fantastic site of the Niobrara River and, after closing camp, an even more fantastic view of the wide expanse of the Missouri River at this juncture. Hiking about led through the associated lands, interesting in their own particular way, though likely not so much to the everyday individual. One point of interest had been devastated in a prior flood. While touted as something to see, the Ranger assured there was nothing left to see of the location in which the Mosasaurus had been exhumed.

With the hour nearing noon and facing a 5 hour drive home, it was past time to depart this land of sweeping prairies and native tallgrass. Over the next hour or two, it would be the only thing to look at, while searching for sustenance of the breakfast sort. There were an overabundance of places to eat along the way, if you had time to linger until supper.

Breakfast finally appeared at the end of the Outlaw Trail in the tiny town of Willis. Granny's proved to be a lifesaver, serving up a feast worth taking some time to enjoy. They provided friendly company and a multitude of advice on the quickest route home, musing over my weathered look and navigational charts, noting the arrangement as that of "a dying breed." There is no better way to travel though, excepting maybe throwing the maps out the window altogether and just winging it.

Satisfied and on the road again, reluctantly nearing the dreaded interstate, one last item demanded a brief pause. Sentinels of the Prairie near Jackson showcases an excellent selection of vintage windmills from the 1880's through to the 1930's, most of which are from Nebraska, positioned neatly at the entrance of the local trash collection company.

Other points of interest appeared in and around the small town of Jackson. Time was fading away though and all but one, a small memorial containing an Irish blessing "In Honor of All Mothers," were saved for a future adventure.

The interstate is a crowded and lonely place, offering few distractions, but undoubtedly the most expedient path to any particular destination. It is not the avenue of choice, by any stretch of the imagination. No other points of interest beckon as much as those immediately obvious that do not require the aid of a gigantic billboard demanding that one turn around now because you missed it. Descending along the Missouri River valley, watching yet more rain roll across the plains near Lawrence, Kansas towards home proved to be the only thing to truly instigate the desire to turn around.