Crossing the Nebraska Dunes

Crossing the fabled Sand Hills was the larger objective on a day where the sky littered with clouds and temperatures in the lower mid-20's °C.  It was a bit cooler and threatening rain when we left Custer.

Wind Cave National Park turned up unexpectedly on our exit path.  We had given up on the destination in the planning stages of this adventure and were mildly satisfied to make acquaintance.  Winding through its emptiness, exacerbated by the government shutdown, we enjoyed quiet solitude along the 4.5 km Coldbrook Canyon Trail.  Rain threatened to soak us half-way along the journey, ultimately mustering little more than a few moments of mist.

Large mats of cloud drifted along through most of the morning, enabling blue sky to shine through occasionally, though not to a great extent. It showed more promise just behind Hot Springs.   The last stop lasted much longer than anticipated though.  Coupled with the coming time zone change, any thought of exploring the historic sandstone architecture of the same would have wait for another time. 

The Pine Ridge in the distance Nebraska National Forest taunted us from a distance.  Rising out of the otherwise flat prairie, it begged us to investigate.  That too would have to come another time.

About this time, Google suddenly charted a course away from the main highway.  It is not completely certain as to why, except to save us a handful of miles.  The gravel roads proved an interesting diversion though.  Those roads can turn up some interesting attractions.  Carhenge, the intended target was all that reveled itself.

Beyond that lay the largest dune formation in the Western Hemisphere, covering about around 50,000 km².  They are firmly nailed down with plant, and there is little else in this expansive grassland taking up a quarter of the state considered to be one of the most intact ecosystems of its type in North America.  Crossing it is relatively effortless and can be quite enjoyable on a mostly clear and warm day, with a good selection of music.

By the time we came out on the other side of this situation in Broken Bow, we were utterly parched and famished.  The town felt shuttered, in spite of having read that there would be a variety of opportunities to address that issue.  Only one place held promise.  After checking in to our abode for the evening, we quickly returned 5 km along our route to intercept the local Cornhusker purveyors of fine food and brew known as the Kinkaider Brewing Company.  The culinary journey lived up to all expectations, leaving us satisfied and ready to put the day to rest.