Nice Try, Nebraska

Despite what the original Constitution of the United States says about the qualifications for statehood and the guarantee of representation in Congress, by every measure that truly matters in America (bigness, crowdedness, awesomeness, Texasness), Nebraska doesn't deserve its star on the American flag.

--Kevin Bleyer, writer for The Daily Show

I’d like to start by apologizing to anyone reading this who currently or at any time in the past has lived in Nebraska.  I really do feel sorry for those people.  I’ve spent the past few days driving through that state and it was perhaps the drabbest section of my entire trip so far.  It was flat, it was full of bugs, and it smelled of cow manure.

On my first night in the state, I stayed at Fort Kearny State Recreational Area, which is almost exactly in the middle of the state and right off of Interstate 80.  As I pulled into the campground, it was 102° which I think is unusually high for this time of year.  On the website, the campground boasted having “eight sandpit lakes” which provided excellent fishing and resting grounds for Sandhill cranes.  The “lakes,” though, were really nothing more than small ponds that provided excellent breeding grounds for mosquitos.  The mosquitos and heat chased me into my air-conditioned van for much of the evening.  That was ok, though: I figured that in the morning it would be cooler and I could go out for a hike and explore the area.  I woke up the next morning at about 7:00am ready to hit the trails.  I opened the door of my van and stepped outside relieved to feel the temperature had dropped to a bearable 70°.  After a few moments though my nose began to protest.  It was being assaulted by a horrible stench.  The smell was so overwhelming that it almost made it difficult to breathe. At first I thought it was coming from the “lake” next to the campground—that perhaps it had been filled with dead leaves or fish or plants that were decaying.  It wasn’t quite a decrepit smell, though.  Then I suspected it was the nearby restroom—maybe the septic system on it had failed in the night. But no, the offending odor spread farther than just the bathroom.  It was then that I realized it was the strong smell of organic cow fertilizer. In other words, it reeked like s**t.  I realized there was no way that I was going to enjoy a hike in that environment so I decided to find something else to do.

This is what Nebraska looks like.

Nebraska has a pretty active tourism campaign.  Their slogan is “Visit Nebraska. Visit Nice.” and they have a website dedicated to boasting about all the wonderful stuff you can do in the state.  I went there to look for some ideas of things to do.  They had it divided into different types of activities.  I clicked on “Adventure” and it listed some fun activities like a tree farm, a visitor’s center, and a railroad yard.   Those things didn’t sound that adventurous to me.  I went back to their main page and clicked on “Nature” and it gave me some wonderful outdoor sights to see: a tree farm, a visitor’s center, and a railroad yard.  I was starting to see a pattern.  Just for kicks, I clicked on “Golf” and was taken to a list of some fantastic golfing opportunities…at a tree farm, at a visitor’s center, and at a railroad yard.   It seemed that Nebraska was really struggling for things to entice visitors to the state.  If all of the states were playing an organized game like Dodge ball and they were picking teams, Nebraska would be the last kid picked.  It would be the one standing there whining, “But, guys! I have an extra pudding cup in my lunch today!  Pick me! Pick me!”  I wanted to give Nebraska a chance—I really did.  I mean, Wyoming was exceedingly flat too, but they had Yellowstone and Big Horn National Forest.  Iowa was flat and full of corn, just like Nebraska, but they managed some nice parks and scenery without the smells from the back end of a cow.  Heck, even West Virginia made a decent attempt with the coal mine and the entertaining tour guide.  Surely Nebraska must have some redeeming qualities. I looked for something unique and came across Chimney Rock National Historic Site.  A Chimney Rock webpage invited visitors to “feel the awe and curiosity the pioneers experienced when they saw the most famous landmark on the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails.”  Wow—that sounded great!  Feelings of awe and curiosity invoked from a natural landscape feature.  How could I pass it up?  So I packed up my van and drove 4 hours from Fort Kearny State Park to view this natural wonder. 

Only 4 hours of driving to see Chimney Rock.
Do you feel awe in looking at it?

On the drive there, I passed several baby blue and gold signs that were part of the “Visit Nebraska. Visit Nice.” campaign.  They enticed me to see the wonders along the way like the Cowboy Hall of Fame or the Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles.  With great restraint I resisted seeing some of these fantastic things as I was on a mission to the awe-inspiring Chimney Rock.    I did get a view of the Heartland Museum of Military Vehicles, though, as it was just alongside the Interstate.  It appeared to be a tan aluminum storage shed that had some old green jeeps and small tanks parked in front of it.  I wondered if it was more fantastic than the Tillamook Air Museum.  

Eventually I made it to Chimney Rock.  It was…spectacularly underwhelming.  It was a sandstone hill that had eroded over time so that it formed a unique spire at top.  At the bottom of it, about ¼ of a mile away was a little visitor center that had a small museum.  I pulled into a parking lot that had maybe 30 parking spots in it and 4 other cars.  I went into the museum and walked up to the ticket counter.  A tall older woman smiled as I walked up and asked if I’d like to purchase a ticket for the museum—tickets were only three dollars.  I turned my head left, and then right, and took in the view of the entire museum: it consisted of some pictures on the walls and a flat screen TV showing a video.  There also was a gift shop that covered just about as much floor space as the museum. I told her I wasn’t interested in the museum, but was wondering if there was a trail that led out to the Chimney Rock so that people could explore it a little closer.  “Oh, no.  There aren’t any trails.  It is on private land so the public is not allowed to get any closer than we are right now,” she informed me. Well that sounded strange: they called it a “National Historic Site” but it was on private land?  Disappointed, I thanked her and left.  As I drove out, a baby blue and yellow sign begged me to see Scottsbluff National Monument.  I peered ahead into the distance and saw some formidable rock formations rising above the flat ground. They looked a little bit like a miniature version of the Badlands that I saw in South Dakota.  As I drove by them, I heard a tiny voice squeaking out “Pick me! Pick me!”

I felt that I gave Nebraska a good chance.  I was there for two days, and perhaps it was a day or two too many.  As I left Nebraska and pulled into Colorado I smiled in delight and relief as I saw the edge of the Rocky Mountains.  A few drops of rain sprinkled on the windshield (which helped to clean up the mass of dead Nebraska bugs that nearly obscured my view) and up ahead I could see bits of sun streaking through clouds.   A thunder storm had rolled in and a few streaks of lightning flashed in the sky.  As the day progressed, the storm cleared up a bit and more spots of blue spread through the sky.  "Now this is nice," I thought to myself as I viewed the diversity in landscape and weather.  I visited Nebraska;  And now I was visiting nice.  

Boulder Colorado.  Now that looks much nicer!