At the risk of the title seeming a bit trend following, meaning click bait titles, forgive me. Since my blog space is far from a clickbait type space I just couldn’t refuse some good ole fashioned word play although for many it would make no sense. No, your friend here hasn’t yet had to resort to panhandling but rather there was a time window that presented itself for possible traveling, so, I took it. My Dad was being whisked away to Colorado for two weeks of family adventure and I suddenly realized that during that time maybe I could get out of town too.
I started exploring airline fares to a list of five places where there were friends I would love to see. I had them on price alerts to see if a spontaneous trip could be possible financially. One by one the cities fell off of the list for one reason or another but mostly due to finances, not having a vehicle to get around in on my own and in one case just too many people I would want to see in too short of a time frame. I didn’t want to take too much time off work. And then it hit me. Flying is not what I should be doing with this extended weekend notion, driving is. My old friend, my van, was calling and once I got a potential road trip in the van in my mind I was firing on all cylinders. It had been too long.
Enter The Panhandle
Through the years of visiting Nebraska there would always be a copy of Nebraskaland magazine laying around at Dad’s that I would on occasion, pick up and look at. All the cool photos cover to end with many seeming pretty exotic looking for what I knew Nebraska to look like. On some occasions if the folks were around I would get fixated on a particular image and always say, “where in the world in Nebraska is this and why didn’t I ever see it?” Usually their answer was always the same, west/northwest Nebraska. To be more specific for Nebraskans and those who know; the Panhandle.
In my first seventeen years of life my visits to other places in Nebraska usually all centered off of the I-80 corridor. I-80, the second longest interstate highway in the US traversing 2900 miles long east to west from New Jersey to San Francisco. It goes through 11 states and it most closely approximates the route of the historic Lincoln Highway, the first road across the United States. The section of it through the entire state of Nebraska I can imagine as being the section marking the straightest line of it’s length but that just may be how it seems. It was in this setting that I grew up; a straight line up or down I-80 with perhaps maybe one turn off to the regular destinations of my youth.
Since I am currently residing in Nebraska and since the weather seemed pretty good for van sleeping, Panhandle exploring was the ticket.
Night One: Ogallala/ Lake McConaughy
I set out after landscaping and an early morning at around 4:30 p.m. with Lake McConaughy as my target destination as it was one I could reach before dark. I also felt sure that I had never been there so it was on my been there, done it list. Lake McConaughy aka; Lake Mac or Big Mac, is the largest reservoir in Nebraska boasting 30,000 surface acres with its dam being the largest of its kind in the world. It is a huge recreational area with white sand beaches and I was able to secure a waterside camping site on short notice thinking white sand and water as a view in the morning seemed fun. In Nebraska no less.
Settling in for the 4.5 hour drive I figured I would still have a good hour of daylight left once getting to my site; time enough to feed myself, walk around some and settle into the ole bedtime van routine. I had to trick my brain several times into not over thinking the huge void that Savvy created within the whole van space and concept. She was so missed and it was not the same but like everything else we learn to adapt and get back on the horse or, van in this case. I missed the van experience. I missed the van and sleeping in the van. It’s the feeling of the whole thing that I missed so as I hit the road it was like a reunion with a special niche experience that is hard to describe. Yep, it felt good, it felt right, it felt like inspiration up until, my eyes kept trying to close. So after every known attempt that can be made for sleepy driver syndrome by the sleepy driver it was time to pull it over. Great, I thought, do I need to abort the rest of the drive after only an hour in? Lame. I was very annoyed by this. I felt fine and had a plan but the straight line drive and the early sun set glare had my eyelids under a spell separate from the rest of me.
I decided after using the restroom and slapping all the cold water I could on my face that maybe eating was the thing to do. I wasn’t hungry mind you but thought one generally keeps their eyes open while eating so it was worth a shot to at least get me farther than 50 miles out. Once back on the road I had another thought; I needed a co-pilot to talk to. Conversation is something else I realized that one does not usually shut their eyes for. As I pushed call on my phone screen, I truly hoped Willow would pick up. Willow, who co-piloted the first van voyage I made with me from Nebraska to Arizona was just the prescription. It had been way too long since we had talked and that maiden voyage with her and Savvy was the last time I had seen Willow.
She answered. It was a magical feeling having her company up until the last 30 miles when we said “later”. Willow kept my schedule and myself alive.
Heavy Clouds, Heavy Thunder & Heavy Sand
The closer I got to my exit the crazier the sky was getting. Dark low hanging heavy oval shaped clouds and a lightning show that appeared with intensity by the mile and I marveled at how much I just wanted to stop and star gaze. I also hoped I could get to where I was going before the rain and by the looks of things this could be some serious rain. I got to the Rec Center gate entrance where there was still the person manning the gate; I made it with 15 minutes to spare before they were to close. I gave my name, she had my reservation and she told me how to get to the area and I said, “Do I need to worry about getting stuck in the sand?” She said, nah and chuckled like, that’s silly, and I said, “ well my van is low, I’ve done beach camping and I am very cautious about what type of sand I can get through.” She indicated it’s not a problem. Ok, I’m going to make it I hope before the rain. So off I go to where she loosely told me to go. I see things she said I’d see but I don’t see any markings that signal, “camp here”. So I think ok, there are zero other vehicles out here so I say, where I decide to stop is where I camp. And that is exactly what I did but I did not pick the spot, the spot that got the van totally stuck is how the spot decided for me.
I got rather mad. Maybe more embarrassed. I was like how in the world am I stuck on a Nebraska beach without an ocean when I camped on beaches all over Baja with no problem? In my defense it was rather dark, I had never been there and as I started following a vehicle track that seemed very well packed I also realized it wasn’t taking me anywhere except closer to water, so, I went to turn around and it was like I went from hard road to quick sand. I got out of the van and sand was up and about over my running boards and the tires were 6-8” deep in it. It was clear driving out of this wasn’t an option although it didn’t keep me from trying for a minute. I remembered I was close to a boat dock area that also had a sign saying Ski Patrol and there were a couple of cars present, making me think maybe there was an employee around perhaps making sure all boats were off the water considering the hellish skies we were under. So, I took off on foot and proceeded to sprint in foot deep sand, up a hill to the main road. Having a heart attack after that ridiculous and unnecessary run was a thought, so I decided I should walk the rest of the way. Not a soul in sight. I thought, “maybe you should have brought a rain coat genius'“ but hey, whats a drenched person walking through tons of sand who is going to sleep in a van with no way of getting rid of the sand to a gal already stuck in the most ridiculous “campsite” ? Just another day. Time to call it a day. Clearly I had a first thing to do list for the morning. It never rained. I had never watched so much lightning in every direction for over 90 minutes before with no rain and no thunder. It was weird. Like my campsite. But it was also awesome, like my adventure. Goodnight Big Mac, first impressions are strong and we have a bond now.
I must have nodded out around 11:30. I was so pumped about sleeping in the van; a place I had some of the best sleep of my life and I needed it. Suddenly I awoke to the sound of my power locks unlocking which had me reaching for my very large knife, ok, it’s a machete that hangs by my bed. Then I realized the van was up to it’s old trick of the power locking device randomly locking and unlocking like it has done in the past. It hadn’t been doing it and I forgot about it, so, now my back ground noise was that, kachink, lock, kachink unlock; sporadically annoying me until I finally got used to it I guess and fell back asleep. Then, my phone rang and that’s never good at what was now 2:00 a.m.. As I fumbled for my phone, once in view, I saw the caller was from Life Alert. What the heck is going on with this?? It made me mad. I answered and they wanted to know of my emergency. I said there isn’t one except that I urgently need some sleep as I explained how my Dad was hundreds of miles from his life alert base in another state, where it will not work. Then I have to answer a bunch of ID and password questions and they ask again to clarify there is no emergency which came up another three times. I repeated how there was either a glitch or a ghost at my house but NO, no emergency. He said the signal was from Dad’s bathroom button and again I have to tell him the same tired story. Finally he says I need to talk to the tech department and can he connect me and I’m like, “that’s a negative and a later thing. I’ll put it on my fun morning list.” By now I am wide awake. It was not the dream sleep I had hoped for and I thought, ok, I am off to an interesting start.
Day Two: Deep Into The Panhandle
Well despite the crappy night’s sleep and waking up remembering I was stuck, I enjoyed my leisurely van coffee and oatmeal breakfast which flooded van life memories by the dozens. I read awhile, did some journal writing and then readied for the day. At 8:00 I called the Park number and told the lady my situation and she told me to call the ski patrol. A very nice woman there who was kind enough not to have me feeling foolish for getting stuck, assured me when I mentioned “ I bet I wasn’t the first”, that, no, it was all too regular a type call. Not sure how I felt about that and I did mention that I wondered if the person at the gate who was working was aware that getting stuck is a regular thing and she said, clearly not and they need to not tell people it’s no problem and they should not even be renting sites to people without four wheel drive. Clearly this advice had been given before and ski patrol was taking it for the team. I agreed. She said there would be someone over to pull me out shortly. So $60 bucks and a nice conversation with my tractor tow angel later, I was on the road, not a care before me.
I decided I would stop at Chimney Rock as my first been there, done it destination. I loved how the scenery was changing with each passing mile ever so subtly with Lake Mac to the left of me for at least thirteen miles. Nearing Chimney Rock, once in the day a distinctive landmark emerging out of the praire for travelers to recognize as a shift in geography , the terrain started taking on a more rocky dessert type plant life and small bluff horizons. After a quick run and walk aboutinside the visitors center I was off to Scotts Bluff Monument. How excited I was to be driving through not one but three tunnels through giant rock formations. Albeit they were not long tunnels but I had no idea Nebraska had them at all through a mountain. I took time to do a quick mile hike where there were stunning views for miles and they have quite the visitor center there. Of course there were so many historic markers I came across featuring snippets of Native American tales, the Pony Express, and the Oregon Trail which is what I was basically traveling on. All the white colored rocks against the bluest of skies adding in the uniqueness of Nebraska greenery against it all really had me in love with deciding to see this part of the country.
After Scotts Bluff Monument I headed to Toadstool Geological Park. This was a main destination I had and one of the images from Dads Nebraskaland magazine from years ago that stuck with me. Once again proving that when I get a destination set on my heart, it never disappoints. I was giddy over this place. First of all the entire area, a big part of the Great Plains, within the second largest grass land prairies in the world, Eurasia Steppe being the largest, is alive with the pulse of history as well as wildlife. Most of the animal life is not visible at any given time but you feel it all around you and the volume of the birds is incredible. I did see deer, rabbits, and lizards but I really enjoyed all of the free range, grass chewing, and having a great life cattle I saw. My drive to Toadstool was accessible via an hour or more on gravel roads that you think are endless and I encountered nobody. It was surreal and glorious. I lost the cell signal. Eventually I came to a T where I had to choose which way to go. I chose thinking it felt right and I realized I was having to notice where the sun was, which way I thought I was going and which way my destination was from my last via an actual paper map. I soaked it all in as the gift that it was. Eventually I came to a sign mentioning the name of what I recognized as the closest town to Toadstool and not long after that, a sign for Toadstool Park which put me on five miles of pretty hard dirt road with the most interesting collage of scenery. It harkened me back to Baja, parts of Utah, parts of New Mexico and Arizona yet with it’s sporadic 6’ tall grasses and other not the same characteristics I realized I was in yet another unique geographical experience.
I was never so happy that they offered a few campsites which I immediately put money in the box for. I got there with still a few hours of daylight left most of which I spent hiking, exploring and taking pictures. The place really spoke to me and I fell into an instant peace with the dry air, the hot setting sun, the sounds of wind and bird calls as the only noise and the ruggedness of the artistic rock patterns and formations all around me. I could have spent days there. There was this replica sod house there which was an actual site of one that they have kept re-doing through the years to preserve the awesomeness of sod houses and I was particularly excited about the cactus and floral garden sprouting on the roof as well as how much cooler it was inside of it. I also slept the best I have slept in two years there. I woke up in full praise mode. I am forever in love with Toadstool Park.
Day Three: Buffalo Kills, Research & How Far To What??
It was hard rolling out of Toadstool but the journey continued. After a lovely morning hike and breakfast I rolled back out to the dirt road to see where my journey would take me. I was now uncertain about exactly where I was going but wanted to head in the direction behind me eventually where I rather earmarked visiting a Fur Trader Museum. I know, rather odd maybe but hey geneology rumors have it that my Dad comes from a line of French Canadian fur trappers and traders. Why not. Within a mile on the crazy road I once again noticed signs for the Hudson-Meng Education & Research Center. I remembered seeing one of the signs for this place coming in the night before and added to one of the signs was something about Buffalo Kill. My curiosity could not bear to wonder so I followed the signs having no idea what I was going to be educated on. After a few miles on dirt roads and having passed some seriously charming ranches with sweet little cabins to rent had me thinking it was worth the turn to find out about these. The perfect place to isolate and write flooded my mind so I took a picture of the signs for future needs.
I came upon the dead end with clearly marked parking spaces, some signs and a walk path so I parked and started walking towards what was still unclear to be honest, however, I knew it had to do with buffalo which was exciting enough for me. I happened to be trail walking with one other, someone who looked to be a park ranger so I asked him if he worked at this site. He said he did do tours when it was open which is only on Fridays. I said, “oh, my lucky day then.” He said, yes and we had quite a nice chat about the gem that this whole area actually is and he is who I learned from about being part of the second largest prairie lands in the world which I found to be very exciting for some reason. I felt myself getting a geographical heart string to Nebraska that had not existed before.
Once into this large metal building seemingly so out of place for being in the middle of vast earth only I came into a tour already underway via the video segment of it. I missed pretty much all of that warm up but then a young man gathered us and asked us to go outside where the first thing he said was, “okay, I need you all to take your minds back to 10,000 years ago.” I was like, “wait, what?” Dude I’m busy thinking about the Oregon Trail era for which I was not a part of; 10,000 years? Yeah right. I laughed to myself about how absurd I thought that sounded. At any rate, the long and the short of this education and research center is centered around how many buffalo bones were found here in the 50’s when corp of engineers were coming through to tear up stuff for new stuff; a dam perhaps? I missed the video. Anyway, they reported the findings but nothing was made over it until later when a college professor in the area was told about it which led to the first series of research on the scooby doo mystery of what caused all these buffalo to die. Another run off cliff kill? Could there have been a cliff here 10,000 years ago? Researcher dude #1 was working that theory. Then different researcher dudes came in thinking no to the cliff story and they researched the aspect of natural disaster. A third wave of researchers came in later questioning the timeline in general due to finding native flint and arrowheads from different eras as well as particular seeds and such.
I was having a hard time taking it all too seriously and some in the group really wanted to get down into their theories and all I could think was , this is a Scooby Doo mystery that will not be solved. There can never be an accurate answer even if I were able to think back to 10,000 years. However, I am not trying to sound too salty about it as it was an interesting brain candy break. It was also a gem of a find as I think you would have to know about the place to ever get to it or be at Toadstool and get curious like I did. It was quite the random archeological find. The one real big thing that stood out for me was early into the tour the tour guide mentioned being from South Dakota, less than and hour a way and I could not wait for the thing to be over so I could ask questions about that. So, at the end, when the Scooby tour gang realized I had never been to the Black Hills it was unanimously decided that was where the van needed to head; mind you, that was not the direction behind me.
The Black Hills
When I was a kid, The Black Hills was a place that got mentioned more than once as a place we should take a vacation to, but it never happened. At one point the mentioning of the Black Hills was synonymous with an eye roll. I never got overly excited about seeing Presidents heads carved into rock to be honest but the words, rock and hills had my attention. All in all I don’t recall being upset about never having gone. But, now, as an adult, how could I not go with being this close even knowing I couldn’t spend quality time or hit all the big sites. I could at least get the Black Hills on the been there list. After hitting an actual highway there was a sign for Hot Springs, SD, 45 miles. I was excited. I had no idea where to go or where I was going to sleep but the road would take me. I got distracted about 10 minutes into the state with a sign that said, “Wild Horse Sanctuary.” Wasn’t going to not stop there so when the turn came, I took it. 10.000 acres for over 600 horses. Of course with that much space most of them aren’t hanging by the road although I did see some dotting the horizon. There is a gift shop and information place when you get to the end of the road along with different penned in areas and a few barns. One such fence housed a foal about a month old that they had found half hanging over a cliff at a week old and they did not know who the mother horse was so that little fellow was being weaned. I was warned he was a biter but I got lucky and didn’t have that experience with him. He followed me up and down the fence actually and I was smitten. There were a few others gated for other reasons. There will never be a sign on a road that has anything to do with wild horses that I won’t visit. Horses, now that’s the thing I spent a good part of my childhood dreaming about.
Once into Hot Springs, SD, a very quaint and pretty little town, I stopped at the Chamber of Commerce/Visitor Center and had a great chat with the young woman working there who was quite taken with my whimsical van journey. I gathered some info and some literature and decided I should at least go to Custer, SD and then I could decide if I would go any farther. I also decided I should find a place to call a sleeping quarters so I made some calls in Hot Springs since I liked the idea of waking up in this cool vibe. I found a spot albeit I didn’t like what I had to pay for it but at least I knew I had a spot somewhere. Off to the road again I went. Once in Custer I really knew I was in the Black Hills as the smell of tourism was pretty thick. Having said that Custer seems a pretty cool town and after talking to a couple at the Mt. Rushmore Brewery who chose it to retire in, I learned a bit about the town from a local perspective. I had to stop at Mt. Rushmore Brewery due to their sign that said “The Pounding Fathers” with a picture of four founders clanging mugs together. I digress. I also had to stop into the place that had a pick up truck outside and the truck bed was piled high with antlers, a very unusual sight if I must say. Much to my new friends shock that I had not been to Mt. Rushmore (turns out I still didn’t feel motivated by the idea of it), they did convince me to go to Crazy Horse. Honestly it felt like it was getting too late to drive farther only to not get in but they assured me Crazy Horse would still be open, so off I went. It’s pretty cool and the story of the man who did it is cool but you only see it from a pretty far distance. They have a bus that takes you close to it but at that point word is you are standing under it to only look at the chin. I was satisfied to view from a distance and meander through the large museum and full on cultural center they have there. It’s a great place for keeping Native American culture alive, so I enjoyed that.
Back to Hot Springs I went around 8:30 p.m. with big storm clouds starting to circle the area. I enjoyed the drive back for cloud watching and for all of the buffalo I kept seeing a long the side of the road which made me keep stopping and getting out of the van in the hopes of getting a decent picture of these creatures I apparently am rather enamored with. I even bought a tiny stuffed buffalo for the van. It seemed appropriate as a keepsake. Oh, and I did buy a tiny antler which holds my sleeping light and fan now by the bed. Always updating the van, lol.
Day Four; I Guess I Have To Turn Around
After a horrible night’s sleep I awoke in a major funk. No rhyme, no particular reason although in hindsight it was just what van journeys can bring up. The room to breathe and think often brings a melancholy that usually amounts to the need to release some crap that one carries around and ignores in their day to day. That’s what I chalked it up to. I found a cute place to have my coffee and a small bite to eat. The sky was as dreary as I felt. I headed back to Nebraska opting to make it to a town called Burwell, home of Nebraska’s biggest rodeo, for the night. Burwell was a place I had actually been to before when I visited the folks in 2019 and said, let’s take a drive. We drove up to the SD/NE border from the east side of the state then headed west and called it a day at Burwell. It was a Drivin and Cryin road trip with the rain as the perfect backdrop. While not fun it was cathartic as I struggled to force myself to find distraction from the heavy thoughts churning in my head and heart. I pulled myself into the Fur Trader Museum even though I wanted to not go in at this point. The museum is outside of Chadron, NE. I also wanted to visit the college campus in Chadron where they have an exhibition on another famous female author, Mari Sandoz. It was a Saturday and someone said it may not be open since it is summer, so I didn’t try.
I ended up being glad I went in the museum as I got distracted by the time warp of it all and the realization that the fur trade was the birth of any trade in North America and I loved how copesthetic, by and large, the relationship of the European traders and the natives was. It seemed proof that true free market did flourish for a time here but then, the government and massive size trading companies seemed to be the disruptors to what was based on simple wants, needs and mutual respect for trade. That was very interesting and the place contains a lot of history through this fur trade lens. They also have an awesome library and bookstore there. I picked up a short book by Mari Sandoz there called, These Were The Sioux. I learned at Crazy Horse that she wrote one of the best biographies on Crazy Horse and much of her book was used as a big resource. She wrote a lot on the Sioux Indians which she grew up close to and knew since childhood and she also was famous for her Pioneer life writings for which she lived first hand.
I rolled into Burwell around 7:00 p.m. and had no idea where to sleep. I called a motel to see if I could pay to use their parking lot but she wasn’t interested into that but, she did tell me I could park at the city park and I was grateful for the tip. I ran a little recon through the City Park and there was a box that said to put in $10 for overnight parking although where to actually park wasn’t so clear aside from some spots that were already taken. As I drove around I spotted a body of water so apparently there was a lake by the city park and there were little random pull-offs running off the main park road. I came around from circling the park and saw a man walking his dog so decided to ask if he knew anything more than I. He said I could park anywhere unless it said not to and he sees people parking in all parts of the little park. This was great news so I paid my $10 and decided to grab a bite to eat before dark. I found what looked to be a popular bar/grill near the town square and proceeded to sit at the bar. Next to me was a couple with a couple of kids having food. The woman wasted no time striking conversation with me which I was pretty happy about. I needed a voice outside my own. She and I chatted for well over an hour about her town, the rodeo, the bar we were in and the happening of such. We talked dogs, travel and kids. I found her to be a random gem in what could have been a fairly isolated dinner. She had real curiosity about things and I could feel her wanderlust. She took me outside to introduce her half Welsh Corgi, half German Shepherd to me, which really made my night. I was very grateful God gave me a buddy at the end of this rather long day.
I got back and settled on a place to dock at the park just as the sun was setting. I slept better and was not bothered at all.
Day Five: The Road Back
By getting to Burwell I put myself around three hours away from Lincoln. I hit the road pretty early but took my time coming back. It was Father’s Day and I had a few phone chats on the way back. I hit Lincoln before noon and proceeded to get my ducks in a row for the week ahead. I got home and realized I logged in just over 1200 miles on the van. I felt better on this day then the one prior and I got into a real gratitude mode. I needed the van adventure. In a few days I covered some incredible scenery, went down a history learning adventure, hiked, and recalled each and every thing I love about traveling in my van. It occurred to me what the real magic of it all is and I think the magic is in the deconstruction of life; that is it. It is simple. I can drive and sleep in the same space. I can take just what I need to have what I need. Within it’s walls is a vast space despite not being able to stand. Within the van travels is a reflection pool, a prayer room, a rest spot and a place to reclaim the margins in my head that normie life robs. It takes away big screens, big meals and things we confuse as big deals. I am not done with van life.
This may be the longest blog I have ever written. I guess today I needed to lose myself here. Thank you. I will post more pictures over the next few weeks!
Love. L