A Sandhills Journey: A Quest for Historical Markers Across Northern Nebraska

Purposeful. Our adventure was characterized by looming thunderstorms, bright sun, cool mornings and miles of open road. My dad, sister and I took off for a four day trip through the northern third of Nebraska, on another quest for Nebraska State Historical Markers that took us to some amazing places. Who knew Nebraska could be so diverse, or have so much history! Our journey started by heading North out of Lincoln, two days after I arrived for a visit from Texas. I had already spent 740 miles in the car, what was a couple thousand more? We drove the highways along the eastern border of the state, stopping at historical markers along the way. As was typical for our trip last October, some of the markers were set right on the side of the highway, others we had to search for in whatever little small town they were illustrating.

You never know what you're going to find

We reached our destination for the first night, O'Neill, on the edge of a severe thunderstorm that produced some amazing mammatus clouds. After a quick trip to scout out the town's access point to the Cowboy Trail, we headed to a hotel to get some sleep. The next day started way too early. Dad and I were up before dawn and headed to the Cowboy Bike Trail while my sister slept in. I left town at 6am, on a solo journey with the goal to bike from O'Neill to Valentine (115 miles) in one day. Dad and Alisha backtracked to the eastern part of the state and continued the quest for historical markers. You can read the story of my bike trail journey here, but just let me say it was one of the most mentally challenging activities I have ever attempted. They picked me up towards the end of the day and we found a motel in Valentine, and after I cleaned up we went to get some good ol' Nebraska steak.

Our third day started slowly, with me sleeping as much as possible and moving as little as possible. Dad's truck is huge, and I had to use my arms to pull myself into it every time. Getting out of the truck was pretty much a controlled fall. We continued our trek West, driving through some of the most stunning sections of Sandhills in Nebraska. Our road led us through small town after small town, and nearly every person we passed on the highway acknowledged us with a one-finger wave. Also, they all drove Ford trucks. Anyway, we reached the fairly good-sized town of Chadron at lunchtime, and stopped to eat and check off historical markers as we found them. We planned to stay there for the night, but continued on down the highway toward Fort Robinson State Park.

Bison. NOT Buffalo

While driving down a small town just outside of the park's borders on the hunt for an elusive marker, we passed a house where a person was laying on their porch. Dad and Lisha spotted them, and thought it odd enough to warrant a second look. As we swung around, it became apparent that an elderly lady was lying on her stomach, her walker on it's side and her front door wide open. My sister and I jumped out of the truck before dad even fully stopped, and I moved faster than I thought was possible given how stiff I was from my ride the day before. The lady had clearly fallen, and as we sprinted across her lawn we saw she couldn't move much, and she was bleeding from where she had hit her chin and nose. I shouted for dad to call an ambulance and Lisha started talking to the lady, reassuring her we had help on the way and starting to assess where she was hurt. We retrieved a pillow from inside, trying to make her comfortable but afraid to move her. The lady's elderly daughter came down the stairs after I called through the house to see if anyone else was home. We stayed with them until the sheriff, then the ambulance and medical team arrived. As we drove away after giving our information to the sheriff, we saw them gingerly rolling the lady onto a stretcher. By the time we found our marker and returned to the main road, the lady and ambulance had gone.

 With that excitement on our minds, we continued on to Fort Robinson, and nearly became overwhelmed with the multitude of historical markers scattered through the park. We drove all of the park roads, and nearly every time we turned around there was another marker. We figured it might take us two days to track down and visit every marker. We located and photographed all but one of them in less than two hours.

Sure, let's drive over a flooded road. Only my father.

When we couldn't easily find the final marker, we continued up the highway and drove straight into a torrential downpour, only to drive out of it minutes later. We had a couple of outlying markers to get, one of which was so close to the Wyoming border that we couldn't resist but to cross over and add in a visit to that state. As we returned to Fort Robinson we explored the side roads that we had passed over during the storm, and finally found our final marker. We reached our motel for the evening, tired and pleased about how the day had gone, though I wondered how the elderly lady was doing. Our fourth and final day was a long one. We started our morning early, making the drive down a bad road to Toadstool State Park. Remember how much I love bad roads? They almost always lead to a spectacular destination, and Toadstool was no exception. I almost forgot I was in Nebraska.

White clay mounds broken by rusty striations stretched out in front of us as we reached the single sand road that leads to the park. We parked and started on a short hike through the wet clay and squishy grass of Ogallala National Grassland toward the whimsical geology of Toadstool State Park. Great slabs of rock rested precariously atop white clay hills, and it was easy to see where the name of the park came from. With all of the rain the area had been getting, the usually semi-arid region was soaking wet and muddy. We didn't even go half of a mile before we reached a little creek cutting through the milky clay, and our hike came to an end. Lisha and Dad didn't want to get wet and muddy, plus we still had our quest to finish.

 I conceded, but made the promise to myself that I will go back and hike the whole loop some day. It looked awesome! We drove the bumpy, washed out road back to the highway, and continued on our journey. Several historical markers and hours later, we found ourselves within two hours of home, and even though it was late enough that we'd be getting back after dark, we headed on home. We found many markers on our quest, and had some great bonding time. I don't know when I'll be able to go back, but I'm sure we'll have another quest to fulfill eventually. After all, there is still plenty of Nebraska left to be discovered.