Washington Monument. The White House. The subways of New York City. The Liberty Bell. A beautiful lake tucked into the mountains in Vermont. I’d never seen any of these things prior to one month ago.

 

Upon the return from my East Coast tour, I embarked on a 10-day trip around Nebraska for the Frontier Project, playing witness to the shimmering layer of gold that hides just beneath the seemingly flat surface of a state known for the long, flat drive between Chicago and Denver.

 

Indian Cave, while obscured from view by the flood waters of the Mississippi, miles removed from any light pollution, was lit by the Milky Way and we had the privilege of hearing animals fighting in the woods, crawling around outside of our tent.

 

If Indian Cave gave us a starry night, Lake McConaughy provided a black canvas with millions upon millions of pinholes exposing the bright light shining from behind. With no moon, I could clearly see across the secluded hill that led down to the water, the stars floating on the surface of the lake spread out all across the horizon.

 

Chimney Rock, while disappointing in its packaging (visitor’s center, shot glasses, T-shirts, gift shop, single vantage of the formation from no closer than one mile, etc.), was surreal to see in person. To imagine the desperate families of pioneers passing through the Great American Desert, flat for miles, coming across the rock protruding from the ground like a lighthouse guiding them further west as if to say “You’re doing a good job.”

 

Scottsbluff National Monument calls the bluff of the small hills in the eastern part of the state, reminiscent of something found in the southwest. Red rocks and long, winding roads traveling to the top of large vistas that give a vantage for what seems like 100 miles.

 

Two hours to the north, 15 miles by dirt road from Fort Robinson (19th century war fort complete with soldiers barracks, officers’ quarters and lodges all available for lodging) we stumbled on Toadstool National Geological park. At the end of the dirt road is a space with eight tent-camping pads, surrounded by scrub grass and sandy ground at the foot of some of the most interesting geological formations I’ve seen (especially in Nebraska). Free to roam in the park, we quickly got lost along the criss-crossing semi-beaten paths over the wall of white rock into the weaving crevasses and peaks of stark-white mushroom-like formations. It’s like traveling to another dimension to the deserts of the southwest.

 

We travelled from there, looking over our shoulders for a final glimpse at the white, pseudo-mountains we’d climbed for hours the entire way to Niobrara State Park, the east-west highway leading through, closed due to flooding. There we met Park Superintendent Mark Rittig, a man so excited about our project that he got us an interview with a local paper; a man so dedicated to that area that not only was he the superintendent, but he oversaw the work at Ashfall Fossil Beds as well as working for the U.S. Coast Guard. He told us about all of the people that had walked where we’ve walked. I looked out over the hillside, where prehistoric animal remains have been unearthed, and imagined Lewis and Clark walking there. I pictured the outlaws of Nebraska’s history running along the route we drove. I saw indigenous chiefs standing along the ridge. “Giants have walked here,” I thought to myself.

 

I loved the East Coast. It was beautiful out there and I wouldn’t trade that experience. But you don’t have to have hundreds of dollars and a full week to take a beautiful vacation or explore nature and find inspiration. It’s in our backyard. There is inspiration, beauty and culture waiting to be touched, waiting to be inhaled and exhaled, waiting to send chills up your spine as you look up at a night sky so bright you’d swear to God that there was something out of the ordinary happening.

 

A Douglas, Neb., native, Max Holmquist performs as South of Lincoln. Leave comments below, or contact him at maxholm1@gmail.com.

 

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