Michael:
We left Omaha early Thursday morning. Our destination: the Nebraska panhandle, the town of Gering and the 83rd annual Oregon Trail Days (OTD). Our great friend Bruce, Omaha native, had been planning to travel the nearly 500 miles westward with his friend, Kenny. Kenny grew up in Gering and had attended many a OTD. We begged Bruce, “can we come, can we come?” He answered yes wholeheartedly and we were off.
In preparation for our trip, Gab had done mass OTD research. We were prepared. We knew the score. We had been on the website.
Thursday night.
Kickoff Barbecue with $2 Barbecue Beef Sandwich and Chips. Check.
Street Dance. Check.
Art Show and Sale. Probably Not.
All Night Beer Garden. Check.
Friday.
8am 5K Run. We’re guessing No.
10am Kiddie Parade. By all means NO.
all day Regional Quilt Show. No.
Friday sounded like a good day to see the National Park Sites in and around the area. Time to do the official stuff. Scotts Bluff National Monument and Chimney Rock National Historic Site. “You in Bruce?” “Of course I am!”
Bruce is an enthusiastic elementary school teacher.
Saturday Morning
Benefit Pancake Feed. Oh my heavens, yes. Have to support the high school girls softball team.
Bicycle Hill Climb up Scotts Bluff NM. Let’s pretend we didn’t see that one.
OTD Parade. Check. That’s more like it.
Saturday afternoon and evening.
Nebraska State Championship CASI Chili Cook-Off. Check. Check. Check Check Check.
Bed Races. Check.
Bull Chip Toss. Check. It can’t be much different than the Discus Throw.
OTD Carnival. Check.
Creedence Clearwater Revisited Concert. $25 tickets. No. Maybe we’ll pull into the parking lot and listen.
Kenny was very impressed. “You guys know more about the weekend than me, and I’ve been to a lot of them.”
The drive to Gering was long. Once we topped the six-hour mark I stopped looking at the clock safe in the knowledge that we were going to make it in time for the kickoff barbecue.
We had planned a few stops along the way to relieve the monotony. The first was the Great Platte River Road Archway Monument in Kearney. The eight-story high pioneer-themed museum actually spans the Interstate. Driving under it, however, was as close as we got. At $10 per person we just didn’t have the time.
Interstate 80 follows the same path as both the Oregon Trail and the Mormon Trail. It is hard not to imagine how long, difficult, dry and hot their travels must have been. They averaged about 20 miles a day. We were getting antsy and feeling crowded at 80 mph with the air conditioning on full blast in an SUV.
Our first actual stop was at the Pony Express Station in Gothenburg. Signs told us that the town is home to former Cardinals and Cowboys Tight End Jay Novacek. At the station we stretched our legs, took a few pictures, admired the buffalo coat and nearly purchased one of the snazzy Pony Express T-shirts. We jumped back in the jeep, westward bound.
Next up was Ole’s Big Game Steakhouse in Paxton, a staple in Kenny’s many trip across Nebraska. He warned us about the décor: nearly 200 animal trophies. He did not warn us enough. The front door opens immediately to Ole’s famous snarling Polar Bear. He is encased in glass and holds a freshly killed seal.
We moved into the dining area and struggled to find a table. Did we want to sit underneath the Elephant, the Elk, the Bison, the Giraffe, or one of many African hoofed species that we could not identify? We chose the Moose. We ordered two fried food samplers and left with the firm knowledge that Gab does not like gizzards and that I am not the adventurous type.
Gering was about three hours away. At Ogallala we followed the Platte River, got off the Interstate and continued along Nebraska Route 26. We were staying on the Oregon Trail. Slowly the terrain around us changed. Rock formations and bluffs began to appear around us.
Bruce pointed to his left, “That’s Courthouse Rock and that’s Jailhouse Rock. Can you imagine how relieved the pioneers must have felt after seeing those landmarks? Oh, oh, oh. Look there, can you see it? It’s Chimney Rock.” Gab and I strained our eyes from the back seat. It was willowy, very fragile and not nearly as tall as it was 150 years ago. The spire has been under erosion’s merciless attack. Kenny added that the military used to use the rock for target practice.
But it was still there. A testament to the pioneer’s march westward. I had a difficult time believing what we were driving towards. Chimney Rock is so ubiquitous in Nebraska; just like Mount Rushmore or Vermont’s late Man in the Mountain. It exists in so many symbolic places that it is hard to imagine it as something real. But there it was. Right ahead of us. Oregon Trail Days here we come.
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