Scotts Bluff state of mind

Saddle Rock from the summit of Scotts Bluff

Only a few one-stop towns separate Sterling from the Nebraska Panhandle. The wind farm anchored to the horizon now loomed above us, the massive blades still despite the wind gusting at road level.

Innocuous signs marked the state line, easily overlooked as the road blurs by. As sparsely populated as most of Nebraska, the panhandle is pioneer territory, where the gently ruffled land and infinite horizons ceded to the geological landmarks of the California, Mormon and Oregon trails. Only 100 miles separate the North Platte and the South Platte, which meet to form the Platte near Ogallala. At the split, pioneer wagons decided whether to follow the south branch to Denver or the north and more distant environments. But the same tough folk who scratch out crops in Sterling reside around the panhandle’s towering rocks.

Despite its curious geology, I never set out to see the Nebraska Panhandle. For years, I plotted routes across Nebraska that cut into the Sandhills or followed the pioneer trail routes into Wyoming, but never seriously entertained those travels. There was a route but no destination, a journey that would draw blank stares when pitched to anyone. A new family connection to Colorado’s eastern plains suddenly put the Panhandle in easy driving range. On Mountain Time, two hours in the car click away.

Scotts Bluff from the Wildcat Nature Center

After we veered north from Sidney, the first set of hills rose from the rumpled plains. The Wildcat Hills, where Nebraska’s plains eroded into rugged canyons and short, striking ridges. Out here, Nebraska turns toward the weird.

Atop a smaller ridge, we passed a bison farm and sat on the road apron, watching a bison and several females graze in the tough grasses. Several young bison stood among them, their ruddy coats already matured into the tangled brown they would wear the rest of their lives. There would have been large herds in the wagon train days, and it’s fortunate that even a small commercial herd still grazes these hills.

Crown Rock and Sentinel Rock

That first rise was only portended the bigger dips and jagged ridges ahead. The Wildcat Hills bear little similarity to the rest of Nebraska and the Colorado Plains.

After patchy trees and rugged desert vegetation, the hills boast dense pines amid knives of jagged rock. The forests are mostly ponderosa pine and more closely resemble terrain further west in Wyoming and north in South Dakota’s Black Hills. The wildlife differs from the surrounding plains – alpine fauna such as elk, bighorn sheep and mountain lions live among the crags and pines.

The bluffs and hills are not isolated mountains ranges, but remnants of taller plains from 3 million years ago, when the North Platte River and fierce winds eroded the scrubland down to its 21st century height. Only the caprock still stood, erupting from the softly rolling hills. The northernmost of the escarpments was our destination.

Nancy in front of Eagle Rock

Outside the twin cities of Gering and Scottsbluff, Scotts Bluff National Monument has protected the striking rock formation since 1919. To the east lies Chimney Rock National Historic Site, the famously narrow rock spire immortalized on Nebraska’s statehood quarter. We debated hiking to the top, more than 600 feet above the visitor center. Although it seemed within our range the mostly clear day pushed the temperature into the 80s and we didn’t have the gear for that hike.

The twin cities

Thanks to the Civilian Conservation Corps’ work in the 1930s, we had an easier route to the top. A one-mile road snakes around Scotts Bluff (the city is one word, the national monument and escarpment is two), a series of tunnels preserving delicate rock formations. In short minutes, we were on top of Nebraska.

Actually, we weren’t. Despite their majesty, the hills and Scotts Bluff are the state’s most prominent heights, but not its highest point. Just a high spot on the plains, Panorama Point sits on a private bison ranch near Nebraska’s borders with Colorado and Wyoming. Panorama Point amounts to geologic marker in a field, not these hills soaring 800 feet above the plains. Someday, all the tooth-shaped peaks along the ridgetop will crumble.

Here, what we see today might not stand tomorrow - Chimney Rock's steep point has lost much of its sharpness in the past century. At the bluff, a few short trails led to viewpoints of other bluffs, the Wildcat Hills, Chimney Rock and the eclectic landscape of farms, towns and the blue band of the North Platte River winding between the two cities then across the dusty plain toward its junction with the South Platte.

Only 20 miles from the Wyoming line, I could imagine pioneer relief at reaching Scotts Bluff and the years when a fort stood below this, knowing the next refuge lied at Fort Laramie in Wyoming Territory. For all the lionization of the wagon train period, it was exceedingly brief, barely a decade before train tracks crisscrossed the country and shortened months of travel into days.

Dome Rock

From the top of Scotts Bluff, Chimney Rock was still visible through the haze. At 20 miles, distance we looked at the needle-shaped rock in the opposite direction of how it greeted pioneers. Our time did not allow for us to visit closer – you can view Chimney Rock from nearby, although its fragility limits that closeness. Still, no one can deny its majesty, even on a hazy afternoon. Standing atop these bluffs, it was hard to imagine returning to the flatland. With every step, the bracing air and relentless sun refreshed me. Every rock formation radiated rough beauty.

At the north lookout, a bird of prey, likely a red-tailed, cried and soared in tightly controlled circles. Despite the bird’s gracefulness, it swung above Scottsbluff at tremendous speeds, disappearing a few short minutes after that first confident cry.

Below us the metropolis of the Nebraska Panhandle rolled out among the bluffs and farm geometry only possible due to the North Platte and the hidden waters of the Ogallala Aquifer. Scottsbluff and Gering form the lone metropolis in the Nebraska Panhandle. The cities have separate characters, main streets with differing architecture and people. Together they anchor the Nebraska Panhandle. The local Congressman lives in Scottsbluff, despite representing a district that includes three-fourths of Nebraska (probably more than you want to know).

Back at the bottom of Scotts Bluff, we followed a quiet trail around the monument’s west side, providing views of the bluff’s tunnels as several motorcyclists raced down the road. A series of wagons recreates the standard vehicle for crossing the plains, and the necessity of a flat pass to that journey.

I had no expectations for the city of Scottsbluff, only a fleeting memory of the first time anyone mentioned the town. During a summer factory job 20 years ago, I worked with a man proud of his Scottsbluff roots. After explaining the city and its location far from anywhere, he highlighted the sights in Scottsbluff or at least those tantalizing to single young men. “If you ever go to Scottsbluff, you have to stop at The Library,” he said. He couldn’t wait to reveal that The Library was a strip club. If that Library still exists, we didn’t pass it or have any intention of visiting.

Don't skip Scotty's

Like Sterling, Scottsbluff and Gering defied the stereotype of the dying small town. Traffic was robust and although some downtown buildings were boarded up, neither town seem weathered from steep decline. While the Gering and Scottsbluff undoubtedly have their struggles, both felt relatively successful, their mid-afternoon streets bustling. Or maybe it was just the sunny blue day and august geology infecting my outlook.

Our lone stop in Scottsbluff came at Scotty’s Drive-In, the city’s venerable homegrown burger stand, which opened in 1962. With sandwiches named after local landmarks, the burgers were worth the visit. Scotties went from no line when we arrived to cars stretched to the street by the time we finished ours. For an encore – we did skip breakfast - Nancy had a corn dog and I had a vanilla malt. There were plenty of dining choices around the two towns, but if we land in Scottsbluff again, Scotty’s will be on the menu.

As we left the panhandle’s twin cities, the blazing sun burnt down our last day on the plains. The horns and cliffs of Scottsbluff disappeared quickly, then the Wildcat Hills followed suit. I regretted our need to retrace the path across the hills, this time skirting Kimball to cut through the Pawnee National Grassland. As we crossed the Colorado state line, the descending sun blazed on, casting several gaunt deer in silhouette as they grazed on the bleached grasses.

In this corner of the west, geography doesn’t differentiate much between the two states. With Scotts Bluff and the Wildcat Hills, Nebraska can claim the most impressive high ground on these plains.

Red-tailed hawk over Scottsbluff, Nebraska