Nebraska, With a Paddle
To the uninitiated, Nebraska conjures a certain image: a treeless prairie steamrolled pancake-flat, stretching to the horizon. But tucked in a north-central patch of the state is the Niobrara River Valley, filled with a surprising collection of conifers and hardwoods, 200-foot sandstone bluffs and spring-fed waterfalls.
To the south are the Sandhills, grass-stabilized dunes that roll and ripple like a gigantic rumpled bedsheet in a hundred shades of green, blue and gold. And half an hour from Valentine, the town that is the base camp for thousands of float trips on the Niobrara River every year, is Merritt Reservoir, a deep emerald lake rimmed with white-sand beaches — all that’s missing are the palm trees.
The Niobrara starts in eastern Wyoming and flows across Nebraska for more than 400 miles, emptying into the Missouri River. Seventy-six miles, starting just east of Valentine, are designated as national scenic river. The rapids are mostly riffles, and the water is knee-deep in most spots, inviting a journey that’s more about socializing than sport.
In summer, groups of young partiers dominate the river, hitching tractor-tire-size inflated inner tubes together and guzzling beer as they drift downstream. Some paddle in canoes or kayaks; others float in giant plastic tanks used to water livestock. But come fall, when the college set heads back to campus, empty nesters and leaf peepers take to the river in canoes and kayaks, paddling in search of solitude in one of the country’s most diverse environments. Unlike the raging white-water rivers that swell in springtime runoff, the Niobrara is spring-fed, so its rapids are mellow and the water level fairly consistent across the seasons.
Dorothy Laabs, a gregarious 48-year-old obstetrics nurse from Omaha, rallies a group of nurses every fall to float the river. “I like the fall because you can see the changing of the leaves,” she said. The birch, aspen and cottonwoods turn shades of gold, and sumacs add a flash of red. “You see less people and more wildlife,” she said. “This year, we watched a beaver cross the river. We saw deer, a whole family of wild turkeys and a blue heron, as regal as ever.”
On a family trip in August, my husband, Jeff, our children and I loaded up a canoe and a kayak and put in on a Friday at Cornell Bridge, inside the Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge. The plan was to float for two days and camp two nights. Little Outlaw, one of a handful of outfitters in Valentine would rent us boats and shuttle our minivan from point to point.
Over the eons, the Niobrara (pronounced nigh-oh-BRAH-rah) has cut more than 400 feet through a series of rock formations: the pinkish-red Rosebud formation, the chalky white sandstone Valentine formation and the Ash Hollow formation, a cap rock of gray ash. Drifting in it was not unlike floating through an enormous block of Neopolitan ice cream.
Having reached impervious bedrock, the river spreads laterally, making it wide and shallow enough that we felt safe taking three children under 8 onto the water. We often beached our craft at the edge to go for a swim or take a walk on shore.
In all, the Niobrara cuts through six ecosystems, including ponderosa pine, Eastern deciduous forests and tallgrass prairie. Four of those systems are disjunct, meaning they really have no business in the region. While the warm arid landscape of the Great Plains eventually proved inhospitable to many plants that thrived after the last glaciers retreated, the cool, moist environment in the river valley has preserved relics like the giant paper birch and a rare hybrid aspen from a colony 10,000 years old. Animal life thrives in the diversity: turkey vultures ride the thermals, sandpipers perch on sandbars, dragonflies dart above the water’s surface.
Cooling off in one of dozens of waterfalls along the Niobrara.
Wading through cold streams, we discovered small waterfalls tucked in side canyons. A recent National Park Service study found more than 230 falls, most only a few feet high, along a 35-mile stretch of the Niobrara we visited.
After six hours on the river (note: adding three kids to the formula doubles your float time), we spotted our camp compound perched on the riverbank at Smith Falls State Park. We had pitched it there the night before — our palatial two-room tent and matching screen house, an arrangement that seemed a little slick by Nebraska standards. Other campers were erecting old-school tents with plastic tarps.
After a camp dinner, we walked across the steel truss Verdigre Bridge and up a boardwalk winding to Smith Falls, Nebraska’s tallest. At the falls, cold water plunged 63 feet over a bell-shaped rock. Surrounded by moss and mist, red cedar and bur oak, we found it hard to imagine that just a short hike could take us to the dry, windswept Sandhills Prairie. As the purples and pinks of a fading sun reflected in the rippling water, Jeff strolled down the belly of the river with our two boys. Their giggles carried in the dusky air as they bobbed in lifejackets, dragging their heels in the silted river bottom.
By noon on Saturday, we were passing flotillas of tubers from Iowa, Missouri, Kansas and Nebraska — young things in bikinis and shorts, broiling in the late-summer sun and imbibing mightily. A group of campers had set up tiki torches and lawn chairs midstream and were cooling their toes in eddies. As a bald eagle soared overhead, Jeff fished an abandoned can of Bud Light from the river. (And drank it.) Our youngest fell asleep in the canoe in a pile of life preservers, despite the rap music thumping from boom boxes.
Stuart Schneider, a park ranger, patrolled the river, passing out mesh bags for empties. “On a busy Saturday, we can get 3,000 people,” said Mr. Schneider, who writes the occasional ticket for disorderly conduct. “My favorite time on the river is the fall,” he told us. “The water is clear, there are no bugs, and the leaves can be spectacular.”
After our adventure on the river, we spent a few days exploring by car.
At the Fort Niobrara refuge near Valentine, orange and red smeared the dawn sky, the grass smelled sweet with dew and fog hung in the hollows. The fort was established in 1879 to keep peace between Lakota Indians and settlers. Today the site is home to black-tailed prairie dogs, 225 bird species, and a herd of 300 to 400 buffalo (though as few as 15 might be pastured close enough to view). Even from afar, the one-ton bison looked massive and lumbering. In the 1800s, as many as 60 million roamed the plains; by 1900, the buffalo was hunted to near extinction.
In fact, a thick, curly-haired buffalo skin coat is one of the items on display at the Cherry County Historical Society Museum in Valentine. Other exhibits include a collection of spittoons and a display of nearly 100 cattle brands used on the area’s ranches. Valentine also has the oldest standing high school in Nebraska, now reinvented as another museum, called Centennial Hall. Built in 1897, it is said to be haunted by the ghost of a student poisoned by her clarinet reed. The old classrooms are filled with artifacts, including the original wooden door to Valentine’s jail and a collection of 1,700 bells.
In Valentine (population 2,820), red hearts are painted on the sidewalks, and cattle-country stereotypes ring true. Ranchers in cowboy hats roll down Main Street in dusty pickups, and Young’s Western Wear, purveyor of all things cowboy (jeans, chaps, hats, ropes, saddles) stocks 5,000 pairs of cowboy boots. They come in snakeskin, elephant, stingray, ostrich and — if you must — cow leather.
We outfitted the kids in checked cowboy shirts and headed 26 miles south through the Sandhills, past grazing cattle, massive spools of rolled hay and spinning windmills, to Merritt Reservoir. We set up camp in a small cove lined with shade trees. Anglers pull walleyes, crappies and wide-mouth bass from the depths here, and jet skiers trace arcs on the surface. With the wind blowing and our toes buried in the warm sugar sand, we forgot altogether that we were in Nebraska.
The author and kids on the banks of Merritt Reservoir.
Because of its remote location, the reservoir is a prime spot for stargazing. At night, my older son and I curled on a blanket on the beach and stared at the stars. I pointed out the Big Dipper, exhausting my knowledge of the heavenly skies. “On a clear moonless night, no kidding, it’s so bright the Milky Way casts a shadow,” we were told later by John Bauer, owner of the Merritt Trading Post and Resort, the only development at the lake.
He sent us to see nearby Snake River Falls. We descended the trail through sumac and yucca to the base of the falls and crawled behind the 54-foot-wide falls. We marveled at the gushing torrent inches away. “Is it thundering?” my 2-year-old asked in total confusion.
On our drive home, we detoured through the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge, 20 miles south of Valentine. Where the Ogallala Aquifer nears the surface, bright blue lakes and marshes sparkled like jewels in the green grass. We hiked up to a rusting fire tower and gazed at the Sandhills, which spread out like a turbulent sea.
It occurred to me then that the only pancake we’d seen in Nebraska came with syrup and a generous pat of butter.
IF YOU GO
Valentine, Neb., is about a three-and-a-half-hour drive southeast from Rapid City, S.D. From Valentine, to the east, a 76-mile stretch of the Niobrara has been designated a national scenic river (402-376-1901; www.nps.gov/niob). The first part, to Rocky Ford, is an easy float; later sections require portages and skilled paddling. Little Outlaw rents boats and tubes and arranges shuttles (800-238-1867; www.outlawcanoe.com).
After Labor Day, the visitor center at the Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge (402-376-3789; www.fws.gov/fortniobrara) is open weekdays. For information on the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge log onto www.fws.gov/valentine. Smith Falls State Park (402-376-1306; www.ngpc.state.ne.us) offers campsites at the river’s edge for $4 per person per night.
In Valentine, the Coachlight Inn (302 North Main Street; 402-376-3145) has tasty cheeseburgers ($6.45) and friendly service. For dinner, the Bunkhouse (West Highway 20; 402-376-1609) serves up big Nebraska steaks ($13.50 for a top sirloin). The Trade Winds Motel (East Highway 20; 888-376-1601; www.tradewindslodge.com) is locally owned, retro and impressively tidy. Rooms start at $55.
In the fall, the local museums are open by appointment only. For more information, contact the Valentine Chamber of Commerce (239 South Main Street; 800-658-4024; www.visitvalentine.com).
This story first appeared in the New York Times in October 2008.
