8/10/2021
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This morning I peered hopefully from my tent, wistfully
wishing for a departure of the smoky haze and a return to clear blue skies.
Alas, it was not to be. But things looked a bit clearer to the north – which was
good, because that’s the direction that I was headed today!
Scottsbluff is one of the few towns with amenities (such
as campgrounds and good gas stations) in this part of Nebraska, so it’s easier
to make it a temporary home base and do little day trips out from it to see the
area’s attractions. I found this out the hard way a few years back, when I had
planned a broader adventure through Nebraska on my way up to Montana – but found
myself running out of gas on a very long road with no stations, causing me to
have to backtrack back along a different road and cut my explorations short.
On that trip back in 2017, I had planned on stopping by
Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, a little rural park in western Nebraska
that features supposedly exceptional Eocene-aged mammal fossils. It’s always
bothered me that I didn’t get to check that one off my list. So, today’s
mission was to finally go visit the elusive park!
Jane and I took a short hour-long romp north from
Scottsbluff along Hwy 29 (one of only two roads that extends north from
Scottsbluff into other parts of western Nebraska). It was on this drive that I
was reminded of one of the best things about the less-visited regions of the
States: no traffic! In fact, I encountered only four cars on the entire drive
up.
That peaceful drive gave me an opportunity to really take in the vastness of the high plains, to experience it in a deeper way. For fifty miles, there was nothing but prairie as far as the eye could see: endless waves of grass rolling across gentle hills in a never-ending verdant carpet. The expanse yawned wide, seeming even huger for its emptiness, the absence of the hustle and bustle of civilization. Occasionally, I saw a farmhouse placed in the landscape, always surrounded by a protective screen of trees in what appeared to be a desperate effort to fend off the boundless ocean of grass. But for the most part, the only sign of human influence on the plains – beyond the road, of course - was the endless row of fenceposts marching towards the horizon. Indeed, it was Jane and I that seemed out of place here, her brilliant blue paint glittering radiantly, defiant of the persistent haze, and the exhaust bellowing out across the plains in a triumphant challenge to nonexistent rivals. Our loudness screamed out into the void, and we received nothing in return but dust.
After some time, the GPS told me to take a right turn
onto a narrow road, and suddenly I had features to look at again. Sunflowers
carpeted the fields adjacent to the road, and small knolls bearing exposures of
chalky white rock protruded upwards from the landscape quite frequently. I had
reached Agate Fossil Beds!
I parked at the Visitor Center – a very large imposing-looking
log building that still looked perfectly at home in the plains - and headed inside
to get some information. The center was just as impressive on the inside as it
was on the outside, with wonderful exhibits featuring great reconstructions of
the park’s fossils. It turns out that many of the bluffs that I saw on the way
in are preserved remnants of a Miocene-aged (20-25 million year old) arid
savanna that was cut by a number of small streams and watering holes. One might
imagine an environment similar to modern African savannas, with large herds of
mammals – ancient rhinos, gazelles, horse-like animals, giant pigs, and the like
- roaming the grassy landscape and congregating at watering holes during periods
of drought. The major fossil finds at Agate are concentrated around these
scattered watering holes, which became the final resting place for many animals
during periods of extreme drought, creating thick bone beds that were preserved
for millions of years only to be revealed today.
In addition to the impressive bonebeds, Agate is home to some
rarer, more unique fossils, most notably the fossil “Daemonelix”, meaning “Devil’s
corkscrew”. This crazy fossil is actually a trace fossil – meaning, a fossil
that preserves some remnant of the animal’s presence or behavior instead of the
animal itself. These things consist of large corkscrewed tubes, about a foot in
diameter, that extend down roughly 6 feet before extending out horizontally for
some ways. Early paleontologists were stumped as to the origin of these
corkscrews, until one happened to find a beaver fossil inside one of them.
Turns out, these Devil’s corkscrews are actually just weird beaver burrows! How
neat is that? Unfortunately, the glass casing on this specimen prevented me
from taking a really good photo… but the rangers informed me that I could see
more examples out on the trails in their original location, which seemed more
exciting to me anyways.
You might think that I spent a while in here oohing and
aahing over the fossils before hopping onto the park’s trail system. And
normally you’d be right. But the Agate Fossil Beds Visitor Center is home to
something even more valuable – and arguably more fascinating – than even its
rare and unusual fossils: a massive collection of Native American artifacts
from the Lakota tribe. Apparently, the original owner of the Agate Springs
Ranch, James Cook, became close friends with Chief Red Cloud, the Chief of the Oglala
Lakota tribe in the 1870’s. This friendship lasted for decades and spanned a
period of time when the Lakota were being driven onto reservations with their movement
greatly restricted. Although James Cook did his best to advocate for his Lakota
friends, they saw that their way of life was rapidly disappearing, and consequently
gifted him many items that were important to them, to preserve and protect for
future generations to see. Remarkably, this collection survived in the family’s
care for nearly a hundred years – originally residing in the living room of his
farmhouse at the ranch, then staying with the family until the 1960’s when it
was donated to the National Park Service. I spent hours wandering through the
exhibits showcasing hundreds of these artifacts, completely in awe of the
incredible craftmanship of the various pieces, but also really touched by how well-preserved
everything was. The collection includes delicate artwork, beaded moccasins, buckskin
shirts with porcupine quill embroidery, etc., all of which is probably
remarkably hard to keep in good condition – especially for that length of time,
and ESPECIALLY for a farm family in rural Nebraska. Each and every piece that
survived intact is a reminder of the friendship that the Cook family and the
Lakota shared, tended with care and dedication. Definitely one of the best
exhibits I have seen in a long, long time.
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| A (modern) example of a Plains hide painting called the "winter count", which was intended to record the events of the past year. This particular example appears to record the entire history of people in North America through the 1960's, however. |
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| Amazing beaded moccasin gifts |
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| Pipe bags from three generations of Red Cloud's family, decorated painstakingly with porcupine quills |
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| A buckskin ceremonial dress which would have been worn by Red Cloud's wife |
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| More awesome bags |
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| An intricately-embroidered child's buckskin suit, gifted to James Cook's firstborn son. |
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| Saddle with detailed quill embroidery on blanket, plus some rad gloves and several unique dance wands. |
Eventually, though, I ran out of artifacts to look at and
stories to read, and I had to move on to the rest of the park if I wanted to
see everything before the end of the day. Agate Fossil Beds is pretty light on
hiking trails, having only two. The first one, which leaves directly from the
Visitor Center, takes hikers through the Niobrara river basin and up through the
plains to a couple of the original major fossil bonebed excavation sites.
Grabbing some trail mix for a snack, I set out on the
short hike. It had kind of turned into one of those “aggressively bright” days –
you know, the kind of day where the sky is really gray and the ground is really
yellow but the sun is really bright so all of that light just keeps reflecting
off of everything, washing out the landscape and making it really hard to see.
So I squinted my way down the trail until, very abruptly, I found my eyes
soothed by a thick swatch of deep green rushes that led to a patch of large
healthy-looking bushes and small trees.
Apparently, I had reached the Niobrara River! It was jarring
to suddenly find a lush tree-lined river springing out of the bright, almost
desolate plains. I find it hard to imagine how it would have felt to a pioneer
making their way across the Great Plains – not knowing a river was nearby, and
then suddenly coming across it like this purely by lucky happenstance. I
imagine that it probably felt like salvation.
All too soon, the trail removed me from the riverbed, and
I was back in the bright, harsh, unforgiving plains again. They certainly have
a peaceful beauty about them, but I can also see that looking at this landscape
for weeks on end may have been a little insanity-inducing for early travelers.
Man, it is a LOT of grass. Fortunately, I was not traveling across the plains
for weeks – I was traveling across them for about a mile, which is hardly
anything at all.
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| Pictured: Rocks, no bones or any defining features |
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| The Niobrara River Valley with a field taking advantage of the water that the river can provide. |
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| There is totally a bunny snugged up in one of the little overhangs in that rock |
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| Looks like I woke him from his nap |
A bit disappointed, I headed back down the trail, back
through the sea of grass. I did find myself looking at all of the knolls
scattered across the landscape, though, wondering if they still hold more
fossils waiting to be discovered. Surely, early paleontologists have crawled
all over this area looking for exactly that. But… people have been known to miss
things. You really never know!
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| This bird was enjoying this bench, at least |
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| Just a bench in an ocean of grass |
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| Back through the Niobrara River Valley |
Reaching the parking lot a short time later, I hopped in Jane and drove back towards the entrance to the park, where the other trailhead was. I parked Jane adjacent to a spectacular field of sunflowers with the intent of snapping a few nicer “posed” shots later – I hate to take up space doing this usually, but it doesn’t matter here because I’m the only one around!
The trail is another short one, involving a brief
out-and-back with a loop towards the end that winds through the bluffs for views
of some Daemonelix fossils still entombed in their outcrops. This one, at
least, was supposed to give me some really cool stuff to look at! I tackled it
with gusto, double-timing it to the nearby knolls where fossils were reputed to
lurk.
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| The purple thistles in this patch of sunflowers are actually invasive, but they do make for a nice picture |
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| A random patch of petrified sand dune Rounding one hill, I came upon my first exposure of Daemonelix. Upon initial inspection, there was almost nothing to differentiate this hillside outcrop from any other one around here – until, with the right lighting, you could start to see the coiled fossils extending down into the layers of rock below. There’s actually several of these traces in this outcrop, which indicated that the beavers that made these burrows were communal, living in a kind of colony similar to prairie dogs! Neat.  |
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| A very weathered, but actually visible Daemonelix burrow |
Still, I was a bit disappointed. The exhibit in the
visitor center had gotten me interested in seeing one of these things in its
entirety, the way it would have been seen by a mystified paleontologist of the
late 19th century. So I carried on. A bit further along the trail,
and a very strange telephone booth-looking object came into view. Bizarre, but
hey, maybe people were accustomed to calling each other from the middle of a
hiking trail in the middle of rural Nebraska back at a time when pay phones
were prevalent!
The trail marched right up to this booth and I found that
it was actually a large plexiglass enclosure covering a really excellently
preserved Daemonelix fossil. Here, finally, was the fossil I had been looking
for, poked right out of the hillside in all of its confusing glory!
I wish that the burrow had not been encased in plexiglass,
but I know why it was: this rock is all very soft, and very prone to
weathering. The burrows probably erode out of the hillsides quite readily, so
without this shelter, this trail would soon feature no burrows at all! Take the
previous unprotected hillside as an example – there, the burrows were visible
but clearly eroded and crumbling. The ravages of time proceed quickly, here.
I proceeded to loop around the bluffs, amusing myself with imaginations of what it would have been like to be an early paleontologist here. To wander around these very bluffs, chains of small, remote islands rising out of a sea of grass extending to every horizon. To spend days, months, and even years hopefully seeking a scrap of white bone or a strangely curved bit of rock sticking out of a hillside, your only indication of a possible paleontological gold mine. One could spend an entire lifetime – or at least your entire career - here searching, and some did.
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| A double-coiled Daemonelix! Neato (well, a lot cooler to see in person, if you're interested in paleontology) |
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| Erosion is an odd beast, isn't it |
I, however, did not intend to wander that sea of grass
endlessly in search of signs of ancient life. I had my own ancient artifact to
contend with: Jane. I arrived back at the trailhead fairly quickly (the trail
only being a mile long) and took the opportunity to set Jane up for a few
shots. When I say “a few shots”, I mean that I took about 30, but I’ll only
post a few here. I enjoy the juxtaposition of my “fossil” (well, more of an
archaeological novelty, but whatever) versus places and things far older, with
far more secrets. It’s good for a sense of perspective, you know.
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| The monster hiding in the tall grass, waiting for the perfect moment for an ambush attack |
With my photo whoring done, I clambered back into the car
and set off back south across the ocean of grass, back to the safety of the
society of Scottsbluff. Whatever that is. I actually proceeded a little further
past town to visit Chimney Rock National Historic Site, the second Chimney Rock
I’ve seen on this trip! At this point, I’m feeling a bit invested in this
accidental side quest I’ve invented: a quest to visit every Chimney Rock in the
United States. It turns out that there are actually SIXTEEN Chimney Rocks in
the States! And now, I’ve been to (or at least glimpsed) four: Chimney Rock State
Park, NC; Chimney Rock in Capitol Reef National Park, UT; Chimney Rock National
Monument, CO; and Chimney Rock National Historic Site, NE. It turns out that
Montana has FIVE Chimney Rocks, California has three, and there are additional
ones in New Mexico, Maryland, Minnesota, and Idaho. I guess it’ll take a long time
for me to see them all, especially considering a couple of the Chimney Rocks in
Montana are actually giant mountains. Anyways, I was very excited to check the
Nebraska Chimney off my newly-constructed list!
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| There it is! The Chimney! |
But then… I arrived. And wow, what a disappointment. Part
of the problem was that the haze was still quite bad in the Scottsbluff region.
Part of the problem was that I arrived in the late afternoon, and apparently
this landmark is best viewed with morning light due to the position of the parking
lot you have to view it from. And speaking of the parking lot – the MAJORITY of
the problem is that that’s the closest you can go to the stupid thing!
Optimistically, I pulled up in the parking lot and went inside the
museum, only to be informed that the cost of admission (to the museum) was $8,
and also that they closed in 10 minutes. Well, okay, no problem. I asked if there were any trails to
hike, as there was still plenty of daylight left, and the receptionist replied,
“Well… there’s kind of a trail on an unimproved road that leaves from a cemetery,
but we don’t let people go on that because the rattlesnakes have taken over it”.
WOW, what a statement!
Shockingly, I opted NOT to go on the rattlesnake-infested
graveyard trail, and instead just viewed the pointy rock from the parking lot
as apparently you are supposed to do. Here’s a photo I took:
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| uuuuUUUUGHHHHHHHH |
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| Somehow the wagon skeleton actually makes it look even more desolate |
This may be the most garbage photo I’ve ever taken of my car, and certainly of my car and something that would normally be a fairly cool landmark! I hope you all can feel my disappointment through this photo.
I’m sure that normally on a beautiful day, this is
probably still a beautiful, impressive landmark. It would be even better if you
could go on a trail to see it up close, or at least from a different angle so
you didn’t have to stare into the sun. But alas, on the day that I went, this
was the opposite of an impressive landmark, and there was no trail to redeem
it. Especially disappointing considering that I really have no plans to return
to Nebraska anytime soon! Oh, well. These things happen sometimes.
I returned to my campsite, certainly feeling more than a
bit grumpy, but cheered myself up with some hamburgers and s’mores and a nice
book. Overall, the day had been wonderful anyways – but wow, Agate Fossil Beds
sure didn’t have a lot of competition!
As night fell, I found myself thinking back to the
collection of Lakota artifacts in that room at Agate. It is odd – and more than
a bit sad – to look up at the moon and realize that once upon a time, not so
long ago, the Lakota people had spent countless nights enjoying weather just like
this, looking up at the very same rock in the sky from the very same grassy
plains of their homeland. It is poignant to consider how their everyday items, evidence
of their way of life, are now relegated to words like “relics” and “artifacts”.
I can’t help but think that someday my life, too, will be reduced down to nothing
but relics, artifacts. If I’m lucky, that is. In pensive moments like this, it
is easy to see myself, holding on to bits and pieces of a bygone time, with my
archaic automobile, my frantic lunges towards simpler times, wilder places,
bigger skies. Things I was truly not born into, but feel the need to preserve
nevertheless. Perhaps, like many who came before me, my function in this world
is to remind others that although the world continues to turn, we should not
forget what used to be. The path once trodden is worth remembering, lessons
learned worth retaining.
That bit of cosmic philosophy ironed out to my
satisfaction, I returned to my book.
Kelly signing out.
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