After a good night’s sleep, we piled in the car again and drove an hour north to the Agate Fossil Beds. I chose this national park because it said it had paved trails, which I figured the 7 year old could manage better than tall grasses. One small problem though:

And true, I could’ve told them that we probably wouldn’t see any snakes and if we made noise they would stay away, but I must admit, I was also a bit freaked at the prospect of running into one of those creatures. Maybe I’ve seen Raiders of the Lost Ark one too many times.

So we walked up to a bridge and back, but did not make it up to the hills you see in the distance behind that rattlesnake warning.

The best part about this national park was Ranger Anne. The National Park Service has this great Junior Ranger program, which engages kids through a variety of activities at the park. Once the activities are completed, the rangers have the kids recite a pledge to protect the national parks, and they are awarded with a badge. Ranger Anne added a line to the end of the pledge, though: “And I promise I will not put a baby bison in the back of my car.”

We headed back to Scottsbluff for lunch, but made a pit stop at the Black Sheep Wool Company, where we saw no sheep, but lots of yarn. And this–which I have never seen before:

We ate lunch at Chili’s, where I realized Lauren had eaten chicken fingers for every meal but breakfast since leaving Omaha. Not having kids of my own, I didn’t realize this is actually rather normal behavior for kids her age. Usually my rule is that we don’t eat at chain restaurants when out of town, but between my FODMAP drama and Emma and Lauren’s pickiness, we needed to stick to places we could trust.

I promised them pool time, if the pool was fixed. It was, so they played around in a hotel pool that was the rough equivalent of a king-size mattress. Have hotel pools always been this small and I’m just now realizing it?

After some pool time, we headed up to Scottsbluff National Monument. Lauren and McKenna tell me on the drive up that the bluffs got here because Nebraska used to be an ocean. An ocean? I ask. They affirm. Yes, an ocean. I am not sure I believe them, but I’m a teacher and who knows what kids are learning in elementary school these days.

We drive up to the top of the bluffs, and I see a sign for a 1/2 mile hike. We head in that direction, and then a couple who had just returned from that hike tell us a rattlesnake had camped out in the middle of the trail. So my grand plan to take my nieces on any hike at all never materialized. But we did get some good photos, albeit with my iPhone, because I left the fancy camera in the hotel room. The fancy camera and I did not have a good couple of days.

We headed back down to the visitor’s center so we could watch the film about Scott’s Bluff, and wouldn’t you know–2 minutes into the film we hear that the bluffs are remnants of an ancient sea! Look at my smart nieces.

Emma picked up two more badges–one for Scott’s Bluff, and one for the centennial celebration of the National Park Service. Like I said, smart nieces.

Incidentally, how Scott’s Bluff got its name is really quite morbid. Ah, history. You fun.

We got back to the hotel around 7, popped in A Bug’s Life (we had seen so many bugs that day and thought that film would be an excellent choice), followed by Enchanted, and our trip was over.

We drove back to Omaha the next day, an uneventful but long drive back home.

I have a lot of friends and acquaintances who have driven across Nebraska, and they complain about the terrain on their drive. They aren’t wrong–the landscape along I-80 isn’t appealing. But on this trip, I was reminded of how gorgeous most states are if you take the time to get off the proverbial beaten path. Nebraska did not disappoint in that regard. Not 10 miles after we headed north off I-80 were we greeted by lush, green, rolling hills.

This was an excellent test run for a trip with my nieces–perhaps next summer we will go explore a different section of northern Nebraska.

One that doesn’t have rattlesnakes.

When I decided I would take on the Nebraska Passport program, I knew I wanted to get out to western Nebraska. I’ve traveled I-80 more times than I can count, but I am embarrassingly ignorant of Nebraska state highways. I decided on Scottsbluff, because I’d be able to knock out several stamps in one trip. As I started planning this adventure, I realized I don’t always like traveling alone.

I travel alone most of the time, because that’s just my reality. But I want to do less of that as I approach my twilight years. And since I’m not dating and therefore won’t ever be married, and I’m too old to have kids, I get to wrangle my nieces and nephews into traveling with me. Basically, behold my future:

So. Test case number 1: my three local nieces and I would road trip out to western Nebraska and see some sights.

We had quite the itinerary planned, and I quickly learned that planning is great, but be prepared for it to all go to hell. Which it did, 45 minutes into our trip.

The tire pressure light on my car blazed bright orange as soon as we hit Lincoln. If I was by myself, I wouldn’t have stressed too much about it. But I had these girls with me, and I was way more concerned about their safety than mine. So we stopped in Lincoln to fill the tires. Problem solved.

Until we got about 30 minutes from York. Light blinked on again. This time, I knew I would feel better if I stopped and had the car looked at. So McKenna looked up a tire shop in York and we spent 30 minutes with the kind people at Penner’s Tire. They could find no good reason why my tire pressure light was on, assured me I had no nails in any tires, gave me the names of tire shops they trusted in Kearney and North Platte, and sent me on my way.

At this point, we were nearly 90 minutes behind schedule. Yet still we stopped at a bakery in Grand Island, to get a stamp in the passport.

The food wasn’t quite what we were expecting, but you know, adventure. I was hoping to stop at a couple of other fine Nebraska establishments, but I knew Chimney Rock closed at 5, and this first day would be our only day to see it, so we pressed on. But in my haste, I forgot to fuel up in Grand Island, so we had to stop in North Platte. For anyone who has traversed I-80, consider this: we started in Papillion and proceeded to make stops in Lincoln, York, Grand Island, and North Platte. Much like I imagine our pioneer forbears did. So I was totally feeling the tedium of our journey every time Emma would ask “When will we be there?” or Lauren would comment on the sheer duration of our travels.

But at 4:45 MDT, we pulled into the parking lot at Chimney Rock, amid clouds and sprinkles. I am determined to learn how to use the DSLR better, so I quickly whipped it out and snapped some really awful photos, made some adjustments, and took this one:

But as I look at it now, it actually looks a bit like a giant middle finger, which is somewhat apt as that’s how our presence was received by the workers at at the visitor’s center. Not that I blame them; we must have been a sight, we weary travelers rolling up 15 minutes before closing time. We did not get close at all, because we saw signs for rattlesnakes, two mosquitos started feasting on my arm, and we ran into a wasp.

We were outside for maybe 5 minutes. Which was long enough for me to shoot this gem:

I still haven’t mastered the aperture settings, because sky is supposed to have some element of blue, not pure white. But these mugs, coupled with Emma’s inability to look at a camera, make this the best image I could get, considering the fear factor involved.

We traveled on to our hotel, where I had promised the girls they could jump in the pool, only to learn that the pool was closed. Never in my life was I so happy to have brought a portable DVD player, an A/V cable, and five movies that would appeal to all. So instead of the pool, we watched Ella Enchanted, followed by The Princess Bride.

A good sleep was had by all–I shared a bed with Emma, who really didn’t infringe on my space at all despite firm warnings from McKenna and Lauren.

And for Thursday’s adventure, you’ll just have to come back tomorrow.