Wait, this is in Nebraska?
Most of the events of our Rocky Mountain National Park post happened on the same day we visited Chimney Rock. The 2nd of October was a massive day for all of us. In a way, our entire trip to that point had hinged on the proximity of Estes Park and Chimney Rock. The weather had been extremely kind in Colorado after the wildfire smoke the previous day, and the skies were clear all afternoon
We were excited to be heading home, and a little nervous about Chimney Rock. Katrina had different reasons for her nerves than I did. She was worried about the rattlesnakes. And because she was worried about rattlesnakes, I was worried we couldn’t get the kind of shot I had pictured in my head.
We all died of dysentery.
Rounding a slight curve in Highway 26, we came down through Scottsbluff. I marveled at the landscape, and told Katrina that I had no clue something like it even existed in Nebraska. It was very unlike anything I typically picture when I think of destinations in our home state. We talked about how we’d both always wanted to visit Chimney Rock, but that it was somehow always just a tad too far outta the way. We both were happy to be there, and were excited to visit the monument. Aiden was mildly curious. Tori was napping, thank goodness.
As the highway stretched straighter and flatter ahead of us, Chimney Rock came into view. We thought about what it must be like to be emigrants in covered wagons, and how the stovetop that loomed larger by the minute for us must have looked the way that it did on our horizon for way longer than was comfortable to those early passersby. We joked about playing Oregon Trail, and how we all died of dysentery. But… we also knew that wasn’t a joke for many settlers, and it wasn’t a joke for us either. Our stakes were decidedly lower, though.
Pulling down CR-75 (or 62F), we decided to make a right on CR-100 and drove down until it was obvious that we were about to enter private property. We stopped in what appeared to be a turnaround and set up for a shot. We reasoned that the sun wasn’t in a good place to get a shot anywhere closer, and we weren’t going to hike over rattler-territory with the kids in tow… so this was as good as it was gonna get.
We threw our rig together and set up for a shot, half expecting the owner of the house we were parked in front of to stomp out and demand that we leave “or else” (shotgun in hand). It was kind of a joke… kind of. Then, we heard a vehicle approaching over the oddly elevated mooing of cows. I was kneeling in front of my tripod when they passed, checking the lighting of our shot. They waved and smiled. I thought to myself that I was too paranoid.
Wrapping up, we just tossed the flag fully assembled between the kids through the back of the vehicle. Maybe we’d get another chance with better lighting? We wanted to be prepared in case the opportunity presented itself.
The Museum
Turning back onto 75, we headed toward the museum. It was super nice, and looked brand new. I instantly loved the branding of the sign, and how it made excellent use of negative space, typography, and color. Design matters, and it definitely did to whomever did that contract. I had to have a picture, so I nabbed one with Aiden to send to his class.
We saw there was a promising shot from the parking lot of the museum, but, like Mount Saint Helens… the lighting just wasn’t working in our favor at all. We decided to head inside and see if it would be ok to set up a shot anyway, but we couldn’t ignore all the rattlesnake signs decorating the parking lot. Once we got inside, we were happy to pay the fee for the museum and stay awhile. It’s really great, and well designed, with plenty of content. And the staff were amazing. We highly recommend visiting if you’re in the panhandle.
We learned about how lightning struck the Chimney in the 90s, and some fixed binoculars located in the museum helped zoom in for a close-up look. Aiden and Tori had fun playing with the soft sandstone, packing and unpacking wagons, and watching the exhibits – using levers to page through the content. Katrina got to use a nice restroom and buy some stuff in the gift shop, and one of the museum staff recommended that we drive down the road and hang a right to drive up to the cemetery. Speaking of dysentery…. He recommended doing that over trying to snap a shot at the museum itself, although he mentioned we were more than welcome to do that if we wanted.
So we wrapped up and headed to the cemetery.
“One more time.”
Wow are we glad that we decided to try for one more shot. The lighting. The angle. The proximity. The setup. All of it. Perfect. I got that familiar feeling. I just knew we could get a perfect shot. No question, and I sensed exactly where I wanted to frame the shot. We waited a bit for a couple that had arrived before us to wrap up. They were exactly where I wanted the tripod to sit.
The couple walked toward the cemetery and I sprang into action. I could see the sun was competing with fast approaching clouds, and the angle was sharp enough that it would disappear behind the mesa to the left of Chimney Rock within 20 minutes, maybe less.
“10 seconds!“
The setup was easy, but the execution was not. We waited for what seemed like ages for the sun to peak out from behind clusters of clouds. When it did, we realized the wait was worth it all. It bathed the rock in sunlight. Just then the wind picked up dramatically. The weather was turning. I had worn my “Let’s be friends” shirt from BarCamp Omaha 2019, and I wanted to show it off when we snapped the shot. Aiden asked if I wanted to do that to send the message that black people and white people could be friends. I smiled and said that’s exactly the message we hoped to send.
So I asked Aiden to hold our Black Lives Matter sign instead. When the wind struck, he almost lost the sign. Multiple times. And I almost lost my lunch, multiple times. We took several shots, and then I went to pick the tripod up.
Tori does this thing where she holds her index finger aloft, and says “One more time” when she’s enjoying herself and she wants to do whatever tickled her fancy again. As I grabbed for the tripod, she said it to Katrina. Katrina called for me to stop and take one more shot, because that’s what Tori wanted.
10 seconds!
I had already secured the Black Lives Matter sign, and as I rounded my family to set up for the last shot… a gust of wind tried to wrest it out of my hands. I held firm and the corner ripped, but the shot is immortal now. The sign had done its job.
Leslie Wells was kind enough to feature us on @weareomaha.
