Cowboy Trail / Smith Falls
I woke in the Niobarra Wild LIfe Refuge. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t parked in a legal location. I opened the side door for some fresh air and had a spectacular view of the prairie in front of me. After breakfast, I drove into Valentine for gas and a place to drop some garbage. It was Sunday, and the town seemed dead. I pulled into the Phillip 66 Station / McDonalds and filled up. The windshield was covered with dead bugs and I spent time cleaing tit. I emptied my trash and tossed all the cans and plastic containers I had. Nebraska doesn’t seem to recycle anything, including aluminum cans.
I learned that Nebraska is pretty limited compared to many other states. Nebraska doesn’t have a statewide recycling law or mandate, so it’s left up to individual cities and counties to run programs. Larger towns like Lincoln and Omaha have curbside recycling and drop-off centers, but once you get into smaller towns or rural areas, recycling options are hit-or-miss.
Cowboy Trail from Valentine, NE
I set out from Valentine on the Cowboy Trail, heading east for about 16 miles. Leaving town, the first half-mile was on rough concrete—so cracked and uneven it rattled my bike and made me wonder what I’d gotten into. But just outside the edge of town the trail shifted to finely packed gravel, smooth and well maintained. From there it was a joy to ride.
Not far out, I came to one of the highlights of the trail—a towering old railroad bridge spanning the Niobrara River. It’s about a quarter mile long and rises nearly 150 feet above the water, offering sweeping views of the valley. Riding across it was spectacular, and a reminder of the trail’s railroad past. After the bridge, the trail carried me eastward through open prairie, broken now and then by groves of pine trees. I only passed two other riders the whole time, both heading in the opposite direction, which added to the sense of space and solitude.
The Cowboy Trail itself is steeped in history. Long before railroads, this was the homeland of the Lakota Sioux and Pawnee, who moved with the seasons across the Sandhills and along the Niobrara River. In the late 19th century, the Chicago and North Western Railway laid tracks here, opening the region to settlement, shipping, and the cattle trade. For decades, trains carried livestock, grain, and passengers across the Nebraska plains.
When rail service ended, the state of Nebraska saw an opportunity to turn the abandoned line into something new. The Cowboy Trail was officially established in the 1990s, making it one of the longest rail-trails in the United States. When complete, it will stretch 321 miles across northern Nebraska, from Norfolk in the east all the way to Chadron in the west, tracing the same route trains once traveled. Today, about 195 miles are open, connecting small towns and wide-open prairie in a way that’s perfect for cyclists, hikers, and horseback riders.
Riding it, I could feel that layered history—first the native tribes who relied on this land, then the trains that stitched small towns together, and now a gravel path carrying travelers at a slower, quieter pace. My ride was just a short stretch, but it gave me a glimpse of why the Cowboy Trail has become such a special part of Nebraska’s landscape.
The wind made the ride more difficult than it probably normally is. It mostly up hill out, but with the wind directly in my face on the way bac, it mostly felt like I was riding up hill. I kept thinking how fun it would be to ride the entire route with a group of people, having meals prepared, and a nice place to stay at night.
Smith Falls State Park
I headed over to Smith Falls to photograph the falls at sunset. I stopped to grab photos of a private bison herd near the highway.
It was about 4 p.m. when I arrived, and I learned there was a $14 charge just to walk the half-mile trail to the falls. The park office closed at 4:30, so I quickly paid the fee and then drove straight to the campground showers, ignoring the signs that said a camping pass was required. The campground was almost empty—just one other camper—and the showers cost $2 for 7½ minutes. I was in and out in 20 minutes, feeling human again, and then parked by the visitor center where I grabbed a quick 45-minute nap before heading out for my next adventure.
By 5:30 p.m., I had my camera gear packed and was on the trail. The walk to the falls is just over half a mile through a riverside park. Along the way, I passed about 15 people all heading back, so it looked like I’d have the place mostly to myself. An old railroad bridge has been converted into a pedestrian crossing over the Niobrara River, leading to a series of wooden steps and platforms that wind down toward the base of the falls. The boardwalk makes the trail easier, protects the habitat, and gives visitors multiple viewpoints.
Smith Falls is the tallest waterfall in Nebraska, dropping 63 feet in a single sheet of water. I set up with my tripod and spent about an hour capturing different angles as the light shifted toward evening. A young couple with a three-year-old and two dogs came by and startled me with a cheerful hello. The woman, very pregnant, held her belly while her partner led their little boy down to the base of the falls. Without hesitation, he took off his shirt and walked directly under the torrent of water, carrying the child who was clearly terrified. There was no slow introduction—just straight into the spray. A few minutes later, they headed back, and we exchanged good evenings.
When they left, I had the falls to myself. I sat for another half hour just listening to the roar and imagining what this place must have been like two hundred years ago, before bridges, boardwalks, and state park signs.
Smith Falls carries not only natural beauty but also a family story. After the Smiths first claimed the land — Orrin B. Smith and later his step-son Frederick Smith — the property was purchased in 1941 by Fred Krzyzanowski, who added picnic areas and a campground to accommodate the growing number of visitors. The Krzyzanowski family has owned the parcel ever since, and in 1992 they leased the land to the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission, establishing Smith Falls State Park.
I left the falls as the sun dipped in the west and took photos on the walk back to the van. A flock of turkeys scattered, and I tried to capture a few shots, but they were moving too fast. To the east, the sky lit up with beautiful colors. Even though it was only mid-September in Nebraska, some of the trees had already started to change.
Leaving the state park, I drove back a few miles on dirt road. I came across more cows standing on the road and had to roll the window down again to yell so they would move. In addition, deer ran out in front of me two times before I reached my overnight spart.
