Carhenge, Courthouse & Jail Rocks

I stayed in Bayard, NE at the town’s free camping spots, located right in the middle of town and equipped with water and electricity hookups. The city offers them as a way to welcome travelers, encourage people to stop, and hopefully bring a little business into the community.

It’s a simple gesture of hospitality that makes Bayard stand out, especially for those passing through on their way to Chimney Rock or Scotts Bluff. The area was very quiet, with two large Class-A campers parked nearby. The sites are first come, first served, and you can stay up to two days for free—after that, there’s a small charge. I’m not sure how they control it, because there’s no registration.

Courthouse & Jail Rocks

My first stop was Courthouse & Jail Rocks, a double formation about 15 minutes away. These are some of the first prominent rock landmarks that pioneers on the Oregon, California, and Mormon Trails would have seen as they traveled west. From a distance, the two formations rise unexpectedly out of the plains—Jail Rock is the smaller spire on the right, and Courthouse Rock looms larger beside it.

This isn’t a heavily visited site, which gave it a quiet, almost forgotten feel. I hiked up the trail to the highest accessible point. To go higher you’d have to scale the rock wall, which didn’t seem worth the risk. Back at the bottom, I signed the visitor log—only four people had been here yesterday. It made me realize how isolated the place still feels, even with a paved road nearby. I lingered for about an hour, enjoying the solitude and the wide-open views, before heading north toward Alliance, about an hour away.

From Courthouse & Jail Rocks, I drove up to Alliance, Nebraska, to see Carhenge. Along the way, I kept running into plaques and roadside oddities. One spot was selling used tractor parts and had tractors piled up in the back, and then there was this old railroad bridge that looked like someone dragged it five miles just to plop it down as a tourist attraction. I’m not sure it worked—though at least one person (me) pulled over to gawk and take pictures.

Carhenge in Alliance

It’s exactly what it sounds like—Stonehenge recreated with vintage American cars. The site was dreamed up by Jim Reinders, an engineer who had spent time in England studying Stonehenge and wanted to build a version back home as a tribute to his father. In 1987, with the help of family and friends, he erected 39 cars in the same proportions and alignment as the original monument. Some cars are buried nose-first into the ground, others are stacked or welded to form arches, and all are painted in a uniform gray to mimic the stone look.

Carhenge is free to visit and has become one of Nebraska’s quirkiest roadside attractions. It’s playful, a little odd, and surprisingly impressive. Even in the middle of the Nebraska plains, someone’s creativity turned into a landmark that people now travel across the world to see. I was there in the off-season and still heard both French and German being spoken. Inside the gift shop, the walls are lined with license plates—one from each of the 50 states, many from Europe, and even one from every county in Nebraska. It was a reminder that this oddball attraction has a global reach, drawing travelers who might otherwise never set foot in western Nebraska.

Carhenge isn’t just for passing tourists—it’s also a gathering place for the community. Each year on the summer solstice, people come to watch the sunrise line up perfectly with the “car stones,” just like at the original Stonehenge. The grounds also host car shows, outdoor concerts, and small-town festivals. Over time, it’s grown into more than just an art installation—it’s become a cultural hub for Alliance, a place where locals and travelers mingle around something that started as a family project and ended up as a worldwide curiosity.

I wrapped up my visit and drove about an hour farther, looking for a spot that would get me closer to tomorrow’s destination. Along the way, I came across another plaque for Antioch—a potash boom town east of Alliance on Route 2. I pulled over to read it and check out the ruins of the old potash factory. Hard to believe that during World War I this place was cranking out potash for fertilizer and chemicals, drawing in nearly 2,000 residents at its peak. Today, there’s no sign of a town at all—no streets, no houses, not even a lonely mailbox. Just some crumbling concrete shells and a plaque trying its best to convince you this was once a happening place.

Further down the road, I captured more of the area in photos.

It was going on 7 p.m. when I passed through Lakeside, NE, a town of about ten buildings and a post office. I drove another mile to a roadside pull off and parked beside a large mound of soil with the side door face towards the open prairie.