The town of Lucas, eight miles north, is something I'm particularly interested in seeing. I had read about an eccentric former resident, Samuel P. Dinsmoor. When his first wife died in the early 20th century, Dinsmoor wanted to bury her in the backyard, but Lucas's local government wouldn't allow it. So Dinsmoor complied, giving her a proper burial on the town's outskirts. A few nights later, he dug up her coffin, relocated it to his yard, and encased the tomb in concrete to render it immovable. The story gets odder. Dinsmoor was also an artist and spent 20 years of his life building cement sculptures of surreal Populist Party and biblical scenes in his yard. He then named his property the Garden of Eden.

Now a tourist attraction, the Garden of Eden is a real sight to behold; the cement sculptures crisscross the yard's perimeter like deeply rooted scaffolding. Even more bizarre, visitors get to meet Mr. Dinsmoor, who's been dead since 1932, at the end of the tour. Entombed in a mausoleum above his first wife, he's visible through thick glass, dressed in a suit and covered in white mold.

Erika Nelson with her traveling art exhibit (Morgan & Owens) [enlarge photo] JUNE 2006 ISSUE • Table of Contents • Splurges! • Secret Hotels of the French Riviera • Testing our Cruise Tips • Road Trip: Eastern Kansas • Trip Coach: Japan • 40 Best Vacations

Dinsmoor's eccentricity inspired other townsfolk, which is how Lucas became the grassroots art capital of Kansas. We browse the Grassroots Art Center, an outsider-art outpost featuring pieces like a silver car fabricated entirely out of pull tabs. Next door to the Garden of Eden, 33-year-old artist Erika Nelson has a traveling museum parked in front of her home. She calls it The World's Largest Collection of the World's Smallest Versions of the World's Largest Things, the apotheosis of superlatives. Nelson has built hundreds of miniature versions of objects like the World's Largest Ball of Twine (also in Kansas, of course), and she makes pilgrimages around the country to photograph her versions beside the originals.

We backtrack south to Al's for the Testicle Festival. The place is jammed with locals heaping their plates with fried bull testicles. Each one is round and flat, the size of a potato chip. Dipped in barbecue sauce, they aren't half-bad, in a livery, schnitzelly kind of way.

Animals--dead and alive--seem to be a running theme, so we choose to embrace it. Hedrick's Bed & Breakfast Inn and Exotic Animal Farm in Nickerson is a zoo-like establishment where the vast menagerie includes zebras, camels, and llamas. We're an hour late for the early-evening check-in; a note at the information desk instructs us to find someone to help us over in the kangaroo barn.

Each room has a theme, and we're booked in The Bird of Paradise Suite--two adjoining rooms, one with birds and a waterfall painted over the Jacuzzi and the other with a county fair motif. The inn reminds me of a summer camp; common areas are off-limits after 9:30 p.m. Sadly, by the time we get there, the dinner hour is long past, and we don't fare well finding food in town. A gas station is the only business that's open for miles. Oh well. We check out City Slickers--it seems totally appropriate--from the B&B's video library and call it a night.

Lodging

Activities

Day 4: Nickerson to Wichita

At 8 a.m., hand-rung bells outside our door beckon us to breakfast. A cook chides us for arriving 15 minutes later and calls us "slugabeds." After sharing a plate of waffles and an egg-and-potato casserole, Patrick and I wander outside to walk the property. A male ostrich crouches into a feathery ball, frenetically flaps his wings, and then swings his neck against his body like a plumed paddleball. This is his way of flirting, our tour guide, Tammy, tells us.

Hedrick's postcards read I KISSED A GIRAFFE AT HEDRICK'S, and they aren't kidding. Tammy leads a group though the grounds, then she hands out sweet-potato sticks, advising us to stick them in our mouths and aim up at fenced-in giraffes. Everyone who does this gets slobbered in the face. Then she scratches a zebra's butt and declares, "This is how you get a zebra to love you forever." Perhaps. But I'm much more into bottle-feeding goats.

We have an early-afternoon flight out of Wichita, 60 miles away, which leaves just enough time for a camel ride. As we climb onboard, our guide nuzzles the camel and says, "He and I go way back. Best camel in Kansas." And that's quite a distinction.

Finding your way

Flying into Kansas City, Mo., and out of Wichita tends to cost about $100 more than doing a round trip in and out of Kansas City. Looping back to Kansas City from Wichita (I-35 to I-335 to I-70) is about a three-hour drive. Kansas is largely a churchgoing state, so don't plan much for a Sunday morning or evening in the rural areas--you'll find few businesses or attractions open. And Erika Nelson of Lucas travels half the year with her exhibit, The World's Largest Collection of the World's Smallest Versions of the World's Largest Things, so it's wise to call ahead before you visit.