Frank Stoeber started something weird in 1953. He didn't mean for it to become a geopolitical flashpoint for roadside attraction enthusiasts, but that’s exactly what happened. He was just a farmer with some extra twine and a bit of a space problem. By 1961, that small ball had ballooned into an 11-foot-wide behemoth. Now, sitting under a gazebo in Cawker City, the ball of twine Kansas is a massive, bristly testament to what happens when a community refuses to let a legacy unravel.
It’s heavy. Really heavy. We’re talking over 20,000 pounds of sisal and determination.
When you drive through North Central Kansas, the sky is huge. Everything feels horizontal. Then you hit Cawker City, a town of roughly 450 people, and you see it. It isn't just a pile of rope. It’s a living thing. Every year during the Twine-a-thon, locals and tourists add more length to the circumference. Most roadside "world's largest" items are static, fiberglass shells or rusting steel. Not this. This one grows.
The Great Twine War: Cawker City vs. Darwin
You can't talk about the ball of twine Kansas without mentioning Darwin, Minnesota. It’s the great rivalry of the Midwest. Francis Johnson of Darwin rolled a ball by himself, and it’s technically the largest rolled by one person. Cawker City, however, holds the title for the largest community-rolled ball.
It's a distinction that matters deeply to the people who live here.
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Honest truth? The Darwin ball is encased in glass. You can't touch it. In Cawker City, you can walk right up to it. You can smell the hay-like scent of the sisal. You can see the individual strands where a kid from Topeka or a biker from California added their six-foot contribution last August. It's tactile. It’s accessible. That makes it better, even if the "official" records have to use a bunch of asterisks to keep everyone happy.
Linda Clover, who was the long-time "Twine Lady" and official caretaker of the ball, used to say that the twine represents the threads that hold a community together. That sounds a bit cheesy until you’re standing there. You realize that for seventy years, people have bothered to keep this specific, strange tradition alive. In an era of digital everything, there is something deeply grounding about a 10-ton sphere of string.
What it's actually like to visit Cawker City
Don't expect a theme park. If you're looking for a gift shop with a roller coaster, you’re in the wrong part of the state. Cawker City is quiet. The ball sits under a simple open-air canopy on Wisconsin Street.
The coolest part is the "Twine Walk." If you look at the sidewalks, there’s a painted line of "twine" that leads you to various businesses in town. Many of the shop windows have murals depicting the ball in various historical stages. It’s an immersive experience in the most low-tech way possible.
- Pro Tip: If you want to actually add to the ball, you usually need to coordinate. You can't just bring a spool of Home Depot nylon and start wrapping. It has to be sisal.
- The annual Twine-a-thon happens in late August, usually coinciding with the town's picnic. That's the best time to see the ball "in action."
- There is no admission fee. It's just there. 24/7.
The sheer scale is hard to capture in a smartphone photo. You need a person for scale. When you stand next to it, the top of your head barely clears the mid-section. It feels like a planet made of rope. It’s dense. It doesn’t give if you poke it. It’s as solid as a rock because of the thousands of layers compressed under their own weight.
Why we obsess over the World’s Largest Ball of Twine Kansas
Humans have a weird obsession with superlatives. We want the biggest, the oldest, the strangest. But the ball of twine Kansas hits differently because it’s a monument to the mundane. Twine is a tool. It's what you use to fix a fence or bundle a haystack. By taking something so ordinary and multiplying it by a million, Stoeber and the citizens of Cawker City created something sublime.
There are other contenders, sure. There’s a ball in Branson, Missouri, that was built by a company for marketing. It feels hollow. It feels fake. The Kansas ball has soul. It’s got dirt in the fibers from 1974. It’s got the history of a farming community baked into its core.
Kansas often gets a bad rap as "flyover country." People think it’s just flat cornfields. But places like this prove that the weirdest, most human stories are often tucked away in the places we overlook. You have to want to find it. You have to drive off the interstate, past the grain elevators and the grazing cattle, to find the stringy heart of the state.
Planning your trip to the twine capital
If you're making the pilgrimage, don't just stop at the ball and leave. That’s a rookie move.
First, check out Waconda Lake nearby. It’s one of the largest lakes in Kansas and offers some of the best fishing in the region. The Glen Elder State Park is right there, and it’s a great place to camp if you want to make a weekend of it. The landscape is rolling and beautiful, especially at golden hour when the wheat fields look like they're glowing.
Basically, you’ve got to respect the pace of life here. If you rush in, snap a selfie, and rush out, you’ve missed the point. Talk to someone at the local gas station. Ask them how the harvest is looking. That's the "extra" layer of the experience that isn't on the Wikipedia page.
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Realities of the Road
Cawker City is about three hours from Wichita and roughly the same from Lincoln, Nebraska. It’s out there. You need a full tank of gas and a good playlist. Cell service can be spotty on the backroads, but that’s part of the charm. Honestly, getting lost in the grid of gravel roads is half the fun of a Kansas road trip.
- Check the weather. Kansas wind is no joke. If a storm is rolling in, that gazebo won't offer much protection.
- Bring a physical map. GPS is great until it isn't.
- Support the locals. Buy a soda or a snack at the local stores. Keeping these small towns alive is what keeps the ball growing.
The ball is currently over 8 feet tall and roughly 40 feet in circumference. It’s estimated to have over 8 million feet of twine. If you unrolled it, it would stretch from Cawker City to the Atlantic Ocean. Think about that for a second. All that string, condensed into a single point in a small town in Kansas.
It’s an architectural marvel of the everyday.
Actionable Steps for your Twine Pilgrimage
If you're ready to see the ball of twine Kansas for yourself, here is how you do it right:
Contact the Cawker City Community Club before you arrive if you are traveling with a group and want to ensure someone is available to help you "officially" add twine to the ball. They are the keepers of the records and the sisal.
Visit the North Central Kansas (NCK) region during the late summer months. This aligns with the Twine-a-thon and ensures you get the full community experience rather than just seeing a silent monument.
Combine the trip with a "weird Kansas" tour. Don't just stop at the twine. Head to Lucas, Kansas, to see the Garden of Eden—a bizarre and fascinating concrete sculpture garden built by Samuel Dinsmoor. It’s only about 40 minutes away and pairs perfectly with the ball of twine for a day of outsider art and Americana.
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Document the texture. Everyone takes the wide shot. Get close. Take a photo of the frayed ends and the different shades of brown and tan that show the age of the various layers. It tells a story of decades passing by.
Respect the Gazebo. It’s a community park. Clean up after yourself and treat the ball with the respect you’d give a museum artifact, because, in many ways, that’s exactly what it is. It’s the fiber of Kansas, literally and figuratively.