You’ve seen the postcards. Or maybe you’ve just seen the Simpsons episode. Either way, the "big ball of yarn" is the quintessential American roadside cliché. It’s the kind of thing that makes you pull over the minivan in the middle of a Kansas heatwave just to say you stood next to it. But here’s the thing that gets weird: there isn't just one.
Actually, there are at least four.
And they are all fighting for the crown.
If you're looking for the "biggest" one, you have to define what you mean by "big." Are we talking about the heaviest? The widest? The one made by a single person, or the one a whole town chipped away at? People take this surprisingly seriously. It’s not just a hobby; it’s a decades-long battle of endurance and twine.
Darwin’s Heavyweight Champion: The Darwin, Minnesota Ball
Darwin, Minnesota, is a small town with a very large point of pride. This is the big ball of yarn that Francis A. Johnson started back in 1950. He didn't just spend a weekend on this. He spent four hours every single day for 29 years wrapping twine. Think about that for a second. That is a level of commitment that most people can't even apply to a gym membership, let alone a pile of string.
Johnson was a bit of a local legend. He did the whole thing by himself, eventually needing a crane to lift and move the beast. It weighs 17,400 pounds. It’s 12 feet wide. Honestly, standing next to it is a bit humbling because it represents a man’s entire life’s work in physical form. The town eventually built a gazebo for it because you can't just leave 17,000 pounds of twine out in the Minnesota snow.
The Guinness World Records technically recognized this as the "Largest Ball of Twine Built by a Single Person." That’s a very specific category, but in the world of roadside attractions, the "single person" distinction is the gold standard. It’s pure. It’s authentic. It’s one guy against the physics of yarn.
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The Cawker City Contender: A Never-Ending Project
If Darwin is the champion of individual effort, Cawker City, Kansas, is the champion of the "keep it going" philosophy. Frank Stoeber started this one in 1953. He wanted to beat Johnson. Competition is a hell of a drug.
By 1961, Stoeber’s ball was massive, but he passed away before he could definitively "win." Instead of letting the dream die, the town took over. Every year, they hold a "Twine-a-Thon." You can literally go there, buy a length of twine, and add it yourself. Because people are still adding to it, the Cawker City ball is technically always growing.
It currently weighs over 20,000 pounds.
Wait. So if it weighs more than the Minnesota one, why isn't it the "biggest"?
Because it’s a team effort. Purists argue that Darwin’s ball is "finished," whereas Cawker City’s is a community art project. It’s the difference between a classic novel and a Wikipedia page. Both are huge, but they have different souls. If you visit, you'll see it sitting under a canopy on the main drag. It smells exactly how you’d expect: dusty, like an old barn.
Does it actually matter which is bigger?
Probably not to you or me. But to the towns? Absolutely. These balls of yarn are economic engines for places that would otherwise be bypassed by the interstate. They bring in "yarn tourists." They sell t-shirts. They keep the local diner in business. It’s a strange, spherical version of the American Dream.
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Branson and the "Lightweight" Modern Record
Then there’s the ball in Branson, Missouri. This one is at Ripley’s Believe It or Not! and it’s a bit of a controversial figure in the yarn community. It was built by J.C. Payne and was certified in the 1990s as the largest. It’s roughly 13 feet in diameter.
The problem? It’s not "organic" in the way the Darwin or Cawker City balls are. It feels more like a corporate stunt. While it is technically massive, it lacks the decades of sweat and boredom that define the Minnesota and Kansas landmarks. Most travelers skip this one if they want the "real" experience, though it's much easier to find since it's right in the middle of a major tourist trap.
The Physics of Why They Don't Collapse
You might wonder why these things don't just turn into a pile of spaghetti. It’s all about the tension. When you wrap twine that tightly for decades, the center becomes as hard as rock. You couldn't just "unwind" the Darwin ball. It’s essentially a solid object now.
In fact, some engineers have noted that the internal pressure of these balls is immense. If you were to cut into the center of the Cawker City ball, you wouldn't find a core; you'd find twine that has been compressed for 70 years. It’s a geological formation made of fiber.
The Lake Nebagamon Mystery
There’s also a ball in Lake Nebagamon, Wisconsin. James Frank Kotera (known as "JFK") started his ball in 1979. He claimed his was the heaviest, weighing it frequently as he went. He passed away recently, and his ball remains a testament to his specific obsession. Unlike the others, Kotera used different types of string and rope, giving it a more colorful, chaotic look.
How to Plan Your Own "Big Ball" Road Trip
If you’re actually going to do this, don't just drive to one. The real fun is the comparison.
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- Start in Darwin, Minnesota. See the "single-man" record holder. It’s the most "artistic" one because the wraps are very neat. Johnson was a perfectionist.
- Head south to Cawker City, Kansas. Bring some twine. Add to the legacy. It’s the only one you can actually touch and contribute to.
- Check out the Branson ball only if you’re already there for a show. It’s the "glossy" version.
- Visit the "World's Largest Ball of String" in Valley Falls, Kansas. Wait, string? Yes, there’s a difference. Or at least the locals will tell you there is.
The reality is that these attractions represent a specific era of American travel. Before TikTok and Instagram, you needed a reason to stop the car. A massive, 17,000-pound sphere of twine was a pretty good reason. It’s weird, it’s slightly pointless, and it’s deeply human.
When you get to Darwin, look for the museum right next to the ball. It’s small, but it’s full of Johnson’s personal belongings and the tools he used to move the twine. It puts a human face on what otherwise looks like a giant brown boulder.
Roadside attractions like these are fading. Many are being bought by museums or falling into disrepair. But the big balls of yarn seem to endure. Maybe it’s because twine is cheap. Or maybe it’s because there’s something universally relatable about a person deciding to do one thing—one very weird thing—better than anyone else in the world.
To get the most out of a visit, go during the Darwin Twine Ball Day in August. You’ll get to meet people who actually knew Johnson. You’ll hear the stories about how the ball almost fell over or how they had to build a new structure to house it. That’s where the real value is—not in the string itself, but in the community that formed around it.
Pack a camera, bring some extra twine for Kansas, and don't expect the GPS to be perfectly accurate in these rural areas. Some of these towns are so small they barely register on digital maps, which is exactly why they need a giant ball of yarn to put them on the map in the first place.