I’ve been making up for lost time lately, taking a few nice, long photo trips across North Dakota. One of the things I came across by accident is this old schoolhouse. We homeschool our kids, and they’ve already begun their school year. I love flexibility.
Worth sleeping in the truck, I’d say
I bought a new truck a few weeks ago. Well, new to me – I don’t have the money to buy a brand new one, and if I did I still would hate to take that depreciation hit the minute I drive it off the lot, so I always buy cars at least a year old. Anyway, it’s the most fun four-wheeled vehicle I’ve ever owned, and to prove it I took a 950 mile weekend photo jaunt – Thursday and Friday on my own, and Saturday on a roundabout way to pick up my kids from Bible camp.
After roaming all the way to the South Dakota border (and past it by several feet before dipping back into Best Dakota), I rolled into Medora later than I’d hoped. It was at least 10:30 local time, and I didn’t feel like setting up a tent only to take it down a few hours later. My plan was to wake up before sunrise and enter the South Unit of the national park, so the best option seemed to be just sleeping in the truck. I had already folded the back seats down, so I stacked all my gear on one side, inflated my air mattress on the other (I’d reserved a campsite with electricity), plugged in a cheap little fan I’d bought at Walmart in Dickinson to combat the heat and humidity, and dozed off.
Not only am I pleased to report that I slept like a baby in the new ride, but I also woke up before sunrise without the aid of an alarm. I let the air out of the mattress, hopped into the front, and entered the park just in time for the sun to come up. I hiked down to the Little Missouri and got this:
Steam on the water, rays streaming from the sun, and loads of color all around. I couldn’t have started the day better. Didn’t even have too many mosquitoes at that time of the morning, either!
I made the park loop, but nothing really caught my eye – except some elk you’ll see another time – so it was time to head back to the campground for a shower, into town for some bacon and eggs, then off to roam the North and South Units and the National Grasslands in between. I’ve been tied up with multiple gigs lately that have involved 12+ hour days, so I haven’t sorted through them all yet…but I have loads of photos to share as time allows.
Over the hill
It’s been a long time since I first spotted this old farmstead with the scenic hill in the background. A while back I finally was able to get a shot of it, and I forgot to post it here. As luck would have it, I was able to avoid most of the rain that moved through the area while still capturing some dramatic clouds!
Clouds over St. Vincent’s
I actually took this photo a month ago while roaming Morton County. I was on my way back into town and found myself northwest of Mandan, so I decided to stop over and catch some shots of this church before bouncing down a section line. The clouds were pretty remarkable, giving an excellent background to this place of worship.
I’d had a fruitful day with the camera, but when I had the combination of this church and this sky to play with, this was one of the most fun stops of my entire day!
And all you had up on blocks is that Pinto wagon
Do it bigger on the farm. Instead of just having an old car on blocks in the front yard, why not have a couple of rail cars? I spotted this along a rural road so far down in the southwest corner of the state that I actually found myself into “the other Dakota” for a few feet. Although, to be fair, these cars are not in disrepair and appear to serve a very utilitarian purpose.
I wonder how they got there? They look hard to move once they’re off the rails.
This doesn’t bode well for Morton County
I was roaming some of my favorite Morton County back roads, searching for blue flax fields and whatever else I might find, when I noticed this. Actually, I noticed three of them…all in a line, spaced evenly about a mile and a half apart. That was weird…short little guy-wired towers springing up like that. So what’s the deal?
I asked around a broadcast engineering group I belong to, and they gave me the scoop: they’re temporary anemometers. After I found that out, I was able to verify it on my next trip past that area when I actually got close enough for this shot:
As you can see, there are multiple anemometers on this tower. Well, there’s only one reason why you’d want to measure wind in an area like that. Yes, you guessed it: more stupid wind turbines, among the most expensive types of power to produce.
These subsidy grabbing, bird killing eyesores are the bane of anyone who loves photographing North Dakota. Sadly, they’re encroaching on some of the more scenic areas surrounding Bismarck-Mandan. As I type this, work is in progress on a wind farm south of Hebron as well. Sad.
If you want to get any scenic photos around Morton County, especially at sunset, you’d better do it before those ugly structures ruin the skyline.
Tuesday night turbulence
I worked late Tuesday night, and when I left my south side studio at just after 9pm I was blown away by the clouds to the south. I’m told this cell actually put down a tornado somewhere to the west. I was concerned more with the colors, oblivious to what it was doing down along the ground.
I bolted as fast as I could in the new truck to find a spot where I could try to capture the color. I know how fleeting that sunset light can be, and last night was no exception. As I got set up and mosquitoes as big as dimes began to swarm around me, a cloud moved in along the western horizon and choked off that amazing light. There was more than what you see here when I first bolted in search of a suitable spot, and almost immediately after I took the shot these clouds faded into dull blues and grays.
Tail end of the storm
As the driving rain made its way past Bismarck-Mandan on Saturday morning I was hatching a plan to follow behind it. I had to head to north central North Dakota anyway to pick up some kids from a church camp, so what better way to spend a Saturday morning than depart very early and work in a bunch of camera time along the way?
I’ve stopped at this particular spot along Highway 3 many times, but never had a really dramatic sky to work with. That was not the case on Saturday. There were crazy clouds moving in all directions at around 400 feet or so (if my eyes deceive me not) and the deep blue of the departing storms was a wonderful offset.
Not only did my plan work: I got plenty of photos in various locations with the dramatic skies in the background, but I also found a lot of new locations and took photos there, and I was able to mark a bunch of potential future spots for the next time I head northeast. Trifecta.
My cameras and I were busy over the last few days, though. More on that later.
Forelorn Fireball
This is a 1950 Buick Roadmaster, a car known for its Straight Eight, or Fireball Eight, inline eight-cylinder engine. I remember hearing about this engine in the movie Rain Man, when Raymond mentions it. This one sits beside a rural road, its glory days long past.
This car is noteworthy because Buick put those ports on the side of the car to denote power, or something. It’s that distinguishing feature which helps identify the year of the car, because the placement varied from year to year.
I’m not really into classic cars, as nostalgic as I am about other things. I like technology, and hot rods really don’t have it. I can appreciate ’em, don’t get me wrong. They’re especially nice to photograph, especially on a nice, sunny day under a North Dakota prairie sky!
I bet it’s seen lots of these storms
Yesterday’s storms missed my family’s abode, but they did cause plenty of excitement east of Bismarck-Mandan. I took the opportunity to venture out with my boys and my new used truck to see what the clouds were doing. Thankfully they obliged – I caught this shot not far northeast of Bismarck. Wow. I also got some cool video, but I don’t have time to post it just yet. Maybe I’ll update the post later.
This old windmill, weathered as it is, has probably seen quite a few storms roll through. It looks as though it’s probably been battered by them, too. Is there any wonder why I’m so attracted to this feature of the North Dakota prairie?