The colloquialism in the title of this post is the racetrack equivalent of “Go to war with the army you’ve got.” I didn’t have a photographic equivalent, so I’ll have to write one someday and utilize the racing version for now. I had finished watching a niece’s volleyball game at Fort Lincoln Elementary and saw a nice sunset developing, so I did what I had to: bolt to the nearest known photo subject. In this case, and given the letter “E” adjacent to my truck’s gas gauge needle, Fort Abraham Lincoln was the most logical choice.

I started with the above shot. Stereotypical. Unremarkable. I really prefer the blockhouses with the railings on top. Okay…time to work the area a little bit…

The clouds were changing quickly and it looked like the horizon was about to be obscured, but I did have time to try something else. Taking a position far away from the blockhouses had proven uninspiring, so I decided to get close and still try to capture some of the wispy clouds while they remained overhead. I figured the blockhouses had little else to offer tonight given the sky conditions, so I did a 180.

Now that’s what I’m talking about. The full size version of this photo is much more pleasing due to its detail in the fall colors, but I don’t want to post a photo that big here. It was the shot I was looking for, however, in order to satisfy my criteria for a successful photo trip: come home with at least one photo I really like…even if it’s the only one from the trip that turned out well.

About that time I noticed the National Guard guys practicing autorotations with a Blackhawk over at the Mandan Airport, so I hung out to watch the frivolity and snap a couple more last minute blockhouse shots. The clouds had changed yet again and were providing a dash of color and light in the sky overhead, and I wanted to milk this trip for all it was worth. Success. Then it was time for home and little relaxation to go with my satisfaction.

We’ve got another man down, Dude

In a friend’s backyard, no less! I was out poking around with my camera before dinner and enjoying the extremely rural Dakota atmosphere when I noticed something in the grass. Closer inspection revealed that it was a windmill head from the early 1900s. What is it with me and old windmills, anyway?

As a mountain and city kid, I don’t know why I find these artifacts so intriguing, but I do. I’ve joked from time to time that in North Dakota’s vast expanse of prairie, anything sticking up more than a few feet can be considered a landmark. More honestly, I think they have more of a connotation of the pioneer spirit, the hardiness that it takes to farm a section of North Dakota land. For every windmill there’s a story of someone who put it there. I suppose that’s the real fascination.