2wheels2lanes1camera

Motorcycle camping

2010-03-20T18:05:00.008-06:00

How do you overnight when touring by motorcycle?

Traditional motorcycle camping is an honored and cherished tradition, at least for bikers who entered the two-wheeled world a couple decades ago. Today, if you are up for it, motorcycle camping connects us with the men and women who traveled the U.S. on two wheels many decades ago heading to this vacation spot, or that rally. If you’re up for it. It can be fairly primitive. It doesn’t seem as though motorcycle camping is what it once was. There are too many motorhomes pulling motorcycle trailers, or a few motorcycles pulling little campers. To me, motorcycle camping is at most a tent and a few supplies bungieed on to the back of my bike.

I have found that backpacking equipment makes good motorcycle camping equipment. It’s lightweight, compact and durable. So I can pack enough for a week’s stay on my bike, including even a camp stool, cooler, sleeping bag pad, sleeping bag, tent, camp lights, even a one-burner stove.
I recognize that not everyone likes to camp, but it’s probably the most economical way to experience a rally. It allows you to immerse yourself in to the event. Two good examples of motorcycle camping are the Freedom Rally in Iowa and the Sturgis Rally in South Dakota.
The Freedom Rally in Algona, Iowa is my favorite rally. It’s as traditional and focused as any rally you can find. The entire area is owned by ABATE of Iowa. It’s fenced off so that you can access the campground only by motorcycle. Motorhomes and travel trailers are parked down the road at another site. The campground is clean and cool. Big cottonwoods give plenty of shade if you choose that relatively secluded area. Or if you like, you can set up in a sort of “tent city” where the partying never stops. That's the way it is at the Bottom's Up Rally in Marmath, ND.
Similarly there are “motorcycle only” camp sites at the Sturgis Rally. For example, Glencoe has an area where only motorcycles can squeeze through the narrow openings. Pick a spot, park your bike and call it “home” for as long as you wish during the rally.
The benefits of camping like that are obvious: you avoid the astronomical high prices of motels during the rally. One motel in Sturgis where I stay before Memorial Day or after Labor Day prices its rooms between $50 and $80. But during the rally, they are $250 or more. Camping during the rally is as low as $12, but generally in that $30 to $40 range.
Other benefits include the camaraderie of fellow campers, and the immersion in to the motorcycle lifestyle.
The disadvantage is of course you are exposed to the weather as it is – hot, cold or rainy. I’ve climbed in to my tent after a wet day of riding, and there’s no warming up by the furnace or fireplace.
It’s also a bit more work to camp. It’s up to you to pack and unpack as you move. No ready-made beds are available. Showering is a challenge, but usually most campgrounds have a community shower that is just fine with me.
Motorcycle camping is part of the motorcycle experience. If you wanted to travel in luxury, you could have traded in your bike for a pull behind trailer and you drive the country in your car. Or you can just motel hop your way across the country, leaving the confines of your cage for the continued confines of a motel room.
Me? I like the exposure and freedom of motorcycling – and that includes motorcycle camping.

North Dakota's 9/11 Tribute to fallen soldiers

2010-02-10T17:09:00.002-06:00

Not much to say about such an historic event about the “Fallen Soldiers” memorial at the entrance to Fraine Baracks in Bismarck. It was too emotional and too solemn to trivialize with a blog. The Patriot Guard Riders were called on to ride in to event, and ring the center with our bikes, then to protect the grieving families as they paused at the new memorial.

We gathered at a former used car dealer’s lot, and rode the 4 or 5 blocks to Fraine Baracks. Lotsa flags posted. Those of us with 3x5 or larger flags mounted on our bikes led the way in to the memorial area – almost two dozen flags flying in the wind. Of course a photo would be nice, but well, I was riding, too and couldn’t do both.

The usual set of speeches, but then came the families, one by one to hang dog tags on the permanent memorial…even the daughter of one of the soldiers who was killed in Iraq.

ABATE -- a biker’s network

2009-12-09T13:22:00.007-06:00

These days, there’s plenty of talk about “networking.” Websites and social networking sites such as Facebook, MySpace and LinkedIn are all doing it. But they have nothing over the biker network created by ABATE.

I took a trip the other day down to southwestern North Dakota showed me an advantage of the network formed by ABATE. ABATE is an organization promoting and enhancing motorcycle rider safety and motorcycle rider’s rights. The “B” in ABATE stands for “brotherhood” -- at least as some acronyms spell it out. The brotherhood was fully functioning in Dickinson.

I had every intention of staying home that weekend of the Bottoms Up rally. I had too much work to do. But Red prevailed upon me to take a late season rider to Dickinson and beyond.

We got a late start, and the ride got even later, into the darkness. So, we stopped in Dickinson, at one of those Ma and Pa motels I’m so fond of.

After checking in to the motel, we came back out to unload our bikes, and head downtown. I saw that pool of oil under her FXSTN (Softail Deluxe) but thought nothing of it. We rode to the watering hole owned by a huge ABATE supporter, Bernie Marsh, the Esquire Club. Get that? He’s a part of the ABATE network?

Red backed her bike in to the curb between two other bikes, but it was too tight a fit. So, she pulled out, whipped a u-turn and parked on the other side of the street. It was easy to see the move. It was marked by a trail of oil from her first spot, to her u-turn to the second spot.

I lay on my back next to her bike, trying to trace the potential source of this oil leak. I ruled out the filter, the drain plug and the transmission. There was no sign of oil on the block. It was all from the primary.

Inside the Esquire, I flagged Bernie. He was tending bar and was busier than a bat in a swarm of mosquitoes. I asked him if there were any bike mechanics he knew of in town. He disappeared and came back with the card for a new business in town, Patriot Custom Cycles.

The next morning we headed out to the Patriot shop and me the owner Wes Annable. Wes is another ABATE member and supporter. He’s retired military, had been in Minot, but moved to Dickinson for the weather (yeah I know, I wrinkled my brow on that one, too) and for his family. Dickinson is blessed to have him. He Wes started up this shop in Dickinson, and bikers will do well to trust him with their rides. He sure did us good! His diagnosis of the leak was the same as mine, and in minutes he had the Deluxe up on the hoist. After he got in to it, he saw it was worse than we had thought originally. A short conference and he was ready to dive in to the work.

While Wes was at work, we headed back to the other side of Dickinson on my bike, stopping again at our friendly neighborhood Prairie Rose café – the same one I wrote about in an earlier blog. I’d gone down there earlier in the morning, just in time to shoot the early morning light on the hunters and ranchers stopping in this landmark café.

Later that morning, after a good cuppa jo, we headed back to Patriot Custom. Wes had the bike done, and it was in better condition than we expected.

First, Bernie’s good counsel to hook up with Wes, and then the work Wes did. It’s one of those intangibles that come with belonging to a group such as ABATE -- networking. It’s worth it.

I got beat up on the Las Vegas strip

2009-11-04T19:38:00.010-06:00

They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. I hope so. I don’t want that kind of thrash and trash in MY neighborhood.

The day started out very peaceful. I was in Vegas for Blogworld/New Media Expo. Got up early – after all I’m operating on Central Time, two hours ahead of Pacific time – and surveyed the area for good photos spots. I found a parking ramp was good for different elevated shots and intended to go back the next day. Of course, I wasn’t planning on being in the emergency room when the next day began.

The question needs to be asked at some where here, at what point do you stop protecting your camera? I shielded mine and protected it – but at a personal cost. I usually take one or of the other of my cameras when I go for a hike or a walk. In this case, I opted for my Nikon D300 instead of my little point and shoot Pentax. I wish I hadn’t.

About 8:00, I got to The Strip and walked from the Flamingo Casino area down the strip toward Bally’s. I should have known what I was in for when I got off the monorail. There at the base of the steps from the Monorail elevated platform, on the street was a shabbily dressed fellow trying to find a place to pee.

He found a spot. I walked around him and the puddle he was making.

It was a busy night on The Strip, but then I assume they all are that way. I walked past a street musician playing the old Leadbelly tune, Midnight Special. After I walked past, I thought that would make a good “touristy” shot of the casinos in the background and this guy playing. You can imagine the photo. It’s a common kind of photo.

He and his buddy were quite drunk. I spose you can get away with that on The Strip. Wouldn’t happen here. I guess what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. They may have been more than drunk, I don’t know. But what I do know is that before I could turn and walk away, I was accosted by first one, then another, then a group of men who wanted me to pay them for the photo I took of the musician. I laughed. Gave them a business card and tried to walk way.

For the third time in our brief encounter, one man tried to spit on me, this time, spitting in his hand and slapping me on the side of the face from behind. (That's him on the left in the grey tshirt and tan shorts with the tat on his calf. I remember the tat cuz when I was on the ground and he was kicking me, I stood up and grabbed that leg, upending him.)

I turned and wailed on him and then, all hell broke loose as they jumped me.

I huddled over my camera protecting it as I went down. I remember hearing men saying, “Oh oh. Let’s not go there.” It was a crowded sidewalk, but no one stopped to help.

Women were shrieking and one was saying, “Stay away from my aunt. Don’t hurt my aunt.”

It’s like they thought we were playing hacky sack or something.

Not one person offered to either help me, nor take my camera.

Finally, while on the ground, I got my camera set down on the sidewalk, stood up and did battle. It took about 5 seconds for the cowards to freak out.

By then I had blood running down my face. I picked up my camera and headed in to the nearest casino to try to get help. Stupid me.

“We’re not with the casino,” they answered when I asked them to call the cops.

“You’re with the human race, aren’t you?” I angrily retorted. They didn’t move to call anyone.

“What do I need to do? Scream? Shout?” I threatened. They then called Security.

A couple of uniformed men sauntered over after a while and immediately shuttled me in to a hidden room where gamblers didn’t have to be freaked by the blood. They called an ambulance and there I found the first two professional and down to earth people. Ron and Nick. They got me ready for the trip to the hospital, but we waited for the police. And waited. And waited.

When no cops showed, we went to Sunrise Hospital Medical Center in Vegas. I got my tour of the strip out the back window of the ambulance. There, a P.A. Leila and a nurse Kim showed care and cleaned up my blood and let me talk. I needed to talk. They let me. The four of them, Nick, Ron, Leila and Kim were the best things to happen to me that night.

Hours later, still no cops. Finally, almost 4 hours after the incident, the cops showed up, took my statement and a couple photos.

I got stitched up, and my friend from Blogworld, Julie came via taxi to give me a ride back to the hotel.

I’m still quite angry about the whole deal.

Lesson’s learned:
Las Vegas cops are too busy to respond to a simple assault of a tourist.
Tourists in Vegas are too busy to respond to someone needing their help
What happens in Vegas, I hope stays in Vegas. I don’t want that stuff here.

And oh – next time I won’t let $3,000 worth of camera gear get in the way of letting a bunch of pukes know the fear of my fists.

p.s. To get my mojo back, Julie and I went the next day to the LV Harely shop and Arlen Ness shop. That helped. Finally, on a hike of Mt. Charleston (30 miles outside of Las Vegas) my mojo returned.

Sturgis -- a generational tradition

2009-10-26T21:46:00.017-06:00

I was first introduced to the Sturgis rally back in 1967. Though my dad was not a motorcycle rider he had friends who were. He introduced me to a Jack Pine Gypsy, one of the founders of the Black Hills Motorcycle Classic. I met George, a pipefitter and hill climber on a family vacation in the Black Hills. George had stories of motorcycles, hill climbs and rallies.

I made a couple attempts to get to Sturgis in the 70’s but was not successful. That's probably a good thing because I don't think my Suzuki would have been very well accepted. Then in the 80's I tried again on my Triumph, but didn't make it. Finally in the mid 90’s I made it as a regular event first on my Superglide shovelhead and then my Road King twin cam– it just took 30 years.Now, my son has carried on the tradition. I’m proud of him. To get to the Sturgis rally this year, he rode all day through rain and cold while his traveling companions trailered their bikes. Kelsey proved that he is not a merely a motorcycle owner, the possessor of garage candy. He’s a rider, a biker.

I’m actually a bit surprised that Kelsey is the first of my children to carry on the motorcycle tradition. I can’t take credit for any influence there, though I’m sure there must be some. He fell in to a group of blue-collar, fun loving friends who ride; guys he grew up with. His girlfriend, Allison also has motorcycle riders in her family; I’m not prepared to say they are bikers, but they are certainly motorcycle owners. (That’s her on the back of his Fat Boy riding in to Sturgis after we made a run to Deadwood and back.)Kelsey is an adventurous soul, a kind-hearted, hard-working, risk-taking, hockey playing biker. Tall and lanky, 6'4" as you can see how he towers over my 5'11". He is a smart, sensitive and sensible macho gentle man. Even if he were not my son, I’d be proud to have him riding next to me.

In addition, he rides one heckuva cool bike – one that I just had to practice my camera and photoshop techniques as the picture up top of this blog shows.

His entrance in to the biker lifestyle is another link in the bonding between father and son – a link that sadly was weakened for many years. I feel blessed to have the children I have and the bonds we share, each different, but in this case, it is the bond of a lifestyle.

Do you stick around for the Oom-pah-pah?

2009-10-13T10:52:00.020-06:00

Do you just breeze through the touristy little shops and say you saw the community where you’ve just visited? Aw, come on, you know there’s more to even the most tourist-oriented towns than just the stores with gee-gaws and gadgets, and if you take the time to find out, you may find your own little oom-pah-pah band. I did this fall when I stopped in Red Lodge, Montana.

Thanks to local historian and retired librarian Bob, I learned why the brass band was entertaining shoppers at the farmers market on Main Street Red Lodge.

Bob told me that Red Lodge is a hodge podge, a melting pot of nationalities who came to the region to make a fortune at mining. Italians, Scandinavians, Scottish and Germans settled in the area.

On their own, back before the days of tax-supported humanities and cultural programs were mandated, the folks of Red Lodge, on their own started a Festival of Nations. Each ethnic group featured their native dress, food and music to bridge the cultures with the other ethnicities.

Now, on Saturday mornings, such as the one in which I was there in September, bands such as the German band are tooting their horns while customers shop the food stands at the farmers market.

Underneath the evergreens, next the big mural of a map of the Red Lodge area I found the German band with their shiny brass instruments. There among the flowers and the brick, I found a perfect visual sample of what it means to travel on two-wheels on two-lanes with one camera. It’s something you don’t find in the convenience stores or tourist traps. It’s authentic history alive today.

More of the photos are on my website, mykuhlsphotography.com.

Oh, and don’t be surprised, if you’re a biker and some elderly and classy lady pedals up on her little bicycle and parks it in between your motorcycles for protection.

What is Cooke City, Montana without the tourists?

2009-10-11T16:04:00.007-06:00

It’s a peaceful friendly little town.

If the weather allows, I’m vacationing when you are home for the season, and vice versa. When you’re on vacation, I’m home. You see, some of my best trips are before Memorial Day and after Labor Day – those two holidays mark the “official” tourist season.

This year, as in previous years, Yellowstone was calling. It took two days to get there. Day 1 was to Red Lodge, and Day two was to Cooke City, Montana. Day 3 was the big park.

Cooke City, Montana—the last incorporated city before the northeast entrance to Yellowstone, about 4 miles down the road. Normally Cooke City is a tourist jump off, but once the tourist season is over, it returns to its normal personality. The first night there was just after it had rained, and the streets were wet. Bikers were still exiting the park and stopping in town for fuel and to get on more wet weather gear.

They moved on without getting to know a few of the locals. Their loss. Because if you visit Cooke City after tourist season, you’re likely to meet friendly young folk at the Miners Saloon, or at the coffee shop, or at the Beartooth Café.

Nights are like any other small town until the full moon glides up over the mountains, and the city’s lights take on a ghostly glow. I had no idea what that glow was over the mountain until it made it’s full appearance.

I had only my monopod with me; a tripod would have been better. So I gripped it against the post on a covered porch, took a deep breath and eased the shutter open – then held my breath for 15 to 22 seconds for the camera to soak in all the light needed to record the images you see here.

I like shooting at night with cooperative natural light such as the moon and the city glow. You’ll find more photos like these over at http://mykuhlsphotography.com and soon, even more from the German band at Red Lodge!

What is a pigtail bridge – and why do Sturgis rally goers ride them?

2009-10-08T12:51:00.002-06:00

No, they are not some contraption that connects one hawg to another. But hawg riders have used them for about as long as there has been a Sturgis Motorcycle rally. They are wooden bridges that wind under or over themselves to give traffic a gentle slope on the steep inclines of the Black Hills. You’ll find several on highway 16a directly south of Mount Rushmore and the town of Keystone.

Pigtail bridges are one of the attractions on Iron Mountain Road, a favorite ride of bikers. Its twists, turns, tunnels and pigtail bridges are unequaled anywhere in the U.S. A few years ago, I rode the Black Hills with a group of bikers I met on a large bridge project in North Dakota. We rode down to the Hills, and to Iron Mountain Road. They had to stop to inspect these engineering wonders.

The rustic log work is impressive. When riders take a moment to pull over and read nearby signs, they will learn the logs were cut from stands nearby, shaped, treated and put in place about 80 years ago. The piling, the piers, the pier caps, the deck supports and the deck railing are all treated wood cut from just a few yards away.

They were designed and engineered in 1932 by Cecil Clyde Gideon who was the superintendent of Custer State Park. (That’s the park at the south end of Iron Mountain road where bison and other wildlife thrive. You’ll see photos here of Custer and the bison in my blog archive and on mykuhlsphotography.com.)

Gideon called the bridges “spiral-jump offs”. His goal in designing the bridges was to preserve the natural beauty while building a scenic highway on Iron Mountain. The corkscrew design is eye-catching, and every rider ought to stop at least once to check them out. I mean, after all, they have to slow down anyway to traverse the tight turns. I recommend checking out this impressive design that blends engineering into modern traffic – a kind of early contest sensitive design.

If you get the chance to ride Iron Mountain Road and experience the corkscrew twist of a pigtail bridge – stop! Get off the road a bit, get off your bike, and look at how they are put together. And if you’re really brave and physically fit, take a climb up the nearby rocks to see how the road and bridge wraps around – a simple fix to a complex problem.

How to shoot motorcycles with all that blinding chrome?

2009-09-30T10:45:00.002-06:00

It’s all about light – that’s not too heavy, is it? I don’t mean the weight of the motorcycle, but the light reflecting off the machine. In a staged studio set-up large amounts of very soft light is positioned above the motorcycle such as in the custom motorcycle shoot at the Sturgis Motorcycle rally.

However, out in the field, you won’t have that much control, unless you choose the setting and the time of day. Some of your best images of shiny motorcycles will NOT be on those bright and glorious days when owners like to show off their scoots. Instead, an overcast “verge-of-rain” days are best for capturing the bright colors and reflective surfaces. It’s about as close as you can get to a staged studio set up. It was what I was blessed with when I shot vintage motorcycles in South Dakota a couple years ago. (Tip: a good software program such as one of the Photoshop or Corel programs can enhance dull colors if it’s too overcast of a day.)

You can also use a neutral density filter, but my choice is a circular polarizing filter. However, if your light is soft enough, as mentioned above, you can probably save yourself a few bucks and shoot without. If you already have one, though, use it!

Watch out for shadows on the motorcycle you are shooting. These can come from trees, people or the bike parked next to it. They can be hard to minimize or eliminate – except by asking the biker to move his machine to a better location. Of course, that’s not always possible if you’re shooting that one bike on main street parked next to a few thousand others. It is possible to carefully use a speed light, but then you run the risk of getting those nasty overblown reflections. (Again, a good program such as Adobe an merge those two shots, or parts of them in to one evenly lit subject.)

If it’s one bike parked uniformly in a row with others, look for patterns that might enhance the image you’re shooting. Is there a kind of infinity mirror pattern? Is the bike next to it is the same color, or a different color?

Get down

Of course that bike caught your eye when you were standing, but can other angles give you a better shot? Crouch down, sit down, or even lay down to get that scooter from a different angle, one that can highlight its unique features. Decide this: What is the key element you want to shoot? Is it the paint job? The chrome? The entire vintage machine? Get in on that part of the machine. Is it a 1957 Indian, then shoot the identifying features? Is it a 1964 panhead Harley-Davidson? Shoot the pan, the rocker covers, shoot the wheels, shoot the paint, shoot the leather – but focus on that element that sets this machine apart from others.

Avoid the stadium shot. You don’t need to shoot the whole football stadium just to show off one player. The machine you’re shooting should fill the frame – or some would say, fill three-quarters of the frame.

I can see for miles and miles and ….

What is that in that chrome? Is that you standing there, all distorted in the curvature of the chrome? Sometimes reflections are desirable, such as the bike next to it, but are you sure you want that beer sign reflecting in the air cleaner cover? Are you in the reflection? Notice that guy crouching down in the air intake elbow in the top photo of the red custom bike? Or how about his guy in the headlight bucket? Oops!

While we’re on the subject of unwanted images – check the background before you click the shutter. Are you sure you want that fat lady in the fluorescent green pant suit standing behind that motorcycle? (Yeah, what’s she doing at a motorcycle rally anyway with that green polyester 70’s left over fashion?)

One more time

Like always, especially in photography, just get out there and do it. Practice, refine, and practice some more. You may not get it right the first time, but that’s okay because it’s not your last time.

How to give back to the community – and have fun while doing it

2009-09-27T21:42:00.006-06:00

What good is it to have an interest, a business, a skill or a talent and not use it to improve your region? In my humble opinion, we’d need less government oversight and government involvement if we all chipped in where we could – grassroots, ya know.

Enough political talk – lemme tell you about a group I like to help out as I can. It’s the Domestic Violence group in Bismarck and their annual Spike Out Violence volleyball tournament. It’s a fundraiser in July to support programs to combat domestic violence.

This year, I couldn’t shoot the whole two-day affair as I did last year; I had to fly out to Pittsburgh on Sunday, but Saturday’s shoot was the perfect environment. Outdoors, action, interest and people.

Shooting volleyball isn’t a tough job if you follow some basic tips. Keep track of the sun, and keep it at about a 90-degree angle to the shot direction. Keep one eye on the viewfinder and the other open to follow the action. If it’s an outside sunny day, you should have no trouble shooting a fast enough shutter speed to freeze action. If it’s inside or not sunny, you’ll need to adjust your ISO and or your aperture. However, if you open up your aperture (smaller f-stop number) you’ll also decrease your depth of field and could get a bunch of out-of-focus shots. So, play with it, to find what works best when the light isn’t cooperating. That’s the shooting technique.

How to find the right organization. That depends on your motivation. If it’s truly an altruistic motive, find what interests you – usually an emotionally touching subject – one that makes you smile, frown, or growl. Maybe Domestic Violence isn’t exactly your bag for contributing your time and talents. Perhaps it is the Labor Day telethon for MDA, or a local flea market to raise money for a new playground, or a walk-a-thon to raise money for a “youth at risk” program, or may be it’s the local zoo, or animal shelter. I think you get the point.

In my day at the sandlot volleyball courts in Bismarck, I got to hang with some cool people. Their endorphins were raging and they were having a good time, the mood was upbeat. So, I got to enjoy not only the weather and the opportunity to do what I like – take photos. However, I also got to hang with and meet some happy, outgoing folks. That was my reward. The keeper photos got posted on my website, http://mykuhlsphotography.com

And oh, along the sideline, there are also some good shots to be had. Don’t forget to take a few model releases with you, cuz you don’t know when you might find a willing model such as Annabelle! More about photographing kids like Annabelle another time.

How to safely photograph buffalo

2009-08-31T09:13:00.014-06:00

Every year, I add to my collection of buffalo photos. It's easy and safe, if you follow these steps.

Match game?
Okay, first, know this: You are no match for the wild tonnage of bison. You will lose. [Remember the song, “You Can’t Roller skate in a Buffalo Herd?” Take off your skates! Pay attention. Don’t do what this guy did, within feet of a bull buffalo coming out of the trees. The rider was not only dangerously close, but he had no escape route.

There are no guarantees; even buffalo-handlers have their scary stories, if they live to tell about them, that is. The first time I shot a buffalo herd was with a buffalo farmer. He drove out to his herd but made the mistake of driving his pickup truck between a cow and her new calf. I don’t know if he ever replaced that door…but the feel and the sound of mama hitting that truck and rocking it like she did more than shook me up physically. It shook up my sanity and memory in such a way that I take that moment with me when I shoot buffalo.

Cooperative model?
Here’s your first tip: visit a buffalo ranch. If the owner is willing, he may take you out to visit his herd from a safe distance. In North Dakota, there are several buffalo ranches, many of them belong to the North American Bison Cooperative in New Rockford, North Dakota You can contact the NABC to find a buffalo rancher in your state (http://tenderbison.ndnatural.com). Many Indian nations in the U.S. have bison herds. Some may be willing to help you with your photographic request. Years ago, I worked with the Three Affiliated Tribes on the Fort Berthold Reservation and found the people there to be very helpful.

If you want to try shooting buffalo in the wild, there opportunities all over the western United States. Of course Yellowstone and other national or state parks have herds to be photographed. Custer State Park in South Dakota is a relatively uncluttered area where several small and larger herds are available to photograph.

For years, I’ve hiked the Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota. In either the North or South Unit, you can safely shoot the animals from your vehicle. However if you choose to go it on foot, be careful because you could hike up unsuspectingly on a buffalo in the South Unit. It’s happened to me twice. Quite startling and scary. That’s a story for another time.

Make introduction
You. On foot. In the buffalo’s “stomping ground.” (Ouch!) Make NO sudden moves or noises. Face the animals and notice which ones face you. Keep your eye on them. They are standing guard and may be poised to charge. Buffalo in tourist areas are a little more used to people and won’t spook too easily if you don’t rush in. If you take a half hour or so, you can move a little closer, but leave an escape route. It's what I did to get this close.

To be extra safe, put some distance or some elevation between you. I’ve climbed a butte or bluff to get up above the animal. Elevation is not a bad idea for taking photos because it gives you a different view than the typical ground level “out-of-the-car-window” tourist shot.

Never ever, unless you are suicidal, get between a cow and her calf. If a calf is present, you need to double, triple, quadruple your safe distance.

When to go
Spring is a good time to photograph calves, but it’s also the most dangerous time (see above). Mothers (and fathers) can be very protective.

Summer can be cluttered with tourists and that has a negative impact not only on your shot, but also on the tranquility of the animals. Generally they are fairly quiet, stately animals, but they get edgy with a lot of tourists around.

If you’re out shooting in tourist season do this: go early in the morning, the golden hour right at sunup and the hour following. Evening is also good. Remember, however, you’ll be the target of mosquitoes, so be protected.

After Labor Day is my favorite time of the year. The environment has a naturally golden glow to it, which is a complimentary color for bison.

Don’t forget winter. Yeah, you may be chilled, but the buffalo has a great coat to keep them warm. The white frost or snow around them can add interest. Watch your exposure though. If you expose for the snow, you’ll end up with just a black silhouette of the buffalo. Get in tight to minimize the effect of snow on your settings.

Year round, my favorite place to photography buffalo is the South Unit of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park near Medora. The park is quiet, the buffalo are natural, and Medora is a great place to visit OFF SEASON. It's a whole different world there...as though the "golden hour" of photography has been extended to the entire day. The photo below of the buffalo head and the one above, looking down on the buffalo on the trail were both shot near Medora at the South Unit.

How to shoot
Use your telephoto. You don’t need a massive zoom lens, 200 or 300 mm will work fine. It allows you to keep your distance. Safety tip: Keep both eyes open, one on the image in your camera, and one on real life. Be prepared.

Experiment with your aperture to change the depth of field. Remember, the higher the f-stop the larger the focus area, or depth of field. Try focusing on just one or two animals with others in the herd slightly dropped out of focus.

Lighting is tough. The animals soak up a lot of light. They are dark and their hide doesn’t have much contrast. Keep the sun at 90 to 45 degrees to the subject to get the best contrast.

Focus on their shoulders, neck and face. If you have a clean focus on their wooly mane, the rest of the animal will be equally in focus.

It can be an exciting, heart-pumping, adrenaline rushing experience, but if you play it safe, and plan your shot, you’ll come back with a shot to hang over your mantle.

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A PGR tribute in Pickardville

2009-08-18T15:30:00.002-06:00

A PGR tribute in Pickardville

The PGR rides again. Well, not really, again. More like, “still,” or “yet.” Only this time it was a memorial ride for a career military man from the bustling town of Pickardville. (What?! You’ve not heard of Pickardville?! I hadn’t either, and I’d ridden through the town several times. Population about 30. Smack dab between Mercer and McClusky on Highway 200.)

It all started when Sgt. Jim Avard called us up (via email) for a memorial for Lt. Col John Van Vleet. As you may know about the PGR, the group’s role is to honor the men and women who either have or are willing to lay down their lives for the freedoms we have as Americans; those are the soldiers, sailors, airmen and leathernecks who give up years of their lives for the rest of us. John Van Vleet was one of those.

I didn’t know Van Vleet, but that doesn’t matter. He didn’t know me when he chose to put his life on the line for me. However, since the memorial ride for him in July, I’ve read a bit about Van Vleet. In one eulogy, Matt Matia spoke of Van Vleet’s character:

- Patience in the presence of incredible stupidity;
- Dedication to betterment of those around us;
- Steadfast belief in never taking advantage of a situation for personal benefit.

Van Vleet sounds like a North Dakotan. He was. He graduated from McClusky High School in 1969, went off to West Point, graduating in 1974. He made a career in the military and served in both Desert Storm and in Somalia.

The PGR showed up for what was apparently, the class reunion. That would make it 40 years. Van Vleet was remembered at the reunion and the Patriot Guard Riders were called on to be a part of the memorial.

The day was perfect for a ride; sunshine, warm temps and light breezes. A group from Minot met with a group from Bismarck. Since I’m kind of between those two towns, I hooked up with the Bismarck group in Wilton. From there, we rode 40 miles north to Mercer where the Minot and Bismarck groups merged in to one.

Flag were mounted, and we prepared ourselves for the parade-like ride down Highway 200 to the one-room school house in Pickardville. That’s about all there is in Pickardville, a one-room school house, empty, well cared for, but it was once enough of a town and school system to produce a West Point graduate and career military man.

The now-quiet little school building sits above a row of trees and a small lake or pothole, or some would say pond. It’s a very rural setting, very pastoral. The outdoor bathrooms sit about 25 feet from the school house. The flag pole is right out front of the school house.

It musta been an impressive showing for those who passed by on the highway to see this group of bikers going down Highway 200 then stopping at this little school house for a full flag presentation. However, I suspect it was even more impressive for the classmates and others who stood along side and watched the ceremony. Three U.S. flags that were flown at West Point were presented to family members. A fourth was hoisted to fly at the schoolhouse.

As the first North Dakota Patriot Guard state captain, Brad Volk said of the event honoring his cousin:
“Most everyone there had never witnessed the North Dakota Patriot Guard in action and they WERE impressed - by the turn out, the respect (for someone you most likely did not know), the honor you showed with the flag presentations, and the flag raising.
For those of you that do not know, John was my cousin, my brother, and my mentor. We had been real close until he left for West Point, grew apart a bit while raising our families, and had reconnected about 10 years ago. I will miss his friendship and his quiet way of getting his point across.

“In talking with some of his peers, at the funeral in December, I discovered just what kind of soldier he was. And how much he was respected by all of those who served with him.
I wanted/needed to honor him in some way and I can not think of a better way to do that than to have the NDPG there. I have been on the "honoring" end of these rides many, many times and know that what you did that day was from the heart.”

Another eulogy said this about Van Vleet:

Our backgrounds couldn't have been more different. You brought the military mentality of discipline, loyalty, focus, getting things done, never quitting, and winning, to the workplace. Of course you also brought wearing a white shirt, tie, and suspenders every day, way too much paperwork, and a live grenade to the office as well! By the way, how many white shirts did you own? One more thing John, I don't know if the grenade in the office was really "live", but on one of those rare nights I was there later than you, I did put super glue on the pin.

That’s about all I know about Van Vleet, but I’m thankful he is one of those millions of proud military people who have decided to live their lives to defend America.

I’m also thankful that the Patriot Guard Riders were there to help add their tribute in the memorial to Lt. Col John Van Vleet. That’s the Patriot Guard Riders – paying tribute to those who have paid a lot more to make America what it is – free.

Getting to the Sturgis rally

2009-08-17T13:00:00.000-06:00

Getting to the Sturgis Rally

Like I wrote earlier, it takes a certain kind of spirit to handle an event such as the world’s greatest motorcycle rally, the Black Hills Motorcycle Classic, otherwise known as the Sturgis Rally. Flexible. Above all ya gotta be flexible.

Just to get to the rally, you have to have a spirit of adventure, self-reliance, flexibility, and a fair amount of stamina. I guess that’s why so many people trailer their bikes to the rally. They don’t have what it takes to cover the highways on two wheels.

For most of us, though, the rally is a destination, a reason and a chance to ride through uncluttered territory such as southern North Dakota and north central South Dakota.

Uncluttered. I’ve ridden through a lot of desolate regions of the U.S, such as Wyoming, Nevada and Utah. The twin-state region of the Dakotas isn’t desolate, it is uncluttered. Few farms, few towns and nearly zero traffic. Yeah, you encounter a few traffic challenges. This year, on the way down, we had to slow down once for traffic -- a herd of horses crossing the road. On the way back had to slow down once for traffic -- a cow crossing the highway. (I tried using my pocket camera to get a shot to show you, but dang it, no such luck.)

Generally, I like to ride from Mandan south on Highway 6 down to either McIntosh, SD or McLaughlin, SD. Like most years, keeping an eye on the sky will prompt a decision which way go to. It was raining in McIntosh, so we headed down to McLaughlin.

(Of course it wasn’t nearly as bad as last year when we hit THIS!! Winds blew me from my lane across the center lane, over to the shoulder of the oncoming lane. The only traffic out there was us two bikers. Cage drivers had the sense to stay out of the storm.)

That was last year. Now back to this year’s ride. The terrain is pretty rugged and bare. Only a few spots will you find trees like this. Mostly it’s wide open. It’s an tempting to speed, but why speed? We like to just cruise a moderate speed to enjoy the openness.

There are no convenience stores, bathrooms, eateries for miles and miles. So, stops are as you need them, along the highway, even outside of Timberlake, SD. (I’ve always wanted to stop there and call someone so when they ask where I am, I can say, “I’m just in Timberlake.”) So, gasoline is an issue. You get gas every chance you can because you don't know when you'll get the chance again. Sure there may be a town up the road 50 miles, but does it have a gas station? If you're a stickler for high-octane fuel -- good luck. You better carry a good supply of octane enhancers.

The closer you get to the rally, the busier the roads get, mostly motorcycles. We went down the first weekend of the rally, so there wasn’t much traffic headed away. It pretty much means the highway is ours.

On the way home mid-week, there’s considerably more traffic. Still, you get the chance to ride back roads and stop at places you might otherwise miss if you were following the main thoroughfares. That means from roadside stops like this one that asks you not to leave carcasses laying around.

But there are also those ma-and-pa stops I wrote about, such as this steakhouse in Bowman, Hawk's Landing. It's one reason I believe the back roads are the best roads. A great steak in a white tablecloth supper club in an uncluttered community - a perfect way to end a ride. I guess that’s why I write these installments – the freedom to ride the back roads. No hassles, no confinement, no pressures, just the open road. It's a photographer's dream, and a biker's fantasy.

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Sturgis entertains as expected (a photo blog)

2009-08-13T10:01:00.000-06:00

Sturgis Entertains

The Sturgis Motorcycle rally is all you expect, and more. Originally titled the Black Hills Motorcycle Classic by the Jackpine Gypsies (more about that later), it has become an enterainment extravaganza made possible by people -- people just like you and just like me.

In order to enjoy the world's greatest motorcycle rally, you have to have a spirit of adventure, self-reliance, flexibility, a healthy dose of willingness to chill and let the world be your entertainment. You have to be willing to get dirty, to get sweaty, to get wet, to get wind blown, to get sunburn.

Sturgis. It's an event that is unequaled any where in the world. No where. No other place matches what the Sturgis Rally offers. No other rally is what Sturgis is. Only one rally (Laconia) is older. None are larger. Though centered in the little town of Sturgis, the rally spread out over an area 50 miles by 100 miles. It's like one of the wonders of the world. But instead of architecture, or nature, it's about people.

Sturgis, for me, is about people who share a common interest. I learn a lot from them. Well, not all of them. Some I just learn a lot about how unusual people can be. Take the burn out crowd.They're not necessarily people who are burned out, I don’t think, but it’s what they do to their back tire. Never could quite understand that. Standing still, racing up through the gears, burning your back tire...smoke billowing until in some cases, the tire explodes!

It's about people watching -- seeing how vast a variety there is in people who like to ride. That's a trip all on its own.

Then of course, there is the entertainment that comes with a hedonistic opportunity to let it all hang out. Booze, bikes and babes – oh yeah, can’t have Sturgis without the babes.

It's about motorcycles -- seeing a half-million motorcycles, nearly all of which are customized for the owner in some way -- performance, style, comfort. It's a good place to get ideas. Or just see how creative people can be. I mean really, a custom John Deere motorcycle, or a replica of a children's trike?

The musical entertainment is top of the line. Some years are better than others-- 38 Special, Marshall Tucker, Aerosmith. Personal favorites like the Fabulous Thunderbirds show up at the rally.

Then there are the professional competitions such
as the drag races, the flat track races and the hill climb. These are the things that started the annual rally, thanks to the Jackpine Gypsies. I always pay tribute to the founders of the rally, the Gypsies. I love 'em!

Of course not all the motorcycling is professional competition. Some is professional danger -- the stunt shows put on by very adept riders. They're always young. I wonder if there's a reason for that -- like a short life span? I mean jumping your bike from the top of one trailer to the next has to claim its share of years from a person's life.

Booze? Did I already mention booze? Yeah, I did. It makes the rally even more entertaining. For example, the entertainment there at the Full Throttle is endless. The Full Throttle Saloon is the world's largest biker bar. You can actually park IN the bar. The bar itself is about a full city block. However, with the outlying area of vendors, amphitheater and parking, it's bigger than some farms. It's acres and acres big! acres.

There, you will see motorcycles zooming around in a cage. You will hear a personable, funny and mouthy dj on the sound system. You can watch a beer belly contest, a pork-and-bean wrestling match for women, or a series of MWF wrestling matches (Micro Wrestling Federation). Two guys, each about 3-feet tall acting like Hulk Hogan.

It can all be pretty outlandish...but, wait. Let me think about that. Naw, it's not all that weird and outlandish. Some of it is pretty fascinating without being like some circus sideshow. That's the gist of my next blog from Sturgis. Stay tuned.

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Mom and Pop's are worth the stop -- here are 4

2009-07-31T19:32:00.000-06:00

Mom and pops are worth the stop

(I’ll tell ya about 4 of them on Highway 10.)

Gone are the days of free and easy motorcycling around the country. My first motorcycle trip in the upper Midwest was 5 weeks long. That was the summer of 1971. I stayed in a motel 4 nights in the five weeks. Most of the time on the highway, I tossed my sleeping bag on the ground at some campsite. Even in Canada, on north shore of Lake of the Woods, you could find a campground and just crash on the ground.

That doesn't happen much these days. Besides, I’m too old, tired, and crotchety to get a good night’s sleep that way. Once in awhile, I crash in a city park that allows camping, such as in Tioga or Stanley, North Dakota. In Stanley, the park is right across from the courthouse which has its own romantic appeal – in the trees, in a quiet park across from on old domed courthouse.

However, just because I don’t rough it much, that doesn’t mean I go soft-style. When I tour, I make it a point to never eat nor sleep at a big national franchise. (Sorry Applebees, Ground Round, Arbys, McDonalds, Holiday Inn Express, Super 8.) I choose local “mom and pop” businesses. My choice for Mom and Pop motels and eateries is nearly always rewarded with excellent service, friendly people and low prices. It has a romantic appeal that harkens back to 30, 40 or 50 years ago.

For motorcyclists, one advantage of mom and pop motels is the convenience and security of front door parking. Like other riders, I like to park my bike outside the door. It's easy to load and unload, plus the bike is just feet from my bed. With the window open, I can provide better security than some obscure spot in a franchise hotel parking lot.

Highway 10 in Minnesota and North Dakota is a good example of the rewards of bypassing franchises. Eating and sleeping at locally-owned businesses can yield excellent rhubarb pie and low-cost coffee. That's what you get at the Coffee Cup restaurant in Becker, MN. Great food, great service.

When is the last time you received a thank you card from a Days Inn for staying at their place on a road trip? I got one the other day, but not from Days Inn, or any franchise, but from a little mom and pop motel on Highway 10 in Dilworth, Minnesota, the Star Light. It was right after I took a swing through Fargo and Grand Forks to photograph some bridge construction activity for the mykuhls website.

If you take Highway 10 in to Dilworth and you can step back to 1965 at Eddy’s bar and grill. Wooden booths with attached coat racks, seats of Naugahyde, and regular old food without all the green leafy stuff decorating your plate.

Remember I said I’d tell ya about 4 examples of good service and low prices from mom and pop places? The Star Light, Eddy’s and the Coffee cup make three.

Here’s number 4, the Country Rose Café in Dickinson, North Dakota. It used to be the truck stop on the western edge of town until the Interstate took traffic around the city. On old Highway 10, or East Villard you can get excellent food at a fraction of the cost of a big franchise eatery. Swivel stools at the counter. Ceramic cups. Bouncy friendly gum-chewin’ waitress. You can tell the Country Rose has a history. The edge of the counter is worn in front of every swivel stool with the thousands of stool-sitters who had their coffee and pie at the counter.

Why spend $80 to $200 for a place to sleep for a night when you can support a local business AND get the kind of hospitality this country was famous for 50 years ago? Mom and pop stops, whether eateries or sleeperies are the place to stop.

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Patriot Guard Rally –a red, white and blue day.

2009-07-18T10:31:00.000-06:00

ND Patriot Guard state rally

When the Patriot Guard Riders rallied the other day, flags, veterans and bikers were stirred together in a large batch of patriotic spirit -- stirred to the point of tears. When is the last time you saw a burly biker, a seasoned veteran, or a weathered cowboy drop a tear of appreciation? That kind of normally-hidden emotion was revealed as America and its fighting men and women were honored at the rally.

Neither politics nor partisanship were part of the day, just a deep sense of appreciation for America and the men and women who have stood to fight and even die for America. The rally honored three fallen soldiers, PFC Sheldon Hawk Eagle, Major Allan Johnson and Sgt Thomas Sweet II. Recognition and respect extended to with all the veterans who have died, and also those veterans in the room.

One of the more touching moments came when the soldiers from America’s last major conflict, Viet Nam were asked to stand. They were the ones who were not so well received when they returned home from serving America many decades ago. As they stood, the rest of us were encouraged to go to them and merely shake their hands and say, “Welcome home.” Not that simple. There were hugs, and yes, tears as these forgotten warriors were thanked for their sacrifices – some 40 years late.

(It’s at this point in this writing that I perhaps need to explain a bit about the Patriot Guard Riders. If you are already a member, or know about the PGR, then you can skip these next couple of paragraphs.

Of all the groups to which I currently belong, or have in the past, the Patriot Guard Riders is the one of which I’m most proud. It’s an eclectic group. “Eclectic” meaning “assorted, diverse and free” which pretty well describes the PGR. The members of the PGR are for the most part, blue collar, hardworking men and women. They range in age from their young 20’s to 70-some. Firemen, policemen, carpenters, day-care providers, mechanics, and others like them belong to the PGR. Maybe you have seen them at airports. They are the ones who take off time from their labors to

stand shoulder to shoulder, silently holding large flags to welcome home

returning soldiers, to say good bye to deployed soldiers or to provide funeral escort to those who have died.

Funerals – that’s where PGR has it roots. No, it’s not macabre – it’s amazing. You see, there was an evil, malicious group of people who were traveling about the country cheering for the deaths of soldiers who had died in Iraq and Afghanistan. They would equate the deaths of these men and women with God’s punishment of America. Without a hint of mercy, grace or compassion, these protesters added to the grief and pain of families with their behavior.

With the same constitutional right to assemble as the protesters' right to free speech, PGR members would line up, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the protesters, facing the funeral party. Silent. Bearing flags. Shielding the mourners from the protesters. They were there, only by invitation, responding to a family’s request for protection from the ugliness of the protesters. There were no confrontations, just a silent human shield, protecting mourners while at the same time showing silent patriotic respect to the fallen. Protesters would only see the back patches of the bikers and the mourners would only see the quiet respect and flags of this protective barrier of black leather patriots.)

These patriots from across the state rallied in Dickinson, North Dakota. Usually it is these people who are showing appreciation and respect for the men and women in uniform. However, at the rally, it was the PGR who received the appreciation. North Dakota National Guard Major General David Spryznczynatyk wandered through the crowd shaking hands and thanking the PGR. From the stage, he was joined by North Dakota Attorney General Wayne Stenehjem honoring the veterans, active duty personnel and the citizen members of the North Dakota Patriot Guard Riders.

After the program, riders cranked up the 100+ bikes in the parking lot with a ride through southwest North Dakota. This time, they were on the receiving end of patriotic displays. In Belfield, a flag line of the American Legion welcomed riders coming in on Highway 83. In Regent, flags and signs lined the streets to welcome the PGR.

The Patriot Guard Riders is that patch of blue sky on a rainy overcast day.

The Patriot Guard Riders is a whiff of morning’s fresh air.

The Patriot Guard Riders is that soft pillow after a hard day.

The Patriot Guard Riders is an unapologetic expression of appreciation and love for America and the men and women who protect our freedoms.

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Bike rallies and powwows

2009-07-07T19:18:00.000-06:00

Had a conflict of interest the other weekend. I guess I could have used a clone. In Beulah was the Roughrider’s annual rally. It’s a great rally, lots of shovelheads, evos and twin cams there. I’ve always been impressed by the old school bikes that are kin to the Roughriders.

Straight north, along the shores of Lake Sakakawea was the Twin Buttes Powwow. It’s my favorite powwow of all that I’ve sampled and attended. I guess it may be because my adopted Indian roots are there. It’s where I was adopted in to three clans of the tribe and introduced with my Indian name. So, in a manner of speaking, it’s sort of like my birthplace.

It was a challenging decision which to go to, the biker rally where my lifestyle is welcomed and embraced, or to the powwow where I have certain roots.

I chose the powwow as you can see from these photos on this page. But while I was there, I saw a lot of similarities between the two sub-cultures – Native Americans and bikers.

In both cases, people come to the event from many miles away. Socializing is a high priority in either case. Laughter and fun permeate either gathering.

Both are full of color and flair – the one with its costumes and regalia, the other with its chrome and paint. The owners of those visual displays, whether they are costumes or machines, undoubtedly have a sense of pride about their work.

Powwows and motorcycle rallies also share a similar kind of community environment. At either, you’ll see a temporary city of tents or campers to mark the resident’s base camp. It’s not the kind of camping you’d see at a homeless camp, but rather what you’d see at a family reunion – happy and content.

There is always music at both events, music of it’s own flavor – hard rock at rallies, and Native American drum groups and singers at the other.

Both are known for body art. The dancers at a powwow wear traditional face and body paint to signify different aspects of their identity. The same is true of bikers. Only their body art is usually much more permanent. Tattoos are meaningful tributes and stories to a biker’s life.

The ruling class of government hasn’t always appreciated powwows. In fact, they were for many years outright banned. Motorcycle rallies are moving in that direction. In fact, Myrtle Beach outlawed its annual rally this year. The ruling government authority usually heavily patrols those rallies that do continue.

So, I guess no matter which of the two events I had chosen to attend, I’d have been with the same kinds of people, those who revel in their identities and choose a way of life that is outside the white bread culture of middle America.

(Recommendation: Don't be shy. Don't be afraid. Don't be prejudiced. Check out the nearest powwow. It's not a scary place. Take your camera. Go to the evening Grand Entry -- you won't be disappointed at the sights and atmosphere.)

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Cowboys still ride

2009-06-27T09:21:00.000-06:00

Cowboys still ride

It snowed the other day. June. It snowed in June. Some people got angry. They looked at the calendar and saw the unofficial start of summer, Memorial Day was a week past and now it was snowing. I just withdrew and ignored it. Cowboys though, well, being cowboys, they still ride even in the snow. They’re that way, you know.

It wasn’t just a dusting of snow, or a few flakes in the air, it accumulated and made a muddy mess. But cowboys, they still ride even in a muddy mess.

How do I know? I checked up on them over at the annual Wing Rodeo.

It was cold, much colder than I like to ride. It was only 38 degrees. I left my two wheels at home and caught a ride with Red in her truck over to the rodeo grounds. Those cowboys, even when it’s cold, they still ride.

Wing is a very very little town, almost like a village, a hamlet. It’s about 100 people, but it does have it’s annual rodeo

I wasn’t sure they’d go ahead with the rodeo, considering the weather. I think most would-be spectators felt the same way. So they stayed home. At least Red and I aren’t that skittish of a little cold and snow. Well, I guess I can’t speak much for Red. She pretty much spent the entire time in her truck. The horses didn't seem to mind. I didn't hear any complain...they just kept watching, even if they were wet.

I grabbed my camera and ventured out. It wasn’t very good lighting. The combination of low light, rain, high speed broncs and bulls made it tough to freeze their action. I racked up the ISO to 1200 and then 1600.

There weren’t too many spectators. Come to think of it, there weren’t any. The bleachers were empty. So, I could park myself on them and shoot the cowboys who weren’t moving too fast. Like the young blonde lady with her equally blonde horse. Even after she saw I was snapping her photo, she didn’t seem to mind.

Then, there was the young cowboy getting his chaps on, joking with his buddies. I asked permission to take his photo and he said sure. But his buddy jokingly protested. He didn’t bother to step out of the way after I teased him that he was probably hiding from his probation officer, drinking that beer like he was.

Red and I hung around for an hour or so. She stayed in the truck, I’d go back and check in with her when the cold rain would chill me. It got dark quickly, so we headed back to Wilton for a steak, and to cuss the snow. As we left the rodeo grounds, I could see behind us, that even in snow, rain and cold, cowboys still ride. (Recommendation: Sure those big rodeos are fun and entertaining -- especially the people watching. But if you want to see real cowboys doing for sport what they do for a job, check out a local rodeo -- preferably one in the real west. Sit in the grandstands. Don't be shy. Don't be afraid to strike up a conversation with a cowboy -- ask questions. They're friendly and fun to talk to.)

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Crosby old truck collection

2009-06-17T20:12:00.000-06:00

Sometimes, spontaneity is the best incentive for creativity. It's freeing and limitless (well, almost).

Take a recent Saturday afternoon trip to Minot to get to the credit union before it closed. It was a gorgeous afternoon -- well kinda. It was chilly, upper 60's but sunny. That's good enough for a cruise and snooze.

Red and I headed northwest from Minot, up the scenic drive of Highway 52, up the Des Lacs river. It's a wide river valley floor with soft hills on either side. Apparently the the railroad company of a century ago decided to follow the long easy valley. So, our ride on Highway 52 was parallel to both the river and the railroad.

It's because of the railroad that the valley is dotted with small towns. Some are only a shadow of what they once were. Others have a few signs of life. Red reminded me that some of the small town cops along Highway 52 are tough on speeding tourists. So, we slowed down for each an every town. A good recommendation, wouldn't you say?

We stopped for coffee and fuel at Kenmare. You don't find many surprises at those cookie cutter Cenex Convenience stores. The front has coffee and a couple of booths to sit in. Behind the counter are the smokes and the chew. Way to the back is generally the hardware or farmer items. In between the smokes and the hardware is the food -- convenient, and priced accordingly. High.

It's getting late in the day. Sunlight in the northern edge of the lower 48 states lasts a long time in June. We jumped up to Highway 5, still cruising west, barely 15 miles from the Canadian border. And though the sunlight was long, it was not warm. So, we stopped a couple times along the road to add more warm layers.

I recommend that any time you head out on a cruise and snooze, you bring a full compliment of hot and cold clothes. That means lightweight layers such as t-shirts, all the way up to short sleeve button up shirt, long sleeve t-shirt, long sleeve button up shirt, vest, hooded sweatshirt, leather coat and rain gear.

We stopped near Columbus, along the side of the road to add more layers. It was really getting colder and colder. We didn't need the rain gear, but we added all the other layers. The fellows I used to ride with from Lake Charles, Louisiana and Beaumont, Texas back in 2004 showed me an essential trick for keeping body warmth where it's supposed to be. The included a crotch rag that they tucked in their belt, draped over their crotch and tucked under their thighs to keep warm.

With our layers, our crotch rags and even face masks, Red and I pulled in to Crosby, North Dakota. (Did you know that Crosby has the longest daylight hours on June 21 of any city in the lower 48? Sunrise is 5:30 and sunset is after 10:00. The long slow dusk blends seamlessly to the early glow of dawn. As one disappears in the west, the other is starting in the east.)

Crosby isn't very big, but it is prosperous. Oil. The Bakken oil play fuels not only petroleum needs in the U.S., but also the local economy. Crosby is doing well. Well enough to afford a good motel, we figured.

We were wrong. The motel left a lot to be desired. But it was cheap. $50 for the night for the two of us. I suppose you don't need a fancy motel if all the clients are oil field workers who just need a warm bed and hot shower. It suited us, but I'd recommend you move on if you're looking for a "nice" place to stay.

The payoff was what we found riding around town, looking for the motel. It's a mortuary or mausoleum of old dead steamers, tractors and trucks. Dozens and dozens of oxidized implements, the heavy equipment of another life 80 or 100 years ago.

The next morning, when warmer weather (55 degrees or so) began to encourage us to hit the road, we paused long enough at the collection of ancient equipment.

Someone had the decency to give these retired iron work horses a presentable lineup. On display, lined up, and framed by green grass and yellow dandelions, the old trucks reminded me of a cluster of old ranchers huddled up, reminiscing about the "good old days." I hauled out my camera and tripod and tried several different exposures. A fill light would have washed out the dark secrets of the oxidized equipment, so I let the darkness blend with the desaturated paint jobs of the old machines.

Free to travel, free to head out in any direction we wanted, we stumbled on these posed models, an opportunity we'd never had if we were bound by limits. But because we spontaneously took the long way home from Minot, we were given the chance to mingle among and photograph some of North Dakota's history.
(Recommendation: If you have a romantic sense of history, you'll find it tickled in the sparsely settled sections of western North Dakota. People are friendly, helpful and non-threatening. They'll talk about most anything. Spring and fall are great times for photographers to tour western North Dakota. Spring displays more shades of green than you knew existed. Fall is a busy time of year, the golden harvest and brilliant sunsets are worth the drive to western North Dakota. Hotels are inexpensive -- less than $50/ a night for a ma and pa motel.)

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