One Dusty View across the Decades: Badlands National Park
We thought we had “done” badlands after walking through the rugged formations of Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota, but South Dakota’s Badlands National Park showed us that no two badlands are ever quite the same. The cliffs and canyons here felt sharper, the colors brighter, and the earth drier—less of the lush, open prairie of its northern cousin.
In fact, the kids pointed out how parts of the park reminded them of two other recent stops: the towering hoodoos of Bryce Canyon in Utah and the sweeping painted desert of Petrified Forest National Park in Arizona. Our national park circuit has become its own natural history puzzle, with familiar shapes and shades reappearing hundreds of miles apart.
But for me, the Badlands are something more. The Badlands is one of the few National Parks I’ve returned to over multiple decades. I remember driving through with my dad over 20 years ago on our way to the Tetons, the car weaving along the ridgelines and pulling over at overlooks. It was the first time this midwestern kid had seen these dry, vast formations jutting out of the prairie.
Then 15 years ago, Amy and I passed through on our own coast-to-coast-to-coast trip, pre-kids, when our biggest worry was where we’d find the next gas station. The park felt just as wild and untamed then, but maybe a little less crowded and a lot less scheduled.
This time around we pulled up with five kids and a dog, the car packed to bursting and everyone ready to stretch their legs. It is less about us, and more about how we support the traveling circus.
On this spring day Badlands greeted us with an early taste of summer. With no dog friendly trails and the mercury already pushing 90°F, that meant one non-negotiable rule: no dog left in the car. So Poky got a pass on this one, and we did the old “tag team” parent routine to explore.
The kids loved the easy but dramatic trails at the Door and Window areas on the east side of the park. There’s something about walking into the badlands that feels like sneaking into nature’s secret fortress. The jagged walls and eerie silence (except for the distant sound of prairie dogs) made it a short but sweet adventure in the heat.
We didn’t linger too long—hydration and shade were a priority—but we soaked in the alien beauty of this place. Badlands is a land of sharp edges and soft colors, where even the ground seems to tell a layered story of ancient seas, volcanic ash, and time itself.
It was fun to realize that this same place has been a backdrop to so many parts of my life: a son with his dad, a couple enjoying the sunset, and now parents chasing five little rascals through the heat and dust. The Badlands somehow remain unchanged and yet, with the seasons and sunlight, making it feel completely new each time.
