Theodore Roosevelt National Park and Hoodoos in the Making

Janis Connell
May 16
2 min read

Our first week on the road led us to Medora, North Dakota, where the rugged beauty of Theodore Roosevelt National Park awaited us. It was my first encounter with the Great Plains Grasslands, and at first glance, North Dakota appeared as an endless expanse of rolling terrain cloaked in a sea of green—grass stretching as far as the eye could see, flourishing both naturally and under the care of ranchers tending their cattle.

But then, the badlands emerged, a stark contrast to the gentle prairie. They were mesmerizing—an undulating landscape of eroded rock formations shaped by the forces of time. The park's badlands came to life through a blend of deposition and erosion spanning millions of years. Ancient sediments from the freshly uplifted Rocky Mountains layered themselves upon the earth, slowly compacting into solid rock. Then, roughly 600,000 years ago, a glacier rerouted the Little Missouri River, setting it on a path of relentless carving, sculpting the jagged terrain we marvel at today.

These lands have long borne the peculiar name "badlands." But what makes them "bad"? The Lakota people referred to this region as "mako sica"—meaning "bad lands"—a reference to its challenging, unforgiving terrain. European explorers echoed this sentiment, with French traders dubbing it "a bad land to travel." Yet, from a modern perspective, one might argue the name hardly does justice to its mystique.

Among the badlands’ most enigmatic formations are hoodoos—towering spires of rock, often crowned with hard capstones that shield the softer layers beneath, sculpted by wind and water into peculiar shapes resembling mushrooms or toadstools.

Having lived in southwestern Colorado, I've developed something of a fascination—perhaps an obsession—with hoodoos. They make for great photography and they are fun to hike in. I've visited hoodoos in Bryce Canyon National Park, Goblin Valley State Park, Chiricahua National Monument, Monument Valley, Valley of the Gods, Valley of Dreams, Toadstools, Arches National Park, Canyonlands National Park, Sedona, Cap Rock Canyon, etc.

Here are a few photos from hoodoos I've encountered in my travels:

Why do I bring up hoodoos? Well, Theodore Roosevelt National Park is full of hoodoos--but they are hoodoos in the making. Erosion has started its job making hoodoos, but more work is to be done. Here are examples of baby hoodoos being formed in the park.

Can you image what these baby hoodoos will look like in a few thousand or hundreds of thousands of year?