North Dakota is mostly flat, or at least that’s the lie the interstate tells you as you cruise toward Montana. Then you hit Medora. Suddenly, the earth just kind of... falls away. You’re looking at a jagged, multicolored labyrinth of silt, clay, and lignite coal that looks more like a crumbled layer cake than a prairie. This is Theodore Roosevelt National Park, and honestly, it’s one of the most underrated spots in the entire National Park System. Most folks blow past it on their way to Glacier or Yellowstone, which is a massive mistake because this place literally changed the course of American history.
It’s rugged. It’s lonely.
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If you’ve ever wondered why a wealthy kid from New York City became the "Conservation President," you have to stand in the middle of the Little Missouri River valley to get it. Roosevelt came here in 1883 to hunt bison, but he ended up finding a version of himself that was much tougher than the one he brought from the East Coast. He arrived as a grieving man—having lost his mother and wife on the same day—and left as a rancher with grit.
What’s Actually Happening in the North Unit?
Most visitors stick to the South Unit because it’s right off I-94. It’s convenient. It’s got the Painted Canyon overlook. But if you want the real, raw experience of Theodore Roosevelt National Park, you have to drive 50 miles north to the North Unit.
It feels different here. The colors are moodier, and the geological formations—like the "cannonball" concretions—are weirder. These are perfectly spherical boulders formed by mineral cement precipitating around a core, and they’re scattered across the landscape like a giant’s marble collection. It’s bizarre. While the South Unit feels like a scenic drive, the North Unit feels like a wilderness.
The Oxbow Overlook is the prize at the end of the 14-mile scenic drive in the North Unit. You’re looking at a massive bend in the Little Missouri River where the water has sliced through the soft sedimentary layers over millions of years. It’s quiet. You’ll probably hear a coyote yip or the wind whistling through the sagebrush long before you hear another tourist’s car door slam.
The Bison and the Badlands Traffic Jams
You’re going to see bison. It’s not a "maybe," it’s an "eventually."
These animals are massive, temperamental, and they absolutely own the road. In Theodore Roosevelt National Park, a traffic jam isn't caused by construction; it’s caused by a two-thousand-pound bull deciding the middle of the asphalt is a great place for a dust bath. Don't be the person who gets out of their car for a selfie. Every year, someone forgets that bison can outrun a human without breaking a sweat.
The park manages around 200 to 400 bison in the South Unit and about 100 to 300 in the North Unit. They aren’t just there for the tourists; they are vital for the prairie ecosystem. By grazing, they encourage the growth of specific grasses and create "wallows"—depressions in the dirt that collect rainwater and provide mini-habitats for insects and amphibians.
The Wild Horse Controversy You Won't See on the Signs
If you spend enough time in the South Unit, you’ll likely spot bands of wild horses. They are beautiful, galloping across the plateaus with manes flying, looking exactly like a Western movie. But there is a huge, simmering debate about them.
Technically, the National Park Service (NPS) considers them "livestock" or "non-native species" rather than "wildlife." For a while, there was a plan to remove them entirely to restore the park to its "natural" state. Local advocates and fans of the park went ballistic. They argue that the horses are a cultural link to the ranching history Roosevelt loved.
- The horses are descended from ranch stock and possibly Native American herds.
- They provide a unique "living history" element that you don't get elsewhere.
- As of 2024, the NPS backed off the immediate removal plan due to massive public outcry, but the long-term status of these herds is still a bit of a question mark.
It’s one of those complex management issues where "scientific purity" clashes with "cultural heritage." Honestly, seeing a stallion crest a ridge at sunset is a highlight for most visitors, regardless of the horse's biological classification.
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Walking Where TR Walked
The Elkhorn Ranch site is the "third" unit of the park, and it’s the hardest to reach. There’s no paved road. No visitor center. No flushing toilets. Just a long, dusty drive to a remote spot along the river where Roosevelt’s "home ranch" once stood.
The house is gone—only the foundation stones remain. But that’s kind of the point. Roosevelt called this his "home ranch," and he came here when he needed to disappear. Standing there, you realize how small you are. The silence is heavy. You can see why a man would find clarity in a place where the only neighbors are elk and the occasional rattlesnake.
Practical Survival: The Stuff Nobody Mentions
The weather here is a jerk. You can start the day in a t-shirt and end it huddling in a parka because a cold front screamed down from Canada. If you're hiking, bring more water than you think you need. The "badlands" were named that for a reason—les mauvaises terres à traverser—the French fur traders called them "bad lands to traverse" because of the lack of water and the crumbling terrain.
- Check the Bentonite: If it rains, stay off the unpaved trails. The soil here contains bentonite clay, which turns into a slick, heavy gumbo that sticks to your boots and makes climbing impossible.
- Prairie Dog Towns: They are everywhere. They are cute. They also carry fleas that can transmit the plague. Enjoy them from a distance.
- The Wind: It never stops. It’s a constant, drying force that will chap your lips and steal your hat.
Hiking the Maah Daah Hey Trail
For the truly adventurous, the Maah Daah Hey Trail connects all three units of the park. It’s a 144-mile epic that is legendary among mountain bikers and long-distance hikers. "Maah Daah Hey" is a Mandan phrase meaning "an area that has been around for a long time" or "grandfather."
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You don't have to do the whole thing. You can jump on for a few miles near the Sully Creek State Park trailhead. It’s the best way to see the "clinkers"—those bright red rocks you see everywhere. Clinker is basically baked clay, created when underground coal seams caught fire and burned for years, acting like a giant natural kiln that fired the surrounding earth into red "scoria."
Making the Most of Your Trip
If you’re planning a visit, don't just do a drive-through. Spend a night in Medora. It’s a quirky town that feels like a 19th-century postcard but with better ice cream. The Medora Musical is famous, but the real show is the night sky in the park. Because there’s almost zero light pollution, the Milky Way looks like a thick smear of spilled milk across the sky.
Theodore Roosevelt National Park isn't about grand peaks or massive waterfalls. It’s about texture, resilience, and the weird beauty of a landscape that refuses to be tamed. It’s a place that forces you to slow down because the terrain won't let you speed up.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
- Download Offline Maps: Cell service is non-existent in the North Unit and at Elkhorn Ranch. Use Gaia GPS or download Google Maps areas before you leave Medora.
- Visit in Late September: The crowds (which are small anyway) disappear, the mosquitoes are dead, and the cottonwoods along the river turn a brilliant, neon yellow.
- Bring Binoculars: Not just for the bison, but for the wild horses and the golden eagles that hunt along the rimrock.
- Start at the Painted Canyon Overlook: It’s right off the highway. It gives you the "big picture" before you dive into the details of the park’s interior.
- Check the Coal Vein Trail: It’s a short loop in the South Unit where you can see where a coal vein burned for over a decade, forever altering the landscape's colors.
This park is a reminder that some of the most profound places in America aren't the ones on the front of every travel magazine. Sometimes, the best experiences are found in the empty spaces, among the crumbling buttes and the ancient river bends of North Dakota.