One Day We'll Stop... And the Day We Did
A Visit to Petrified Forest National Park: A highly anticipated trip taught me more about myself than I expected.
DOWNSIZING & TRAVEL LIFEARIZONA
7/8/20265 min read
One of my earliest memories of traveling with my parents was collecting rocks. Rocks were something you could hold in your hand—a piece of history with a story written over millions of years. They taught us to be curious, to appreciate, and to notice the world around us.
Excursions with my family included beaches, rivers, forests, state parks, and national parks. Everywhere we went, rocks were a central theme, admired for their shapes, colors, and layers. Water and wind erosion acted like an artist through the millennia, while others lay buried like time capsules waiting to be unveiled by a future geological movement.
Remembering back to sixth-grade science, the rock cycle begins with molten magma that reaches the Earth's crust and cools into igneous rock like granite and obsidian. Over immense spans of time, those rocks weather into sediments that become sedimentary rock such as limestone and shale. Under tremendous heat and pressure, they transform again into metamorphic rock like marble and quartzite. Nature is constantly recycling itself, quietly reshaping the Earth over millions of years.
Of all the rocks, my favorite has always been petrified wood. Ironically, it isn't actually a rock at all. More akin to a fossilized dinosaur bone, petrified wood has been completely replaced by minerals that now highlight every growth ring and every grain of the original tree, frozen in stone—a fossil.
When William and I began moving our possessions to Oklahoma, I was excited to come across a freeway sign in northern Arizona on Interstate 40 announcing Petrified Forest National Park. Like a child, I exclaimed, "I want to go there."
But at that time, we had other goals on our agenda, so we marked the Petrified Forest for "one day we'll stop."
It's been two years. Six trips to Oklahoma and back meant we passed the Petrified Forest National Park sign twelve times. On the seventh trip east, we decided to "slow down" and stop at one of those places we had been talking about: Petrified Forest National Park.
We didn't have a hotel reservation yet for the night, so we gave ourselves an hour to go through the park, which we thought would be plenty of time. At least, that was the plan.
We exited the freeway and made our way to the park's entrance. Just past the entrance was a visitor's center filled with information about the park and its geological formation through displays, short films, and artifacts. This is a drive-through park, with pullouts that allow a slower look at the park's details and formation. We paid for a one-day park pass and received a detailed map with points of interest and additional information. We decided to bypass the visitor's center and head down the road.
The park wasn't crowded, and we easily drove at a slow pace, stopping where we wanted. At every stop, the view shared a level of peace and quiet, while the imagination of violent geological changes loomed as we tried to understand nature's wonder.
As we completed the park's loop and began returning toward the freeway, we realized the bridge in front of us was not an exit at all. There was no on-ramp or off-ramp, so we had to keep driving. A quick glance at the map confirmed that this was not a small national park loop; it was a bridge to the next section of the park.
We looked at each other and thought out loud, "Uh, okay...keep going!"
With no way out, we followed the road up over Interstate 40 and farther south into the second part of the national park. This part of the park was about three times larger than we had originally planned for, and now an hour would not be enough to view the rest of the park—not even close.
We had a choice: either continue to explore the park and be late to the hotel, or drive through the rest of the park and make up the time another way. We decided on the latter because the incredible beauty of the park, and the anticipation of waiting two years to visit it, overrode the desire to get to a hotel early.
As we traveled through the rest of the park, we continued stopping at the highlights, observing four-thousand-year-old petroglyphs, ancient ruins, and then the star of the park—the petrified forest.
Toward the end of the park (or the beginning, if we had entered from the south), we walked through a field strewn with petrified logs, preserved by minerals for future generations to appreciate. People weave between the ancient fossils, following the smooth path that makes it accessible for all.
As we walked among millions of years of history, you realize the past still lives through the beauty of these fossils. One of the petrified trees was affectionately called "Old Faithful." We took a picture next to Old Faithful, admired its size, and moved on.
Once we went inside the south visitor's center, we saw a picture of Old Faithful with another visiting admirer who had taken a picture with his wife in the exact same spot where we had just stood: Albert Einstein.
Mr. Science himself, appreciating the same tree fossil in the exact same spot nearly ninety-five years earlier.
Thinking about Einstein's curiosity, it was easy to understand the driving force behind his desire to discover and better understand our natural world.
The Petrified Forest did several things for me that I didn't expect.
First, I never realized how much my childhood continues to guide and influence my everyday decisions and appreciations. It is easy to think now about how much we will influence our own children and the next generation.
Another thing about the Petrified Forest made me reflect on how we humans, and the length of our lives, are just a blip in time. The amount of time it took for these forests to become petrified wood—over 240 million years—is almost impossible to comprehend. It reminds me how short my own life is and how important it is to appreciate every moment I am alive.
But my biggest realization after stopping at this beautiful national park confirmed my choice of downsizing, staying curious, and finding a life that helps me learn about our world, human history, as well as nature's history. It's amazing, and I am glad I made the choice to participate.
Looking back, I realize my parents were never just teaching me about rocks. They were teaching me to notice and get curious. To appreciate and understand. To learn and grow my knowledge of our world.
Decades later, William and I are still following that lesson, one exit at a time.
Reflecting and Moving Forward
The lessons our parents teach us are often the quiet ones. Years later, we may discover they shaped far more of our lives than we ever realized.
Sometimes the places we've been saying, "One day we'll stop," become the places that leave the deepest impression.
Curiosity doesn't have an age limit. Whether you're 16 or 106, there is always something new to discover if you're willing to slow down and notice.
Our lives may be only a brief moment compared to Earth's history, but they're long enough to explore, learn, and appreciate the incredible world we've been given.
What have you been driving past—literally or figuratively—that deserves your time?
Although these pictures don't do the Petrified Forest National Park justice, enjoy the images we captured. Maybe one day you will be able to visit the park too.
