The petrified logs scattered across this landscape are roughly 225 million years old, dating to the Late Triassic period when this part of Arizona sat near the equator in the supercontinent Pangaea. What is now high desert was then a lush floodplain where towering conifers grew alongside early dinosaurs, giant amphibians, and crocodile-like reptiles. When the trees fell, river sediments buried them quickly enough to seal out oxygen. Silica-rich groundwater seeped through the wood, molecule by molecule replacing organic material with quartz crystal. The result is not mere rock shaped like wood. It is wood that has become gemstone, its growth rings preserved in bands of jasper, amethyst, and smoky quartz. Some logs measure over 100 feet long, their cross-sections glittering like cathedral windows in the desert sun.

The petrified wood gets top billing, but the park's most constant visual drama belongs to the Painted Desert, a sweep of banded badlands running along its northern edge. Spanish explorers named it El Desierto Pintado, and the colors shift through the day as light changes angle across iron-rich clays and volcanic ash layers. At dawn the bands glow pink and lavender; by midday they harden into rust and charcoal. A 2005 survey cataloged 447 plant species within the park, including some of the best-preserved native grassland in northeastern Arizona. Protected from development and overgrazing for decades, these semi-desert shrub-steppe communities thrive in a landscape most visitors see only as barren.

More than 1,200 archaeological sites lie within the park's boundaries. The earliest inhabitants arrived over 12,000 years ago, leaving behind Clovis and Folsom-type spear points fashioned from petrified wood itself. By the Pueblo periods, Ancestral Puebloan families were building permanent villages here. At Puerco Pueblo, overlooking the Puerco River near the park's center, they constructed roughly 200 rooms around an open plaza. Some rooms had no windows or doors, accessible only by climbing a ladder and descending through a hole in the roof. At its peak, perhaps 200 people called this pueblo home. Nearby, petroglyphs between 650 and 2,000 years old mark the dark desert-varnished rock surfaces. One of the park's most striking structures is Agate House, a small masonry building constructed entirely from chunks of petrified wood, open today for visitors to walk through.

Conservationist John Muir conducted the first excavations at Puerco Ruin in 1905 and 1906. Although he never published his findings, Muir urged the federal government to protect the Petrified Forest. The park eventually gained national park status in 1962. Today, nine sites within its boundaries sit on the National Register of Historic Places. The Painted Desert Inn, upgraded to a National Historic Landmark in 1987, is one standout. Another is the Painted Desert Visitor Center, designed by modernist architect Richard Neutra as part of the Painted Desert Community Complex Historic District. Neutra's clean lines and expansive glass bring the desert inside, framing the banded landscape as a living mural. Old Highway 66 once carried travelers directly through the park, and that Route 66 heritage still echoes through the visitor experience.

Seven maintained hiking trails thread through the park, from the short Giant Logs loop to longer routes like Blue Mesa and Crystal Forest. Free backcountry permits allow overnight stays in the park's wilderness areas, with most backpackers entering from the north near the Painted Desert Inn. Group sizes are limited to eight. The park also offers ranger-led walks at Puerco Pueblo and along the Giant Logs Trail, Triassic-era programs at the Rainbow Forest Museum, and cultural demonstrations by regional artisans on summer Saturdays. For those who prefer wheels, a paved park road runs the full length, connecting both visitor centers and offering pull-offs at every major site. The descendants of the ancient Petrified Forest farmers still live today in the Hopi Mesas of northern Arizona and at the Pueblo of Zuni in New Mexico, a living thread connecting this landscape to the present.