There are certain places you can live near for years and somehow never actually visit.
For me, one of those places was the Yuma Territorial Prison.
I lived in Yuma for 16 years. Sixteen years. More than enough time to visit one of the city’s most recognizable landmarks. Yet somehow, during all those years, I never properly toured it.
That’s not to say I hadn’t seen it.
I had been up on Prison Hill plenty of times, looking out across Yuma and the surrounding desert. I’d spent time at the park below it. I’d seen the old prison from the Colorado River while floating past on tubes, kayaks, and whatever other questionable flotation devices we decided were appropriate at the time.
The prison was always there.
It was part of the landscape. Part of Yuma.
And maybe that’s exactly why I never visited.
When something is practically in your backyard, there’s always this assumption that you’ll get around to it eventually.
“I’ll go sometime.”
Apparently, “sometime” meant three years after I moved away.
Coming Back Under Different Circumstances
On January 25, 2020, I found myself back in Yuma.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of my normal trips back to town. I was there for a somber event, and I needed some time alone to clear my head.
Sometimes when life gets heavy, I grab a camera and walk.
Photography has always been good for that.
It gives me something else to concentrate on. Instead of getting trapped inside my own thoughts, I start looking at light, shadows, textures, angles, colors, and all those little details I might otherwise walk right past.
So I decided it was finally time.
After living in Yuma for sixteen years, leaving town, and then waiting another three years, I finally walked through the gates of the Yuma Territorial Prison State Historic Park.
Better late than never.
Finally Going Inside
There was something strange about actually walking around a place that had been in the background of my life for so long.
I’d seen the prison countless times from the outside, but being inside was completely different.
Suddenly it wasn’t just that collection of old buildings sitting above the Colorado River.
There were cells to walk through, exhibits to read, artifacts to examine, and stories about the people who had actually been confined there.
And those cells certainly weren’t designed with comfort in mind.
Standing inside them gives you a much different appreciation for the word prison.
This wasn’t some movie-set version of the Old West. Real people had lived behind those walls, endured the brutal Yuma summers, and watched days, months, and years pass from inside those cells.
Having experienced more than a few Yuma summers myself, I could only imagine what that must have been like.
Actually, scratch that.
I don’t want to imagine it.
Air conditioning is one of civilization’s greatest achievements.
Seeing a Familiar Place Differently
What I probably appreciated most about the visit was seeing something so familiar from an entirely different perspective.
For years, the prison had simply been part of Yuma’s scenery.
I’d driven past it.
Walked nearby.
Looked down from Prison Hill.
Floated by it on the Colorado River.
It was always just…there.
But walking through the historic park forced me to slow down and actually pay attention to it.
That’s something I’ve come to appreciate more as I’ve gotten older and traveled more. We can spend so much time looking for interesting places hundreds or thousands of miles away that we completely overlook the history sitting a few miles from home.
Sometimes adventure requires an airplane ticket.
Sometimes it requires a passport.
And sometimes it just requires finally stopping at that place you’ve driven past for sixteen years.
A Quiet Afternoon I Needed
Given why I was in Yuma that weekend, this wasn’t necessarily a happy-go-lucky sightseeing adventure.
But maybe that’s why the visit has stuck with me.
I needed some time alone.
I needed somewhere to walk.
I needed something to photograph.
Most importantly, I needed a little time where my brain could focus on something other than the reason that had brought me back to town.
The prison gave me that.
For a little while, I could wander around with my camera, explore somewhere new that was somehow also incredibly familiar, and let my mind quiet down.
Sometimes travel is about excitement.
Sometimes it’s about escape.
And sometimes exploring a place—even one in a city you once called home—is simply about giving yourself enough space to process life.
It Only Took Nineteen Years
So let’s review.
I lived in Yuma for sixteen years.
Never toured the prison.
Moved away.
Waited another three years.
Then finally visited one of Yuma’s most famous attractions.
Excellent work on my part.
But I’m glad I eventually made it inside.
The Yuma Territorial Prison had spent years as scenery in the background of my life in Yuma. On January 25, 2020, I finally stopped treating it like scenery and took the time to learn a little more about the place.
And I walked away with something more than a collection of photographs.
The visit became a reminder that you don’t always have to travel far to discover something new. There are probably interesting places sitting right in our own backyards that we’ve ignored for years simply because we assume they’ll always be there.
So maybe go visit that museum you keep driving past.
Walk through that historic site you’ve been saying you’ll check out someday.
Explore your own city like you’re visiting it for the first time.
Because apparently, if you keep saying “I’ll get around to it,” you might have to move away and wait another three years before you finally do.
Sometimes a weekend is enough. Sometimes an afternoon is enough. And sometimes you just need a camera, a quiet place to walk, and a little time to yourself.
