December 2009 & November 2010 @ Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona, USA

The Grand Canyon needs little introduction. Alongside Yosemite and Yellowstone, it’s often hailed as one of the “three giants” among America’s national parks. Its sheer scale, geological uniqueness, and sculpted beauty leave visitors—especially those from the East—silently awestruck.

This post combines two visits: the first was in December 2009, right after Christmas. Snow had dusted the canyon’s rugged cliffs, softening the landscape with a quiet, chivalrous tenderness. Sunrise and sunset brought biting cold, with temperatures dropping below -15°C. My second trip came after Thanksgiving in 2010. That time, I took a sightseeing flight from Las Vegas to experience the canyon “from top to bottom.” Neither visit alone could fully capture the Grand Canyon’s grandeur and detail—each offered a different kind of wonder.

Travel Tips:
From Las Vegas, you can either drive or book an air tour. Driving takes about three hours and passes the Hoover Dam—keep in mind it crosses a time zone, costing you an hour. Add in scenic stops and you’ll arrive at the Grand Canyon by afternoon. To catch the sunset, it’s best to book your accommodation in advance. For flights, options range from 20–30 passenger planes ($90–120) to helicopters ($200–300), with or without landing. Brochures in Vegas hotels list several providers, most of which offer pickup service.

We boarded a small Grand Canyon Airlines plane early in the morning. Clear skies meant good visibility, though reflections from the windows made photography a bit tricky.

Flying over Lake Las Vegas, the deep blue water sparkled, and docked boats looked like toys. From above, it felt like we were gliding through a live version of Google Maps.

As we followed the Colorado River, the canyon slowly unveiled its layered majesty. In the soft morning light, the Grand Canyon took on a mystical glow.

From above, the Colorado River looked like something out of science fiction—its texture, detail, and depth were mesmerizing.

Sedimentary cliffs began to dominate the landscape, carved over millions of years by the relentless flow of water.

Even in backlight, the Colorado River at the canyon floor gleamed, flanked by surprisingly lush vegetation on its banks. You could almost feel the gentle warmth preserved there, even in winter.

The Grand Canyon humbles you—when you’re at the bottom, you look up and see eternity. When you’re at the top, you peer into infinity. Each view changes your perspective.

From above, the canyon’s rim glows golden, its geological story etched in every layer. Our plane circled the area, catching just the right angle as sunlight painted new shadows into the folds.

We crossed the canyon’s vastness, feeling for the first time what it really meant to “fly.” Green vegetation clung to the rock faces. The view was never boring—each twist revealed something new.

Looking down, I marveled at the forked rivers and canyon splits. Did the water shape the land, or did the land shape the water? It was a real “chicken or egg” moment.

The canyon stretches more than 400 kilometers from east to west, and flying truly is the best way to appreciate its full scale.

The canyon width varies from a few to several dozen kilometers, making helicopters a thrilling way to explore its depths.

Christmas 2009 Visit:

We drove from Southern California into a snowy wonderland. For many of us, it was the first time seeing snow in years. Spirits were high—we were laughing, cheering, and jumping like children.

Snow-covered pines clung to canyon walls, their green needles standing out vividly against the white.

At the main viewpoints, the park has simple guardrails—just over a meter high—to protect both people and delicate landforms. As the sun set and temperatures dropped, excitement didn’t wane. The Grand Canyon, cloaked in white, felt even more alive.

Outside the viewpoint, leafless winter trees glowed in the setting sun. And by morning, crowds had already gathered to watch the sun rise over the canyon. It was -15°C, but the atmosphere was warm with anticipation.

The snow-covered courtyard held a painter’s palette of color—white, yellow, red, orange, cyan, green.

Back in the air on the return flight, I had the light on my side. The Colorado River shimmered deep blue—perfect for capturing another memory.

I even managed to imitate a few of National Geographic’s iconic shots.

The contrast between land and water was striking. The famous Hoover Dam, one of the world’s earliest large-scale dams, held back this ancient river.

Below us, highways cut like pencil lines across the desert—thin, quiet reminders of human presence in an otherwise alien landscape.

The land morphed constantly with light and shadow. The American Midwest’s iconic terrain lay below us, looking more like Mars than Earth.

Endless mountain ridges carried us home. Silence settled over the return flight—everyone lost in thought, perhaps in awe, perhaps in reflection.

Even after two visits, I didn’t feel done with the Grand Canyon. My only regret? I never made it to the valley floor. I missed the chance to truly feel the vertical distance—not just in elevation, but in temperature, scale, and experience. But that’s travel for you. There are gains and losses. What you gain becomes part of your soul; what you miss becomes a reason to return.

Seasonal Tips:
With a vertical drop of up to 1,800 meters, the Grand Canyon’s climate can vary wildly. Summer and fall are ideal for exploring the rim—pleasant weather and longer daylight make for better photos. If you plan to hike down, late winter to early spring (February–March) is best. The rim may still be chilly, but the canyon floor can reach 20–30°C. Summer heat can be extreme. Winter is perfect for snow photography—just be ready for freezing temperatures and short days.

Each visit brings something new. The Grand Canyon is not a place you check off a list. It’s a place you revisit—again and again—in memory, in photos, and, if you’re lucky, in person.