The great canyons

227 miles long, 18 miles wide, and one mile deep, the Grand Canyon is the geological giant of the American continent with an estimated age of 5-6 million years.

text & photography | Akis Temperidis  

The scientists can’t agree on exactly how the Colorado River carved this gaping wound into the landscape, but here’s what we do know: The Grand Canyon is so big, you can see it from space. And at night, it turns into a massive black stain on the American heartland.

We rolled up to the southern rim, coming from Williams, Arizona—a quirky, offbeat pitstop along the famous Route 66. It was our second time at this sacred hole in the earth, and still, as soon as we caught sight of those towering, jagged cliffs bathed in the late afternoon sun, we felt that old primal punch in the gut.

The Grand Canyon isn’t just a sight; it’s a goddamn spectacle. You can soak it all in from various viewpoints—some are free, with a bus that shuttles you around the southern rim, 7,000 feet above sea level. Or, for those who want a more intimate experience, you can take a drive along the east park exit, tracing the canyon for about 50 miles of raw, wild beauty.

But if you want to test yourself, really test the limits of your body, the only way is down. Into the canyon. To the Colorado River. It’s something we did in 2009 over two days. This time, I went solo, pushing my body to its edge, doing it in a single day down the Bright Angel Trail. From 7,000 feet, you plummet to 3,100 feet—six miles down, down into the heat where the temperature climbs over 40°C (104°F) in the summer.

If you’re an idiot and overestimate yourself, you’ll find out the hard way: getting back up is no joke. Luckily, the Americans—being practical as hell—have placed water stations at every rest stop. Cross the river, keep hiking, and you’ll eventually reach the northern rim after another two days of agony. Or you can drive the 200 miles if you’re not crazy enough to walk it.

In the end, I survived the Grand Canyon’s endurance test and, honestly, came out in better shape than I did in 2009. In eight and a half hours, I covered 12 miles, climbing 8,200 feet in elevation, when the Americans say it’ll take you 9-12 hours. And I didn’t die. Just barely.

Zion National Park

We came at Zion Canyon from the east, cruising in from Page, the man-made Lake Powell, and the dusty little town of Kanab. We squeezed our van through a 1,800-meter tunnel—barely—then coasted into the jaw-dropping canyon with its pink and cream-colored rock faces, drawing crowds of tourists like moths to a flame, mostly from Vegas. If you want to camp here, you better have booked months in advance, or else you’re out of luck.

Chances are, you’ve seen those iconic shots of Horseshoe Bend, the Colorado River’s legendary twist, right? Instagram made this place famous, and now it’s become a pilgrimage for the sunset crowd. And trust me, it gets packed.

Zion has no shortage of trails, but if you’re looking for something that’ll knock the sweat right off your brow, the Narrows is where it’s at. The narrowest part of the canyon, where you’re walking—no, slogging—through the river itself, wearing special shoes that make you feel like a badass. But, and here’s the kicker, swimming is banned because of the toxic cyanobacteria that have been detected in the water. So, no taking a dip, just take it all in. _A.T.