Why I Love the Grand Canyon

The Southern Paiute tribe's name for the Grand Canyon was puaxant tuyip, or "Holy Land." And even without knowing the ins and outs of their religion, I tend to see it in much the same way. It's a deeply spiritual place, with a transcendent beauty and an intense sense of mystery.

That mystery is partially scientific. Though 40 layers of rock have been identified in the striated, multicolored walls of the canyon, with the Vishnu schist at the bottom dating back an astounding 2 billion years (which is half the age of Earth itself), scientists have long been unable to pinpoint when the Grand Canyon was carved.

Until recently, the educated guess had been that the canyon was 5 or 6 million years old. But a recent study, published in the journal Science, had a very different finding. Scientists went into the caves in the Redwall Limestone layer that runs the length of the canyon to study its mamillaries -- humped deposits on the cave's walls that form at the water table. Pinpointing where the water table was has led these scientists to theorize that the canyon is three times as old as was first supposed, and probably started to form 15 to 16 million years ago. So it's likely that the first tourists to the canyon were the dinosaurs.

Whether you're the first or the 500 millionth tourist, however, one thing is certain: There are few sights in the United States, or the world, as awe inspiring. Or as worthy of repeat visits. A mile deep and 18 miles wide in places, you're always going to find something new to explore, or another way to duck the crowds (head to the North Rim!).

And the canyon is a chimera, transforming itself as you look at it. At one moment the walls seem to shimmer a sunset ochre, then a cloud passes overhead, and suddenly the landscape is a moody gray blue, misty and aloof. A condor catches a gust of wind above, and you notice bighorns grazing far below, and you're reminded that this isn't simply a landscape of buttes, spires and mesas but a land that is rich with life. Hike below the rim, and the landscape shifts again as the colors change, and you see petroglyphs, and more animals and the surging Colorado River.

Elvis Costello once remarked that "talking about music is like dancing about architecture." Trying to describe the Grand Canyon feels like an equally foolhardy enterprise. Its immensity, its diversity, its knockout beauty simply must be experienced. So I'll end by urging you to take in this wonder of America -- and the world -- for yourself.