Some bucket‑list experiences happen once and stay with you forever. Others, if you’re lucky, come around again and again, each time offering something slightly different. Flying over the Grand Canyon is one of those rare ones for me. I’ve had the privilege of doing it three times, and each flight has carved out its own place in my memory.
The Grand Canyon is one of those landscapes that refuses to be ordinary. You can see it in photographs, documentaries, postcards, and still not be prepared for the scale of it. A river and time did all this. It’s humbling in a way few places are.
But my memories of the canyon aren’t just about the view. They’re about the flights themselves, and the moments that made each one unforgettable.
The First Flight: A Buzzard With a Death Wish.
My first helicopter flight over the Grand Canyon happened when I was a teenager on a family road trip with my mum, dad, and sister. By some stroke of luck, I ended up in the seat next to the pilot. It felt like winning the lottery.
Partway through the flight, the pilot pointed out a buzzard circling ahead of us. He said it looked like it was about to play chicken with the helicopter. I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t. The bird flew straight at us, hit the windscreen, and exploded into a cloud of feathers. I saw the whole thing. Everyone in the back only heard the enormous bang and felt the helicopter jolt. While the pilot calmly explained what had happened, I was still laughing, partly from shock, partly from the absurdity of it all.
It was a dramatic introduction to the canyon, but it certainly made the moment unforgettable.
The Second Flight: Front Row Again.
The second time I flew over the canyon, I was with my friend Alastar. Once again, I managed to get the front seat. There’s something special about seeing the canyon from that vantage point, the way the colours shift, the way the shadows carve out shapes you don’t notice from the rim. It feels like the landscape is unfolding just for you.
No buzzards this time, thankfully. Just the quiet thrill of being suspended above one of the world’s great wonders.
The Third Flight: A Different View, But Still Worth It.
My third flight was part of an escorted coach tour of America’s National Parks and Monuments. This time, I wasn’t in the front. I wasn’t even by a window. I was in the middle seat at the back, which is the helicopter equivalent of being stuck behind a tall bloke at the cinema.
The view wasn’t as good, but the experience still was. There’s something about the sound of the rotors, the lift-off, the way the canyon suddenly appears beneath you, it never gets old. Even from the back, I loved every minute of it.
Three Flights, One Canyon, Endless Wonder.
Flying over the Grand Canyon isn’t just sightseeing. It’s perspective. It’s scale. It’s a reminder that the world is far bigger, older, and more extraordinary than we often remember.
I’ve crossed this one off the bucket list three times, and I’d happily do it again. Some experiences don’t wear out. They just deepen.
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