Grand Canyon

Mother Nature has been extraordinarily kind to the American West and, perhaps more noticeably, the Southwest.

     The gash in the Earth that is the Grand Canyon was a long time in the making. First, before Mother Nature slashed the gash in what today is Northwestern Arizona, she horizontally laid layer upon layer of rock. Each layer was not yet rock when first placed at what would become the Grand Canyon. Instead, it was sediment that had arrived from elsewhere.

     For example, when an ocean covered the area, the skeletons and shells of marine organisms collected on the ocean floor, and over geological time, the skeletons and shells hardened into rock—limestone. But oceans were only one source of the rock in the Grand Canyon.

     The sand in the Grand Canyon's sandstone layers accumulated in various ways, primarily through wind and water. The sand originated mainly from the erosion of surrounding mountains and other landforms and was transported by both wind and ancient rivers before eventually becoming cemented into sandstone layers.

     Each rock layer was, at one time, at "ground level," meaning that each layer enjoyed its "heyday" as the uppermost rock that Mother Nature had thus far deposited.

     Mother Nature took her time depositing all that rock. She began her work in this regard about 1.7 billion years ago, laying today's top layer only about 270 million years ago. Nearly a billion and a half years!

     You may recall from my "Colorado Plateau" page that the Grand Canyon is part of the Colorado Plateau, a massive, stable chunk of crust. It began to rise slowly as early as 70 million years ago, but most uplift occurred from about 40 to 30 million years ago. The uplift was broad and gentle, so the rocks composing the Plateau experienced little to no deformation, remaining essentially horizontal, as is evident at the Grand Canyon.

     The uplift re-arranged the ancient river systems, and from all this river-scrambling, Mother Nature created the modern Colorado River about six million years ago.

     If the Colorado River had lazily meandered over the land, its force would have been sorely insufficient to carve a gash in the Earth like the Grand Canyon. But, elevated by the Colorado Plateau, the River gushed downward, cutting aggressively into the rock, and, over time creating the "Grand Canyon gash." The Canyon gets its depth from the Colorado River. But what about its width?

     While the River deepens the Canyon, other forces attack the Canyon walls, widening it over geological time:

1. Rain and Snowmelt. Water seeps into cracks in the rock, especially during monsoon rains or spring snowmelt.
2. Freeze-Thaw Weathering. Water gets into rock cracks and freezes in winter, expanding like a mini jackhammer, breaking off chunks from the Canyon walls. Geologists refer to this process as "frost wedging."
3. Mass Wasting. Once those chunks loosen, gravity pulls them down the slope, resulting in landslides and rockfalls.
4. Wind. Though it plays a minor role, it can help remove fine particles and shape features.
5. Vegetation. Plants can pry apart rocks as roots grow into cracks.

     The Canyon's width varies considerably because different rock types erode at different rates. Softer layers (like shale) crumble quickly, while harder layers (limestone or sandstone) form cliffs. In places with soft rock, erosion chews farther back, making those sections wider.

     Water from side canyons and tributaries also helps erode the walls — they form their own mini canyons off to the side of the main Canyon. In doing so, each has eroded the main Canyon rim backward a little more, pulling it wider. And the Grand Canyon boasts about 5,000 of these side canyons!

      The Colorado River carved the depth of the Grand Canyon — but rain, ice, gravity, and time gave it its incredible width.

GRAND CANYON CONNECTION TO THE WILD WEST — In the late 1800s, the Grand Canyon was one of the American frontier's last unmapped and untamed regions. To cowboys, miners, prospectors, and drifters heading west, the Canyon was as much a symbol of mystery as it was a physical barrier. Its remote location, lack of reliable water, and sheer walls made settling nearly impossible — but that didn't stop a handful of Wild West types from trying.
     From the 1870s onward, mining claims started cropping up along the rim and even within the Canyon. These did not result in major operations. Instead, they were the efforts of hardy, usually solitary men hoping to strike copper, silver, asbestos, or uranium. Places like Grandview Mine, Hance Mine, and Last Chance Mine became the stuff of lore.
     One of the most iconic figures was John Hance, a storyteller, mining promoter, and Grand Canyon's first (unofficial) tour guide. He claimed to have ridden horses down the canyon walls and once said he dug the entire Grand Canyon himself—to have a place to bury a giant flea. Wild West? Absolutely. True? Not. But that never stopped a good yarn.
     The Grand Canyon's remoteness made it a haven for outlaws and fugitives. Like Robbers Roost in Utah or the Sierra Madre in Mexico, the Canyon's side trails and hidden coves provided superb places to disappear. Horse thieves, bootleggers, and rustlers have used the region as a hideout. No sheriff in his right mind was eager to chase a desperado into that maze of cliffs, ravines, and shadowy gulches.
     While there were no brothels down in the Canyon itself, the railroad town of Williams, Arizona — a jumping-off point for Grand Canyon expeditions — hosted its share of saloons and ladies of the night. Likewise, Flagstaff and Ash Fork, both on the old Atlantic & Pacific line, saw the same rowdiness typical for railroad boomtowns and served as Wild West waystations for travelers heading to the Canyon.
     In the early 20th century, even Buffalo Bill Cody — the grand showman of the Wild West—took an interest in the Grand Canyon. Though he never rode through it with a stagecoach team, he understood its power as a symbol of rugged frontier drama and tried to promote nearby mining ventures. Tourists began arriving by rail not long after, and the mythology of the Canyon as part of the Wild West legend began to cement.
     In time, the Grand Canyon became not just a place but a backdrop — a larger-than-life setting that filmmakers and storytellers began to associate with the West's wildest spirit. Though the shootouts happened elsewhere, the Canyon's scale, danger, and isolation captured the emotional landscape of the Wild West: beautiful, brutal, and barely conquered.
     While no famous gunfight ever echoed off the Canyon walls, the Grand Canyon belonged to the Wild West in spirit. It was the frontier's edge —daring, lawless, and unforgiving. Loners mined it, fugitives hid in it, and showpeople marketed it. And like all great Western legends, it was shaped as much by myth as by fact.