Grand Canyon chopper tour is the unforgettable climax of US trip

"Grand" is a rare piece of American understatement. The most famous canyon in the world is so
much more.

Spectacular. Humbling. Monumental. It's one of a handful of places in my life so awe-inspiring I literally lost my breath on first view. That drama was heigh
tened, no doubt, by the nature of my initial encounter.

We skimmed up an unremarkable ridge hill in a glass-walled helicopter, the well-practiced pilot building the drama with his story telling. Then, with the perfect timing of a man who gives multiple performances a day, he announced "ladies and gentlemen ...  one of the seven wonders of the world ... The. Grand. Canyon! ..." precisely as we reached the top of that ridge, the Canyon dropped away beneath us, and he plunged us into it.

There are many ways to see the Grand Canyon. I doubt any are as spectacular as a helicopter tour. Yes, they're expensive. But this was our first, and possibly only, time to see this wonder. After careful research (my husband and spreadsheets were involved) we chose Maverick from more than 10 companies offering a bewildering variety of tours. Research, and several recommendations from friends, paid off. Our magical experience was worth every penny. Maverick puts itself out there as the top quality provider in the market, and does everything right to back up their claim. Luxury air-conditioned coach, picking us up at our meeting point just a little bit early.

Beautiful terminal building, efficient check-in people, comfortable lounge. The newest fleet of helicopters in the market, all spotlessly clean and seemingly fresh off the production line. Pilots recruited for their significant experience and their ability to be a charismatic guide, who then must dry clean and press their uniforms and make sure they are clean shaven and their hair is regularly trimmed, in order to look the part.

All of this icing on the cake, of course. What really matters is the tour. In our case, the "Dream Catcher Sunset" version. Given the subtlety of the colours, and the way the sun can wash them out, I highly recommend spending the extra money for the end-of-the-day jaunt. You get a much richer palette of colours and, in high summer, your time in the Canyon itself is much more pleasant.

From the first thrilling moments when you skim at speed over the runway, then lift off over the Vegas suburbs with the Top Gun soundtrack in your headphones, you're having fun. The pilot alternates frequent, informative commentary with time to just take it all in, with more carefully chosen music in the background. It's all swashbuckling stuff. There wasn't a question our man couldn't answer, and he was a wealth of facts weather dealing with Las Vegas trivia, geology or the history of Western exploration.

Once you clear suburbia, where you can marvel at the outrageous developments flagrantly using water to create a version of Tuscany in the desert, it's out over Lake Mead, where you can see the alarming, thick white band around the whole thing that shows where the water level once was. The contrast of the diminishing blue water out here against the completes un-bleached desolation of its surroundings drives home the ecological danger the whole place is built on. Minutes later you're over the Bowl of Fire, another popular hiking and camping destination for locals. It's similar to, but even more magnificent than, Red Rock Canyon. But the Bowl doesn't have any convenient roads leading through it. So unless you're a fit hiker, this is the way to go.

Next over a seemingly endless stretch of desert, where we learn about the flora and fauna that survive down there, and both the chaos and wild fertility that the odd rainstorm brings. And then, suddenly, you're swooping into the Canyon.

I've seen photos of it all my life. I've looked down on it from 30,000 feet in planes headed to California. It's as familiar a bit of America as the Statue of Liberty or the Golden Gate Bridge. But nothing prepares you for the reality. It's huge. That hits you from your first glance, when this gash in the Earth is so big it disappears beyond the horizon. The longer you look, the more you can lose perspective. But then you see how tiny the shadow of your helicopter is, or spot a green section on the Canyon floor where the trees look like toys, and the humbling proportions reassert themselves.  The Canyon's towering walls are sinuously beautiful, moulded into almost-living curves by wind and water. The rock seems to flow with a staggering yet subtle spectrum of colours that shift as the light changes. You could hover here and drink it in for hours.

Instead, you go deeper. One of the big advantages of flying with Maverick is their landing rights, negotiated for many millions a year with the Hualapai indians who have custody of this part of the Canyon. Maverick has exclusive rights to a broad plateau 3,500 feet below the Canyon edge, more than 2,000 feet above a deep bend in the Colorado river below.  At least five helicopters can land here at once, with plenty of space around each. You have about 45 minutes to explore here, while the pilot offers sparkling wine,  soft drinks and snacks. I scrambled up the gentle, rocky slope behind our landing spot, getting close to the cacti and scrub plants, then walked along the ledge of our plateau checking out the frightening drop to the river below. But mostly I just gawped at the magnificent spectacle that surrounded me. The sun had already dipped below the horizon high above us, long afternoon light casting crazy shadows and bringing out dramatic reds, browns and golds. It was magical.

Time flew too quickly, and soon the six passengers from our chopper were piling back in for the next leg of the journey. We flew out of the Canyon and towards the sunset, colours getting more dramatic by the minute. The more gentle desert slopes that didn't seem so interesting on our way out gained drama in the long shadows of our return. Skimming over the black bulk of Fortification Hill, an extinct volcano jutting its black bulk above the golden desert, added to the show. We landed again, this time at a fuel farm. While the pilots took care of their vehicles, we enjoyed sunset over the desert landscape of hills, valleys and ridges sloping away towards Las Vegas.

Back on board, I was in the front seat for the final leg. (Another mark of Maverick's professionalism: they rotate passengers with each stop so that everyone gets one leg up front.) We followed the Colorado River up to Hoover Dam, the arial perspective making the engineering feat that much more amazing.

Lake Mead and the suburbs again, then we were heading for downtown. The return journey heads for the Stratosphere Tower, turns left and follows The Strip, going over all those iconic casinos as their neon replaces the last fading rays of natural light. And then it's all over. Aside from my wedding, 4.5 hours has never gone faster.

It was a marvellous holiday. We had wonderful times, connected with beloved friends, did lots of new things. But no matter how you cut it, one thing will stand out above everything else: the spectacular, humbling, monumental ... and Grand ... Canyon.