Today, on the 27th of September 2025, I set out to explore the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, one of the most breathtaking landscapes I have ever witnessed. I left my car at the parking lot near the trail that leads down to the Lower Falls and began my descent. The path dropped steeply in a series of sharp switchbacks, zigzagging down the canyon wall. With every turn, the roar of the river grew louder, until I finally stood at the base, right beside the Lower Falls.
The sight was overwhelming. The Yellowstone River hurled itself over the edge with a thunderous crash, a solid curtain of white water plunging 308 feet into the depths of the canyon.
Mist rose into the air, catching the sunlight and drifting across my face like a cool veil. The sheer power of the falls was almost intimidating, and I could feel the ground trembling faintly beneath my feet. I stood for a long time, watching the endless rush of water, fascinated by the raw force of nature gathered in this one place.
When I turned back up the trail, the climb seemed endless, but the thought of more sights ahead kept me moving. I made my way toward the Upper Falls, choosing the trail rather than driving. It was a quieter path, with very few people and an unexpected Fall.
I enjoyed the solitude as I followed the river upstream. Soon the thunder of water reached me again, and I found myself gazing at the Upper Falls. Although smaller in height, the 109-foot drop looked no less mighty. Here, the river did not just fall—it seemed to hurl itself over the brink, surging forward in a green torrent before it shattered into a roar of foam and spray below. The power of the falls was almost hypnotic, and for a while I simply stood in awe, letting the sound and the motion surround me.
After some time, I made my way back to the car, grateful for a sip of water before continuing to Inspiration Point. The walk there revealed the canyon in its full magnificence. I had already caught glimpses of it from the falls, but now the view opened in wide, staggering panoramas. The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone stretched before me like a vast wound carved into the earth. The walls plunged steeply down, sculpted into jagged shapes by centuries of erosion.
What struck me most were the colors. The cliffs glowed with every shade imaginable—soft yellows, deep oranges, streaks of rusty red, and patches of chalky white. In the afternoon light, the stone seemed almost aflame, the mineral-stained walls shimmering as if painted by hand. In some places, the rocks were broken into sharp spires,
in others they curved in smooth, wave-like forms. Pines clung to the edges of the cliffs, their dark green needles a striking contrast to the warm colors of the canyon walls. Below, the river wound its way through the gorge, a restless ribbon of white and emerald, foaming and surging as if eager to carve the canyon even deeper.
At Inspiration Point itself, I first climbed onto the higher platform, where the view was expansive and sweeping. From there, the canyon seemed to go on forever, its colors fading into the hazy distance. Then I descended by another series of switchbacks to a lower vantage point. Here the perspective changed, and I could see the Lower Falls framed perfectly by the canyon walls. From this distance, the waterfall was no less magnificent.
The torrent of water plunged gracefully into the heart of the gorge, its spray dissolving into the air like a fine cloud. I took my time with photographs, but no image could truly capture the grandeur of the scene.
Standing there, with the roar of the river in my ears and the colors of the canyon burning into my memory, I felt both small and deeply alive. The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone is not just a landscape—it is a living, breathing force, a place where water, stone, and light come together in a harmony of power and beauty.
I headed back to my car and drove toward Yellowstone Village, I was treated to another unforgettable experience. Along the road, a herd of bison appeared, some grazing in the distance, while others wandered astonishingly close to the roadside.
One massive bull walked calmly along the street itself, and as I passed slowly by, I was able to capture his powerful head in a close photograph, as well as another picture that showed his entire, towering figure. To see such a wild and ancient animal at such proximity was deeply impressive, almost like stepping back into another age.
Later, I paused by the river to rest. The riverbank stretched out in gentle curves, and it was sprinkled with blueberry bushes and other shrubs, their leaves already glowing in shades of red with the first signs of autumn. The contrast of deep blue water with the fiery foliage made the scene look like a painting, calm and yet full of vibrant life. I lingered there, taking photographs and simply enjoying the quiet beauty of the place.
When I finally reached Yellowstone Village, I turned my camera toward the lake. Its waters shone in the afternoon light,
and in the middle lay a small island, serene and solitary. The reflection of the sky danced across the surface of the lake, and I felt as if the landscape invited me to pause and breathe deeply before continuing my journey.
From here, I headed to Colter Bay in the Grand Teton. I asked for a bungalow there, but of course, nothing has been available. So I drove to a dispersed campground outside the park, which was recommended to me by the Tourist Information in Colter Bay.