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It’s hot in the sun. I scramble for shade as Prana-clothed climbers scale the orange sandstone. I actually think I see the rock sweat. At least I’m away from that other heat; the one that drives you to discard your money onto green felt, party until 4 a.m. and frequent high-class strip joints.

Scaling Red Rocks Photo by Adam Clark

Red Rocks, Nev., just 16 miles from the Las Vegas Strip, calls to a crowd of rock climbers and hikers each year to escape the madness and monotony of a long hot summer in the city. At points mid-summer (and year-round), Las Vegas is the closest thing to hell- both from the temperature standpoint and from the supercharged scene.

I usually hate Vegas. I make annual visits for reasons everywhere from Southwest Airline stopovers to ski show conventions to weekend bouts of roadtrip insanity. The place is loud, rude and expensive. It intentionally costs me more than I have and I never do the things I had planned due to the outrageous lines and traffic (fortunately, a brand new monorail from the MGM circumnavigates the stop and go Strip traffic). But for a short trip, Vegas can actually rock when you include Red Rock National Conservation Area to the agenda.

While little neon, one-armed devils and free alcohol drive your conscience into hiding, a journey to Red Rocks can re-elevate your soul. West of Humongous Hotelville lays a sublime landscape devoid of electrical buzz. Rock towers stroke the sky rather than glowing glass skyscrapers. Fit, friendly athletes replace fat, Bagoheads intent on blowing their retirement on roulette and slots. Travel through the visitor’s gates of Red Rocks and you've hit the true jackpot.

More than 1,300 routes of varying grades and lengths, miles of hiking terrain on almost 200,000 acres of protected land branch out from the 13-mile, one-way scenic loop (Loop Road) and Route 159. Red Rocks is home to some of the best climbing in the United States. A quick flight into McCarran International (or a seven hour drive from Salt Lake City, Utah) and an avid climber has access to over 300 days of sunshine amid a tapestry of red and crème-colored sandstone. Though most heavily visited in the spring, you can climb Red Rocks every month of the year.

The shadowed canyons, combined with the 4,500-foot elevation, allow cool air to chill the heat from the desert floor. In winter, the evening temperatures can drop surprisingly low yet daytime highs can reach 70 F in January.

But in July, you feel the heat. It didn't take long for the midday 90-plus degrees to melt the packs to our backs and fry my Australian shepard’s paw pads when we parked the van at the Second Pullout of the Loop Road. Mike, Tenaya and I followed the hollow sounds of climbers' voices ping-ponging among the prominent cliffs and gullies on the trail to the Black Corridor. Fortunately, the 15-minute approach ended at the mouth of a shaded canyon. The Black Corridor, while shy on scenery, avoids exposure. This southeast to northwest narrow sports 23 routes from 5.9 to 5.12a on opposing walls and offers a respite from the scorching desert heat. The big challenge would be to complete all routes there in one day. But that could only happen if we were the last climbers on earth.

"The Vegas insanity spills onto the rock if you go the popular route and travel the well-worn paths..."

The Vegas insanity spills onto the rock if you go the popular route and travel the well-worn paths from the First or Second Pullout on the Loop Road. On this particular trip, both pullouts looked like a park-n-ride at LAX during a Christmas. "So much for escaping the madness of Vegas," I muttered.

The masses clogged the aisle of the Corridor. Everyone had the same plan to avoid the heat. The most common phrase overheard that afternoon had to be, "Excuse me, is there anyone in line?" as people decided which route to ascend. Thanks to the wait, it took nearly three hours to complete our warm-up on three rather generic routes- Bonaire (5.9), Bon Ez (5.9+) and Nightmare on Crude Street (5.10d). But at least we stayed cool and had time to inspect the landscape of people.

74-year-old Bill Atkinson belayed his partner while we waited for their route. "Climbing Magazine says I'm the oldest climber to do an ice route," the Bostonian humbly confessed. "Know any women climbers my age in Salt Lake you could set me up with?" We told him no one his age could keep up with him. A retired engineer, Bill has visited Red Rocks five times in his life, mostly to bookend trips to Joshua Tree, Calif.; another, perhaps more popular, climbing locale. "This is a great place to warm up," he said of Red Rocks.

To our left, a couple from upstate New York approached. "We started coming here in the 80's," said the young woman in the Tufts T-shirt. "The rock and the climbing are all here. You fly into Vegas and ‘boom’ you're climbing world-class routes." Her boyfriend smiled silently, obviously thinking, "Honey, can't we just climb already?"

Things do move slowly in Red Rocks. Six hundred million years ago, the land underfoot was the bottom of a deep ocean basin. Then 400 million years later, the seabed began to rise (earth's crust, quakes, thrusts, that sort of thing). Off-shoot streams deposited mud and sand that later consolidated into shale and sandstone. As the changing levels of land and sea trapped larger bodies of water, that water would evaporate, leaving behind minerals like salt and gypsum. Exposed to the atmosphere, they oxidized and turned the rock red and orange. Twenty million years later, the place fills in with sand; and wind, iron oxide and some calcium carbonate whip it into climbing shape, or so I'm told. The bottomline is that thanks to Mom Nature, the area offers an amazing array of problems for all abilities. Long free climbs (up to 1800 feet), sport routes, and bouldering for a lifetime.

The day waned and shade scaled the walls of the Corridor faster than I could toprope Crude Street. A chill crept in, too. It was time to head to the Gallery, the most popular of Red Rocks’ sport climbing cliffs. The area is visible from the Loop Road but without Mike's previous visits and knowledge of the area, I would surely have gotten lost among the various rock outcroppings and scramblings. The guide book- Red Rocks Select- was an indispensable tool for this trip as well. The book, however, was by no means infallible. Despite what seemed like straightforward directions from Select, the trails themselves were often poorly marked and difficult to find. Not just a few times did we bump into bushes or cliffs, turn back and reorient ourselves.

We arrived at the Gallery as the golden rays washed over sandstone swirls. The routes begin on a large rock platform, halfway above the valley floor. It gets direct sunlight so it's best visited in the morning or late afternoon in the spring and summer. The 17 routes rate from 5.8 to 5.13b- something for everyone! And, it seemed, everyone from everywhere was there.

The pace slowed again as we prepared for our last climbs that day. We finished only two routes at the Gallery. As dusk settled, we said good-bye to our climbing neighbors from New Zealand and San Francisco then hiked out in the dark. No headlamps, no designated hikers' trail guided us off the rock. The glow of Las Vegas casinos lit the sky, forming the shadows we used to navigate.