Hiking Outside Las Vegas Turns Deadly
Most hikers are familiar with the “Keep on Trail” signs. Ever since I was a kid I thought of those signs as suggestions rather than rules. Stepping off the path can turn a simple hike into a daring adventure.
Stepping off this path would send me on my most dangerous adventure yet.
Las Vegas and Pepto
I was in Las Vegas with old roommates for a twenty-first birthday party and we drove to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area for a hike.
It was very arid and desert-like. The colors were soft browns, tans, and of course, red. The tallest point had to be over a thousand feet. The mountains in the distance were even larger, around six to eight thousand feet tall.
It was not long after I began jogging along the hiking path before I decidedly veered off course.
I had to rush to the top because the birthday girl had gotten a terrible stomach virus on the night of her birthday. There was no telling how long those bowels would hold up in this stuffy desert.
Pepto wouldn’t work forever!
There was no time for me to be picky with my routes through the mountain.
I barreled over dusty rocks, lept from crevasse to crevasse, and tip-toed over narrow ledges. I climbed a steep vertical that posed as one of the last obstacles I needed to climb.
After the vertical, I was close to the summit, running along the top ridge of the mountain when I had to choose a direction.
A Fatal Decision
I could go forward or, I could take a longer way around. It seemed that if I kept going forward and shimmy-ed down this rock I would find a floor to stand on.
I was wrong.
After descending innocently down the rock, I found myself positioned forward-facing with my hands and feet clinging to the cliff behind me. There was no rock for my feet to stand on, as I had hoped.
Instead, I was looking across a very deep canyon at another flat cliff five feet in front of me. Essentially, I was in trouble.
It was a few hundred feet down, if not a thousand.
Climbing back up the cliff was impossible because of my positioning. I was stuck there and my hands couldn’t hold onto this cliff forever.
Adrenaline surged through my veins as I realized my fatal mistake
My eyes frantically surveyed the area as I searched for possible salvation. Behold. A small ledge on the cliff across from me. With the right position and a confident jump, I could make it across that gorge and live.
How convenient.
I climbed sideways, arm over arm, foot over foot, to move directly in front of the ledge. The ledge was only five feet in front of me but in between, was a chasm that would end my days.
The spot where I pictured myself landing was now the pedestal of life. Nothing else mattered: not money, not status, not love. Making it to this small ledge was now the most valuable thing on earth for me.
Though death may have been imminent, moments that keep you bound to the present are ones worth preserving.
The mountainside pressed up behind my feet. The air grew tighter as it whipped across my forehead. It was time.
I yelled out loud what could have been my last yell. Adrenaline sent my body flying from the cliff, hands outstretched across the gorge, feet launching forward, and nothing but air below me.
Everything went by quickly and I landed on the ledge. My hands gripped the sides of the rock, hugging it like it was my mamma. My face rested on the mountainside as if it were her shoulder.
The Journey Back
I climbed up the ridge. Alive to hike another day. The summit was beautiful. The best panoramic view of the magnificent mountains that surrounded us. Little markings and trinkets left at the highest point for weary wanderers.
The freshest air.
Getting back down was a whole new debacle. I got lost for a spell and I had to go through a cave to find my way back in time.
The Red Rock Canyon grew smaller in the distance as we drove away, back to Las Vegas.
Never stop searching for the opportunities to explore, but be cautious with your mortality. You can create an adventure anywhere you go, sometimes all it takes is stepping off the path.
Just don’t step off a cliff.
