The van bumps away from the strip’s neon and spills you into desert light. By the time you cross Charleston Boulevard and the city’s roar becomes a distant hum, the sandstone towers of Red Rock have already rearranged your sense of scale — vertical fins and broad faces catching the sun like an ember. Your guide, a seasoned PCGI instructor, sorts ropes and rigs with a practiced economy; today’s objective is a true summit, not a sport-walled training session. Expect long pitches, exposed stances, and the slow accumulation of height until the Mojave opens beneath you and Las Vegas sits far away, glittering and small.