Jack Sheehan implores rat-race-weary Las Vegans to jump in their cars and make the short trip to scenic Mount Charleston, now in prime season

By Jack Sheehan

Sunday, Feb. 3, 2008 | 2 a.m.

The scenic splendor on the northwest horizon of our city always makes the first paragraph when patrons of Southern Nevada argue that Las Vegas is far more than just a flat slab of caliche in the middle of nowhereville.

Drive less than an hour in one direction and you can water ski nearly any time of year; drive less than an hour in another and you can snow ski. I must have heard those endorsements a dozen times the month I settled here a long time ago.

The first time I drove up to Mount Charleston, nearly a year after I’d arrived, I was amazed that such a refuge could be available as an escape from the inferno of summer, not to mention that it provided a winter fix for a transplanted cold-country guy who felt the need to lob a few snowballs each January as a reminder of home.

Now, with young children, we find ourselves heading to the mountain a couple of times a year for some essential head-clearing, or just to satisfy a latent urge to hug a tree.

For those who haven’t had the pleasure, and there are hundreds of thousands of you who, because of the imperative of staying two steps ahead of the recession or simply because you haven’t been in town long enough to enjoy the area’s varied offerings — please take this good advice sometime soon: Jump on U.S. 95 northwest from downtown Las Vegas to Kyle Canyon Road (State Route 157), and you’ll quickly come to the gateway of the Spring Mountains.

In front of you lie lush meadows, thickly forested hills and a community of chipmunks and wild birds at home among some 27 plant species that grow nowhere else on Earth.

Beginning at 2,200 feet, the highway that gets you there ends in upper Kyle Canyon at the Cathedral Rock picnic area, elevation 7,700 feet. The 17-mile drive passes through three distinct ecological zones: southern desert shrub, pinon-juniper and ponderosa pine-white fir. En route to the summit of the third-highest peak in Nevada, you’ll pass through a bristlecone pine zone to enter a pseudo-alpine region. The trip, by auto and foot, could be compared to a journey from the plains of Mexico to the peaks of Canada, with a lot less wear on tires and shoes.

Although we’ve spent the occasional two-night respite at the Mount Charleston Hotel, a modern yet rustic lodge built in 1985, every now and then we get ambitious and attack one of the mountain’s many hiking trails. Last fall we took on the path to Cathedral Rock, which is rated as a moderate climb, but the folks who make those ratings must do so with serious climbers in mind. For novices like us, “moderate” meant we were sucking wind halfway up.

Our ascent — that word sounds more glamorous than “climb” — took us from the hotel’s 5,000-foot altitude to just over 8,000 feet at a small waterfall adjacent to Cathedral Rock. The trail is bordered by imperial stands of aspen, white fir and mountain mahogany. In late autumn those trees don their most glorious colors. We stopped several times to take it all in, both the visual splendor of the steep Gothic cliffs of Cathedral Rock and quick gulps of air, which don’t come easy at that elevation.

One consolation was the mountain’s average temperatures that are 20 to 30 degrees cooler than those on the valley floor below. The crisp air quickly evaporated the sweat broken by ill-conditioned climbers. We thought about going farther once we’d arrived at the waterfall, but our better judgment won out, enforced by the rediscovery of several dormant muscles in our calves and glutei maximi.

Those who do make it to the top confront occasionally strong winds, steep slopes and temperatures that seldom exceed 60 degrees in summer, even when the city is covered by a solar blanket dialed on high. But the effort has its reward: Below sprawls one of the most outstanding panoramas in the Southwest.

To the south and east of Mount Charleston is the Red Rock recreation area, also contained within the Spring Mountain Range. Beyond Red Rock, barely 20 miles away, is Las Vegas, a kaleidoscope of color splashes over the desert floor. Another 20 miles beyond Las Vegas, the blue fingers of Lake Mead reach out into the surrounding desert.

About 30 miles to the east lies the Sheep Range, center of the Desert National Wildlife Refuge and a home for bighorn sheep. On a cloudless day, the desert ranges and canyon lands of northwestern Arizona and southwestern Utah also come into view.

To the north is the Nevada Test Site, origin of more than 700 underground nuclear detonations from 1963 to 1992. To the northwest is foreboding Death Valley, where you can almost see a 20-mule team wagon being drawn slowly across the parched desert as Ronald Reagan introduces yet another televised saga of bravery in the Old West.

Unlike the rapidly spawning metropolis that lies at its feet, Mount Charleston offers four distinct seasons, and many would argue its prettiest days are upon us, as a blanket of powder covers its peaks and slopes and invites skiers, snowshoers and other winterphiles to its charms. Roads are usually kept clear and in reasonably good condition by the U.S. Forest Service, which also keeps a keen eye out for overly ambitious hikers.

The downside to a winter day trip to the mountains is the ever-increasing crush of cars that crowd the lonely paved road that weaves through the hills. But who can blame first-timers when they come to realize that a slice of heaven sits above and beyond less than an hour away?