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Red Rock Canyon, just outside Las Vegas, was astounding in terms of how easy it was to take a fall and meet your death. Living in the southeast for so long, I've become accustomed to gauging distance through visual cues that are assisted through humidity: for me, it's easy to see something is far away by how faded it appears and how obscured it is by the heavy air. In the desert, however, that doesn't exist, so stepping off a trail along the canyon wall seemed like it would be a nasty fall to the next ledge below, but probably not a big one.
...until I squinted and saw dots.
Tiny, tiny dots.
Dots that were trees.
Huge trees.
Down there. Waaay down there.
No fence, no rail, no safety guides to prevent anyone from taking one step down, down, down. NPS won't yell at you for taking risks on the trails, won't put up barriers preventing people from climbing loose rock walls or plunging down a waterfall. In our age of warning labels declaring hot coffee and lawsuits over people attempting stupid stunts they see on TV, I find it amazing that places like this still exist. It's also comforting, in a way, that I can trek out into the wilderness and enjoy it the way it really is. People that abuse the areas and do stupid things get what is coming to them.
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