LAS VEGAS - Mini-marathon: grin city - Climb over it, bike around it, levitate above it, paddle past it. But don't hit the casino. This one-day jaunt is a whole other game.

Sorry, Bugsy.

In 1941, you came to this desert valley dreaming of building a gambling paradise to fleece tourists, celebrate excess and promote decadence. Now I drift into your town ignoring the exploding fountains, the blinding neon lights and the gaudy theme hotels. No offense, Mr. Siegel, but I'm here to snub your memory and disparage your dreams. I've come to get my thrills without dropping a dime in the casinos.

Now, you probably never noticed it, but the valley is actually green and the surrounding sandstone canyons are stunning. But who's to blame you? You were too busy launching a modern-day Sodom and laundering a lot of mob money in the process (or so I've heard). That's gotta be a lot of work. But trust me, beyond the glare of the Strip lies an outdoor playground -- a rock-climbing, mountain-biking, kayak-paddling amusement park, 225 million years in the making.

So don't mind me as I roll into town and unpack my lug-sole hiking boots, dual-suspension bike and weather-worn tent with plans to cram as much outdoor fun into 24 hours as I possibly can. Based on the crowd reports from Red Rock Canyon, Lake Mead, Hoover Dam and Mt. Charleston, I won't be alone.

And to think that it all takes place within an hour's drive of that bronze Siegfried and Roy statue on Las Vegas Boulevard. Why, it's enough to make me rethink the town's heroes. So, thanks Bugsy. I don't think I could have done it without you, but then again, maybe I could have. 9 a.m.: rock climbing

The Nevada desert stretches to the east under a bright blue morning sky. Chaparral, Joshua trees and creosote bushes freckle the flat honey-colored sand beyond the rust red and gray sandstone of the Calico Hills, 17 miles west of the Las Vegas Strip in the Red Rock National Conservation Area.

It's a gorgeous sight, but I'm in no position to soak it in. I'm 80 feet off the ground, clinging to a rock face, focused on the 2 feet around me. Somewhere near me on this blackened vertical wall is a crevice that will save me from a hairy fall, a belaying rope attached to my waist notwithstanding. I just have to find it.

And to think these canyons and boulders are just an accident of nature from 225 million years ago when the Earth's crust began to rise in what was then an ocean. Sand and mud hardened, and some of it, pushed up by thrusting faults, oxidized and turned red.