I dig the buttes in Papago Park.
Check out more photos, gps information, and other details of this hike on my Everytrail.com page which shows a loop we created one day. A detailed review of a Papago Park hike is featured in my upcoming book, Take a Hike Phoenix, which hits bookstores fall 2013 and is now available at barnesandnoble.com or amazon.com.
“That trail SUCKS!” my husband Lou said the other day as we drove past Papago Park.
He was referring to the Eliot Ramada Loop on the west side of Galvin Parkway. The trail offers a paved portion for the first half mile until you reach the Eliot Ramada, a large shady structure poised between the massive, erosion-pocked red rocks called the Papago Buttes.
The trail is easy.
Easy for us anyway. Because, save a few creaky joints and Lou’s “arthritis” in his toe (eye roll), we are young, able-bodied hikers in the prime of our lives.
Not everyone has the luxury of hating that trail, however.
About four years ago, I convinced my grandmother’s caregiver and a few family members to meet up for a hike. With a heavy blanket tucked around her limp body and gray curls poking out from under her fuzzy beanie, GJ (our nickname for her) felt the chilly December air as we took turns (okay, brother Alan did most of it) pushing her wheelchair along the paved trail in Papago Park.
It was hard work.
Shortly after our family hike, GJ had another stroke. A big one. And it pretty much kept her at home for the rest of her life.
After my mother’s stroke earlier this year, we ventured to Papago Park once again for weekly hikes. Mom could walk okay but I had to keep a hand on her belt so I could yank her straight if she started to lose her balance. We started with the paved portion, taking breaks at each bench. We made it to the ramada. After a couple weeks, we braved the uneven terrain of the surrounding dirt trails. Eventually, we could walk the whole park.
That’s Mom. Dwarfed by the amphitheater in Papago Park.
Today, Mom is hiking the Quartz Ridge Trail 8A, a much more challenging trail, three times a week by herself.
Papago Park is where my GJ got out of the house for one of the last times. Papago Park is where Mom healed from her stroke. Papago Park doesn’t suck.
This is the very same speech I gave Lou after he made his callous remark. Needless to say, he recanted his comment.
Nobody disses my trails. Nobody.