West of Central Avenue

You know it’s May in Phoenix when someone tells you there’s going to be a high of 93 degrees over the weekend and you reply with some version of “Really?! Only 93? We have to go hiking!!”

That definitely happened a few weeks ago.

Phillip had to work that morning, so we planned wait until the evening when it would be a little cooler.

While I was pondering where to go, I remembered I had intended to stop by my uncle’s house over the weekend and see how he was doing with my aunt out of town.

So I checked out Google Maps for good hiking on the west side of Phoenix, and hello! there were the Sierra Estrella Mountains. Phillip and I have talked about how crazy it is that neither of us had ever made it out there. Time to remedy that.

 

So as soon as Phillip got off work, we filled up water bottles, had our standard argument debate about what to bring (or not) and whether it should all go in backpack(s), a hip pack, or what. We finally settled on no packs, just full pockets and water bottles (mine in kind of a dorky bottle holder with a shoulder strap because I haaaate carrying stuff in my hands while I’m hiking. But I am used to being a dork.)

We started off by going to Tacos Atoyac. It wasn’t exactly on the way. But close enough. If we’re headed west of Central, we usually go. Or, really, if we’re anywhere near there, we go. And sometimes when we’re nowhere near there, we go anyway. I would recommend you do the same. (Unless, of course you don’t like delicious tacos.) Like the best restaurants of the hole-in-the-wall-taqueria genre, the ingredients are fresh, the flavors are intense, the prices are reasonable, and the neighborhood is sketchy. It’s Oaxacan-style food, so, in addition to tacos and burritos, they have tlayudas, which are kind of like giant tostadas with smashed black beans (also delicious). We try something new almost every time but seem to keep coming back to the tacos al pastor.

After chowing down on tacos and chatting with my uncle, the sun was lower in the sky (okay, maybe a little lower than we were shooting for but at least it was cooler), and it was time to head for Estrella Mountain Regional Park.

Before we got to the park entrance, a trailhead on the other side of the road caught Phillip’s eye. It looked like it might go down to the river, so we had our hiking spot picked out. But, first, we wanted to check out the park itself.

Our short drive around the park was lined with palo verde and mesquite trees, with a hawk flying overhead and a rabbit bounding into the bushes for cover. A roadrunner lived up to his name and ran across the road ahead of us. We drove by a playground and lots of picnic tables. It looked like a great place for a big family gathering.

We definitely want to come back and explore the park when we have more time.

But, since we were running out of daylight, we went back to the trail Phillip had spotted. It was part of a revegetation project, which may be why we saw drip irrigation lines coming out of the ground and young mesquite trees surrounded by chicken wire.

As it turns out, the trail didn’t go as far as the river. But now we know where it goes, and next time we can stick to the park.

By the time we got to the end of the loop, we were losing light and in need of a restroom. Checking a map, I realized we weren’t too far from another of my favorite West Side spots: Ground Control.

 

It was in a new location since the last time I visited. They still have coffee and gelato, as well as a dining room with a dinner menu past the gelato counter. And the night we were there, it was p-a-c-k-e-d!

There was some kind of kids’ singing competition happening (someone told Phillip the name, but all I can think of now is “America’s Kids Got Singing.” Which is not a real thing.), and each mini-star seemed to have brought an entire fan club along. The corner designated as the “stage” was right next to the restrooms. So instead of being able to make a beeline to take care of business, you had to wind your way through overcrowded tables of doting relatives/fan club members, step over moms crouched in the aisles with video cameras, and cross in front of the next Justin Bieber (wannabe) belting his heart out. Of course, this arrangement also meant that, when you came back out of the restroom, all eyes were toward you.

It’s not every day that I exit the bathroom to applause from a packed house.

But you know what? Way to go me. I planned this little excursion that lead to a good (if incredibly awkward) pit stop, made small talk with a couple of gossipy 8-year-olds while waiting for a stall to open up, and was resourceful enough to have my own tissue in my super-stuffed pockets (which was good since the toilet paper had run out).

Actually, the real reward was enjoying our gelato outside – and out of earshot. Bravo.