First, let’s set some things straight.
I like nature but not enough to camp (and urinate) in it.
I think exercise is important, and while I do it regularly, I won’t break too serious of a sweat unless I am paying a trainer — and maybe, just maybe, if someone is chasing me.
Veering from the beaten, aka, paved path is not my style, lest I get lost, have to call 911 and end up with an incredibly unflattering photo in the newspaper from the dramatic rescue off a mountain ledge.
So, you can understand all the reasons I love Sabino Canyon.
It’s perfect for a gal like me who appreciates a beautiful setting (with clearly marked trails) and doesn’t mind some (but not much) exercise. At the same time, the canyon is perfect for those weirdos, er, athletes looking to train and burn serious calories.
Plus, it has bathrooms — appealing to all.
On a recent morning, I brought along one of my children to experience the splendor of the canyon and get a little — but just a little — workout. It quickly became obvious that I chose poorly.
“Let’s run!” he said, sprinting off ahead.
Not what I had in mind.
At well before 9 a.m., the parking lot is already jammed. But the road — which leisurely snakes 3.8 miles into the canyon — doesn’t seem overcrowded. A steady trickle of power walkers and joggers is already heading back toward the parking lot. A friendly sense of camaraderie peppers the air with folks waving or saying “good morning” as they cross paths. The air is crisp, but the sun’s warmth, already, makes jackets seem excessive.
A few strollers roll along the asphalt at a leisurely pace while the occasional biker swooshes past.
A Sabino Canyon regular, his windbreaker tied around his waist, greets everyone and even chats up us newbies, showing off cellphone photos of a mountain lion he’d spotted the week before, crouching between the restrooms. This has the positive effect of distracting my overly energetic kid from sprinting the entire way. “Let’s go to the bathrooms and see if there’s a cougar!”
As we walk, we stare up at the majestic saguaros and point out quirky formations, like the two near each other trying to form an “A.”
The sound of gently rushing water floats up to us. Since there were, sadly for my son, no signs of any wildlife that could eat us, we abandon the asphalt to investigate the creek below.
Big, flat rocks beckon to be scrambled over, and schools of fish flit through the shallow water. We crane our necks, gazing at the tall craggy rock face that blocks out the sun.
Up above us, a tram rumbles by and joggers, earbuds firmly planted in their heads, sweat past, rushing to cram in that morning workout. All well and good, but as the great, wise Ferris Bueller pointed out in the iconic 1986 movie, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around for awhile, you could miss it.”
