This post served as a framework that I have been surveying Portland's parks. If you'd like to see the continually updated map and rankings, click here.
I'd like to introduce you to a herculean task. I'm going to visit, rate, and rank every park in Portland, a city known for its green spaces. There are nearly 300 of them under the care of the city's Parks and Recreation.
And before becoming one of those notorious California-to-Oregon transplants, I had visited the city on several occasions. As a kid who grew up in Southern California and spent the summers in Phoenix, those green spaces became one of the strongest lasting impressions.
I want to become more familiar with my new city, and from that, this comedically enormous task was devised. What are the best parks in the city? How can we definitively (although maybe a little subjectively) rank all of them? How long could this project possibly take?
Further, as long as I have had dogs in my adult life, walking with them has always been a joy and has become a necessary therapy. (Do you need a dog walker in Portland? Hmu!)
I can’t speak for Kita, my GSD/Malamute mix, but walking the same couple blocks of our SE Portland subdivision has become quite stale. Oversharing presents The Portland Parks Project, where I hope to rank every park in The Rose City.
The Rubric
In the name of science, I’ll be developing a rubric and a score for every park we visit. And the rubric is likely to change, and the task is likely to go unfinished. But here’s the standard we’ll start our voyage with.
Dog-friendliness:
The team that will be scoring and ranking the Portland Parks is currently made up of a 30-year-old man named Alex (obviously), a big dog named Kita, and a small dog named Nana. As some of you will know, Kita is my 100ish pound German Shepard/Alaskan Malamute mix, and she’s still a puppy in many ways (born in November of 2020). She’s full of bouncy energy and some days feel like 3+ miles isn’t enough to poop her out. Nana, however, is a slightly different beast. Though technically descended from wolves, she’s a petite 13 pounds of occasionally-grumpy pug. She just had her third birthday and can max out at 2 miles, but, as anyone who’s pumped about PBs at the gym, she’s not hitting her max every time. (I never thought I’d be the dog-dad with a small dog backpack, but here we are…)
Thus, the perfect dog-friendliness score would comprise of a place that allows dogs on-leash, an off-leash area, and places in the park to take care of messes in the way of a poop bag station. Finally, I’m hoping that in a single visit I’ll be able to judge the dogs and dog owners we meet as good and responsible. Though that might not be fair to assess in a single, one-hour visit, it still feels like a necessary criterion.
Kid-friendliness:
I’ve also got a baby on the way. (Aside: This leads me to wonder if any semblance of routine will continue once he arrives. Will scheduled park visits be obtainable?) The ideal scenario today is to put on my best Super Granola Dad costume: the REI baby backpack, the jogging stroller (able to house both baby boy and puggo), the fanny pack, the snacks. But time will tell us what types of parks are available to me and my new baby when he arrives, and we’ll let his needs shape the frequency with which we will be able to explore.
But for now, I’ll keep an eye out for child-friendly spaces like playgrounds and family restrooms, and for general things like cleanliness and safety. I’m sure my eye for these things will evolve and sharpen once I, ya know, actually have a kid. We’re operating in the hypothetical (though having a girlfriend who nannies probably points me in a generally right direction).
Walkability:
Now, I’ve truly struggled with the operationalization of “walkability.” I considered for a long time who would need this rating. Mobility is different for a lot of people based on their physical body, age, and experience. But ultimately, I’ve decided that this rating is for me and my dogs, with the goal of hitting a 1-3 mile walk. No one in this park survey team requires wheels to get around, so from my position, I might not be the best judge of the needs of those humans anyway. I suppose I can keep an eye out for paved trails with gentle gradients, but again, I’m not the guy to comprehensively judge those areas. (When the stroller comes, I’ll call you).
The perfect walkability score, then, involves a variety of trails and sidewalks, and the more the better. You know what they say, “variety is the spice of hikes.” If our three miles do not cover all of the park’s offerings, it seems fair that a high score will be given to that park. A middling score might be given for a nice sidewalk in a smaller park, and we’re looping around several times; that’s alright with me. Maybe a low score in this category would go to the park with little or no trails and sidewalks, or maybe parks that are ill-maintained. I’m making the rubric before any parks have been judged, and things could change.
Scenery:
In a rubric full of subjectivity, this may be the most subjective. Parks are found all over the city and serve many different purposes. On the one hand, we’re going to explore places full of people and noise, surrounded by high-rise buildings. We will also explore well-manicured gardens, teeming with trees and shrubs landscaped into works of art. And in the same week, we could be in places deliberately tucked away, tougher to get to, and that have been designed with placidness and serenity in mind. All of these spaces will have their advocates and objectors.
But the question I've decided to answer is in the way of design. Can I interpret the design intention? And does the scenery of this place contribute to that intent?
On the subject of tents: There might be some readers who give me some heat for this, but I’ll put tents as a detractor to a park’s scenery. Now, hear me out leftists, I don’t think that saying that “the existence of tents in a park detracts from its overall aesthetic,” excludes me from also having empathy and a desire to advocate for our neighbors seeking refuge. I will continue to vote for politicians with a strong desire to pump city resources into aid. What I simply mean is that tents are not part of the intentional design of any park.
Murals and art installations will work in the way of improving a park’s Scenery score, and I have a feeling tagging and graffiti will work against it. Construction or incomplete projects will probably also count against a park in this category.
Facilities:
To me, the ideal park has buildings and materials that lead to an overall more comfortable experience for the parkgoer, yet do not take away from the beauty of the space. I’ll be looking for the quality and quantity of bathrooms, parking and public transportation options, benches and picnic tables, trash receptacles, and public sports courts.
More might not necessarily mean merrier for this category. Just like in the Scenery category, I’ll be framing my scores through a reference of function and design. Sure, a basketball court and a skatepark might serve a neighborhood park very well. But having the same items appear in a nature reserve might not serve the interest of visitors.
Methodology
As far as which parks to choose and when to choose them, I’m a little scanter on the details. The order for data collection will be entirely one of convenience. At the time of writing this entry, we’re a one-car family. In this first phase of park exploration (pre-baby), while my girlfriend, Allison is still working, I envision me and the dogs dropping her off at work, and we’ll visit a park before on our way back home. If we’re having a day-off day trip around Portland, as we are wont to do, I’ll do my best to convince Allison that we should visit a proximal park.
And for the most part, we'll do one park per day (Mill Ends Park is an obvious exception though).
In the end, I envision a table of scores and ranks.
(When writing this paragraph, I realized how fucking crazy this project actually is). Is the finish line in sight? The short answer is no. At a rate of one park per week, visiting every park in the city would take us nearly 5.5 years. Two parks per week still put us at the long, long timeline of 2 years and 219 days. And yet, three parks a week, the absolute conceivable maximum given my full-time work schedule, still puts us at 1 year and 284 days. I better wrap up this paragraph and get to walking then, if we ever hope to finish.
If there’s a Portland park you’d like to see us visit or a criterion we need to add or adjust to the rubric, please reach out. Thanks again for letting me overshare.
What Portland park should we visit next?
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