The renovation of Garrahan Park in Boulder Creek has revitalized a recreation space for youngsters and adults. The recent completion of construction made it an obvious choice for reporters Joe Shreve and Nathan Beck to set out to acquaint themselves and readers with the new park — and maybe get in a little “it’s a beautiful day” playtime, too.
Nathan’s thoughts
The Garrahan Park field across from the Mountain Store on the 55000 block of Highway 9 in northern Boulder Creek has been relatively bland in past years. As a soccer field, it was not central enough to be used religiously for youth team practices, nor big enough to host sports events.
Today, Garrahan wears a proud, revamped face that I’m sure will draw crowds as one of the crown jewels of the area. Set north of Boulder Creek in a neighborhood-rich area, the newly renovated park offers something to entertain all ages.
The freshly finished picnic area boasts beautifully latticed sun shades, sturdy wooden tables and appropriately placed drinking fountains.
Beautiful walking paths wrap around the lush playing field and run up against play structures for both toddlers and older children.
What appear to be the makings for a full-sized barbecue pit and possibly a sink or washbasin are centrally placed for events that require cooking.
I think this park will bring a deepened sense of community by simply being a place for people to gather. And it’s a lot of fun!
Joe’s thoughts
From the time I was 3 years old, I have always fancied myself a connoisseur of playground equipment. Many of my fondest memories growing up involved hot summer afternoons on big swings, merry-go-rounds and sun-baked metal slides I would swear doubled as pancake griddles.
But my fondest memories of playgrounds revolve around (in my opinion) classic and unique playgrounds, such as Dennis the Menace Park in Monterey, Harvey West Park in Santa Cruz and Highlands Park in Ben Lomond, circa 1990.
This was, of course, before the municipalities — fearing the ominous specter of overly litigious parents — fenced off the old steam engines, hauled away the 200-pound steel circle pendulum swing thing and the other high-flying metallic wonders of my childhood and ushered in the era of the generic, plastic safety play structure.
Which brings me to Boulder Creek in 2011.
Garrahan Park, located near the Mountain Store on Highway 9, is a delightfully refreshing departure from the aforementioned cookie-cutter, plastic play structure, and hearkens back to the golden age of playground equipment.
It lifts the proverbial Iron Curtain of playground design and introduces an innovative new type of structure that presents children with a variety of unique — or, at the very least, uncommon — play options that can’t be found at every other mass-produced playground they’ve ever visited.
The main play area is centered around a metal (gasp!) arch structure, which features climbing walls, wobbling platforms, a climbing net, one of those Tarzan zipline-like things and the Spinning Red Vortex of Doom (patent pending), which I am not ashamed to admit I chickened out on.
After thoroughly embarrassing myself in a very public display of my catlike sense of balance on the wobbling platforms, I found that my personal favorite was what appeared at first glance to be vertical beams with climbing rocks attached.
Once I climbed aboard, though, it was quickly made clear to me that the beams had been designed to spin you as you climbed them.
No sooner had the words “Oh, wow, this spins, too” left my mouth than my partner-in-crime, Nathan Beck, took it upon himself to dole out a little well-deserved payback for my role in his earlier nausea-inducing adventure when I spun him on the Spinning Red Vortex of Doom.
As someone who grew up never wanting to wear a helmet at the park, I offer my most sincere congratulations to Garrahan Park for choosing to install a play structure with some character.
To comment, e-mail reporters Nathan Beck and Joe Shreve at na****@pr*********.com or jo*@pr*********.com, call 438-2500 or post a comment at www.pressbanner.com.
