Urban Hiking as a Design Tool

Last Friday night Eric and I went for an impromptu hike in the Pittsburgh South Sides Slopes. It started as a way to get some exercise without going for a formal run, and it ended as an “awakening call” that, though architects by trade, our understanding of the city is surprisingly constrained. To put it in Eric’s words: We live in a bubble!  

Despite the city's tightly defined boundaries, Pittsburgh has a rich history of cultures that have taken turns shaping our neighborhoods, over the decades. I love the resulting palette of colors, architectural details, and material choices that make Pittsburgh so unique. While there are many ways of experiencing Pittsburgh, we came to the conclusion that an urban hike is the best way to appreciate this dense stratification of design solutions. 

We parked our tiny car in the Southside flats and we started climbing the beginning of the P.J. McArdle Roadway. We were walking and glancing at Google Maps at the same time, zigzagging our way upwards hoping to avoid any wrong turns. After ten minutes, the GPS became useless, since it was not geolocating us properly. Thus we dropped that and sharpened our senses to find the best way to get where we wanted. The inspiration came from meeting a nice lady walking a blind Yorkie, who heard us - or smelled us - from afar and greeted us with excitement. He was sniffing his way around just like any other dog, and I would have never thought he was blind (though he bumped into my leg with an almost comical enthusiasm). That encounter happened where the asphalt road stopped, and something else started, at which point Eric declared: I don’t think this is a City road. Thus, we looked for paths amidst the greenery and we evaluated the safety of various “Pittsburgh steps” popping up. We ultimately decided that any steps would be too efficient and would bring us up too quickly, limiting our exercise. We kept our walk as horizontal as possible.

In order to determine our position, we looked at the buildings below us and at the panorama across the river. We also delved into our own recollections—Eric’s memories of jogging through the area, and Bea’s snippets of casual conversations that have unfolded over the years. We refreshed our memories of past site visits to potential project locations, too. A few unbuilt projects of ours remain on the Southside slopes, which were halted due to either a road collapse, or the dissolution of a family.

As we were walking, we were analyzing the homes around us. On one end, we were admiring the creative ways decades of "Yinzers ingenuity" had conquered the most impervious hills. On the other, we were criticizing the appearance of some cheaply flipped homes, begging the question of how safe (or durable) certain newly-installed materials were.

We couldn’t help but notice many condemned homes around us, considering their architectural potential thanks to the amazing view and brave interactions with the ground. We also looked at homes that should be condemned, clearly showing signs of asbestos tiles and other health risks. While these houses might offer a questionable solution to the growing need for affordable housing that the City hasn’t met, they also remind us of the widening wealth gap between different neighborhoods in Pittsburgh.

Half way in the hike, we both agreed that we were on an architectural mission, cleverly disguised as a casual fitness routine.

Smelling our way towards less car-traveled streets, and remembering articles about a master plan of a Pittsburgh park completed in 2021, we ended up in the Emerald View Park, which is very different from anything you could find in Shadyside - where we live and work. It reminded us of some Alpine hikes around our Italian office, but it also made us realize that we live and work in our comfortable bubble, and that there is so much we don’t know about Pittsburgh. 

That park embodies a gritty charm, quintessentially Pittsburgh. To the more refined onlookers, it may appear overgrown, yet it stands as a testament to the resilience of native species and those that have chosen Pittsburgh as their new home. It is the botanical reflection of Pittsburgh’s diverse population.

Our hike through the park showcased some fantastic snippets of Downtown Pittsburgh, and it gently dropped off below the Grandview Park Bandstand. As we meandered along the tranquil Bailey Street, lined with architecturally diverse homes, and then onto Wyoming Street, we found ourselves on Shiloh Street. On a Friday night, the little commercial district was filled with energy and all of the small businesses were extraordinarily busy. While we knew that Shiloh Street was popular, we had never really experienced it this way - almost like tourists. We proceeded towards the Monongahela Incline while musing about the fast change of pace in the urban vibe of the past few miles.

Our way down on the incline was slow but fun. We were chatting with another passenger, a young man, about the peculiar operations of the incline - Which, technically, is an elevator—serviced as one, no less. It operates without the constraints of a timetable, much like its more conventional counterparts.- After we arrived at “ground floor”, we walked along the mostly flat East Carson Street, trying to breathe the air loaded with pollutants as little as possible. We passed the Cupples Stadium, which was full of kids and music because it was “senior night”, as a cheerful man explained to us while we were wondering out loud what was going on that night.

Friday night was a great way to rethink how we interact with spaces that, as architects, we transform and impact for a long time. 

This urban hike was a design tool at all effects. It allowed us to discover hidden gems in the South Side Slopes of Pittsburgh, and it gave us a better understanding of its complex topography. We explored smart pedestrian paths to mediate the height differential between the top and the bottom of the hillside. We observed the city’s historical layers, discovering how old and new architecture coexist and influence the evolution of urban spaces.  

Urban hiking reveals how nature, such as parks, green roofs, and waterways, integrates with the urban landscape. In a way, we were offered a free lesson in biophilic design principles, too. Forest bathing was a term that emerged in Japan in the 1980’s but we can all benefit from it now, immersed as we are in technology and surrounded by screens.

We also had the opportunity to reflect on some urban challenges, of course. After all, we were partly hiking through some neglected areas. We experienced first hand urban decay, poor infrastructure, and social inequalities in living conditions. We saw plenty of trash, injured animals, graffiti, and ravines that were likely doubling as sewage.

These perspectives can help architects (and city planners!) develop a more holistic approach to urban design, considering both the aesthetic and functional aspects of city spaces. Looking at the city at this level can inspire the development of more inclusive design solutions, too. All things considered, this was a great cultural insight, and I am positive that this was a first of many more urban hikes by Fisher ARCHitecture.