Tan stucco home with a dark timber door, black-framed window, paver path, agave, and airy desert tree.

The Rule That Keeps a Dirt Path Running Down the Middle of Central Avenue

October 1, 2026

Walk north on Central Avenue from Bethany Home Road on a Saturday morning and the gravel under your feet tells you something before you've read a word about it. It's not asphalt. It's not concrete. It's quarter-inch minus granite, the same material that's been there in some form since developer William J. Murphy laid it out as a horse path in the 1890s, and if a homeowner along the route ever pours a driveway slab over it, the North Central Phoenix Homeowners Association will eventually notice and ask them to rip it back out.

That's not a guess about neighborhood etiquette. It's a City Council resolution. In 1977, Phoenix passed Resolution 14895, stating that the Bridle Path could not be paved over with concrete or asphalt for residential driveways, and the homeowners association still checks entrances along the route and asks owners to swap out any asphalt or pavers for the approved gravel. Most people who walk their dogs or push a stroller down this stretch of Central every week have never heard of the resolution. They've just noticed the path never quite looks like the rest of the street.

A Public Strip That Isn't Anyone's Front Yard

Here's the part that surprises new residents most: according to the North Central Phoenix Homeowners Association, the land on either side of Central Avenue, out to the property line, belongs to the City of Phoenix, not to the homeowner whose lawn it borders. The homeowners association, not any individual owner, polices what happens to the path's surface, and its guidance to residents is specific about materials. Separately, Ordinance 27-12, a city rule, governs what happens when a dog does what dogs do on that stretch of public gravel. Violations can draw fines between $100 and $2,500, though the more visible enforcement mechanism for years was low-tech: a Boy Scout years ago installed waste-bag dispensers along the busiest sections, refilled privately after the city stopped restocking its own dog-park stations due to budget cuts.

The path and the trees around it carry an even higher designation than city rule. The streetscape, the irrigation lateral running alongside it, and the Bridle Path itself are listed on both the Arizona and National Registers of Historic Places, covering the stretch of Central Avenue from Missouri to Northern Avenue. That listing is why the corridor looks the way it does decades after most Phoenix arterials got curbs, sidewalks, and turn lanes. Central Avenue between Bethany Home and Northern still has none of those, by design.

The Trees That Got Swapped Twice

The olive trees lining private lots along Central Avenue are more than a century old, planted in the early 1900s when Murphy's Orangewood subdivision was new. Because they sit on private property rather than the public right of way, they've mostly escaped the disputes that hit the ash trees planted in the street's right of way at the same time. Those ash trees have a rockier history:

  • Original ash trees went in during the early 1900s alongside the olives.
  • In 1963, the city replaced the ash with Aleppo pines.
  • Residents disliked the pines enough that the city pulled them back out.
  • New ash trees went back in by 1972, restoring the look residents wanted.

That back-and-forth is one reason the homeowners association treats the tree canopy as infrastructure worth defending rather than background scenery. In partnership with the city, the group has replaced more than 100 damaged or dying trees along the corridor in recent years, funding new 24-inch box ash trees at roughly $350 each when the city's own parks budget can't stretch to cover the replacement pace the historic designation calls for.

Not Many Riders Left

The path's name still says "Bridle," but actual horseback riders are rare enough now that longtime residents talk about it as something from an earlier phase of the neighborhood's life. Paige Peterson, who has lived in North Central most of her life, put it plainly in a KJZZ radio interview:

"Yeah, I used to ride on the Bridle Path and the canals. I don't do that anymore."

What replaced the horses is a steady flow of walkers, runners, and dog owners, which is also why locals rarely call the route by its full formal name. Ask around and you'll hear it described as the Central Avenue trail, the dirt path, or just "the Bridle Path" shortened without the founder's name attached. Whatever residents call it, foot and paw traffic is heavy enough on weekend mornings that finding street parking near the busiest crossings, particularly around Bethany Home, takes some patience.

Where the Gravel Ends

The path runs a little over two and a half miles, starting at Bethany Home Road and ending at the Arizona Canal to the north, where walkers who want to keep going can pick up the canal-side trail system that continues well beyond the corridor. That southern endpoint at Bethany Home isn't random. It sits at the same intersection as North Phoenix Baptist Church, whose parking lot has hosted the Uptown Farmers Market for years on Wednesday and Saturday mornings during the cooler months, scaling back to Saturday-only, earlier hours through the hottest stretch of summer. By one count, it's the largest farmers market in Arizona, drawing more than 200 vendors on a typical Saturday. For a lot of North Central residents, a walk down the Bridle Path and a stop at the market are the same errand, not two separate ones.

Still Being Defended, Not Just Preserved

The homeowners association that enforces the gravel rule was itself founded in 1977, the same year the city passed the resolution protecting the path from pavement. That timing isn't a coincidence so much as a pattern: this corridor has had an organized group watching over it for as long as it's had a formal rule to watch over. That group hasn't gone quiet with age. In the past few years it has pushed back publicly against state legislative proposals, including bills numbered HB 2570 and HB 2721, that would have limited local control over zoning decisions affecting single-family neighborhoods like this one. Whatever a reader's view of those bills, the episode shows the same organization that keeps gravel where gravel belongs is still actively involved in decisions that shape the corridor's character, nearly fifty years after it started.

None of this changes what the path looks like on an ordinary Tuesday morning. It's still a wide, shaded strip of gravel with mature trees on both sides, busy with dog walkers and joggers who mostly have no idea a specific 1977 resolution is the reason their feet aren't hitting asphalt. That's usually how the best-kept neighborhood rules work. Nobody thinks about them until the day someone tries to break one.

If you're weighing a move to a block along Central Avenue, or you already live here and want a clearer read on how the historic overlay and homeowners association rules actually affect a specific property, The Bray Team knows this stretch of the corridor block by block and is glad to walk through what it means for your address.

This article is general information, not legal, tax or financial advice. Consult a qualified professional about your situation.

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