These days, “user experience” tends to refer more to the digital realm than our physical environment, but it’s no less relevant to roads and sidewalks than to websites and software. When creating something that people will interact with, no matter what it is, the goals are often the same: it should be useful, usable, accessible, findable, desirable and valuable (add “credible” when it comes to information). It gives you what you need, when you need it, in precisely the right form.

But in the process of designing something one hopes will be beautiful, sometimes user experience falls by the wayside. So-called “desire paths” are one example of what can happen as a result. Formed when people forge a path across unpaved land, regardless of any nearby walkways that may already exist, these paths are an organic and often unconscious form of urban hacking, when users decide what works best for them in the environments they occupy every day.

Who would’ve guessed from r/DesirePath

People made a desire pentagram inside a big roundabout. from r/DesirePath

Desire paths are almost like a litmus test for built environments; when they appear, they’re signaling that somewhere along the way, someone likely failed to determine what the design was supposed to do, and for whom. At its root, urban planning is a tool of social control, attempting to impose order upon the wild and intuitive, with a goal of producing an efficient system that’s easy to manage. Of course, it’s essential to maintaining the complexity of modern cities, and the grids and patterns that form the basis of most cities have their purposes, like streamlining traffic and navigation.

That may be fine when you’re driving, but walking is a different story. Most of us want efficiency when we’re walking, too, and that means cutting out unnecessary corners and curves along the way. Enormous pedestrian roundabouts might fit neatly within traffic circles and look nice from above, but when you’re just trying to get from point A to point B, spending the extra minutes it takes to keep to the concrete circle rather than cutting through the grass feels like a waste.

Illicit trails reveal a lot about a given place, the people who populate it, what their needs are and whether those needs are being met. That’s especially true when it comes to accessibility. Over time, it can become abundantly clear that ramps should be built for people who can’t navigate staircases (as it should have been from the very beginning).

A common miserable desire path found during a typical Canadian winter.

Blocked off alley doesn’t stop people. from r/DesirePath

Once you start looking for them, you’ll spot desire paths everywhere; there’s even a fascinating and enthusiastic subreddit devoted to them. They can change according to the weather, appearing when sidewalks get icy; snow can sometimes reveal invisible common paths taken to cut across hard surfaces like asphalt.

View from my dormitory, huge one with a fork at the end from r/DesirePath

Desire paths don’t always result from a design failure. Sometimes they just reflect the fact that people want to walk, run or bike on a natural surface instead of following pavement. Sometimes they illustrate the need for cities to be more adaptive; a system of sidewalks that worked twenty years ago stops serving its users when new popular destinations pop up in different spots along the way. And sometimes, when walkways are attempting to protect sensitive natural habitats, user-determined paths can be legitimately harmful.

A local college is trying to thwart this desire path by planting a tree in the middle of it. from r/DesirePath

The Oval walkways at Ohio State University were paved based on the students’ desire paths from r/DesirePath

My University giving into the desire path from r/DesirePath

Those in charge of determining the location and layout of official pedestrian paths may try to fight user-created routes with obstacles, but it’s a fool’s errand, much like trying to hold back the ocean. The paths will simply multiply. Rebellious in spirit, desire paths are a physical manifestation of the untamed parts of us that defy control by external systems. Sometimes there’s nothing for urban planners to do but accept the wisdom of the people who actually use the paths, and make them official.

Top image by wetwebwork/Flickr CC by 2.0

The Los Angeles river changes dramatically as it snakes into and through the city, and these different design proposals carry that legacy forward while envisioning new, user-friendly, flexible and sustainable nodes of activity. The L.A. River Downtown Design Dialogue celebrates ten years of working to revitalized areas and create connections along the river’s route.

Currently, this often-dry river, encased in concrete, feels about as much like a river as Silver Lake feels like a lake, or anything can feel natural when so artificially contained. Seven architecture firms were given one-mile strips to work with and created a wonderful array of designs featuring lush green parks, bike paths, kayaking zones, climbing walls and more.

Gruen Associates tackled a section near Chinatown, created a series of elevated paths and natural meadows all tied into an existing railroad yard.

WSP placed walkways and terraces along the sides of the river while also offering stepping stones for people wanting to walk across.

CH2M took its zone near the Arts District and added bicycle paths and other amenities around a winding and widened section of river made to look and feel more like a local creek.

AChee Salette took over old railway tracks to create a series of gardens spilling down from the road grade above to the level of the river below.

Curving and wrapping paths and walls create an organic wrapper for the section designed by Mia Lehrer + Associates, creating a space to canoe and kayak.

AECOM’s  playfully integrated climbing walls, basketball courts and other sporting amenities, while adding light and color through mosaics and murals spanning their area.

Tetra Tech designed a new bridge to cross the river as well as a river walk, all taking advantage of the existing sloped sides, reflecting the river’s historic form.

Together, these schemes reflect a rich diversity of design strategies as well as usage possibilities — given how prominent and central the path of the river is, it makes a lot of sense to make it a more accessible and vibrant resource for the city and its citizens.

A proposal by an international architecture firm would reduce travel time in the London Underground, not with faster rail cars but by using people movers of the kind generally found in airports. Closing the loop on questions of congestion, this strategy would stop trains in their tracks.

Aimed at the congested Circle Line looping through the heart of the city, the design from NBBJ Architects incorporates three parallel walkways moving at different speeds (up to a maximum of 15 miles per hour). That may sound slow until you consider that the top speed of the trains currently running these sections of Tube is around 20 MPH due to congestion.

Commuters and travelers would step from the slowest-moving walkway across to increasingly faster lanes, using the replacement paths to connect to work or other (generally faster) lines of the Underground. People walking down the fast lane could actually end up moving more quickly than a train. Others could potentially sit down along one side on fold-down seats (as with an escalator railing, these would speed along at the same pace as the track below).

While the odds of implementation are slim, the data is compelling – the system could accommodate more passengers than the current trains and would eliminate the frustration of waiting in queues. The Circle Line in particular is infamous for delays, with an average of 10 reported per day.

Christian Coop of NBBJ cites a challenge from think tank New London Architecture for the inspiration to create these strange proposal. If nothing else, it might be something to consider for the vast expanses of derelict underground rail space running through the city.

Beyond any inherent beauty or formal references to surrounding mountains, there is a more profound proposition in this series of structures about the way we walk into, through and above spaces.

Bjarke Ingels Group (BIG) was commissioned by a Taipei developer to create a mixed-use complex of housing, restaurants, cafes and more, all woven together with pedestrian walkways, jogging paths, gardens and plazas.

Their solution introduces a degree of vertical accessibility we are not used to seeing beyond the first few floors of a building, tying together indoor and outdoor circulation, connecting public and commercial spaces beyond ordinary horizontal surfaces.

The Haulien Residences are intended to be a resort destination and their shape was inspired in part by mountains and the ocean, but many of its signature green ribbons are sloped to accommodate paths and stairs.

In turn, the green roofs provided by this approach offer shelter and shade in a tropical region for the dwellings themselves while preserving views and providing gardens, decks and porches at various heights throughout.