A version of this article originally appeared in Condé Nast Traveller UK.
The year 2023 marked 20 years since my life-altering injury. In the past, I equated travel with freedom. I yearned to throw on a backpack and wander into the world. After my injury, however, the concept of travel and what it meant to me changed. Robbed mercilessly of the carefree whimsy of a student traveler, I became even more hungry for travel, freedom, and adventure as a paraplegic, desperate to see more of the world than I already had at age 18. It was a pursuit I knew would help me find my way again and ultimately enable me to move forward. I knew deep down it would help me find myself again and identify my place in the world.
However, as a wheelchair user, I was faced with enormous challenges—challenges so daunting they threatened to deter me altogether. Leaving the front door of my home was intimidating enough, let alone experiencing new environments, cultures, or countries. On the one hand, my chair liberated my newly paralyzed body, but on the other hand, barriers I’d known before confronted me at every turn. People stared, pitied me, or even refused to acknowledge me. Steps, stairs, buildings, and even nature were like concrete barricades in my path.
Two decades later, after much perseverance, persistent effort, and unwavering determination, I’ve found more confidence in navigating the world of travel. To celebrate my 20-year anniversary of traveling with a disability, I went on an epic cross-country adventure, riding a CanAm Spyder F3 (a type of three-wheeled motorcycle) from the east to west coast of the United States. On my journey, I reflected on the invaluable hard-won lessons on traveling with a disability that I’ve learned over the years. If I could go back in time and give my younger self a manual, a how-to guide or road-map to follow in my wheelchair’s tracks, these are the lessons I would share with my younger self.
1. Learn to advocate for yourself
I had planned my American road trip meticulously, but the first leg included a flight to Washington DC, and so there was a risk of my adventure falling apart before I’d even got started. No matter how experienced you are, flying as a wheelchair user always presents a considerable risk. Rights on Flights, an initiative I started to improve disability rights on flights, has raised awareness of our challenges. Still, the experience of having two broken wheelchairs in six months so far this year has made me wary.
I arrived at the aircraft calm but ready, with the CCA guidelines for batteries stored on my phone just in case. When the ground staff at Heathrow in London threatened to refuse my powered wheelchair attachment, and therefore jeopardize my entire expedition, I stood my ground. Eventually, they conceded. After years of trawling through legislation and regulations, I am confident that I know my rights better than most other people.