Accessibility in the Outdoors
How I Evaluate and Review Outdoor Spaces
This blog post is a transcript of the YouTube Video. If you’d like to watch the video instead, go to: https://youtu.be/hI2MSdDLQk0
Hey everybody! Today I'll be talking about accessibility in the outdoors and how I evaluate and review outdoor spaces, which is by far the topic I get asked about the most.
Now, I’m not an expert in this field, but I do have some experience. For those who don't know me, I'm a chronically ill and disabled outdoors lover. I live with chronic pain, fatigue, and cognitive dysfunction, as well as mobility issues, and I've had quite a variety of access needs over the years. About a year ago, I did a project where I reviewed 23 outdoor spaces in my area after being inspired by Syren Nagakyrie's work at Disabled Hikers, who began writing hiking trail reviews in 2018 and released their first book last year. (Check out Disabled Hikers and buy their book at www.disabledhikers.com)
Their work really resonated with me, so I decided I wanted to help my own local disabled community by writing reviews for outdoor spaces in my area too, like state parks, historical sites, and wildlife refuges. So I have personal experience in both facing barriers in the outdoors as a disabled person, and in evaluating and reviewing outdoor spaces for other disabled folks.
I've written a couple times on my blog and Instagram about why it's important to collect and share this information, as well as sharing some of the things I've learned about accessibility in the outdoors and what exactly that means. And I've noticed that when I say the words "accessibility in the outdoors", some people assume I'm saying "pave over everything with concrete everywhere”, and that's not the case at all. The question of outdoor accessibility is not simply or necessarily whether or not a path is paved, the question is more like: "Is there van accessible parking? Are there benches? How many benches and how far apart? Are there restrooms? What is the path like? Are there stairs or steep hills? Are there a lot of tree roots and rocks? Are the trails clearly marked? How long is the walk? How far from the parking lot to the point of interest? If my legs stop working, will I have to be airlifted out of there or can my husband just go get the wheelchair?"
But before we get into all of that, let's back up and start with some basics on disability.
Disability Facts
Some people are surprised to learn that disabled people want to explore the outdoors, but I always like to remind folks that disabled people are just people, and some people enjoy being outdoors! Disability just means that a person struggles with one or more daily functions, that's it. It doesn't mean that a person is wholly incapable of doing anything at all. There are many types of disabilities that affect different parts of the body and different daily functions- with varying degrees, shades of gray, strengths and weaknesses, good days and bad.
Some people use wheelchairs, forearm crutches, canes, and walkers, but the vast majority of disabled people don't actually use a mobility aid. About 80-90% of disabled people do not have a visible or apparent disability, meaning that for the majority of disabled people, you can’t tell they're disabled just by looking at them. Some folks are Deaf or blind. Some folks have fatigue or pain, or struggle with balance or muscle weakness. Some have heart or respiratory conditions, urinary or digestive disorders, neurological or musculoskeletal illnesses. Some folks have cognitive or intellectual disabilities. Some have anxiety or PTSD, or MCS, or MS, Me/CFS, EDS, ALS, TBI, CP, or CIRS like me.
So the term disabled covers a huge range of things. Each disability and every disabled person is different, so their access needs are going to be different as well. Disability is not a black and white thing and neither is accessibility. Just like "disabled" doesn't solely mean wheelchair user, accessibility doesn't solely mean a paved path.
What Accessibility in the Outdoors Means
So when we're talking about accessibility in the outdoors, that can mean all kinds of things. Because accessibility means different things to different people with different disabilities, the goal of evaluating and reviewing outdoor spaces is not to go in and officially declare a site capital A accessible or 100% inaccessible. There's too much complexity and nuance for us to make that determination for other people. Instead, the goal is to gather information and present it as you found it, so that each person can decide for themselves if a site is accessible for them.
With that in mind, what information do we gather in outdoor spaces to help people determine its accessibility? The big categories include: parking, restrooms, paths, benches, signage, and some miscellaneous items. I'll explain what each of these entail and what I looked for as I was reviewing outdoor spaces.
Parking and Restrooms
Let's start with parking. Parking includes accessible parking and van accessible parking, where accessible parking is a single space and van-accessible parking has that protected additional space next to it. For those who are unfamiliar, some people require that extra space to get in and out of their vehicle. For example, some wheelchair users will have a van with a ramp that comes out the side or they'll have a standard vehicle and will need to have the car door wide open in order to set up their chair and transfer to it, and if people are free to park immediately next to their vehicle— if they don’t have that guaranteed space— then there's no guarantee they'll be able to get out of their vehicle to go to the site or to get back into their vehicle to leave. So van accessibility is going to be really important for some people. When I'm writing reviews, I include how many accessible spaces are available, and whether or not they are van accessible.
I also check if there's a clear path from the accessible parking to the entrance of the site, because on occasion there will be a curb with no ramp from the parking area onto a sidewalk, or there will be large boulders that surround a parking area to keep vehicles out, but sometimes the space between boulders may be too narrow for some folks to get through, especially with a wheelchair.
For restrooms, I look at how many restrooms there are and where they are. Most places just have one or two by the parking area, but some sites will have additional restrooms farther in, which can make it a more comfortable and enjoyable visit for those with bladder and bowel conditions. I also check for steps and stairs or other obstacles that you'd have to climb to access the restroom, even small details like a several inch step up into a porta-potty. In my experience, the restrooms are usually ADA accessible and will be large enough to maneuver a wheelchair and have bars beside the toilet, so I double check that too. And lastly, I like to check the doors. Some doors are really heavy, and it can be very difficult to open a heavy door from a wheelchair or when you have muscle weakness.
Paths
Now let's talk about paths. Paths do not have to be concrete or asphalt in order to be accessible; they just need to be a firm and relatively smooth surface. Each type of path material has their pros and cons, and which path material is best really depends on the disabled person that is using them. For example, asphalt and concrete might be preferred by some wheelchair users, but for someone like me with chronic leg pain, hard surfaces like that are really hard on my body and cause pain flares very quickly. So dirt and natural paths are great for people like me, but dirt paths are very susceptible to the elements, so they can have a lot of wear and tear with bumps and low spots that might become soft and muddy in the rain, where it could get slippery or difficult to use a wheelchair. Boardwalks can be great, but again, with wear and tear, there may be uneven boards that can cause a tripping hazard. Gravel is used quite a bit to make paths, but not all gravel is created equally. There's a large chunky type of gravel that gets used a lot around here that’s perfectly fine for most people, but it's very difficult to wheel through it when you're using a manual wheelchair- I know from personal experience.
My favorite type of pathway material is a very finely crushed gravel; it's somewhere between the size of sand and those little pebbles you put in fish tanks. It’s wheelchair accessible, while not being too hard on the body like asphalt is, and there won't be soft spots in the rain like with dirt paths or have tripping hazards like boardwalks. It does need to be maintained, but that maintenance is much easier than something like asphalt, where if it cracks or has a lot of holes or bumps, you basically have to rip it up and replace the whole thing. And the other thing I love about finely crushed gravel is that it blends into nature very nicely and it's not an eye sore like concrete. I think we all want to feel immersed in nature and away from a concrete jungle, and disabled people do too!
So the type of material and the condition of the material is important. I also look for obstacles in the path, like tree roots and large rocks. I’ve also seen rough transitions on and off bridges where there's a several inch lip, and at one place I visited there was this artistic diamond shaped piece of wood that sticks up off the ground several inches and intersects the trail multiple times. These are all potential tripping hazards, so it's good information to know in advance for people who maybe have low vision or are more prone to tripping. Also, picking up your feet can be difficult and exhausting for some people, and it can actually change the difficulty level of a trail if there are a lot of obstacles in the path.
I also take notes on steps and stairs, how many there are and where. I also look for hills and take notes on how relatively steep they are. Two things that Syren of Disabled Hikers does in their hiking trail reviews that I wish I had done in mine, is measuring the slope of the hills, and the width of the paths. But at the very least I tried to give a relative width and specified if a path was very wide at about five feet or more, somewhere around the width of a sidewalk- about three to four feet wide, or a narrow 12 to 18 inch game trail.
Lastly for paths, I always include the distance from the parking area to the point of interest. Usually that information is available online or at an onsite map, but if I can't find that information anywhere else, then I measure it on Google maps.
Benches, Signage, and Miscellaneous
For benches, I count the number of benches along the path and note whether or not they have a back support on them, since some people will need to rest their upper body as well as their lower body. I also really like to measure the distance between benches, because this is personally my biggest access need in outdoor spaces. For most of the places I reviewed, I was able to see the benches on Google maps to estimate the distance between them, but that doesn't always work, so I at least note the number of benches along with the total distance of the path, and if the benches appear to be evenly spaced or if there's particularly long gaps between benches.
Accessibility can also mean having well marked trails. Are there signs that point where to go and maybe how far to the point of interest? Are there unmarked offshoots and splits off of the main path where someone could mistakenly turn and get lost? Are the signs in an obvious place and not tucked away behind vegetation or up on some tree? It's important that someone with cognitive issues like me won't get lost and confused, but also for someone with low vision to be able to locate those signs and navigate the trails on their own. Fun fact: there are actually some outdoor spaces that have signs with braille, and I think it’s a wonderful reminder that we should never make assumptions about what disabled people can or cannot do.
Alright, those are the big things that I am aware of: parking, restrooms, paths, benches, and signage, but I also wanted to mention a few other miscellaneous details that I included in my reviews: Any strong smells, like if a hiking trail is next to a landfill. If there's particularly loud noises, like a state park that's right next to a shooting range or a highway. If it's a popular site with big crowds, especially if there's not a lot of room to move around. I've also taken notes on signs that warn about wild animals or toxic algae.
Really, just any additional details that I notice that might be helpful for someone to know beforehand. I try to keep as many people in mind as possible when I'm doing reviews. You know, we often think about physical disabilities, especially mobility related ones, but we don't always think about the person with multiple chemical sensitivities or PTSD or fibromyalgia and what access needs they might have. We obviously won't be able to predict the information that every person needs, but we can strive to gather as much information as we can to help as many people as possible.
Additional Access Issues
There are also some other access issues that people might not typically think of as access issues. Like money, for example. Cost can absolutely be a barrier to outdoor recreation, whether that's entrance fees, day use fees, season passes, or equipment and gear. I also find that the ticket system that they have in the Pacific Northwest- where you have to make reservations to go to an outdoor space weeks or even months in advance- is an access issue because it requires chronically ill people to predict how they're going to be feeling six weeks beforehand.
Another access issue is access to information online, which, of course, is why I did the reviews in the first place, because without detailed and accurate site information, it can be difficult for disabled people to determine if a site is even accessible for them, so it's hard to make plans or know if the trip will be safe and enjoyable.
Which brings me to the last thing I wanted to mention: I also take notes on the enjoyment of the site, including views and activities available at that location. Just because a site is accessible, doesn't mean it's worth visiting. I think some people assume that disabled folks should just be grateful that there's a .1 mile ADA accessible trail that leads to basically nothing, because “hey, at least it's accessible”. But disabled people deserve access to stunning views and a variety of recreation opportunities just like non-disabled people. So I like to provide that information as well, so people can decide if a site is worth the money or two hour drive or the pain flare that comes after.
Examples
So if we put all of this information together, in general, good examples of accessibility would include: multiple van-accessible parking spaces, a clear path from the parking area to the entrance and bathrooms, multiple ADA accessible public restrooms, a flat wide path free of obstacles going to each point of interest, no steps or stairs, or if there are stairs then there's also a ramp, any inclines and declines are gradual, benches with back support every 200-600 feet, and paths that are well marked with arrows to each point of interest.
And in general, examples of inaccessibility could include: no dedicated accessible parking, or accessible parking without any van-accessibility, large boulders that are too close together blocking the parking lot from the entrance, no public restrooms, or restrooms that have steps or stairs, a path that is very narrow and uneven with bumps and low spots, a lot of obstacles like tree roots and rocks,, stairs and no ramps, unnecessarily steep hills, no benches along the path or benches that are a half mile apart, and zero signage, especially when there are multiple paths, splits, and offshoots.
So those are some of the things that can make an outdoor space accessible or inaccessible for disabled people. Now I'll share some actual, real life examples to better demonstrate how some of these issues might affect a disabled person. These are things that I have either personally been affected by or noticed when I was going through my reviews; things that could potentially be issues for some people that I would want them to be aware of before their visit..
Earlier, I mentioned access to information online, and one of my biggest pet peeves is not when there's missing information online, but when there's incorrect or misleading information online, especially when it sets the expectation that a site is accessible, or more specifically, wheelchair or ADA accessible, but in reality, it's not. A great example of this is a state park near me that the US Forest Service website lists as ADA accessible, but it has no accessible parking, no benches, and quite literally no trail; just an ADA accessible bathroom.
There's a popular nature trail close to town that is praised for being "accommodating to wheelchairs”, because it has a fairly flat and wide trail. However, there is no protected van-accessible parking, just one tiny accessible parking sign that non-disabled folks frequently ignore and block by parking their cars on either side, leaving no way for a wheelchair user to get out of their vehicle to even access that path. Plus, no way to get to the restroom because then the path to the restroom is blocked too.
This is not an uncommon issue. I've seen quite a few places that have accessible parking but not van accessibility, even though the rest of the site might be wheelchair or ADA accessible.
Every website and blog also claims that this nature trail has "plenty of benches", but I had to find out the hard way that there is no bench for the first half mile, and at best one bench per quarter mile after that. For comparison, that's about 4 times farther between benches than other sites I've visited. Another park nearby is described on a trail guide app as having "plenty of benches", but out of more than a mile of trail, there are only two benches- and they're right next to each other. There are some public outdoor spaces that have zero benches, and I've had to leave some places much earlier than I wanted to because I didn't have anywhere to rest, or I hurt myself because the benches were so few and far between. And some people might say, “just sit on the ground”- and I do, but it gets tiring dealing with people staring at you all the time, and while I can get down on the ground and back up, not everybody can, and that's the point.
Another example is a wildlife refuge near me that used to have a van accessible parking space in front of the entrance to the wheelchair accessible trail. Well, the spring flooding came through one year and absolutely destroyed the area between the parking and entrance, so now there's just this huge hole and mess of broken concrete and rocks in front of the entrance.
It's been like that in the 8 years that I've been visiting, and on their website, there's no update or mention of this entire area now being inaccessible to wheelchair users, rollator users, and other disabled folks. Conditions change, that's to be expected, but again, the frustration comes in when it's left like that for years with no fix and no update to that information online.
Inaccessibility and obstacles don't always have to be as big and obvious as a giant hole in the ground, sometimes it's something very small. There's a trail to a wildlife viewing blind in my area that has a narrow footbridge over a creek that you have to cross in order to get to the site.
For some disabled people, especially wheelchair users, this little detail renders the entire site completely inaccessible to them, so that's something I would want people to be aware of ahead of time, especially if they're driving an hour or two to get there.
It can be really frustrating finding out halfway through a site that it's not accessible for you, but especially when that site claims to be accessible and initially appears to be accessible. There's a historic site near me that has van accessible parking, ADA accessible restrooms, and what initially appears to be a mostly flat trail. Then halfway to the historic site, you cross a bridge, and on the other side, there's a hill coming down off of that bridge that is so steep that it would be difficult, unsafe, or maybe even impossible for some disabled folks to traverse by themselves. If disabled people can't even reach the point of interest, then there's no point in even going there.
Many spaces have not taken disabled folks into consideration, some will make half-assed attempts at accessibility then don't maintain them, and few spaces have done it well.
Another example is something I personally experienced while visiting Glacier National Park in 2017. I was on one of their two allegedly wheelchair accessible trails in my manual wheelchair when I ran into several steep three foot drops that were impossible for me to navigate alone, so I had to get help from my husband to lean the chair back and wheel me down slowly. Note: a disabled person should be able to safely navigate the trail independently. If they need assistance, then it's not accessible. Even after getting assistance with the first part of the trail, the trail then became too narrow and too crowded to accommodate me in my wheelchair, so I could not make it to the one waterfall that was allegedly accessible by wheelchair.
When something like this happens close to home, it's disappointing but you can try going somewhere else in the area the following weekend, however, when you're traveling out of town or out of state, you only get one shot at picking which places to visit based on information you find online, which as we've discussed is not always reliable.
On a trip to the Oregon coast in 2021, I visited a beach that people claimed was "accessible", but I showed up to find you have to first climb up and over a giant mound of sand in order to get to the "accessible" beach. I struggled over the sand mountain with my crutches as about 100 people stared at my legs, and I used way more of my very limited energy than I had planned on using on the very first day of our trip. A few days later we visited a hiking trail that I thought was within my abilities and my two mile maximum range. Reviews online simply said this trail was "easy", and failed to mention the more than 200 stairs on the trail you have to go up and down both ways, completely changing the difficulty level of the trail and my ability to safely hike it. I have to be extremely careful about choosing which trails to hike, because if I overdo it, my legs will just stop working. You don't want that to happen when you're a mile into the woods.
Additional Thoughts on Outdoor Accessibility
Disabled people can get physically injured as a result of incorrect information, but it's also just so disappointing and frustrating when you think you've found a site that's accessible for you and it's not, especially because this happens to disabled people over and over again. It makes you feel unwelcome and excluded and like you don't belong in the outdoors. And to pour salt in those wounds, people will write descriptions for those trails that say things like, "this trail is so easy a child could do it". I do understand what people are trying to communicate when they say that, but it's not a super helpful or specific description, and it's a bit of a punch to the gut every time I read it. So my primary goal in writing reviews is to give people the neutral, non-judgmental, accurate, and detailed information they need in order to have a safe and positive experience at that location, or to help them determine that the site is not a good fit for them so they can find a site that is.
And listen, I'm not expecting 20 mile hiking trails deep in the mountains to have perfectly flat paths and benches every 500 feet. I mean, someday that’d be nice-- but what I'm talking about here are state parks, historical sites, wildlife refuges, forest preserves, certain areas in national parks. These are public outdoor spaces that are intended for use by the general public, and so I do have an expectation of equity in these places and I hold them to a higher standard. Disabled people should have equal access to these spaces- the same as anybody else.
Plus, accessibility benefits everyone. It's not just disabled people that enjoy flat wide paths, or use benches and bathrooms, or benefit from clear signage; everybody does. And ultimately, we all eventually become disabled if we live long enough. I wish people would think about this from that perspective- knowing that someday they too will be disabled. How will you feel when one day your body can't do everything you used to be able to do? Do you want the access you need to continue doing the things you love? Or do you want the world to give you the middle finger and tell you that you can just stay at home until you die? Because that's exactly what we do to disabled people right now about a lot of things (*ahem* COVID).
It's not our disabilities keeping us from the outdoors, it's often the lack of accessibility. And someday I would love to have consistency in accessibility in public outdoor spaces, to have a standard in how we do paths and benches and signage, but in the meantime I’d at least like to have accurate and detailed site information available, so that everyone can find a space to enjoy outdoor recreation.
This is not an exhaustive list of access needs in the outdoors and again, I am not an expert. I'm just some guy on the internet and this is some of the information I’ve learned from my own experiences and from some amazing people in the disabled community. I am not the first person to talk about this and I am certainly not the only; I am just one person in a whole group of people across the world who are talking about this, and the more people who are discussing it the better. This is a collaboration, as should everything be when it comes to the disabled community, because we all have different disability experiences and let's face it, none of us have the spoons to do this shit alone.
Share your stories, talk about your access needs, brainstorm ideas for a more accessible tomorrow that go beyond the basics and the minimum. Consider donating to organizations like Disabled Hikers to support their work, or include accessibility information in your next Google review. And finally, my dear disabled friends, don't be afraid to let people see you existing in the outdoors as a disabled person. Show them that we belong here too. And please know that you will not be alone, because your community is right here cheering you on.
Nature is for all of us.
“If Disabled people want to do fuckshit, they should be able to do it accessibly” -Imani Barbarin
To read more about why I started writing reviews, check out this blog post from last year: www.disabledinthewild/blog/why-im-writing-reviews-for-local-outdoor-spaces
