As a self-righteous twenty year old, I spoke indignantly
about the harmful environmental impact of jet skis, the stupidity of cats being
given anti-depressants, my annoyance with RVs, and the people who camped with
big tents and lots of paraphernalia.
But, the truth is that I have always loved riding jet skis, my cat will
probably soon be on Prozac, I would love to have an outfitted RV for future
travels, and I now enjoy car camping with a huge tent and enough stuff to
warrant a car top carrier. You
grow up. And you do what you have
to do.
When I lost the use of my legs, I thought I had also lost
the wilderness in my life. With a
concentrated effort of creativity and flexibility, along with a good dose of
humility, I found my way back into camping again. After years of experimentation and adaptation, I finally
found a set-up that works for me. Backpacking
might no longer be possible (although I still haven’t given up on the idea of
wheelchair backpacking), but camping near a car was definitely feasible. Yes, I was returning to car-camping!
At first we stuck to developed campgrounds in state or
national parks. These generally
offer at least one accessible campsite next to an accessible restroom. Ideally that campsite has a flat
site with a flat tent space and a picnic table with part of the bench cut away
to make space for a wheelchair.
The restroom offers flat entry, at least one larger stall with bars, and
sometimes a larger shower with a seat.
Of course, at times there are illogical details that ruin the
accessibility, such as a tent platform that is raised several inches above the
campsite ground. Or the road
between the accessible campsite and the accessible restroom is itself not
accessible. In such
cases, the unconventional problem-solving skills of MacGyver (including the
stand-by supply of plywood and duct tape) are required.
We soon graduated to camping in less-developed and even
unmaintained areas, bringing its own set of challenges. Creativity and flexibility became even
more important, as we had to search for a site that I could get to and around,
paying attention to access and obstacles, as well as to ground surface and
incline. Creativity also comes
into play when cooking and eating at a non-accessible picnic table – or possibly
no table at all.
We started with our old three-person tent, sleeping on the ground. Gravity helped me down and my husband
helped me up. We soon discovered the
wheelchair-accessible Freedom Tent from Eureka. This tent (no longer in production, unfortunately) comes
with a non-threshold vestibule for storing the wheelchair and side openings for
better positioning when entering the tent. Gravity and assistance were still my means to get down and
up, however, so the situation – however much improved – was still not ideal.
Solving the problem of transferring between the wheelchair
and sleeping bag, we bought a double cot, which was the height of my wheelchair
and was sturdy enough for transfers.
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Glacier Tent by Browning |
In order to fit the cot, we bought a huge tent. It seems that tent size corresponds
with age in a parabolic curve. The
younger and older you are, the larger your tent. My tent is large enough to accommodate a double cot, my wheelchair,
and all of our personal gear. It has
doors on both sides, allowing both people to exit from their own side, which is
important, since the cot uses up the entire tent length, wall to wall. I am able to roll over the door’s threshold
by holding it down with the carpet we’d taken from the floor of the car’s
trunk, storing it rolled up in the tent when not in use. All of this is brilliant, of course, as
long as you don’t care about carrying large, heavy objects. Yes, we are now the ones car-camping in the huge tent!
Along with the tent and cot, the other big consideration for
wheelchair camping is the toilet. You
simply can’t rely on finding accessible toilets, stalls, and restrooms wherever
you want to stop, and many times there is no restroom at all. When you can no longer squat in the
woods, a simple activity becomes exceedingly complicated and limiting. For women it is doubly complicated. This issue became a special concern of
mine last fall, as we prepared for a road trip from Seattle to the Arctic
Circle via the Canadian Yukon and Northwest Territories, both of which have
almost no accessible restrooms and long stretches of road with no restrooms at
all.
With these new toys and an able-bodied companion, I am able
to camp in developed campgrounds and undeveloped forest wilderness. Yes, it is car-camping, and yes, I have
a big tent. But, I am camping. And I am starting to wonder about an
accessible RV…
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