Accessibility in Japan: What Happens When It’s Just Standard
Traveling somewhere new always changes how I notice things, but my recent trip to Japan made me pay attention in a different way—especially when it comes to accessibility.
One of the first things I noticed was the tactile paving. It wasn’t just in a few places—it was everywhere. Train stations, sidewalks, street crossings—it created this continuous path of navigation for people with visual impairments. What stood out to me wasn’t just that it existed, but how consistent it was. You didn’t have to wonder if it would suddenly disappear or stop being helpful. It was reliable. And that kind of consistency matters more than we often realize because it allows people to move through spaces with more confidence and independence.
There were also a lot of auditory cues built into public spaces. In train stations and near restrooms, there were announcements that helped orient you—letting you know where things were without having to search for signage. Even street crossings had audible signals. It made everything feel more intuitive. And again, it didn’t feel like a special feature—it just felt like how things were designed.
Bathrooms were another area where I kept having these “why don’t we do this?” moments. Automatic pocket doors were standard, which made getting in and out way easier. Bidets were everywhere, which might not always get talked about in accessibility conversations, but they matter. They can make a big difference in allowing someone to manage hygiene independently.
And then there were things I almost never see in the U.S. At one bus station, there was an adult-sized changing table. That stopped me for a second. It’s such a simple concept, but it reflects a level of awareness that’s often missing. There were also built-in child seats in bathroom stalls, which might seem small, but make a huge difference for parents or caregivers.
What really stuck with me, though, is that none of this felt over the top. It didn’t feel like extra effort or special accommodations. It just felt normal. And because of that, it wasn’t just benefiting people with disabilities—it was helping a much wider group of people. Older adults, families, people traveling with luggage…everyone.
In the U.S., accessibility is often treated like something extra—something you add on if you have the budget or are required to. But in Japan, it felt more like a baseline expectation. Not perfect, but built in.
It left me thinking about how different our spaces could feel if we approached accessibility the same way—not as an afterthought, but as just part of good design.
How Outdoor Organizations Can Better Support Neurodivergent Employees
Neurodivergent employees—autistic people, folks with ADHD, etc—bring incredible creativity, problem-solving, and perspectives to outdoor organizations, parks departments, and government agencies. They often can see the world differently simply because their brains work differently, ultimately leading to better solutions. But the truth is, many workplaces unintentionally make their jobs harder than they need to be. Even employees with low support needs can burn out quickly when the environment is confusing, overstimulating, or unpredictable. Research shows that neurodivergent adults are at a much higher risk for workplace stress and burnout, and small, intentional adjustments can make a huge difference.
Today we are going to go through 5 ways to make life easier and reduce the rate of turnover in your organization. This will help people who are neurodivergent, but much like all accommodations, it really helps all your employees.
One of the simplest ways to help is writing things down. Verbal instructions or “we talked about it” moments may seem fine, but they require a lot of extra mental energy to remember and decode. Providing written instructions—on projects, tasks, and expectations—gives employees a reference they can come back to and reduces constant guesswork.
Meetings are another common energy drain. Surprise check-ins or long, unstructured meetings force people to think on the spot and navigate social cues while trying to stay engaged. Shorter, fewer meetings, with agendas shared ahead of time, allow neurodivergent employees to prepare and focus their energy on the work itself rather than processing the meeting dynamics.
Clear expectations are just as important. Instead of assuming employees know what “good” or “done” looks like, spell it out. Give concrete criteria, examples, or deadlines. Ambiguity is exhausting—especially when people are trying to meet both the stated goals and the “unspoken” expectations.
Feedback also matters—and it needs to be specific. Comments like “be more approachable” or critiques about tone don’t tell someone what to do differently. Feedback should focus on observable behaviors, concrete results, and actionable next steps. Personality isn’t the problem—process is.
Lastly, simply create time in your systems for everyone to process information or directions. Employers can often mistake processing time for disengagement, which is not correct. The neurodivergent brain simply needs more time to make connections and come up with solutions. Build that time in.
At the heart of all this is a simple idea: neurodivergent brains can burn more energy navigating unclear environments. Every unclear email, ambiguous goal, or unexpected meeting adds up. Structuring work in a way that reduces unnecessary mental load helps employees focus on what really matters: doing meaningful work, contributing their skills, and helping the organization succeed.
The great thing is, these adjustments aren’t complicated or expensive. Written instructions, clear expectations, fewer surprises, and thoughtful feedback can be built into everyday processes. And the payoff is huge: less burnout, more engagement, better retention, and employees who feel respected and supported.
Creating workplaces where neurodivergent employees can thrive doesn’t mean lowering standards—it means removing barriers so people can do their best work. When outdoor organizations, nonprofits, and government agencies intentionally design for cognitive diversity, everyone benefits: staff, the mission, and the people who enjoy the spaces you manage.
Traveling with a Disability
I’m about to leave for a long vacation I’ve been planning for quite some time. It should feel purely exciting. But if I’m honest, I notoriously get anxious about travel—specifically the logistics of travel.
I’m the person who gets to the airport very early to make sure I don’t miss my flight. I check the gate repeatedly. I’m packed, ready, and standing near the boarding line long before my group is called. It’s not glamorous. It’s just how I cope with the uncertainty of airports.
This week, as I’ve been preparing for my trip, I’ve been struck by how much more complicated air travel is for people with disabilities.
Will my wheelchair be handled safely?
Will airline staff know how to assist me?
What are my rights if something goes wrong?
A good friend of mine was competing in the World Championships for Adaptive CrossFit when an airline damaged their wheelchair—the very chair they planned to compete in, and the one they rely on to move through the world every single day.
Can you imagine arriving at your destination and the airline has effectively taken away your legs? How do you suddenly navigate a new city without the equipment that gives you independence?
So let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about why air travel can be so stressful for people with disabilities—and what legal protections actually exist.
History
If you are one of the people who think disabled people are “lucky” or “have it easy” because they get to board early, prepare to learn more. Before the Air Carrier Access Act was passed, commercial airlines were free to treat people with disabilities however they chose. There was no federal requirement to accommodate passengers with disabilities, and policies varied widely between carriers—meaning airlines could effectively refuse to board someone simply because they used a wheelchair, require them to purchase a companion ticket, or delay assistance without consequence. The inconsistency sometimes left people with disabilities stranded or excluded from travel, and there were no procedural safeguards for assistive devices or trained staff to handle them. Disability advocates, frustrated by this patchwork of discriminatory practices, organized campaigns, testified before Congress, and fought for clear federal standards. Their efforts led to the ACAA’s passage in 1986, which prohibited disability-based discrimination in air travel and laid the groundwork for access that millions now rely on.
Your Rights: The Air Carrier Access Act
Let’s dive deeper into what the Air Carrier Access Act (ACAA) actually is. This federal law prohibits airlines from discriminating against passengers with disabilities. It requires airlines to provide assistance with boarding and deplaning, transport mobility devices, and make reasonable accommodations so people with disabilities can access air travel.
In 2024, the U.S. Department of Transportation under the Joe Biden administration pushed it further to address the exact problem my friend had with damage to his wheelchair from air travel. These updates—often referred to as the “Wheelchair Rule”—required better staff training, clearer standards for safe transfers, and stronger accountability when wheelchairs were damaged or delayed. For many in the disability community, this felt like long-overdue recognition that a wheelchair isn’t luggage—it’s part of someone’s body and independence.
Unfortunately, as is clearly a theme, in 2025, under the Donald Trump administration, the U.S. Department of Transportation paused enforcement of key parts of that rule after legal challenges from airlines. Some of the accountability measures—like stronger financial consequences for damaged wheelchairs—were put on hold. The core protections of the ACAA still stand, but the rollback of newer enforcement measures has left many travelers concerned about consistency and oversight.
If Something Goes Wrong
For those who use wheelchairs or other specialized devices, it is recommended you take pictures of your device prior to getting on the airline to document the current condition. If you run into barriers or feel your rights aren’t being respected, ask for the airline’s Complaints Resolution Official (CRO). Every airline is required to have one available to address disability-related concerns. You can also file a complaint with the U.S. Department of Transportation after your trip.
Air travel shouldn’t require extra bravery. While policy changes have created uncertainty—especially for wheelchair users—knowing your rights, documenting your equipment, and advocating clearly can make a difference. Flying with a disability shouldn’t mean lowering expectations. It should mean being prepared, informed, and supported along the way. Contact your representatives to demand accountability for damaged wheelchairs and other assistive devices from airlines and reinstate the full protections of the Wheelchair Rule. And good luck out there exploring this beautiful world.
Emotional Support Animals vs. ADA-Protected Service Animals: Why the Confusion Is Hurting Everyone
Let’s be honest: most people think they understand the difference between emotional support animals and service animals — but what’s happening in public spaces tells a very different story. That confusion isn’t harmless. It’s actively making life harder for people who rely on legitimate service animals protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).
Under the ADA, a service animal is very narrowly defined. It’s not just an animal that helps someone feel better emotionally. A service animal is a dog that has been individually trained to perform specific tasks directly related to a person’s disability. Those tasks might include guiding someone who is blind, alerting a person who is deaf, detecting seizures, providing mobility support, or interrupting panic attacks through trained behavior. The key word here is trained. Comfort alone does not qualify.
An emotional support animal (ESA), by definition, is an animal that provides emotional or psychological benefit simply by its presence. ESAs are not required to have specialized training, and they do not perform disability-specific tasks. Instead, they are typically prescribed or recommended by a licensed healthcare or mental health professional as part of a treatment plan for conditions like anxiety, depression, or PTSD.
That difference in function is exactly why ESAs are treated differently under the law. Emotional support animals are not protected under the ADA and therefore do not have the right to access public spaces such as restaurants, grocery stores, or ride-share vehicles. Their legal protections fall under other laws — most notably the Fair Housing Act — which may allow ESAs in housing situations where pets are normally restricted. That is a separate process with separate documentation and requirements, and it does not translate to public access rights.
Because disability is personal and often invisible, the ADA tightly restricts what businesses can ask when someone enters with a service animal. If it’s not obvious what the animal does, staff may only ask two questions:
Is this a service animal required because of a disability?
What specific work or task has the animal been trained to perform?
They cannot ask for paperwork, certification, or proof, and they cannot ask about the person’s diagnosis. Service animals may but do not need to wear a signifying vest or indicator that they are a service animal. These protections are essential — but they rely on people using the system honestly.
In recent years, misuse of service animal language has become common. People bring untrained pets into public spaces, label them as emotional support animals, and then insist those animals are protected by the ADA. The result is animals barking, lunging, climbing on furniture, or behaving unpredictably — behavior that is explicitly not allowed for real service animals. While the ADA permits businesses to remove animals that are out of control or not housebroken, many staff members don’t feel empowered or educated enough to do so.
The fallout from this confusion lands squarely on legitimate service animal handlers. A widely shared example comes from the creators MatthewandPaul. Paul Castle, who is legally blind, has publicly described being kicked out of a Seattle restaurant because staff didn’t believe his guide dog was legitimate, telling him he “didn’t look blind.” He has also shared experiences of Uber rides being canceled once drivers realized he had a service dog — something many disabled riders say happens far too often.
When misuse becomes visible, trust disappears. Businesses become defensive. Drivers become skeptical. And people with real, highly trained service animals are forced to constantly defend their right to exist in public spaces. Michael Stone, a blind paralympic skier and triathlete, tells his story of hiking with his guide dog with his white cane and being told “Guess you think you own the trail then!” This defensiveness can make real people not only feel unsafe, but actually BE unsafe as Mike has reported multiple dangerous interactions with the public.
Emotional support animals are valid and important — but they are a different category, with a different purpose and a different legal process. Treating them as interchangeable with service animals doesn’t expand access. It undermines it. And the people who pay the price are the ones the ADA was designed to protect in the first place.
Values-Based Leadership When the Ground Feels Unsteady
I started my company to work alongside people who are too often left out of outdoor spaces—people with disabilities and others who have been told, directly or indirectly, that nature wasn’t designed for them. That purpose hasn’t changed. But the world around it has.
Right now, leadership feels heavier. Public conversations about who belongs and who owns this country are loud, polarizing, and often violent. When your work intentionally centers people with the least power, those conversations are not theoretical. They affect funding, policy, partnerships, and daily interactions. They raise the stakes of every decision.
I’ll be honest—there are moments when I struggle. Not because I question the mission, but because the pressure to respond quickly can pull you away from responding thoughtfully. In those moments, I don’t rely on instinct alone. I rely on values—and the systems built around them.
The values that guide our work
My company is grounded in four core values: inclusion in nature, excellence, self-efficacy, and joy. These values function as decision-making tools, not just ideals.
Inclusion in nature asks who is missing and what barriers are in the way.
Excellence ensures accessibility is done well, with accountability and respect.
Self-efficacy keeps the focus on independence and agency, not dependency.
Joy reminds us that access is not just about removing barriers, but about belonging and meaning.
Alongside these are my personal values: justice, reliability, and independence. Justice keeps fairness at the center, even when it’s uncomfortable. Reliability reflects a commitment to trust, especially with communities that have been excluded before. Independence grounds how I lead—through critical thinking, transparency, and steadiness.
Leaning on systems when decisions get hard
Values-based leadership doesn’t mean every decision is obvious. It means you’ve built systems that help you pause when emotions run high.
I often ask:
Does this decision reduce barriers or reinforce them?
Who benefits, and who might be harmed?
Are we acting from urgency or from alignment?
Would this choice still feel right in a different political moment?
When the world feels unstable, these questions matter. They help ensure decisions are rooted in purpose, not fear.
Moving forward with steadiness
Values-based leadership is not about perfection. It’s about consistency—returning to your values even when external pressure makes it harder to do so.
For me, that means continuing to choose inclusion, excellence, self-efficacy, and joy, guided by justice, reliability, and independence. Especially now.
Because when times are tough, values are not abstract. They are the systems that keep us grounded—and the way we ensure we’re making the right decisions for the right reasons.
Thinking About Ice Climbing? Start with Ouray and Lake City
I don’t know about you, but this time of year, all I want to do is get back outside to climb. We’ve been lucky with warmer weather lingering a bit longer, which has stretched the fall climbing season, but the shorter days make it harder to get out and explore after work. For me, this is usually the point in the year when I start shifting my focus to winter objectives — and over the past few years, that’s meant becoming more curious about ice climbing.
Winter in Colorado brings a different kind of energy to the mountains. For ice climbers, it means frozen waterfalls, early starts, and towns like Ouray and Lake City coming alive in ways that are deeply tied to community, learning, and access.
Lake City Ice Park may be small, but it punches well above its weight. With a dense collection of routes packed into a walkable area, it’s long been a favorite for climbers looking for variety without big approaches. Recently, Lake City has also gained attention for its accessible ice climbing park, which has become a draw for adaptive climbers from across the country. As Rocky Mountain Community Radio’s Laura Palmisano reported, climbers with disabilities are choosing Lake City because the terrain and layout allow for real adaptations — not just in theory, but in practice. For many, it’s a place where ice climbing feels possible rather than out of reach.
Over in Ouray, the scale is bigger but the intention is similar. Ouray Ice Park is internationally known for its concentration of routes just minutes from town, and learning is central to the culture there. Guide services, clinics, and festivals help new climbers build skills in a supportive environment.
Image via Ouray Ice Park of Saturday’s Schedule
This year’s Ice (less) Fest reflects that mindset. With warm temperatures limiting ice formation, the festival pivoted to offer dry tooling, systems, and skills-based clinics — and there are still clinic spots available. Instead of canceling outright, the community adapted and kept the focus on education and connection. If you were planning on attending the festival, please consider going forward with your plans and adapting to other activities as needed. Both Ouray and Lake City are small towns whose economy relies on tourism. Visitors coming for clinics, festivals, or accessible climbing opportunities stay in local lodging, eat at local restaurants, rent gear, and hire guides. Please support this investment by supporting their local economy.
That accessibility is reinforced by organizations that focus on helping people get started. Paradox Sports is one of the most visible groups offering adaptive ice climbing clinics and trips in Colorado, connecting climbers with instructors who understand both technique and adaptation. Other organizations, such as Adaptive Adventures, also support climbers with disabilities through instruction, equipment, and community-based programming. These groups lower the barrier to entry, especially for people who are new to ice climbing or navigating disability in outdoor spaces that haven’t always been welcoming.
Whether you’re curious about your first ice climb, looking for adaptive-friendly opportunities, or wanting to support mountain towns doing thoughtful work, Lake City and Ouray offer more than ice. They offer examples of how access, education, and community can shape winter recreation that works for more people — and that’s something worth showing up for.
Tennessee State Parks Make Trails Easier to Navigate
Tennessee State Parks just made it a whole lot easier to plan your next outdoor adventure. They’ve rolled out new trail signs and online information at several parks across the state. Following in the footsteps of the National Park Service, visitors now get detailed information about trail grade, slope, width, surface type, and obstacles — all the specifics that help you decide which trail fits your needs before you even step foot on it.
Photo Credit from TN Department of Environment and Conservation
For visitors using wheelchairs or reserving all-terrain chairs (available at many parks at no cost), this information is a game-changer. No more guesswork, no surprises — just a clear picture of what each trail offers.
The update is powered by the High-Efficiency Trail Assessment Process (HETAP), a technology-first system that measures trail length, grade, and potential obstructions. Tennessee is the first state to use HETAP this way, as part of TDEC’s Access 2030 initiative, which aims to make Tennessee the most accessible state park system in the nation. The Tennessee State Parks Conservancy helped make it happen by purchasing one of the HETAP units to support the effort.
Photo Credit from TN Department of Environment and Conservation
These new signs also reflect elements I discussed earlier in my blog about clear signage. Bold fonts, high-contrast colors, and pictograms make the information easy to understand at a glance. QR codes linked for additional information provide alternative ways to access key details., I would love to see if the signs also provide audio tours and/or can accommodating a wide range of sensory or learning needs.
Ideally, this information shouldn’t just live on a land manager’s website — it should be part of a system that helps users easily choose a trail that fits their abilities. Not every visitor with a disability can intuitively understand what a 5% grade feels like or how a 2% cross slope might affect them. Gathering detailed trail data, as Tennessee has done, is a crucial first step, but the next step is equally important: categorizing and presenting that information in a way that’s meaningful to users. I also recommend providing a dedicated flyer or guidebook with additional context, such as tricky sections, points of historical interest, or other details that help visitors feel informed and welcome.
Accessible trails aren’t just a nice-to-have; they’re a way to make outdoor recreation welcoming for everyone. With detailed signage and thoughtful design, Tennessee State Parks is setting a new standard for inclusive outdoor experiences — making it easier than ever to explore, plan, and enjoy the beauty of nature. This is something that all land managers can accomplish.
Accessible Travel - San Diego Zoo
I love to travel, especially when it means visiting friends! San Diego is one of those spots, and on this trip I finally had the chance to visit the San Diego Zoo. I’ve always been an animal person — I even thought about becoming a veterinarian when I was a kid — so zoos have always held a special place for me. I was excited to go, and honestly, I was even more impressed by the accessibility features than I expected. If you’re thinking about visiting the Zoo and you have a disability, there are quite a few things in place that make the day easier and a lot more enjoyable.
First off, they have A LOT of accessible parking. The zoo is a popular place, so it was nice to see the amount of parking available. They do have options to rent a manual or electric wheelchair on a first come, first serve basis for a fee. But, in line with the ADA, you can also use your Other Power Driven Mobility Device (OPDMD) —so not just manual chairs or scooters, but more of your adventure style devices. They have specific parameters in their Accessibility Guidebook but its pretty inclusive.
The Zoo is big, and some parts are hilly, so one thing I appreciated is that the map clearly marks an "accessible route” with a blue dotted line through the grounds that allows you to access points while avoiding the steeper hills. There’s also a complimentary ADA shuttle for people with mobility-related disabilities, which helps with some of the longer or tougher sections.
When it comes to personal care, every restroom on the property is marked as accessible, and there’s also an adult changing station located at Health Services near the Reptile House. I do wish there was more than one option as the Health Services building is in the front, and the zoo is pretty giant, but at least there is an option besides the floor. The zoo staff are not allowed to help you in the bathroom, however if you require support from an attendant or caregiver, the Zoo offers a free admission pass for that person. It’s one less cost to worry about and makes the visit more realistic for people who can’t go alone.
They’ve also put real thought into sensory accessibility. If you’re neurodivergent or traveling with someone who is, the Zoo offers sensory bags that include tools like headphones, fidgets, and visual aids. Around the busier or noisier areas, you’ll find signs letting you know when those tools might be especially helpful. They also have weighted lap pads and an app with social stories to best prepare people for their zoo experience. These are small things that can make a big difference in how the day feels.
Personally, I got a bit overstimulated. It wasn’t all that busy, but I still had a hard time regulating. Seeing the sensory options made me consider getting my own Loop earplugs for things such as this. So many of us ignore those signs of distress simply because we don’t consider it a “disability” but these support services can be helpful for a lot of people.
Overall, the Zoo has done a great job of creating a space where people with different access needs can move around, enjoy the animals, and focus on the experience instead of the barriers. It’s not perfect—no place is—but the information they provide helps you plan ahead and avoid surprises.
My favorite part of the zoo was seeing the otters because they were SO active and playing around. Our 5 year old goddaughter really loved how much they darted back and forth in the water, swimming with glee. But close second was the Aerial Tram. I love being high up, and it offered beautiful views of the tree canopies and some of the animals from above. The tram is accessible if you have a folding wheelchair AND can transfer to the regular gondola seat, but otherwise it is not. I would love to see more opportunities for all visitors to access this, because it is truly breathtaking.
If you’re thinking about visiting the San Diego Zoo, I’d recommend checking out their accessibility guide before you go, deciding whether you want to follow the easiest route, and planning for the hills if they affect your energy or mobility. With a little preparation, the Zoo can be a fun and manageable day out.
Accessible Trails, Inclusive Programs: Why Your Organization Needs Both
Outdoor recreation is more than a perk—it’s a key component of health, community connection, and belonging. Yet far too many trails, parks, and programs leave people with disabilities on the sidelines—because the barriers are built into the system. That’s where I come in.
With over a decade of experience as a physical therapist plus deep engagement in adaptive recreation (for example, for adults with disabilities through organizations like No Barriers USA and Cycling Without Age), I founded Every Body Outside Consulting to support land managers, nonprofits, and outdoor-recreation providers in shifting away from “compliance only” toward meaningful, inclusive design and programming.
Here’s what I can bring to your organization:
1. Education & Training
Whether it’s a half-day workshop or a leadership session, I deliver education sessions tailored to your team’s roles. These go beyond the basics of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) to explore what accessibility really means in outdoor settings—online registration, trailhead access, gear, transportation, signage and more. As one client shared:
“The training was so well received… our staff members left the training inspired to approach their responsibilities with an accessibility-focused mindset.” — Julie Enderby, Larimer County Department of Natural Resources.
2. Program Development for All Abilities
Don’t just bolt on inclusion—build it in. I help you design or refine your programs so that people with mobility, sensory or cognitive disabilities are considered from the start. We cover everything from participant recruitment, adaptive-equipment strategy, emergency action planning, and partnerships with disability-led or inclusive organizations. One testimonial:
“Kelsey has helped No Barriers identify how to better support people affected by disabilities in the Fort Collins and greater Colorado community.” — Emily Bastos, Program Director, No Barriers.
3. Trail & Facility Audits
A trail looks accessible until someone with a mobility device tries it. I use a trail audit tool developed with people with disabilities in Northern Colorado to assess your existing trails, picnic areas, restrooms, parking, route signage, and more. We identify barriers, suggest practical improvements, and translate them into actionable plans aligned with your values and strategic goals. We have done this from the Purgatoire Watershed Partnership down in Trinidad to the City of Greeley Natural Areas.
Why This Matters — And Why Now
Broader impact: Accessible trails and programs serve not only people with disabilities, but older adults, families with strollers, and anyone recovering from injury. Investing here means reaching more people.
Reputation and mission alignment: Your organization has a stake in inclusion, equity, and serving community. Being intentional about accessibility sends a strong signal: “Everyone belongs here.”
Risk mitigation and smart investment: Rather than waiting for a barrier complaint or retrofit scramble, a proactive audit and training ensures you’re ahead of evolving expectations and inclusive practice.
Culture change: Accessibility isn’t just a checkbox—it’s about how your organization thinks, plans and operates. Training and development reinforce that shift.
If You’re Ready for Next Steps
Over the coming year I have a few openings for new partnerships. Whether you’re planning a new trail segment, revisiting your outdoor program strategy, or simply looking to build an inclusive culture in your organization—let’s talk. I’ll work with you to define scope, align with your budget and timeline, and tailor the approach that fits your team.
Send me a message or schedule a quick call. Together, we’ll create outdoor spaces and programs where every body can participate, thrive, and enjoy.
#OutdoorAccessibility #TrailAudit #InclusivePrograms #UniversalDesign #EveryBodyOutside
Finding Freedom Outside: Outdoor Opportunities for the Blind and Visually Impaired in Colorado
Getting outside means something different to everyone. For folks who are blind or have low vision, it can be about independence, trust, and connection — not just with nature, but with the people who make it possible to experience it fully. Here in Colorado, that can look like scaling a cliff with a trusted belayer, using technology to explore a new park, or following a rope along a quiet forest trail.
Adaptive Adventures and Paradox Sports have been doing this work for years — creating spaces where blind and visually impaired climbers can show up, learn, and climb on their own terms. Adaptive Adventures keeps things approachable with clinics and community climbs across the Front Range. I have volunteered for this organization over the years in my home town of Fort Collins where they run climbing nights once a month at Whetstone and Ascent Climbing Gym. Paradox Sports, based in Boulder, builds community through trips and local sessions that mix new climbers, seasoned athletes, and volunteers into one supportive crew. These groups are living proof that outdoor recreation isn’t about ability — it’s about belonging.
photo credit from Colorado Outdoors
The Colorado Center for the Blind has been out there too, literally. Colorado Parks & Wildlife recently helped fund their climbing program, and the story “Reaching New Peaks” in Colorado Outdoors captured one participant’s experience perfectly: “I want people to know that we are just like everyone. Blind people also want to spend time outside. Climb rocks, white river rafting, go to the beach. Heck yeah, let’s do it all. Let’s go surfing!” That quote says it all. The bottom line is we all crave the same thing — freedom and connection in the outdoors.
Cycling is another way people are getting outside together. EyeCycle Colorado pairs blind and visually impaired riders with sighted captains on tandem bikes for group rides all across the Front Range. Their outings range from casual neighborhood spins to long weekend routes, and every ride builds trust and community. It’s not about speed or competition — it’s about movement, freedom, and the shared joy of being on the road with others who get it. They got a ride for New Years Day so there are still opportunities to get out there!
Photo Credit from Boulder Open Space and Mountain Parks
Colorado Parks & Wildlife has also made it easier for blind and low-vision visitors to explore parks independently through Aira, a smartphone-based service that connects users with trained visual interpreters. Aira agents can describe what’s around you, help with directions, or read interpretive signs — all in real time. One user put it simply: the program lets people “explore their neighborhoods, their worlds” with more confidence. It’s small tech with a big impact.
And for those who prefer to move at their own pace, Colorado has some truly special accessible trails. The Braille/Discovery Trail near Aspen has tactile guide ropes and Braille signs that make it easy to explore on your own. Down near Colorado Springs, the VIP Trail at Bear Creek Nature Center offers similar features — rope guides, tactile signs, and smooth surfaces. And in Boulder, the Sensory Trail winds through pine forest and wildflowers, encouraging visitors to notice the smells, sounds, and textures that most of us usually overlook.
photo credit from Eyecycle Colorado
All of these options — from adaptive climbing to sensory trails — show what’s possible when access is built into the design instead of added as an afterthought. Getting outside isn’t about checking a box or overcoming something. It’s about choice, joy, and connection.
So whether you’re clipping into a harness for the first time or just taking a walk to feel the sun and wind, know this: the outdoors belongs to you, too.
If there are specific areas you enjoy that I missed, please let us know so we can share them with the community!
Using Disability as a Cover to Undermine Conservation
And here we go again — another attempt to use “disability access” as a cover to roll back conservation protections.
Senator Mike Lee and Representative John Curtis recently introduced the so-called Outdoor Americans with Disabilities Act. At first glance, it sounds like something worth celebrating. Who wouldn’t want to see more opportunities for people with disabilities to access public lands? The name suggests improvements like accessible water access at reservoirs, better adherence to Forest Service Outdoor Recreation Guidelines, or expanded access for Other Power-Driven Mobility Devices (OPDMDs) like adaptive bikes and Class 2 e-bikes.
But once you dig in, the reality looks very different.
This bill isn’t about increasing access. It’s about building more roads and bypassing the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), all under the guise of helping people with disabilities “drive farther” into protected areas. In short, it uses the language of disability inclusion to push an anti-conservation agenda.
There’s a long and troubling history of this kind of maneuvering — where the idea of “helping” people with disabilities is used as a shield to justify weakening public land protections. In my work, I’ve seen firsthand how this narrative is weaponized. The assumption is that if a policy claims to improve access, it must be good for the disability community. But accessibility and conservation are not opposites. In fact, they depend on each other.
Accessible trails, adaptive recreation programs, and inclusive outdoor spaces thrive in healthy, well-managed ecosystems. Destroying fragile landscapes in the name of access doesn’t create inclusion — it undermines it. It sends the message that the only way people with disabilities can experience nature is by driving over it, rather than engaging with it meaningfully and sustainably.
Yes, a few organizations that specialize in off-highway vehicle (OHV) recreation for people with disabilities have voiced support for this bill. But they do not represent the broader disability or conservation communities, both of which have made their opposition clear. Most of us recognize that this legislation doesn’t address the real barriers to outdoor access: inaccessible infrastructure, poor implementation of accessibility guidelines, and lack of funding for adaptive recreation programs.
As Anneka Williams from Winter Wildlands Alliance put it, “The proposed bill uses adaptive recreation as a scapegoat to further advance an agenda that favors development and unsustainable use of our public lands.” That statement captures the issue perfectly. This is not about disability rights. It’s about dismantling environmental safeguards — and using our community as a convenient excuse.
If lawmakers truly wanted to make outdoor spaces more inclusive, they could start by investing in what actually works. Fund trailhead redesigns that meet accessibility standards. Support adaptive recreation programs that already partner with the Forest Service and local parks. Expand training for land managers on implementing the U.S. Access Board’s Outdoor Guidelines. Those are tangible actions that create real, lasting access.
Accessibility and conservation should always work hand in hand — not against each other. People with disabilities deserve genuine inclusion in outdoor spaces, not to be used as political cover for policies that threaten the very places we’re fighting to protect.
Let’s call this bill what it is: a step backward for both disability access and conservation.
No One Left On Shore
There’s something special about being near water. Many people talk about how calming it is to hear a river flowing or waves crashing against the shore. At the same time, water is powerful — with strong currents and waves that demand respect. That mix of peace and power is what draws us to it.
But for people with disabilities, that experience can slip away. My friend Jim often tells me he misses the simple act of putting his toes in the river, feeling the cold water wash over his feet. These days, his wheelchair can’t make it over the rocks, and even if he got close, transferring out of his chair would be almost impossible.
We all want to see, touch, and hear the water when we spend time outside. The real question is: how do we make sure that experience is possible for everyone?
Why Access is So Hard
Most lakes and rivers are designed for people on foot. Access points often include:
Stairs or steep banks that wheelchairs can’t navigate.
Soft sand, loose gravel, or uneven rocks that make mobility devices unstable.
Changing water levels, especially on rivers, where yesterday’s easy path may be dangerous today.
Equipment Challenges, Many adaptive devices aren’t waterproof, and if they get wet it can damage equipment that’s essential for daily life.
EZ dock Kayak Transfer system (photo credit from EZ Dock)
Adaptive Gear Meets Real-World Barriers
So what is there to do? One option is to rely on adaptive equipment designed for the water.
Beach wheelchairs have large wheels designed for rolling on sand and often can go straight into the water for those who want to swim/float.
Mobi-Mats are firm roll up walkways designed to go on sand or uneven surfaces that can allow wheelchairs, strollers, etc access to the water.
Dock design is essential for making it easier to get on and off watercraft. Thankfully, there are several options that help paddlers of all abilities get into a kayak. One of the most impressive is the EZ Dock system, which combines a loading station, slideboard, and handrails for safe transfers. With this system, the paddler slides onto a transfer board positioned above the kayak seat. Adjustable handles help relieve pressure, the board is removed, and the paddler can safely lower into the kayak.
A similar option is a kayak transfer bench. This bench isn’t permanently attached to the dock and doesn’t include a loading system, so it may require extra equipment and has less universal design. Finally, some docks have tiered benches that allow paddlers to move down step by step until they reach the kayak’s level.
Specialized Equipment like adaptive kayaks with stability features and/or paddle devices allow for more people to get back out on the water. There are also many adaptions for fishing gear for one-handed users and/or different release devices.
River access is especially challenging for many municipalities. Changing water levels and rocky banks make a one-size-fits-all solution impossible. Some of the best approaches I’ve seen include avoiding steps at access points, creating firm surfaces at kayak entry areas, and installing floating or adjustable docks with accessible fishing spots.”
Of course the purchase of this style of equipment is not covered by insurance and would be an out of pocket expense. Many land managers are working toward easing that burden by having equipment available for rent at the location. For instance, Ridgeway State Park has a beach chair and Mobi Mat available for people with disabilities to access their swimming area. They also have adaptive paddle boards available for those interested in exploring a new way to get on the water.
Photo credit from Adaptive Adventures
Programs Leading the Way
Several organizations are already making water recreation possible for more people:
Outdoor Buddies: This is a Fort Collins nonprofit I have talked about before. They specialize in adaptive hunting and fishing, and love to get whole families involved. No matter what difficulties you have, they know how to get you on the water. If you are interested in learning more you could always attend their family days at swift ponds on the Colorado Youth Outdoors campus in east Fort Collins. They even have a floating dock designed to have the immersive experience of fly fishing on campus!
Adaptive Adventures: This organization is based out of Denver and hosts a lot of its programs at Standley Lake and Chatfield Reservoir. If you attend their multisport days you can try out different kayaks and/or stand up paddleboards to see what works best for you. They have a variety of equipment available and have extensive experience working with people of all disabilities.
Fort Collins Adaptive Recreation: Check out your local Parks and Rec departments as they often have programs for adaptive kayaking. The City of Fort Collins partners with organizations like Adaptive Adventures to get their community out on the Reservoir. It is a great chance to try these things out and see what works for you, often at a discounted price.
Closing the Gap
Water has a way of bringing people peace, joy, and connection. Access shouldn’t end at the shoreline. With better design, adaptive equipment, and welcoming programs, we can ensure people with disabilities don’t just watch from the sidelines — they get to be in the water, where they belong.
Take a Seat: What Makes a Bench Accessible (and Actually Enjoyable to Use)
Let’s be honest—sometimes a bench is more than just a bench. On a trail, it’s a sigh of relief, a place to take in the view, or a moment to share snacks with your hiking buddy. But if benches aren’t thoughtfully placed or designed, they can leave out a lot of people who could really use them. That’s where accessibility comes in, and yes, even benches have rules.
According to the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and the Forest Service’s Outdoor Recreation Accessibility Guidelines (FSORAG), benches aren’t just “plop it wherever” pieces of furniture. They’re part of the bigger picture of making the outdoors welcoming to everyone. So let’s break down what makes an accessible bench actually work.
This bench has a nice backrest and is easy to access of the trail, however it does not have a wheelchair spot on the side and has no armrests
Spacing: How Far Apart Should Benches Be?
We all know the feeling of wondering “Are we there yet?” after a steep climb. Best practice is to place benches every 200 to 300 feet on steep or challenging trails, and every 1,000 feet or so on easier terrain. That may sound like a lot, but remember: not everyone is zipping up the trail like a mountain goat. Frequent benches give people with mobility challenges, older adults, and families a chance to rest without turning the hike into a survival test.
The Style That Works Best
Not all benches are created equal. Those fancy, artsy benches that look like modern sculptures? Beautiful in a park downtown, but not so practical on a trail. Out here, we want:
Backrests and armrests – because sometimes you need a little help standing up again. I wouldn’t recommend armrests on both sides however because getting on the bench can be more challenging for a wheelchair user with the armrest in the way. Therefore I recommend only one armrest on a side or the middle of the bench.
Comfortable seat height – about 17 to 19 inches off the ground works for most people. Too low, and you’re doing an accidental leg workout. Too high, and your feet dangle like a kid’s.
Smooth Edges – think weather-resistant wood that is heat resistant with rounded corners. Nobody wants a splinter, large gash on their leg, or a burn when trying to relax and watch the sunset.
Easy to Access - make sure that the benches have an access path that is wide enough for an assistive device (at least 3’ wide) and the drop off from the trail to the access route is smooth.
This bench needs some maintenance as the wheelchair spot has erosion damage and is now a hill that can not be used.
Flat Space Matters
This one is huge: next to every bench, there should be a flat, firm spot where a wheelchair can pull up. That way, a wheelchair user doesn’t have to sit awkwardly behind the bench or in the weeds while their family relaxes. It creates real togetherness—everyone gets to sit side by side and enjoy the break.
Location, Location, Location
Benches should be more than pit stops. Place them in interesting spots—overlooks, shady groves, near water, or by interpretive signs. Shade is also key. Many people with disabilities have difficulty with temperature regulation, and therefore rests in the sun will not work for them. A bench in full sun on a hot day becomes less of a rest stop and more of a frying pan.
Why It Matters
When benches are thoughtfully designed and placed, they turn trails into more welcoming spaces. They send the message: “We thought of you, and we want you here.” That’s what accessibility really is—it’s not about checking a box, it’s about making sure everyone can enjoy the outdoors at their own pace.
So the next time you take a break on a trail bench, notice the details: the backrest, the shade, the view. If all those things are there, someone did their homework—and hikers of all abilities will thank them.
Staunton State Park - Year 2 Reflections
Once again, I found myself early on a crisp August morning staring up at the epic rock formations of Staunton State Park. I was back for the Third Annual Adaptive Recreation Days, hosted by Colorado Parks and Wildlife—and it was awesome.
Last year, I came mostly as a volunteer. This year, I took a new leap and set up my own booth. My goal? Share resources and services available in Colorado for people with disabilities—because one thing I hear all the time is that finding accurate, detailed information about accessible trails and outdoor programs is way harder than it should be.
Sounds simple enough, right? But it was my first event representing my new accessibility consulting business, and there were a lot of little details to figure out. I agonized over T-shirt designs, giveaways, and what activities to offer. Thankfully, my partner Jordan—who works in outdoor events—stepped in with some pro tips. For example, did you know you should bring a chair? I almost didn’t and would have been standing for six hours straight. And my last-minute tent sign? I accidentally ordered it way bigger than I thought. But it looked fantastic, so I’m counting that as a win.
I was lucky to be set up next to Jeremy Siffuentes, Workforce Development and ADA Accessibility Coordinator for Colorado Parks & Wildlife. We hadn’t seen each other since the Partners in the Outdoors Conference, so it was great to catch up. I also reconnected with Kristen Waltz, Track Chair Program Manager at Staunton and the powerhouse organizer behind this event. Her hard work on marketing and advocacy really showed—attendance was noticeably higher than last year.
We also made new friends: Sunrise Medical (off road power wheelchairs), Wilderness on Wheels (accessible camping), Paradox Sports (adaptive climbing), and Greg Sakowicz (aka @fatmanlittletrail) who’s doing great work to get more people outside. Events like this aren’t just for the public—they’re also a powerful way to strengthen partnerships, share new ideas, and keep our passion for accessibility alive. This work thrives when we come together.
From the moment the event started, we were talking with community members, listening to their stories, and gathering input on what “accessible” means in outdoor spaces. The feedback was clear: people want shade, accessible parking and restrooms, adaptive gear on-site, and more immersive experiences—not just a short loop trail. But the biggest theme I heard, over and over, was the need for better access to information about where and how to recreate. People want to know what to expect before they go. We in the outdoor industry can—and must—do a better job of building real connections with the community so our efforts truly meet their needs.
To spark ideas, we had a crowdsourcing board where participants shared their favorite accessible recreation spots in Colorado. Popular mentions included Lair O’ the Bear in Jefferson County Open Space, Arkansas Headwaters for adaptive mountain biking, Reiling Dredge Trailhead in Breckenridge for fall colors, and Blodget Open Space in Colorado Springs.
In return, we shared maps of local state parks with accessible trails marked, introduced people to COTREX and its growing database of accessible trails, and highlighted Boulder OSMP’s accessible opportunities. By the end of the day, we’d swapped dozens of new ideas, resources, and connections.
I’m so grateful I was welcomed back this year in a more prominent role. As an accessibility consultant, I see my role as being an ambassador—helping connect the outdoor recreation community to the people who most need those connections. This event was a perfect opportunity to do exactly that. If you care about accessibility or simply want to explore adaptive outdoor activities in Colorado, I can’t recommend this event enough. Staunton State Park is stunning, the variety of programs is inspiring, and the people you meet will leave you feeling energized and hopeful. I can’t wait to see what next year brings—and I hope to see you there.
Rolland Moore Is Getting a Makeover (and We Need Your Input)
Rolland Moore Park has always been part of my time in Fort Collins.
When we first moved here, we lived just across the bridge and used the park multiple times a week. Even after moving, we kept coming back—to run, bike, play tennis, or just read a book on a shaded bench. I really love this park, and I’m so excited that it’s finally getting some much-needed upgrades.
Under the 2022 Parks Infrastructure Replacement Program Plan, both the tennis complex and playground at Rolland Moore were identified as outdated and in need of serious improvements. Now, with funding from the 2050 Tax Initiative—approved by Fort Collins voters in 2023—the City is kicking off its first major renovation project under this initiative right here at my “OG” park.
Let’s take a look at what’s planned—and where we still need to speak up.
Photo Credit City of Fort Collins with Design Plan for Tennis Complex
🎾 Tennis Complex
The proposed plans include replacing the old asphalt courts with post-tension concrete surfaces, which last over 30 years with minimal maintenance—a smart, long-term investment. Based on community feedback, improvements will include better court lighting, upgraded bathrooms, shade structures, benches, water bottle filling stations, signage, and more spectator seating—a huge upgrade in user experience.
Importantly, the design preserves at least two ADA-accessible courts with wider footprints. As I’ve said before: Coloradans with disabilities are not just spectators. We all want to recreate outdoors, and that means accessibility should be baked into the design—not tacked on afterward.
I appreciate the intentionality here—integrating shade, quieter seating areas for those who may be overwhelmed by noise, and stadium seating that includes wheelchair users at both the top and courtside levels. Even in the photos, I noticed representation: a person with a prosthesis and wheelchair users were included. (Though, I’d love to see active wheelchair users, not just those being pushed.)
Photo credit City of Fort Collins as first design option for Roland Moore Park playground
🛝 Playground Area
Community feedback from the April 2025 open house emphasized shade, nature-inspired play, better sightlines for caregivers, and nearby picnic space. Based on that, the City developed two redesign concepts, each including a bike and skate pump track, climbing elements, shaded areas, and gathering spaces.
But when it comes to accessibility, especially in the playground equipment and surfacing, I don’t think it’s being prioritized enough.
Fort Collins has a few standout accessible playgrounds, but we need to make every new design more inclusive. That means:
Play structures that kids with wheelchairs can access beyond just the ground level
A firm, stable surface confirmed for the entire play area
Thoughtful transition spaces so adults or children with assistive devices can join in sand play
An adult changing table in the restroom
Hooks near toilets for medical bags or equipment
Tables, gates, signage, fountains, and more that follow Forest Service Outdoor Recreation Accessibility Guidelines (FSORAG)
We need true integration, not separation.
Current playground surface at Roland Moore that is inaccessible for wheelchair users
📣 Get Involved: Survey Closes August 15
The City hosted an open house on April 24 and is collecting public feedback through an online survey open until 5 p.m. on Friday, August 15, 2025. If you haven’t submitted your thoughts yet, now’s the time.
It’s not just a chance—it’s a responsibility.
Your input can shape how inclusive these spaces really are. The City is making a commitment to accessibility, but it’s on us to show them what that looks like in the real world.
Don't leave it to chance. Submit your feedback and help build public spaces that reflect our whole community—for this generation and the next.
Protesting for change - closed captioning edition
Hi, I’m Lauren Ash, and I am the new marketing intern here at EBO consulting! I took this job originally with the focus on building my marketing experience, but it has given me so much more than that. It has opened my eyes to the needs of the disabled community. I'm constantly learning about accessibility and how I can make an impact on my community so that it is more inclusive for everyone. And in that spirit, I am taking over this blog today to discuss something I’ve recently learned recently through a podcast by Radiolab - the origin story of closed captioning.
I’ve never thought much about closed captioning; it was just something always there on my TV whenever I watched something. I never took the time to think about where they came from or what it took to get them on my screen. That changed when I listened to the podcast The Echo in the Machine by Simon Adler, a story about identity, language, and accessibility.
Photo credit from National Deaf Life Museum of Gallaudet students during the protest shouting and signing “Deaf President Now!”
The podcast opens with Greg Leibach, a deaf attorney from Queens, New York. He attended Gallaudet University, the only 100% liberal arts university in the world for deaf and hard-of-hearing students. That alone had caught my attention right away. In 1988, when a hearing president who didn’t know sign language was elected for the university, students became enraged, and I can understand why. I can’t comprehend why a president who didn’t represent the school properly would be elected.
Greg, who at the time was the student body president, became the spokesperson for a powerful yet peaceful protest about the presidency of the university. A week after the protest, a new deaf president was elected, giving the students what they so desperately wanted: someone to properly represent them.
Photo credit National Deaf Life Museum
That protest sparked more than a campus change; it created a movement for accessibility nationwide. By 1990, Congress passed the Decorder Act, requiring TVs to include captioning technology. It eventually led to the Telecommunications Act, ensuring that broadcast television was captioned for everyone.
Before then, watching TV without hearing meant relying on a bulky decoder box installed in your home, which was expensive and uncommon, sort of like a VCR. Listening to this made me realize how often I have assumed that things are accessible, simply because they are to me.
Photo Credit from Amberscript
The second half of this podcast dives deeply into the technical aspects of creating closed captions. I assumed that today, most of the captioning has been done by AI, but listening to this podcast, I realized that I was wrong. Up until recently, closed captioning was generated by highly trained steno writers, not just AI. By 2003, it became apparent there weren’t enough steno writers available with the amount of content out there. That's where Meredith Pither, the now president of the National Captioning Institute, came in and was tasked with experimenting with something called a Black Box, a speech recognition box. Faced with unreliable speech recognition, she began “voice writing,” echoing each word for TV into the machine. When that didn’t work, she ended up inventing her own language of code words that the software could understand. Her dedication to making technology accessible is nothing short of inspiring.
This story opened my eyes, not just to how captions came to be, but for every person who fought for access, equity, and proper representation.
Listen here to hear the whole story HERE and let us know what you learned!
Let’s Talk about Bathrooms
Everybody poops. Not glamorous, but important—especially if you’re someone who needs more than just a wide stall to safely and comfortably take care of business.
A lot of places proudly claim their restrooms are “ADA compliant.” Great! But here's the thing: ADA is just the starting line. It’s the legal minimum, not a gold standard. If you've ever used a so-called accessible bathroom that felt like an afterthought, you know exactly what I mean.
So what does it look like when someone designs a bathroom with real people in mind? Here are the features that go beyond the bare minimum and make a bathroom truly inclusive—for more bodies, more needs, and more dignity.
Toilet has a drop bar to assist with standing up from toilet but the sink does not have toe or knee clearance for use of someone with a wheelchair
L-Shaped Grab Bars: Real Support, Real Stability
Most bathrooms stick a horizontal grab bar next to the toilet and call it a day. But L-shaped grab bars give you way more options for support—especially when standing up or shifting side to side. I have had multiple patients that prefer to stack their hands more like using a transfer pole than a horizontal bar. It’s a small upgrade that adds a huge sense of safety and independence.
Adult-Sized Changing Tables
There are many reasons that adults may need a flat surface for hygiene and bowel/bladder management. For example, some people with spinal cord injuries have neurogenic bladder and may need to lay down to empty their bladder or may have aged into an inability to safely stand. And of course, kids with disabilities who did not develop the ability to control their bowel and bladder grow up to adults with disabilities. You’d be surprised how many “accessible” bathrooms don’t have a single place to help an adult with personal care. People end up using the floor of a PUBLIC BATHROOM. If they are lucky they can sometimes use a table or the back of their car but that is a huge problem for privacy. A height-adjustable adult-sized changing table isn’t just about comfort—it’s about respect, hygiene, and basic human dignity. People need care throughout life. Let’s design like that matters.
Image from Julie Sawchuk of Sawchuk Accessible Solutions newsletter
Hooks, Shelves, and a Place to Put Stuff
Try hanging your coat or bag when the hook’s over your head—or worse, there isn’t one at all. Low hooks and small shelves within arm’s reach make a big difference. They’re easy to add, easy to use, and show you actually thought about the person using the space, not just the code.
Showers Designed for Real Use
If there’s a shower in your bathroom, make sure it’s actually usable for a seated or rolling user—not just technically “accessible.” That means a true roll-in entry with no lip, a sturdy seat with a backrest (no flimsy flip-downs that feel like they’ll collapse), and a hand-held showerhead mounted low to start—so someone seated can reach it without standing or stretching.
Also: place the soap, shampoo, and conditioner shelves in front of the seat, not off to the side, on the far wall, or above shoulder height. It’s about designing for comfort and independence, not just compliance. A well-designed accessible shower gives people control over their own bathing experience, safely and with dignity.
Example of accessible shower with a wet room style from Architecture and Access
Sensory-Friendly Lighting and Smells
Good lighting does more than help people see—it creates a space that feels safe and comfortable. Avoid harsh fluorescent lights that flicker or buzz, which can be overwhelming for people with sensory processing disabilities, migraines, or low vision. Choose even, soft lighting with minimal glare.
Strong chemical smells from cleaning products or air fresheners can also be a barrier. For people with asthma, chemical sensitivities, or who use AAC devices (which may rely on breathing support), even a mildly scented soap can make a space unusable. Fragrance-free, hypoallergenic products and regular ventilation go a long way in making restrooms welcoming to more people.
Space for Two (Because Independence Looks Different for Everyone)
Many people don’t go to the bathroom alone—they go with a caregiver, support person, or friend. That means enough room for two people and mobility equipment to move comfortably. A toilet with clearance for a person on both sides, doors that open outward, and enough turning space are examples of thoughtful design. Especially when talking about the shower - shower doors that swing in can really block access. Sometimes a shower curtain in enough.
Bottom line
If we’re only building to meet ADA minimums, we’re not doing enough. Those guidelines are important, but they don’t reflect the full range of needs people have in public spaces. Real accessibility happens when we design with actual people in mind—not just a checklist or code book.
Bathrooms should be places where people can take care of themselves with as much independence and dignity as possible. That means thinking about things like adult-sized changing tables, hooks within reach, and roll-in showers that are actually usable. It means paying attention to lighting that doesn’t overwhelm people and avoiding strong chemical smells that can make the space completely off-limits for others.
This isn’t about adding fancy features—it’s about making sure more people can safely, comfortably, and confidently show up in public spaces. When we design that way, everyone benefits.
What important features of accessible bathrooms did I miss? Contact Me and let me know!
Getting Outside, No Matter What: Exploring Accessibility at Colorado Youth Outdoors and Outdoor Buddies
While doing my bike training, I often take Kechter Road over I-25 into Windsor to ride the country roads. Every time, I pass the Colorado Youth Outdoors (CYO) campus—seeing ponds, trails, and open space—and I always wonder: what goes on there? Recently, I finally got my butt out there to find out. Thanks to a guided tour with Courtney Strouse, Program Director at CYO, and Larry Sanford, President of Outdoor Buddies, I learned just how much this place is doing to make the outdoors more accessible and welcoming for all.
Tucked into the eastern edge of Fort Collins, the 240-acre CYO campus is built to bring people together through outdoor recreation. But what really sets it apart is the intentional effort to make sure people of all abilities can participate. Their partnership with Outdoor Buddies, a nonprofit that connects individuals with disabilities and veterans to outdoor opportunities, is a standout example of inclusive programming in action.
Collaboration That Works
This partnership works because both organizations are rooted in the belief that the outdoors belongs to everyone. Larry and Courtney don’t just talk about access—they make it happen. Whether it’s coordinating volunteers, sharing equipment, or teaming up on sponsorships to improve the fishing pond, their collaboration is full of “we can figure that out” energy.
Outdoor Buddies uses the CYO site to host its adaptive skeet shooting, archery, and fishing programs. At the same time, CYO gains access to Outdoor Buddies’ knowledge and adaptive gear so any youth, regardless of ability, can participate in all CYO programming. Watching them interact on our ride-along, it was obvious they’re committed to each other’s missions and building something sustainable—together.
Image credit from Outdoor Buddies
Adaptive Equipment That Opens Doors
Let’s talk about the gear—because it’s amazing. Outdoor Buddies brings in a wide range of adaptive devices that allow people with mobility limitations to fully participate. One of their most unique tools is the Go-Getter, an ATV-style ride that helps participants get across rough terrain safely. It’s used everywhere from fishing docks to pronghorn hunts in Colorado and Wyoming.
They also offer ActionTrack chairs, which are track-driven, all-terrain mobility devices. These let people using wheelchairs navigate dirt, grass, and even trails covered in mulch. They’ve even built an immersive fly-fishing bridge this year that lets you “walk on water”—I’m not kidding, it’s impressive (see photo).
For shooting sports, they provide adaptive gun rests, sip-and-puff trigger systems, and other supports that allow safe use from seated positions. Archery includes modified bows and hands-free aiming systems. Fishing setups include electric reels and grip supports—there’s a solution for just about everything.
Check It Out Yourself!
I finally got to see it all in action at Outdoor Buddies’ Family Day at Swift Ponds, which just took place this past Saturday, June 7. As usual, I biked over there with a friend for training. Family days typically occur in the Spring and Fall at the CYO campus and are full of adaptive fishing, BB-gun and trap shooting, archery, and even a catch-clean-cook experience (yes, people were grilling rainbow trout they caught right there).
Everything is designed for access—wheelchair-accessible fishing docks, five trap houses, and a whole fleet of mobility devices such as track chairs and the Go-Getter. Whether you came to learn a new skill or just be outside with your family, there was something for you.
Trained volunteers are there to help with setup, modifications, and encouragement. The vibe is simple: show up as you are, and we’ll make it work. As Larry puts it, “I will get anyone outside no matter what. We will make it happen.” And honestly, what can’t be solved with duct tape, zip ties, and a bungee cord?
Get Moving
If you’ve ever felt unsure about whether the outdoors is really for you—or for someone you care about—this partnership shows that with the right people, the right equipment, and a little creativity, there are no barriers that can’t be worked around. Whether you’re catching your first fish, rolling a track chair up to the archery line, or just enjoying the quiet of the pond trail, Colorado Youth Outdoors and Outdoor Buddies are proving that everyone deserves a place outside. If you are interested in joining a program please contact Outdoor Buddies HERE. If you are looking to donate you can donate to Colorado Youth Outdoors or Outdoor Buddies to continue this great work. Look out for me on the road waving to you on the pond!
Why We Need to Speak Up for Public Lands—Now More Than Ever
If you care about access to the outdoors—for recreation, reflection, or healing—it’s time to pay attention to what’s happening in Congress. Right now, several bills threaten the future of our public lands, while others offer hope. And the difference between whether they pass or not comes down to people like us showing up, speaking out, and reminding our representatives that public land belongs to the public.
Three recent bills raise red flags for anyone who values shared access to natural spaces:
The Ending Presidential Overreach on Public Lands Act would limit a president’s ability to designate national monuments under the Antiquities Act. That sounds like a check on executive power, but in reality, it undercuts one of the few tools used to protect culturally and ecologically important landscapes—especially when Congress drags its feet.
Then there’s the Productive Public Lands Act, which aims to prioritize extractive uses like logging and grazing. It’s framed as a way to make public lands “work for us,” but let’s be clear: it redefines productivity in terms of short-term profit, not long-term public benefit.
The Mining Regulatory Clarity Act is another dangerous one. It gives mining companies even more access and fewer restrictions, making it easier for them to exploit land that should be protected. This bill would weaken existing safeguards and make it harder for land agencies to deny mining claims—even in sensitive ecosystems or near recreation areas.
But here’s the thing: public pressure can make a difference. A powerful example came recently in Nevada, where a proposal in the House reconciliation bill would have allowed thousands of acres of public land to be sold off for development. People across the country raised their voices—individuals, advocacy groups, and local communities. That vocal opposition led to the provision being removed. It’s proof that when we speak up, we can stop bad policy in its tracks.
There are also good bills out there that deserve our support. The Keep Public Lands in Public Hands Act is straightforward—it would block efforts to transfer public land to private or state ownership. The Protect Our Parks and Save Our Forests Act strengthens protections for urban parks and old-growth forests—two critical areas for climate resilience and equitable access.
Public lands aren’t just for sightseeing or backpacking. For people with disabilities, they’re vital places for independence, connection, and well-being. But that only works if those lands are protected and thoughtfully managed. If areas are sold off or handed over to private interests, accessibility efforts stall. There’s no trailhead to improve, no beach to make wheelchair-accessible, no boardwalk to maintain—because the land is gone.
The bottom line? Public lands are under threat, but they’re also a source of incredible possibility—if we fight for them. Call your representatives. Share about these bills with your communities. Support organizations that defend access and conservation. We can’t take these places for granted.
Because once land is sold or stripped, we don’t get it back.
Colorado’s Outdoors Are for Everyone—Let’s Make Sure They Stay That Way
If you’ve spent any time outside in Colorado, you know how special it is here. From winding trails through the pines to quiet fishing spots and open spaces full of wildlife, there’s something for everyone—or at least, that’s the goal.
Back in 2015, Colorado Parks and Wildlife (CPW) adopted a 10-year strategic plan that laid out their priorities through 2025. One of the big takeaways from that plan was a clear commitment to making outdoor spaces more accessible. That means not just protecting the land and wildlife, but making sure that people of all abilities can enjoy the outdoors in meaningful ways.
The plan called for more accessible and inclusive recreation opportunities across the state. It emphasized improving infrastructure, offering programs that welcome a wide range of people, and taking a hard look at what barriers might be keeping some folks from participating. In short, it wasn’t just about checking a box—it was about real access and inclusion.
And we’ve seen progress. Many state parks now have accessible trails, fishing piers, and campsites. Some, like Staunton State Park, even have track chairs available for visitors who use wheelchairs, opening up parts of the park that were once totally out of reach. You can read more about Staunton State Park and their climbing opportunities on a previous blog HERE. Interpretive programs are starting to offer sensory-friendly options or adaptive gear, and more parks are being designed with universal access in mind from the start.
That said, there’s still work to do. Not every park or program is truly usable for everyone, and physical access is only part of the picture. Making outdoor spaces truly welcoming means listening to the people who use—or want to use—those spaces and learning what’s working and what’s not.
That’s where you come in.
CPW is working on its next 10-year strategic plan, and they’re asking for community input. This is your chance to speak up about what’s important to you, especially if you’ve experienced barriers in the outdoors or work with communities that do. Whether it’s better signage, more accessible trailheads, inclusive programming, or simply being seen and heard in decision-making, your perspective matters.
Colorado’s parks and wild places are for all of us. Let’s make sure the next decade reflects that.
Want to weigh in? Visit the CPW website for the community feedback form for the next strategic plan. It only takes a few minutes—and your voice could help shape the future of outdoor recreation in Colorado. Contact me if you have any questions on the form!