Accessibility or bust - YYZ to Madrid

After 10 years of living mostly indoors and after much determination and therapy, Jen is heading to Spain to traverse the Camino de Santiago by wheelchair and recumbent trike. Coming alongside Jen, to push and pull, are her parents and caregivers and other supporters known as J’s Crew, all wearing their signature fuchsia crew t-shirts, colour selected by Jen. And it turns out those bright shirts are great identifiers in busy airports. Before the Camino starts however, a trans-Atlantic flight to Spain means there are a myriad of hurdles to overcome.

A flight delay of several hours pushes a carefully orchestrated care schedule into some late hours, with Jen’s feeding scheduling off-kilter and bright lights preventing a nap. It’s a delicate balance to achieve wellness, and even a two-hour flight delay throws everything into disarray. When it’s finally time to board, instead of wheeling from the skybridge to the plane and locking her wheelchair into place, Air Canada requires her wheelchair to be dismantled, loaded in pieces into a duffle bag, and reassembled upon arrival.

Our flight crew knows Jen is coming, and their care and consideration are superb, even signing a card for her, but both boarding and deplaning put Jen and her caregivers in the way of other passengers, and there is an unstated perception she is an obstacle, and we need to move fast.

At our destination, our rented accessible van is waiting, but it has a rear-entry ramp and there’s an eight-inch drop from the sidewalk down to the roadbed. Rain means everyone, including Jen’s shoes, neck brace and wheelchair, get soaked.

While some of J’s Crew are working to get Jen safely to her destination, others are focused on obtaining the rented cargo van and the shipping container which contains her jogger, trike, commode, blender, and other gear that will enable Jen to live a month on the road.

While Jen and most of her team are anxiously waiting at the hotel in Madrid, Harold, Bettie, and Dean are back at the airport, trying to locate and then get customs clearance for the crate full of items that have been carefully chosen and packed by Harold and Janette. It turns out that only a customs broker can manage to negotiate the import of Jen’s gear, and a miraculous intervention from a brokerage employee, who works through her lunch hour to help, releases the crate from the secure warehouse. Then it needs to be disassembled, and it and its contents loaded in the cargo van.  

It's 5 p.m. and a 430-km trip to Roncesvalles can finally begin. We are much later than planned, but we have everyone and everything we need in Spain, and we are heading to the start of our Camino. We are tired and overwhelmed, but we also feel blessed and so grateful to the many people – including airline staff, hotel concierges, and random people in a shopping mall who tell us where we might find SIM cards – who have made all of this possible.

For someone using mobility equipment, travel like this is only possible because of rapid-fire strategic decisions and the support of caregivers and strangers alike. It’s amazing to see how each member of J’s crew has a unique perspective and contribution to make, enhancing Jen’s experience, comfort, and wellness.

So far, so good, and we are excited to know what comes next. What’s best is seeing the sheer joy and radiant smiles on Jen’s face as she wholeheartedly experiences what was once thought to be impossible.

— Pauline Schuringa, Jen’s driver and aunt AKA Auntie Paul