I
was traveling a lot for work and when I had to spend the week before Memorial
Day weekend in Atlanta, I invited Lisa and Kellisa to join me. It was a mini
vacation. I could join them for lunch and evening swims after dinner. I started
researching hikes with wheelchairs. I found a short accessible trail leading to
a viewpoint of the highest waterfalls east of the Mississippi only an hour from
Atlanta. Finished with work, we drove to the trail on Saturday morning. I was bursting with excitement. I found a
hike I could do with Kellisa. It was a beautiful trail and I easily pushed
Kellisa to the viewpoint. The waterfall was breathtaking. The endless mountain
views were awe inspiring. Kellisa was having fun. This was Kellisa’s first
wheeled hike on an accessible trail. I was disappointed beyond belief.
The
trail was short and easy. I should have been happy, on top of the world ecstatic,
but all I could see were the other trails in the park. The real trails. The trails not meant for wheelchairs.
We
drove to another trail that led to a different viewpoint of the same
waterfalls. This trail was the exact opposite of accessible, it was steep, muddy, and full of
rocks and tree roots. I became determined or possessed. I pushed Kellisa in her wheelchair up
this crowded trail full of weekend hikers gawking at us. A few hikers offered to help, but I needed to get Kellisa to the viewpoint without
help. I needed to test our capabilities. Kellisa’s endless giggles provided additional motivation as I struggled, but we made it to the viewpoint. Kellisa was probably the first (and still only) person in a wheelchair to see the waterfalls from this platform.
I
declared us hikers!
