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When you’re a wheelchair user, travel doesn’t begin at the airport. It begins with numerous phone calls, hotel photos, back-and-forth emails about grab bars, bed heights and “no really, is that bathroom actually accessible?” It’s exhausting, but Marjorie Aunos does it anyway.
The car accident happened when her son Thomas was a baby, just 16 months old. One moment she was a new mother chasing after a toddler. The next, she was learning how to navigate the world from a wheelchair. Nothing really prepares you for that combo of parenting and paralysis, both arriving in full force. But she adapted because she had to and because there were places to go!
They’ve travelled a lot since then. Australia, Iceland, Hawaii, France, Finland, the UK. Some places were magical. Others were a comedy of errors or a bit of both.
There was Iceland, for example. She’d planned it all. Checked the accessibility guides, booked the accessible tour, confirmed the vehicle. But when the driver pulled up, it was a giant truck which was not accessible in the slightest. Her first instinct? Let her mom and son go without her. “You’ll still have fun,” she told him not wanting him to miss out. He looked at her and said, “I’m not going if you’re not going. We’re finding a way.” And they did. Her mom grabbed the transfer board. Thomas helped pull, her mom pushed from behind, and Marjorie did a full arm press into the front seat. Not pretty and not easy but they got in. They always find a way.
That day, they saw glaciers and volcanoes. She did multiple transfers in and out of that inaccessible truck. By the end, she didn’t even need much help, just a little nudge from her mum. “I think that’s the story Thomas would tell if asked about a memorable trip we did,” she says with a laugh.
What Marjorie never glosses over is how much work travel requires as a wheelchair user. There’s the bladder schedule (because plane bathrooms? Forget it), the transfer board she never travels without, the shower chair she packs to avoid slipping onto flimsy benches, the beach wheelchair with its massive floaty wheels she takes with her. Two large suitcases, minimum. Sometimes three. And that’s before you count the snacks.
And then there’s the mental load: letting go when things go wrong. Because even with all the prep in the world, you will get surprised, and most likely, not in a good way. The room you booked won’t be the one they give you. The ramp will be broken, the bed will be too high. “Okay,” she’ll think, “now what?” And then it becomes a puzzle. Ask them to take off the feet. Remove the under-mattress. Think. Breathe. Adjust. By now, Marjorie knows how to plan a trip with military precision.
When asked which destinations stood out in all of her travels to date, Marjorie didn’t hesitate. “Hawaii,” she said with certainty . . . a place she’s returned to three times, not only for its beauty but because it works. There, she found beach wheelchairs available right on the sand, allowing her to roll across the sandy terrain and float in the ocean beside her son. It wasn’t a luxury, it was liberating. But the true accessibility gold medal, in her eyes, belongs to the Nordic countries. Iceland, Denmark, Sweden, Finland and Norway weren’t only easier to navigate but they were designed with everyone in mind. Marjorie still marvels at the bathrooms where the sink and toilet heights could easily be adjusted depending on your needs. Whether you’re a little person, a wheelchair user or just someone who needs things a bit higher or lower, the space adapts. “That’s real universal design,” she said. Even better, it meant her son could use the same facilities with ease. For Marjorie, that kind of thoughtful detail is what transforms a trip from possible to enjoyable. In those countries, accessibility wasn’t awkward or patched together. It was built in and that was refreshing!
Travel has many ups and downs whether you’re a wheelchair user or not. That’s life and she taught her son that early. She also taught him to build better worlds, literally. At age four, he looked at LEGO and realised something was missing. So, he built wheelchairs out of LEGO bike and car parts because the box didn’t come with any. Today he wants to be an engineer, the kind who would think of accessibility before and not merely left as an afterthought. He is really skilled in robotics—anything technology-related and Marjorie proudly says, “I believe that my son will make the world a whole lot more accessible for a lot of people.”
A teenager now, Thomas is smart, kind and observant. He notices when a ramp is too steep and calls it out. Not because his mother told him to, but because he is aware and understands what fairness looks like. He’s seen his mom travel the world in her wheelchair and he’s travelled with her numerous times. She’s a proud mother but also practical. She didn’t travel alone with him when he was little. Family members travelled with them. It was too risky, too many bags, too many unpredictable situations and sometimes people don’t get it. They see a disabled woman travelling with a kid and wonder, “Why are you doing this?” She’s heard it, felt it, seen the faces. But then again, she’s also seen the opposite: people jumping in to help, lifting her over icy ramps at hockey rinks so she could watch Thomas play.
And that’s the thing. If you’re open and you’re not afraid to smile and say, “Hey, can you give me a hand?” someone almost always does step up to help. It’s something she’s got down to an art. And it’s earned her smoother security screenings, unexpected kindness and the occasional agent who files a complaint on her behalf before she even opens her mouth.
These days, she flies Air Canada almost exclusively. She finds them consistent and knows what to expect. Still, she knows travel fear is real. That first solo trip? It was terrifying. She went to Philadelphia from Montreal. It was a short flight, therefore a safe bet, and she did it. Now she’s travelled solo eight times in one year. “I survived,” she says, grinning. “And that solo travel felt good.”
Her advice to new travellers in wheelchairs? Don’t wait until it’s perfect. It won’t be. Go anyway. Start close. Bring someone you trust. Plan like a maniac. And when things go sideways, because they will, laugh about it. Take a breath. Ask for help.
Marjorie’s must-haves and travel tips:
- Plan ruthlessly. Don’t assume. Ask. Then ask again. “Accessible” means different things to different people.
- Transfer board: For those gap-bridging moves between wheelchair and car or bed.
- Shower chair: Yours. Not theirs. You’ll be safer and more stable.
- Beach wheelchair: If sand is involved on your trip, bring your own if you can.
- Request airport assistance: Every leg of the trip. You’ll get priority, someone to grab your bags and guide you.
- Rest in between: Long flights? Break the trip. She stops in Vancouver and Hawaii en route to Australia. Jet lag andswelling, be gone.
- Contact hotels and tours directly: Request photos, dimensions, requirements. Repeat yourself if you need to.
- Let go when needed: You planned it all. But if the bed’s too high or the toilet’s weird, roll with it. Ask questions. Find a fix.
- Be kind, but don’t be quiet. Your needs matter. Say them out loud.