Trails for All

A few years ago, Aislinn Graves and her husband, David, posted the first video to their YouTube channel, Wheels in the Wilderness. Over an orchestral score, a Star Wars-style text crawl described the couple’s mission, the yellow letters drifting through space: “After years of being unable to get off the beaten path … Aislinn has decided that she will attempt to visit the White Mountains. With her trusty partner, David, they will try to explore the Lincoln Woods trail, armed only with her manual wheelchair and their grit and determination. Will their efforts end in disaster?”

“Disaster” might be dramatic, but the attempt to hike a scenic bridge in New Hampshire was a bust. After tentatively venturing down the snow-packed trail, the couple turns back. Aislinn, who has used a wheelchair since 1992, says she doesn’t feel safe because of the trail’s incline and the icy conditions. The episode is a poignant reminder of the numerous barriers that exist between experiences in nature and the millions of disabled people in the world. “I’m a realist. I do not expect every single trail to be ADA compliant. That’s unreasonable,” Aislinn says, referring to the Americans with Disabilities Act. “However, we need more. We need an understanding of what resources are available so that people don’t just sit at home and think, ‘This part of my life is over.’”

Nearly eight months later, the Graves uploaded another YouTube video. “We had a very exciting afternoon,” a beaming Aislinn tells the camera. “We were invited to a sneak peek for a brand-new, accessible trail. … Oh, what an absolutely beautiful trail it is.”

The trail in question is the All Persons Trail, a 1.2-mile, out-and-back trail at The Nature Conservancy’s Manchester Cedar Swamp Preserve in Manchester, New Hampshire. Opened in 2022, the gently undulating path guides visitors through thickets of giant rhododendron and dark, damp bogs full of cinnamon fern and rare Atlantic white cedar. Its design was informed by hours of input not just from people with disabilities but from representatives of historically marginalized communities throughout New Hampshire. Now, disabilities advocates and land managers alike are hoping that the All Persons Trail can be a new model for bringing nature to a broader cross section of the American public.

Using community input to make nature accessible to everyone

Picture the prototypical hiking trail: The compacted earthen surface, riddled with rocks and roots or suddenly crossing a stream with only a few stones for steps. For the able-bodied, these details may not even register, but for a wheelchair user like Aislinn Graves, they can mean the difference between a day spent in nature and a day spent indoors.

Like many aspects of the built world, these sorts of trails can feel natural, even preordained. In reality, they are a reflection of the priorities of the trail builders, who historically sought to break down barriers between hikers and the environment, sometimes to the unwitting exclusion of those with disabilities. In recent years, however, conservation organizations and park systems have begun to emphasize accessibility, while also acknowledging that inviting greater numbers of people to preserves carries some risk for plants and wildlife. Finding that balance is worth the effort, says Kate Berdan, the stewardship manager for TNC in New York. “Keeping people out of these spaces isn’t going to help us in the long run,” Berdan says. “The more people we have as stakeholders, the more stewards we have for the future.”

How accessibility benefits all people and conservation efforts

Accessibility is often framed as a niche concern that benefits only a few individuals. But the All Persons Trail, its creators say, demonstrates that accessibility improvements can enhance everyone’s experience. Disabilities advocates call this the “curb-cut” effect. “You put curb cuts in because you want to make sure that people with wheelchairs [can] safely get onto and off of curbs,” says Stephanie Patrick, the executive director of the Disability Rights Center-New Hampshire. But those features, she says, make sidewalks easier for everyone—parents, delivery people, the elderly—to navigate.

Glode points to a new boardwalk at the end of the trail, which replaced a series of narrow bridges made out of flimsy wooden planks. Weaving through one of the preserve’s namesake swamps, this section of trail is arguably the most dramatic moment of the entire experience, with stands of centuries-old Atlantic white cedar and black gum trees. And yet before construction, Glode says, “these little bog bridges forced everyone to look down because they were afraid they were going to fall into the swamp. And I’d be like, ‘Look up! Look up!’ Now, you can walk through and really appreciate the space.” Boardwalks—which keep heavy foot traffic off sensitive swamp soils—are another example of how accessibility can intersect with conservation efforts, creating a level walkway while minimizing damage to plants.

Still, TNC staff say that future investments in accessible trails must be made strategically. At the Manchester Cedar Swamp Preserve, even with the addition of the All Persons Trail, public access is intentionally restricted to a tiny fraction of the property. And Berdan says that in New York, TNC has a goal of completing six major accessibility improvement projects at preserves by 2030. “We don’t want to pave the Adirondacks,” she says, " but we do want people to have some options that don't require hiking steep, muddy streambeds." To help guide such investments nationally, TNC in 2022 hired its first-ever preserve accessibility coordinator, who will provide consistent guidance and technical assistance to preserve managers across North America.

A ribbon-cutting for the All Persons Trail was held on Earth Day 2022. Among the many speakers was Aislinn Graves. She spoke about the mental, physical and spiritual benefits of spending time in nature, and she highlighted the need for more trails like the one behind her. Then she joined the other attendees for the inaugural hike. Reflecting on the experience roughly one year later, she had only one complaint about the trail: She wished it were longer.