Accessibility: Adventure Looks Different Now
Life happens, and that’s what made this visit with my parents unique. My parents are aging, and that’s hard for everyone involved. The reality is that we just can’t do all the things we once did together. We have to adapt.
Adaptation is something humans do incredibly well, but that doesn’t mean it’s always easy. Adventures become slower. Trails become flatter. Distances become shorter. Sometimes the adventure happens from the passenger seat instead of on foot. But different doesn’t necessarily mean worse.
As someone who works in parks and recreation, I spend a lot of time thinking about accessibility, recreation opportunities, and how we create experiences for people with different abilities. This time, the challenge was personal: How could I turn my parents’ visit into an adventure that all of us could genuinely enjoy? The goal was pretty simple, don’t push my folks too hard, but maybe push them just enough. I took a couple of days off work, did a little planning, talked with colleagues about accessible options, and set out to show them Colorado in a way that worked for where we are in life right now.
Day 1: The Scenic Route
After my parents had just spent three days driving across the country, I hated to put them right back into the car. But sometimes the best way to experience Colorado without demanding too much physically is through the windshield. So, we kept the first excursion relatively short.
Our first stop was Lookout Mountain overlooking Golden. The view from up there is always spectacular, although smoke drifting in from the Pacific Northwest had everything looking a little hazier than usual. And here's a useful accessibility travel tip: the Buffalo Bill Museum has excellent accessible restrooms. Seriously, these things become important.
From Lookout Mountain, we headed through Clear Creek Canyon toward Central City and Black Hawk. No matter how many times I drive through there, it’s still mind-blowing to see towering casinos wedged into these tiny historic mountain valleys. The casinos just don't fit the landscape, which is part of what makes the place so fascinating. Black Hawk has embraced the casino transformation most dramatically, with massive buildings rising from what was once a small mining town. I personally prefer the charm of Central City, where much of the historic character and architecture remains visible. Old facades and buildings have been restored and adapted for modern uses, while places like the Central City Opera preserve some of the elegance and history of Colorado's mining boom.
From there, we continued onto the Peak to Peak Highway, taking in the mountains before eventually dropping back down to the flatlands.
Day 2: Taking a Tank Into the Woods
The second day was the experience I was most excited about. We had an appointment at Staunton State Park, less than an hour from Denver. Before heading into the mountains, we made the obligatory stop at Bonfire Burritos for breakfast and then continued toward the park.
Our appointment was for something I had heard about but never experienced firsthand: track chairs. The easiest way to describe a track chair is that it’s basically a little electric tank designed to traverse trails. Instead of traditional wheels, these mobility devices use tracks that allow visitors with limited mobility to travel over terrain that would otherwise be extremely difficult or impossible to navigate. During the busy summer months, Staunton State Park operates a track-chair program on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. The experience is free, and each chair is accompanied by a volunteer. Participants also bring a companion along for the adventure.
My parents were troopers. Watching them cruise through the woods on these machines was both entertaining and meaningful. We weren't simply looking at the mountains from an overlook anymore. They were actually on the trail, moving through the forest and experiencing a Colorado state park in a way that would have been difficult for them otherwise. That distinction matters.
Accessibility isn't just about meeting a requirement or getting someone through the front door. At its best, accessibility gives people the opportunity to participate, to experience the same places, views, smells, sounds, and sense of adventure as everyone else.
After our track-chair excursion, apparently I hadn't scared my parents enough, so we headed toward Mt. Blue Sky. Mt. Blue Sky is one of Colorado's fourteeners with a road that takes visitors high onto the mountain, making an alpine environment accessible to people who may never be able, or want, to climb a 14,000-foot peak. The serpentine road winds higher and higher into the alpine tundra, offering spectacular views accompanied by some very steep drop-offs. We spotted bighorn sheep and mountain goats along the roadway, which only added to the experience.
One of my favorite parts of these drives is hearing my mom gasp and say, "Oh my God!" as we round another curve with seemingly nothing between our vehicle and the valley thousands of feet below. I’m never entirely sure whether she is impressed or terrified. Probably both.
Day 3: Music in the Mountains
On our third day together, we slept in a little, knowing we had a long day ahead of us. I made breakfast, and we spent the morning hanging out before mobilizing for another adventure.
One of my favorite things to do when my parents visit is introduce them to foods they typically can't get back home in West Virginia. For lunch, I took them to Yak and Yeti to introduce them to Indian and Nepalese cuisine. The buffet was perfect because they could sample a little bit of everything and figure out what they liked. With full stomachs, we headed toward Dillon Amphitheater.
Of course, simply taking I-70 wasn't adventurous enough, so we took the scenic route over Loveland Pass on U.S. Route 6, passing Loveland Ski Area, Arapahoe Basin, and Keystone along the way. We attempted to drive around Lake Dillon but ran into construction and had to change plans.
No big deal. Adaptation was becoming the theme of the week anyway. Instead, I took my parents to one of my favorite Colorado breweries, Outer Range Brewing in Frisco. We enjoyed a beverage together before heading to Dillon for the evening's main event: Trampled by Turtles and Leftover Salmon at the Lake Dillon Amphitheater.
We had purchased accessible tickets and a parking pass ahead of time, and the experience turned out to be incredibly easy for everyone. We could get where we needed to go without wearing my parents out before the concert even started. That might sound like a small thing, but that's what good accessibility can do. Instead of accessibility becoming the focus of the experience, it quietly removes the barriers and allows the experience itself to take center stage.
My parents later told me this was their favorite part of the entire trip. I think the music hit a sweet spot for all of us, a pleasant mix of bluegrass, country, folk, and Americana. Being from Appalachia, there's something familiar about that style of music. Sitting together in the mountains overlooking Lake Dillon while listening to it made the evening pretty special.
Day 4: Rails, Ridges, and Another Terrifying Road
Wanting to try something completely different, we purchased tickets for the Royal Gorge Route Railroad in Cañon City. It was about a two-and-a-half-hour drive south from Denver, but we figured it was worth the trip.
Before boarding the train, we had some time to kill, so naturally I found another road that would make my mother question my judgment. Skyline Drive. This one-way road follows the narrow spine of a hogback above Cañon City. It's an incredibly unique experience, with the roadway perched along the ridge and steep drop-offs on both sides. Once again, I got a kick out of my mom's sound effects as we traversed the ridge. Apparently scaring my mother with Colorado roads had also become a theme of the week.
When we arrived at the train, the temperature reading on the truck said 111 degrees. Wow. It was the kind of heat where even the breeze felt like someone pointing a hair dryer at you.
We grabbed our tickets and boarded the train. Unfortunately, we didn't get seats on the preferred side, but it really didn't matter. The train travels deep into the Royal Gorge alongside the Arkansas River before stopping and returning to Cañon City.
On the return trip, we headed outside to one of the open-air cars. That's where the experience really came alive. The views from the open-air car were spectacular. We watched whitewater rafters navigate the bony Arkansas River through the steep canyon walls while the Royal Gorge Bridge towered high above us. I had run the Rim to Rim Royal Gorge Trail Half Marathon the year before, so seeing the canyon from the bottom gave me an entirely different perspective.
That's one of the things I love about outdoor spaces. There isn't always just one way to experience them. You can run along the rim. You can raft through the rapids. Or you can sit comfortably on a train with your parents and watch the canyon walls roll past.
After the train ride, we weren't quite ready to take the easy way home. We headed through Phantom Canyon, eventually emerging near Victor and Cripple Creek. This gave my parents another look at Colorado's mining history and another community transformed by casino investment. Like Central City and Black Hawk, it's fascinating and a little strange to see how these old mining communities have reinvented themselves.
Day 5: Showing Them My World
My parents' last full day was more local.
I had to return to work, but instead of leaving them at home, I invited them along for a tour of Northglenn. I got to show them the parks and projects I've worked on, the new City Hall, and the recreation center. My dad was particularly excited about the NinjaCross course suspended above the lap pool.
There was a sense of pride in getting to show them these places. My parents spent years watching me figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Now they could see some of the tangible results, parks, facilities, amenities, and community spaces that I've had a hand in creating.
For lunch, we continued our culinary tour and stopped at a Vietnamese restaurant, where they tried bánh mì sandwiches for the first time. They loved them. In fact, it might have been their favorite meal of the entire trip.
That evening was Monday, which meant Arvada Runners. Our primary Monday run club was meeting at New Terrain Brewing, so my parents came along. The group kicked off at 6:15 p.m. and headed toward North Table Mountain for some trail miles.
I ran a shorter version of the route and ran it pretty quickly, so I could get back and spend time with my parents. While I was out running, they hung out at the brewery, people-watched, and watched runners, bikers, and other trail users come and go. When I returned, we had our last dinner together from a Hungarian food truck. It wasn't some massive Colorado adventure. It was just a Monday evening at a brewery. But sometimes those ordinary moments become the ones you remember.
Day 6: Heading Home
The next morning, it was time for my parents to head home. They packed the truck, said their goodbyes, and followed me out of the neighborhood as I headed toward work and they pointed east toward I-70. They had a roughly 20-hour drive back to West Virginia ahead of them.
After nearly three weeks on the road, they were ready to be home. They made the trip safely, and remarkably fast, considering the distance. And just like that, the adventure was over.
A Different Kind of Adventure
Looking back at those days, I realized that accessibility isn't about making every experience exactly the same. It's about creating opportunities.
My version of adventure usually involves pushing myself physically; running mountain trails, riding bikes, skiing, climbing, or finding some unnecessarily difficult way to get from Point A to Point B.
Traveling with my parents required me to rethink that definition. We moved slower. We drove more. We strategically identified restrooms. We found overlooks instead of summits. We used track chairs instead of hiking boots. We found accessible parking and seating so they could enjoy a concert in the mountains. We rode a train through a canyon instead of running along its rim. We tried new foods, drank a beer together, listened to music, drove ridiculous mountain roads, and simply spent time together.
And you know what? We still adventured. There is something humbling about watching your parents age. These are the people who once took you places, showed you things, and introduced you to the world. Eventually, almost without noticing it, the roles begin to change. Now I get to take them. And maybe that is what struck me most about this trip.
Accessibility isn't only something I should think about professionally when we're designing a park, trail, playground, recreation center, or public space. Eventually, accessibility touches all of us. Our abilities change. Our families change. The way we experience the world changes. That doesn't mean we stop experiencing it. It means we adapt.
For my parents, that meant track chairs, scenic drives, accessible concert seating, a railroad through a canyon, and a son who probably took them on a few more terrifying mountain roads than necessary.
For me, it meant learning that an adventure doesn't have to be difficult to be meaningful. The goal isn't simply to make places accessible. It's to make experiences possible. Adventure doesn't disappear when our abilities change. Sometimes, it just looks different.
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