“THAT’S WHY YOU CAMP HERE”: AN EXPERIENTIAL ANALYSIS OF
ACCESS AND INCLUSION IN BC PARKS

by

Mikhaila Carr
BPl, University of Northern British Columbia, 2024

THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF
THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
BACHELOR OF PLANNING

UNIVERSITY OF NORTHERN BRITISH COLUMBIA
April 2023
© Mikhaila Carr 2023

Abstract
It is well established in the literature that nature can provide a host of benefits to human health
and wellbeing. However, access to outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism spaces remains
inequitable, as park planning and management processes have not prioritized access and
inclusion for all. Many studies have documented an overwhelming presence of physical,
attitudinal, and informational barriers to accessing nature for persons with disability (PwD).
These studies highlight an overwhelming presence of physical barriers and a lack of reliable and
comprehensive accessibility information essential to enabling efficient trip planning processes.
This research draws on the knowledge and lived experiences of a small group of people living
with diverse impairments, in outdoor settings. Field observations utilizing a photovoice
methodology and reflective journals were used to document interactions of PwD with
(in)accessible nature spaces in two BC Parks regions. A thematic analysis of this data uncovered
three emergent themes related to access and inclusion: the importance of access the key features,
the availability of cognitive space to fully embody experiences, and information delivery on and
off site. Findings from the project demonstrate how BC provincial parks might be experienced
by individuals with a range of embodiments in nature. Place-based narratives using creative
analytic practice weave the experiences of PwD in this research and objective standards data
(e.g., measurements of infrastructure) to produce a diverse type of information that can enable
trip planning processes for PwD.

ii

Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE – INTRODUCTION .......................................................................................................................... 1
CHAPTER TWO – LITERATURE REVIEW.................................................................................................................. 8
2.1
CONCEPTUALIZING ABLEISM .............................................................................................................................. 8
2.1.1 Types of Ableism ................................................................................................................................... 12
2.1.2 Service Barriers ..................................................................................................................................... 14
2.1.3 Information Barriers .............................................................................................................................. 16
2.1.4 Education, Training, and the Bounds of Empathy ................................................................................. 18
2.2
DESIGN AND DESIGN PROCESSES ....................................................................................................................... 21
2.2.1 Accessible Design ................................................................................................................................. 22
2.2.2 Universal Design ................................................................................................................................... 24
2.2.3 Inclusive Design and Design Justice ...................................................................................................... 27
2.2.4 Physical Barriers ................................................................................................................................... 31
CHAPTER THREE – METHODOLOGY AND METHODS............................................................................................ 35
3.1
COMMUNITY-BASED PARTICIPATORY RESEARCH – DEVELOPING PARTNERSHIPS .......................................................... 35
3.2
COMMUNITY-BASED PARTICIPATORY RESEARCH – FOSTERING ONGOING PARTNERSHIPS.............................................. 39
3.3
COMMUNITY BASED PARTICIPATORY RESEARCH – SHARING POWER ......................................................................... 42
3.4
DATA COLLECTION ......................................................................................................................................... 45
3.4.1 Site Selection ......................................................................................................................................... 45
3.4.2 Photovoice............................................................................................................................................. 47
3.5
DATA ANALYSIS ............................................................................................................................................. 52
3.5.1 Thematic Analysis ................................................................................................................................. 52
3.5.2 Creative Analytic Practice ..................................................................................................................... 56
CHAPTER FOUR – RESULTS AND DISCUSSION ..................................................................................................... 60
4.1
ACCESS TO KEY FEATURES ................................................................................................................................ 60
4.1.2 Providing Access to Key Features .......................................................................................................... 62
4.1.3 Fostering Independence ........................................................................................................................ 64
4.1.4 The Value in Shared Experiences ........................................................................................................... 68
4.2
COGNITIVE SPACE ........................................................................................................................................... 71
4.2.1 Creating Cognitive Space...................................................................................................................... 76
4.3
INFORMATION: SIGNAGE AND WAYFINDING ........................................................................................................ 80
4.3.1 Presence and Placement of Signage ..................................................................................................... 80
4.3.2 Quality of Information........................................................................................................................... 83
4.3.3 Storytelling in BC Parks ......................................................................................................................... 89
CHAPTER FIVE – KNOWLEDGE TRANSLATION ..................................................................................................... 96
5.1
MOUNT ROBSON: LONG WEEKEND CAMPING TRIP ................................................................................................ 96
5.1.1 Ancient Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park ........................................................................... 96
5.1.2 Robson River Campground .................................................................................................................. 100
5.2
SKEENA REGION: SHORT DAYTRIPS FROM TELKWA .............................................................................................. 104
5.2.1 Tyhee Lake Provincial Park .................................................................................................................. 104
CHAPTER SIX – CONCLUSION ............................................................................................................................ 111

iii

List of Figures
Figure 1: View of Mount Robson from the bottom of the trail. ................................................................ 63
Figure 2: Fencing encompassing the viewing platform at Rearguard Falls. ............................................ 66
Figure 3: The perspective from the bottom of the stairs leading up to a viewing platform at Cranberry
Marsh (left) vs. the perspective of Cranberry Marsh afforded by accessing the viewing platform (right). 70
Figure 4: A bridge with an angled lip due to lack of maintenance of eroding soil. ................................... 75
Figure 5: Viewing deck at George Hicks Regional Park with a bench. .................................................... 77
Figure 6: The universal boardwalk at Ancient Forest/Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park. ................. 78
Figure 7: A sign with large, sans-serif font with adequate colour contrast between the text and
background. ............................................................................................................................................... 82
Figure 8: Wayfinding signpost system in Jackman Flats Provincial Park................................................. 87
Figure 9: The sandy terrain at Jackman Flats Provincial Park with footprints. ......................................... 88
Figure 10: Entrance to boardwalk at Ancient Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park. .................. 89
Figure 11: A sign created by an elementary school student discussing the loons of Tyhee Lake. ............ 90
Figure 12: A sign displayed in many BC parks across the province. ........................................................ 91
Figure 13: The audio station in Driftwood Canyon Provincial Park. ........................................................ 92
Figure 14: Introduction to “A Journey Through Time,” story walk sign at the base of Mount Robson. .. 93
Figure 15: Access route and boardwalk entrance. ..................................................................................... 97
Figure 16: Rustic boardwalk. .................................................................................................................... 98
Figure 17: A sign detailing the history of ecological protection. .............................................................. 99
Figure 18: Trees that stand guard in the forest/chuntoh. ......................................................................... 100
Figure 19: Accessible campsite............................................................................................................... 101
Figure 20: Parking available outside of the washhouse. ......................................................................... 101
Figure 21: Accessible washroom in shower building. ............................................................................ 102
Figure 22: View of Mount Robson at the bottom of the trail. ................................................................. 103
Figure 23: Accessible room at Inn at the Creamery. ............................................................................... 104
Figure 24: Accessible parking. ................................................................................................................ 105
Figure 25: Two accessible picnic tables overlooking the lake. ............................................................... 106
Figure 26: Entrance to the playground. ................................................................................................... 107
Figure 27: Accessible pit toilet. .............................................................................................................. 108
Figure 28: Entrance to the picnic shelter. ................................................................................................ 108
Figure 29: The trail leading to the bird watching platform. .................................................................... 109
Figure 30: The birdwatching platform. ................................................................................................... 110
Figure 31: A view of Tyhee Lake. .......................................................................................................... 110

List of Tables
Table 1: Universal Design Principles by Centre for Universal Design (1997). ......................................... 25

iv

List of Acronyms
ABCA

Accessible British Columbia Act

ACA

Accessible Canada Act

B.C.

British Columbia

CAP

Creative Analytic Practice

CBPR

Community-Based Participatory Research

ID

Inclusive Design

IDRC

The Inclusive Design Research Centre

PwD

Persons with a Disability

TA

Thematic Analysis

UD

Universal Design

v

Acknowledgements
This project was made possible by relationship building and collaborative processes
between myself and members of the Spinal Cord Injury BC Team. I extend my sincerest
gratitude to the willingness of Heather Lamb, Nancy Harris, and Pat Harris to accept my
involvement in the research processes and trust me with their stories. I am honoured to
collaborate, explore how to make the outdoors more accessible and inclusive, and to visit
roadside diners with you. Thank you to BC Parks for providing funding to this project. I extend
gratitude to Natasha Ewing and Craig Paulson for their support and willingness to learn.
I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my supervisor Dr. Mark Groulx. Thank
you to the first supervisor I’ve had to tell me that he believed in me and the work I was doing. I
have a lot to learn from how he engages deeply with collaborative processes, community
partners, his colleagues, his students, and in everything he does. Mark’s unwavering support has
created opportunities for me to grow as a person, a researcher, and as a professional, to imagine
my future goals, and to dream of a just and inclusive world.
I extend my special thanks to the academics who have supported my growth as a
researcher throughout this process. I am extremely grateful to my thesis committee member, Dr.
Jennifer Wigglesworth for encouraging and teaching me to engage with my work in a selfreflective, feminist focused, and critical way. I extend my thanks to Dr. Theresa Healy for
offering her mentorship and coffees that brought me back to life. Thank you to Dr. Rheanna
Robinson, Dr. Annie Duchesne, and Keone Gourlay for providing me with literature to create
important connections in this work.
I am genuinely indebted to my peer and friend Ryan O’toole for creating a space to share
conversation, laugh about how stressed we are, cry about how stressed we are, and eat about how
stressed we are. Thank you to my peers Melissa Bates for discussing the ins and outs of research
and navigating academia with me; Eriel Strauch and Scott Brown for reviewing and critiquing
some of my thought; and Makenzie Thorpe for teaching me how to set boundaries around my
work and reminding me to spend time outdoors.
The support from my friends and family was instrumental in the completion of my thesis.
I thank my friends Kya Shannon, Kelsea Strobl, Scott Monroe, and Matt Henderson for
reminding me that I can do hard things. A special thanks to my parents Marcelle and Brad Carr
for teaching me the love of nature, to find joy in simple things and feeding me from time to time.
I would like to thank Denise Carr for your endless support in every facet of my life, I would not
be where I am today without the love and joy that you bring to my life.
Lastly, I would like to thank each woman who has dared to walk into a space where she
was told she didn’t belong, that used her voice to be heard, and that wakes up every day
continuing to embrace ‘taking up’ space.
"On the days I could not move, it was women who came to water my feet until I was strong
enough to stand. It was women who nourished me back to life -sisters” (Rupi Kaur, 2020).

vi

Researcher Positionality
My interest in the study of disability within outdoors spaces is rooted in the numerous
opportunities that have been afforded to me throughout my lifetime to engage with nature and
outdoor recreation and a belief that everyone is deserving of the deep connections that are
created in nature. Kumari-Campbell (2008) reminds us that from the moment that we are born,
we consciously and subconsciously consume messaging that claims disability may be tolerated in
our settler society, but that it is inherently negative and deviates from normalcy. Each of us,
regardless of our subject positions are influenced by the politics of ableism (Kumari-Campbell,
2008). This statement is one part of my attempt to become more aware of my biases and
commonly held misconceptions of disability. Opportunities for my learning and unlearning of
colonial systems and beliefs that restrict access and the celebration of diversity will be
continuous and unbound by the temporal and spatial constraints of any academic paper that I
may write. I will continue to deepen my understanding of and relationship with disability over
the course of my life.
I am a white, able-bodied, bi-sexual, cisgender woman, and settler currently pursuing a
Bachelor of Planning at the University of Northern British Columbia. I was born and raised in
Prince George, a Northern community in British Columbia (BC) on the unceded traditional
territory of the Lhedli T’enneh, more specifically the Dakelh people. BC is largely influenced by
dominant Western culture that continues to impose paternal and ableist systems that influence
how each of us acts, thinks, feels, and dictates, to some extent, what we believe to be true and
value. I entered the planning program because I view myself as a tool in service of community to
enact positive change in the societal structures in which we are situated and hopefully one day,

vii

disrupt the dysfunction of these structures. I view planning as an impetus to challenge paternal
and ableist systems; systems I will continue to define throughout this thesis.
My grandparents on my mother’s side are white settlers of English and French descent
who were raised on the North Shore of Montreal. My mother was raised in North Vancouver,
before substantial investment and development in her neighbourhood began to displace families
and change neighbourhood demographics. My mother grew up relatively poor. She learned to
make do without many basics and to extend the life of things to which she had access. She has
two sisters, one of whom moved to Prince George later in life and a sister with cerebral palsy,
who was institutionalized in the Woodland School in New Westminster in the early 1950s. My
mother may not have had very much, but in a small creek near her house, my mother was able to
immerse herself in play, and it was there she found abundance.
My grandparents on my father’s side are white settlers of Irish, Scottish, and English
descent. His parents owned a farm in rural Alberta. My father was born in Edmonton and moved
to Prince George when he was six years old with his father, mother, and two sisters. Despite not
having been raised on a farm, he did not escape the inheritance of the ‘pull oneself up by the
bootstraps’ mentality that grips him today. As a child, he was free to escape the pressures from
his home and school environments by exploring the undeveloped land near their house in the
Westwood area, extending into what is now known as Forests for the World. He would hunt
rabbits and build forts for overnight camping.
Naturally, both of my parents passed down their love of nature and created opportunities
for me to explore, play, and find solace in my interactions with nature. Throughout my life, my
father created many opportunities for me to explore by taking me camping, on hiking trails,
canoeing, and fishing the local lakes. Thus, my earliest and favourite memories involved playing

viii

outside. I grew up in a middle-class suburban neighbourhood in the Hart of Prince George. Our
neighbourhood was surrounded by a greenbelt which provided a haven for me and my closest
childhood friend. We were free to ride our bikes to the site where we would build tree forts that
provided us both with our own senses of safety, opportunities to play, explore, and escape into
nature, much like my parents had done before me. My father never viewed me as being
incapable or unworthy of being taught outdoor skills because of normative gender assumptions
associated with femininity. I would pack and chop firewood, start fires, and eventually change
the oil and tires of my vehicles. His gentle teachings instilled me with a sense of achievement,
empowerment, and a desire to be in nature.
Several years later, I return to the same campgrounds and trails that I would visit with my
family as a young child. Being in nature as an adult allows me to feel connected to my family
members and friends, my inner child, and the healing energy of the Earth. Immersing myself in
the natural world provides me release, a place to meditate, escape, and an opportunity to
revitalize the sense of play that I believed had been stolen from me so many years ago. In every
interaction with the natural world, every fibre of my being is filled with a sense of awe,
grounding, and healing. I can freely admire the breath-taking views, feel the path beneath my
feet, hear the rush of water flowing beside me, feel the sun on my skin, feel the soft needles of a
fir tree brush my arm as I walk by, and inhale the crisp, clean air that has been graced by the
faint scent of spruce.
I now enter nature spaces with a new worldview, a heightened awareness of worldly
injustices, and a diagnosis of complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD). CPTSD describes
a disability that is invisible and episodic in nature. Medical doctor, Bessel van der Kolk
dedicated his career to exploring post-traumatic stress disorders, provides evidence that trauma

ix

penetrates the brain and body, acting as a severe disabling factor that triggers a range of
responses from within the nervous system (van der Kolk, 2015). It is as if over the duration of
eight years, people had slowly drilled long screws into my brain to mount a defective smoke
alarm. Despite the absence of real fire or danger, an alarm shoots signals to my nervous system,
lying to me, and telling me there is impending danger. The alarm has become a permanent
fixture within my brain extending its wiring through my veins so that it wraps around the centre
of my being. As the alarm rings, pain and hypervigilance reverberate through my body and mind
demanding an upheaval and disruption of my entire executive functioning.
In my experience, CPTSD seems to differ from visible disabilities in the sense that
people do not make automatic assumptions about my ability. I am free from outward judgement,
the “helping hand,” and the overt medical gaze. Although, despite knowing that my body holds
trauma that my ancestors and I have experienced, the notion of accepting an invisible and
intangible pain that is triggered from within, somehow feels less valid than someone who has a
visible disability. These feelings of doubt and inadequacy led me to believe that my symptoms of
my episodes are not real at all, which is a result of internalized ableism.
There came a point in my life where I could no longer reach the bootstraps by which I
was expected to pull myself up. I was drowning in ableism that prevented me from accessing
services (e.g., therapy, nature, yoga, medication) and community that are precursors to
acceptance and empowerment. It was once I reached out to grab the services lifeboat, that I could
breathe just long enough to peel back layers of ableism and acknowledge that my value does not
diminish when I cannot function in a way expected from a settler society that was never made to
include me or those that I love. Our settler system attributes real value only to the white, male

x

productivity that is responsible for the destruction of the natural systems that support our very
survival. This system was never designed for equity, diversity, and inclusion to survive.
While it does not define who I am, CPTSD lives within and through me. I cannot detach
myself from it (as hard as I have tried in moments of anger, denial, and disassociation) and it
accompanies me as I walk along each of my chosen paths with an increased sense of compassion
for myself and others. It is just recently that I have acknowledged limitations associated with the
experience of trauma as a disabling factor in my life. As relational as I seek to be, I recognize
that having a visible or invisible disability is accompanied by unique challenges for each
individual. As a researcher with no visible or mobility related impairments, I will experience the
world much differently than those who present with mobility related impairments.
Each conversation I have with persons with disabilities serves as a continuous reminder
that no matter the amount of literature I review or the number of conversations I have with
someone about their lived experiences, I can never fully cross the boundary of my own lived
experience, and this is not a goal for me. In the process of drafting this thesis, I have been
learning that no two similar disabilities will be experienced or embodied in same way. This
recognition has been integral for me to know that I will never fully understand what someone
else with an invisible or visible disability might be experiencing. I can only relate to their
experiences through a desire to support another person in whichever way they need. I recognize
that the words I choose to place or omit in this thesis are a direct reflection of my privileges and
biases in the process of studying disability. As I move through the process of learning, I aim to
maintain a self-reflexive practice to reflect on any biases that surface through journaling and
discussions about disability with myself, supervisor, therapist, and community. This practice will
serve me throughout my career to respect the person I am becoming and to create a more just and

xi

equitable society that values and celebrates diversity. Everyone, no matter how they identify,
should have the right to feel connected and like they belong in nature-based spaces.

xii

Chapter One – Introduction
The ecosystem composition, structure, and function of parks and other protected areas are
being affected by global climate change and other anthropogenic disturbances (Sharp et al.,
2014). A desire to protect these environments requires a strong sense of responsibility for natural
and human relationships (Wang et al., 2020). In natural tourism contexts, destination
attractiveness and increased opportunities to interact with nature can deepen a sense of place and
ultimately increase desire to understand and care more deeply for our nature spaces (Cheng et al.,
2013). From a health ecosystem services perspective, direct contact with nature (e.g., trails,
parks, and protected areas) also provides tangible benefits to human health and wellbeing
(Aguilar-Carrasco et al., 2022; Cook et al., 2019; Groulx et al., 2022, Lackey et al., 2019; Zhang
et al., 2017). In short, both ecological and social factors shape our overall wellbeing, prompting
mandates of agencies like BC Parks who seek to protect and manage park lands and provide
quality interactions with nature (BC Parks, n.d.).
The social benefits contained within parks include a host of benefits that can increase
energy, reduce stress, improve physical fitness, deepen sense of place, and provide a basis for
marketable recreation and tourism (Chikuta et al., 2019; Pröbstl-Haider, 2015; Romagosa et al.,
2015). At the same time, across our global parks’ systems, evidence indicates that access to
nature is not distributed equally. Throughout settler society, barriers exist that restrict access for
marginalized communities such as persons with disabilities (PwD), particularly those with motor
or mobility impairments (Aguilar-Carrasco et al., 2022; Byrne et al., 2009; Scott & Lee, 2018;
Weber & Sultana, 2013). BC Parks is committed to providing opportunities for a significant
diversity of high quality and safe outdoor recreation opportunities, with the goal to advance
access and inclusion (BC Parks, 2023; BC Parks, n.d.). Within this mandate, they are also

1

committed to support reconciliation efforts that seek to repair relationships with Indigenous
Peoples (BC Parks, n.d.b). Collaborative research with PwD and those with lived experience of
marginalization is required to guide our path forward. Robin Wall Kimmerer, a scholar
belonging to the Potawatomi Nation has dedicated her work to strengthening relationships
between people and our land asks, “how can we begin to move toward ecological and cultural
sustainability if we cannot even imagine what the path feels like” (Kimmerer, 2018, p.6)?
The inequitable distribution of nature access prevents many from feeling the path as
organizations look towards increasing accessibility. The inaccessible state of our outdoor spaces
is situated within a broader discussion about whose use and enjoyment of natural spaces is
privileged and whose is overlooked (Groulx et al., 2022). At the heart of advancing ecological,
cultural, and social sustainability lies social justice that affords everyone the chance to equally
participate in activities that deepen their relationship with health and wellbeing, others,
reciprocity, and nature - regardless of identity.
In their Commitment to Access and Inclusion document, BC Parks (2023) asserts that to
make parks accessible and inclusive, barriers to full participation must be removed throughout
the entire visitor experience (e.g., trip planning, transportation, on site participation). They define
this further as the creation of meaningful access that welcomes every person irrespective of
identity (BC Parks, 2023). Advancing access and inclusion requires the identification, removal,
and prevention of future barriers ¾anything that prevents full and equal participation of an
individual with an impairment¾ across each aspect of society (Accessible British Columbia Act,
2021; Accessible Canada Act, 2019). In short, the removal and prevention of barriers in outdoor
recreation and nature-based tourism spaces is important because: 1) barriers prevent access and
inclusion to those who are oppressed by our societal systems; and 2) the process of barrier

2

removal can symbolically denote progress towards addressing social justice (Steinfeld & Maisel,
2012).
Research has shown that there is a lack of specific legislative guidance on how to enforce
the removal of barriers (e.g., inaccessible facilities and amenities) in Canada’s Parks and
Protected Areas (Aguilar-Carrasco et al., 2022). A barrier can be defined as anything that hinders
the full and equal participation in society of persons with a disability (Accessible British
Columbia Act, 2021). Although Aguilar-Carrasco et al. (2022) did not specifically examine
provincial jurisdictions, their findings are reflective of the BC experience. Findings from
Aguilar-Carrasco et al. (2022) are highly relevant as legislation that seeks to promote access and
inclusion for PwD can play a key role in removal of barriers that preclude access from many
facets of our society. Moreover, as a tool within present legislation, accessibility standards can
be used to inform multiple stages of planning, design, and management processes to promote
accessibility and inclusion in the outdoors.
The Accessible British Columbia Act (2021) and the Accessible Canada Act (2019) are
two recent pieces of enabling legislation in Canada that can act as a guide for BC Parks and other
Provincial and National Parks in Canada as they seek to fulfill their goals laid out in their
Commitment to Inclusion. The implementation of standards developed from within this
legislation should have a cascading influence on organizational structures, policies, and practices
that remove barriers caused by ableist attitudes and inaccessible environments (Accessible
British Columbia Act, 2021). Although they offer an important next step in process, neither the
Accessible Canada Act nor the Accessible British Columbia Act on their own will address the
information, service, and physical barriers that many park users currently experience. The
advancement of access and inclusion will require an interdisciplinary approach fueled by

3

dedicated Parks management and staff, advocacy and service organizations and academic
collaboration.
Throughout the literature, accessibility is discussed in terms of embodiments in natural
environments by persons with a disability (Groulx et al., 2022, p.5). Groulx et al. (2022) argue
that the wide application of embodiment in accessibility scholarship reveals a dimension of
varying usability. In brief, accessibility is shaped by interactions between a user and their natural
environments that depend on their embodiment of a specific space. Understanding the real
requirements and desires of tourists with disabilities in specific contexts, such as the outdoors,
therefore, requires recognition that the body is a social construction (Small et al., 2012). A body
is simply a body, until humans write their politics of belonging or not belonging onto it. For
example, in Eurocentric discourse, nature is often regarded as being valuable only if it is
untouched and rugged or prescribed by a governing body for specific use and conservation. The
gatekeeping of nature by colonial forces, rejects nature that requires infrastructure (e.g.,
boardwalks) that can facilitate access for persons with mobility impairments or the idea of
Indigenous sovereignty in traditional territories, thereby privileging experiences for the white,
ablebodied, slim, and young (Bell, 2019; Murdock, 2021; Small et al., 2012).
In a scoping review, Groulx et al. (2022) systematically examined existing research on
the accessibility of outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism spaces outside of urban and
community settings. They found that the existence of accessibility policy and standards research
specific to natural spaces are lacking across the literature. Within the papers included in the
scoping review, studies that sought to understand lived experiences of accessibility in outdoor
recreation and nature-based spaces were well represented. However, results highlighted gaps in
the provision of accessible services (e.g., transportation) and information (e.g., online

4

information about an outdoor site). Specifically, there is an inadequate supply of reliable and
comprehensive accessibility information that would enable efficient trip planning processes of
potential park users with disabilities. For instance, information regarding accessibility is
available through BC Parks presented as accessibility standards data (e.g., measurements) and
pictures, but this information does not provide potential users with an idea of how the
infrastructure or amenities within the outdoor space may be experienced or embodied by PwD.
The provision of more comprehensive services and information can enable self-determination in
the use and enjoyment of nature (see in Groulx et al., 2022, pp.8-9).
Given existing gaps in the provision of information and accessible experiences more
broadly, the objectives of this thesis are three-fold. First, this study documents what information,
service, and physical barriers that exist within BC Provincial Parks systems and proximal
outdoor recreation spaces in the Omineca and Skeena regions of BC. Second, it seeks to better
understand how the delivery of information, services, and physical barriers are experienced by
PwD. Third, the research explores how storytelling processes that integrate lived experience and
accessibility standards data might address the information quality gap by weaving existing
objective standards data from BC Parks within reflections of how those standards or parks might
be experienced by PwD.
Given the above objectives, this thesis explores the following research questions:
1. How are interactions with barriers and enablers of access in outdoor recreation and
nature-based tourism spaces experienced by persons with disability?
2. How can storytelling processes weave lived experience and objective standards data to
produce short narratives that provide reliable and complete accessibility information to
enable the trip planning processes of persons with disabilities?
The thesis proceeds as follows: a literature review situates the research within the context
of ableism and design processes that create attitudinal, informational, and physical barriers in

5

outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism space (e.g., see Chapter 2). The methodology
chapter introduces the foundations of effective community-based participatory research
approaches, the use of photovoice, thematic analysis and creative analytic practice techniques in
this research (e.g., see Chapter 3). The results of a thematic analysis are presented to highlight
key emergent themes developed from reflections of members from the Spinal Cord Injury BC1
team (e.g., see Chapter 4). Finally, creative analytic practice is used to combine the experiences
of PwD and the most current accessibility standards data available collected by BC Parks.
Creative analytic practice techniques are used to produce story-based vignettes with the intent of
creating accessible information to provide potential users with a sense of how a park may be
experienced given their embodiments of space. The vignettes will be released through an online
platform that provides crowd sourced accessibility information so that they may be circulated
within the broader disability community (e.g., see Chapter 5). Recommendations to improve
accessibility are provided for the owners, operators, managers, planners of nature-based tourism
and outdoor recreation spaces that want to provide equitable access (e.g., see Chapter 6).
This research contributes to a growing body of literature regarding access and inclusion
in outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism space in three distinct ways: 1) the reflections of
PwD in local park spaces provide clear recommendations to BC Parks planning and management
team and other park organizations that wish to advance access and inclusion; 2) the research
highlights the importance of collaborative processes that seek to deliver novel information
products; and 3) contains ethical considerations and lessons learned throughout the process of

Spinal Cord Injury BC is a not-for profit organization that seeks to help people with spinal cord
injuries and their families adjust, adapt, and thrive in their new lives through providing answers,
sharing information, and providing community experiences (Spinal Cord Injury BC, 2023).
1

6

story writing that integrates lived experience of PwD that may inform future researchers and
practitioners who wish to undertake similar storying processes.

7

Chapter Two – Literature Review
The literature reviewed in this chapter details how ableism and design practices interact
to produce a variety of barriers in parks for persons with disabilities, and in society more
broadly. First, ableism and disability will be conceptualized. This chapter will explain how
ableist attitudes in design practices operate to produce barriers that create disabling
environments. This chapter will conceptualize three design approaches ¾ accessible design,
universal design, and inclusive design¾ and examine the outcomes the approaches tend to
promote. Design justice that seeks to challenge systems of power in design processes is be
discussed as guidance for how practitioners can shift their thinking to achieve inclusive and
accessible design outcomes.
2.1

Conceptualizing Ableism
Ableism is a pervasive network of attitudes, beliefs and processes that permeate the

conscious and unconscious minds of society and pose unnecessary friction (or barriers) that
impact the lives of PwD across multiple scales (Friedman, 2019; Kumari-Campbell, 2001;
Kumari-Campbell, 2008). Ableism suggests that there is a specific, accepted self or body that is
perfect, species-typical, and therefore fully human (Kumari-Campbell, 2001). As a pervasive
influence, ableism enacts itself through the promotion of normalcy or a supposed normal state of
being that is imposed through structural barriers (see Daniels et al., 2005; Steinfeld & Maisel,
2012), personal actions (see Conley & Nadler, 2022), policies (see Aguilar-Carrasco et al.,
2022), and theories (Conley & Nadler, 2022; Nocella, 2017). Referred to by some scholars as
‘normalcy narratives’, these forces coalesce to produce harmful and sustained effects, including
the reproduction of well-meaning and benevolent to outright negative and hostile attitudes,

8

beliefs, and behaviours towards PwD. These effects discriminate against people with disabilities
(Friedman, 2019; Harder et al., 2019; McKercher et al., 2003; Nario-Redmond, 2019).
McKercher et al. (2003) emphasize that ableism is a result of compounding social and
cultural factors that normalize discrimination and permit its reproduction. Remnant attitudes
from the medical model of disability are argued to be one source of harmful and persistent
oppression, segregation, and exclusion of PwD (Bell, 2019; Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005). The
medical model of disability, once the predominant model, sustained the belief that disability is a
problem that stems from within the individual: a product of the individual’s body and a personal
tragedy (Oliver, 1990, 1996, p.31). In this view it is a person’s inability to perform a ‘normal’
role in society that creates a disabled individual (Oliver, 1990).
The view within the medical model fails to account for the notion that disability is
culturally and socially produced, much like the notion of normalcy itself (Oliver, 1990). As such,
the medical model has widely been rejected within recent literature in lieu of the social model of
disability, which argues that disability is socially and culturally produced (Darcy & Buhalis,
2011; Groulx et al., 2022; Oliver, 1990,1996). The social model emphasizes that physical
environmental press and disabling social environments are the main determinants of friction that
PwD experience, and that disability is located on a spectrum and continuum of human diversity
(Barnes, 1996; Darcy & Buhalis, 2011; Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005; Oliver, 1990,1996). The term
‘disability’ is an ever-evolving concept as critical disability scholars attempt to create an
inclusive term with opportunities for the (re)identifications and disidentifications of individuals
with a disability (Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020).
The ways in which Euro-Western society regards disability are deeply rooted in concepts
stemming from the medical models of disability, settler colonialism, and paternalism. Settler

9

colonialism can be defined as the ongoing displacement and replacement of Indigenous Peoples
and their culture, through the primary means of continual dispossession of traditional land
(Simpson, 2014). Settler activities also sever important connections between Indigenous Peoples
and their relations to land, culture, spirit, bodies, and self (Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020;
Simpson, 2014; Te Hiwi, 2021). As a settler society, Canada was founded upon violent histories
and by political actors who continue to reproduce this violence today through various forms of
oppression (e.g., discriminatory practices, pathologization of disabled and Indigenous bodies)
(Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020). Hutcheon and Lashewicz (2020) assert that concepts of ableism
and settler colonialism intersect because they are both rooted in white settler ways of life and
thought that seek to eliminate ‘defects.’
Critical disability and feminist scholar Alison Kafer (2013) refers to a political or
relational model of disability that acknowledges disability does not occur in a vacuum. Cowing
(2022) asserts the relational model provides opportunities to examine how “Native/Indigenous
sovereignty is depoliticized through ableist logics” beyond discussions that simply equate
indigeneity to disability. Indigenous and disabled bodies are viewed as abnormal and sites of
reform (Cowing, 2022, p. 13). In addition to a reduction of struggles specific to Indigenous
Peoples, scholars attribute advancements in access and inclusion of disabled people to the state
without recognition of how the state depoliticized Indigenous sovereignty and carried out
dispossession of land that privilege mainly the white, cisgender, neurotypical, visibly disabled,
settler while continuing to disable Indigenous peoples (Cowing, 2020; Piepzna-Samarashina,
2018).
The settler society is also built upon concepts of paternalism. In the present context,
paternalism is a form of response toward people with disability, characterized by cognitive,

10

affective, and behavioural components (Soetemans & Jackson, 2021, p.189). Citing Hahn
(1986), Kumari-Campbell (2008, p.153) elaborates by describing paternalism as an impetus
under which society continues to sympathize with minority groups while holding disabled people
under social and economic subordination. Likewise, people who are white and disabled may be
regarded as inspirational, while Indigenous bodies are considered to be problematic in nature
(Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020). Among other influences, paternalism maintains ableist beliefs
and attitudes that regard disabled people as helpless, dependent, asexual, economically
unproductive, physically limited, emotionally immature, and acceptable only when they are
unobtrusive or inspirational (Hahn 1986, p.130). To be obtrusive could simply be to exist outside
of the accepted or normal state of being (e.g., white, able-bodied) in Euro-Western colonized
spaces (Hamraie, 2013; Kumari-Campbell, 2008).
A broader discussion of inclusion within the park context, would then consider how parks
planning and management contribute to violence that produces disability and prevents
Indigenous sovereignty (Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020). Challenging colonial ways of knowing
must include relationship building, collaboration, policy, and program development that reflects
the real needs of PwD and Indigenous Peoples (Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020). BC Parks has
committed to redressing such harms by taking strides toward improving accessibility, inclusion,
and reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples (e.g., consultation, co-management, truth sharing)
(BC Parks, n.d.). If programming is approached with a critical awareness of how continuous land
dispossession and state sanctioned violence have severed the deep connections of Indigenous
Peoples to land, the programs will serve to effectively remove barriers for Indigenous
communities and PwD alike (Cowing, 2022, Richmond, 2018, Simpson, 2014; Te Hiwi, 2021).

11

2.1.1 Types of Ableism
It is imperative to explore the ways in which ableism operates to gain a richer sense of
the extent that social attitudes can impact the everyday lives of PwD. Euro-Western belief
systems and attitudes are entrenched in society’s systems of oppression, comprised of ableist and
racist policies and legislation regarding access in outdoor recreation and nature-based spaces
(Harder et al., 2019; Murdock, 2021; Yau et al., 2004). Discriminatory attitudes can manifest
themselves differently depending on motivation and circumstance, and they can operate in
tandem or independently from one another (Friedman, 2019; Harder et al., 2019). For instance,
an able-bodied individual may see someone who uses a wheelchair getting out of their vehicle
near a trailhead and offer to help them set up their chair. If the PwD states that they do not need
or want help, and the individual insists they help and proceeds to set up their chair despite the
wishes of the PwD, the situation is now rooted in benevolent yet discriminatory attitudes. The
helping individual may have believed their motivations to be good and helpful, but their actions
ultimately removed the independence and consent from the PwD.
The distinction between explicit and implicit ableist attitudes are examples of how
discrimination operates in different ways. Explicit ableist attitudes are the display of conscious or
overt bias and negative behaviour towards PwD. The expression of explicit ableism is argued to
be within the control of the individual expressing a view or enacting a behaviour (Harder et al.,
2019). The ability to control explicit attitudes makes their measurement difficult because people
are aware of what is being measured and may try to conceal their biases to evade judgement
(Amodio & Mendoza, 2011; Harder et al., 2019). In the example above, an explicit ableist
attitude is revealed in the persistence of the individual to set up the wheelchair for an individual
that is declining their help. The action of helping could have been easily withheld because it is an

12

action of the conscious mind. The ableist encounter could have been avoided had the individual
taken the time to consider and respect another’s autonomy and personhood.
By contrast, implicit attitudes are automatic processes that trigger a response or bias in
reaction to external cues and are outside of an individual’s control and awareness (Amodio &
Mendoza, 2011; Friedman, 2019; Harder et al., 2019). These automatic processes are informed
by an internalization of society's attitude towards disability. The processes can include
prejudiced responses, thoughts, and beliefs that create an environment that normalizes ableism
(Amodio & Mendoza, 2011; McKercher et al., 2003; Yao et al., 2004). In the example above, the
individual was motivated to help because of their underlying assumption of another person’s
ability. The individual’s unconscious consumption of societal narratives about disability may
have led them to believe that they should pity PwD because they can be perceived as helpless.
After the help was rejected, the individual may become defensive because they believe that PwD
should be more grateful for help. Both types of ableist attitudes impact the quality and nature of
exchanges between people with and without disabilities that can result in social exclusion
(Bogart & Dunn, 2019).
The ongoing external oppression of PwD within the broader context of society can also
result in cases of internalized oppression (Mason, as cited in Marks 1999, p.25; Rosenwasser,
2000). Internalized oppression can be defined as an involuntary reaction to oppression stemming
from explicit and implicit attitudes from outside of one’s group membership (e.g., PwD)
(Kumari-Campbell, 2008; Rosenwasser, 2000). This can lead individuals with disabilities to
loathe themselves, dislike others in their group, and/or blame themselves for their oppression
caused by societal values and beliefs (Kumari-Campbell, 2008; Rosenwasser, 2000). Internalized
ableism is described as an individual’s desire to achieve normativity or the state of near able-

13

bodiedness by continually removing any association to or responsibility for their disabled
identity (Kumari-Campbell, 2008). Often the source of these desires comes from an individual’s
belief that their body or mind is a problem, rather than a recognition that this view is being
constructed by oppressive socio-economic political systems (Rosenwasser, 2000).
2.1.2 Service Barriers
Ableist ignorance can create conditions for discrimination in the tourism industry in overt
and subtle ways. Ignorance can appear in the way products are designed, how programs and
information are delivered, and how services (e.g., customer, transportation) are made difficult to
navigate for PwD. For example, tour operators can be overtly discriminatory if they assume PwD
are incapable of participation, and they refuse to serve them. The ableist assumptions of tourism
service staff are commonly rooted in expectations that PwD should feel grateful for any
opportunity to participate, feel sad, be depressed, act like they are a burden, and to be inactive
because of their disability (Hume, 1995; Yao et al., 2004). PwD are also often underestimated as
helpless, vulnerable, dependent, incompetent, and passive (reviewed in Friedman, 2019, p.97;
Soetemans & Jackson, 2021).
Importantly, scholars argue that the presence of tourist service providers who hold ableist
attitudes toward PwD is the primary determinant of the level of participation available to PwD
within nature-based tourism settings (Chikuta et al., 2019; Figueiredo et al., 2012; McKercher et
al., 2003; McKercher & Darcy, 2018). Challenges associated with hostile social attitudes operate
as upstream barriers that have a trickledown impact on the tourism experience (Barnes, 1996).
Ableist assumptions, policies, and practices condition pervasive problems for PwD across
multiple dimensions of their experiences and are particularly insidious in the tourism industry
where actors seek to provide experiences of pleasure or enjoyment (Daniels et al., 2005;

14

Friedman, 2019; McKercher et al., 2003). Chikuta et al. (2019) highlight how PwD highly value
being respected and treated as equals in their visits to National Parks. In fact, concerns regarding
the behaviour and treatment from tourism industry staff was one of the most highly reported
attitudinal barriers (Chikuta et al., 2019; Daniels et al., 2005).
As a result of ableist attitudes, there is an ongoing failure within tourism organizations to
recognize individual access requirements, assistive technology needs, desires, motivations,
abilities, skills, and travel behaviours (Bell, 2019; Figueiredo et al., 2012; McKercher et al.,
2003). Normative assumptions about ability can equate the presence of any disability with the
need for a high degree of assistance or an underestimation of access requirements (McKercher et
al., 2003; Richards et al., 2010). Park operators who hold societal misconceptions about
disability also typically overlook the fact that people with different impairments have different
requirements (e.g., a sight impaired person is assumed to have the same requirements or
assistance as an individual with mobility related impairments). There is, for instance, a lack of
foundational understanding and recognition regarding various types of impairments and how
access requirements will differ from individual to individual (Bell, 2019; Chikuta et al., 2019;
McKercher & Darcy, 2018; Richards et al., 2010). The belief that PwD are a homogenous group
underpins the foundation for sustained ableist treatment and practices within tourism
organizations (McKercher et al., 2003).
Speaking to assumptions about homogeneity, Daruwalla and Darcy (2005) revealed that
service providers often conflate the presence of one disability with characteristics of other
impairments. They provide an example of an instance where a service provider assumed that an
individual with a mobility impairment was unable to communicate, choosing based on this faulty
assumption to address their travel companion instead. Standardized or discriminatory responses

15

like this are condescending and strip people of the respect and dignity they deserve (Richards et
al., 2010). Being treated like any other able-bodied person, that is with respect, is of the highest
importance to PwD. Indeed, Chikuta et al (2019) argue that it is only once socially constructed
barriers are addressed that we can meaningfully engage with and address other accessibility
challenges.
2.1.3 Information Barriers
Ableist attitudes can restrict PwD from having access to information required to enable
their trip planning processes. The absence of information required by PwD for trip planning
processes is argued to be another substantial barrier to facilitating their participation in outdoor
recreation and nature-based tourism spaces (Daniels et al., 2005). The lack of preliminary trip
planning information available to PwD can be attributed to the ‘normal society.’ The normal
society sustains ignorance on multiple scales and prevents the prioritization of services to
educate park’s staff or tourism service providers about specialized informational requirements
(Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005; Mckercher et al., 2003; McKercher & Darcy, 2018).
The provision of physically accessible infrastructure can enable participation for PwD,
but the axiom ‘build it and they will come’ does not commonly apply in the disabled tourism
market. Even when accessible tourism experiences exist, a persistent lack of reliable information
can prevent PwD from even beginning trip planning and decision-making processes to visit a site
(Eichhorn et al., 2008; Puhretmair & Buhalis, 2008). Reliable information regarding available
accessible features and experiences is essential to ensuring PwD are empowered to participate in
each part of the tourist experience (Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Shaw et al., 2005; Stumbo &
Pegg 2005). PwD want to feel empowered and be treated with the same respect as their able-

16

bodied counterparts but will often require additional service assistance which increases the need
and demand for accessibility information (Mayordomo-Martinez et al., 2019).
Having access to accessibility information can minimize potential risks of experiencing
wasted money, time, and energy because the frequency of encounters with unmet access
requirements and discrimination associated with tourism experiences can be avoided (Corazon et
al., 2019; Daniels et al., 2005; McKercher et al., 2003; Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Yao et al.,
2004). Thus, PwD require access to accurate and reliable information in the trip planning stage to
ensure accessible, safe, and enjoyable experiences. This requirement is particularly true in the
context of tourism products and experiences because they are intangible, which highlights the
need for detailed, rich, and various types of information to describe what an experience might be
like. Information is likely the determining factor in the decisions of PwD to engage in travel
outside of their known accessible outdoor recreation spaces (Corazon et al., 2019; Michopoulou
& Buhalis, 2013).
A lack of information, knowledge of, and exposure to PwD contributes to persistent
negative attitudes in the tourism industry (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005). Daruwalla and Darcy
(2005) assert that information integration theory can explain why negative attitudes toward PwD
in the tourism industry remain a salient issue. The theory argues that while attitudes are
malleable, a person’s attitudes reflect their current knowledge or belief about any given concept.
Thus, the relationship between the circulation and collection of accurate and reliable information
and negative attitudes is one that creates a cycle of information deprivation. Specifically,
persistent gaps in information reinforce the value (or lack thereof) that the non-disabled society
places on the provision of accessible infrastructure, services, experiences, and information for
PwD.

17

2.1.4 Education, Training, and the Bounds of Empathy
While individual service providers certainly shape the accessibility of customer service
and the provision of information, tourism organizations and industries have a shared
responsibility in the provision of training and creating awareness about accessibility and
disability (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005). A service person’s lack of training, awareness, and
consumption of misinformation about accessibility requirements creates conditions for
ineffective service (Daniels et al., 2005). The issue of ineffective service is arguably structural,
rather than individual. Research indicates that staff: 1) are provided with little education and
training concerning disability and access requirements (McKercher et al., 2003); 2) have limited
exposure to persons with disabilities (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005); and 3) operate with an
insufficient legislative foundation within the current tourism and parks service system (AguilarCarrasco et al., 2022). Not surprisingly, the disability community has continuously called for
increased awareness training among tourism staff (Chikuta et al., 2019; Daniels et al., 2005;
Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005).
Evidence from multiple studies indicates that education about and exposure to PwD
increases practical knowledge and improves attitudes regarding PwD (Conley & Nadler, 2022;
Friedman & Awsumb, 2019; Harder et al., 2019). However, it is recommended that training
programs be grounded in the social model of disability to avoid rhetoric that perpetuates
common disability narratives of ‘personal tragedy’ and ‘heroism’ (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005).
PwD should be included in the development and delivery of training programs to ensure that
harmful disability narratives are not reproduced and that the content is accurate, appropriate, and
respectful (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005; Shumba & Moodley, 2018). Scholars Conley and Nadler
(2022) and Daruwalla and Darcy (2005) further suggest that training should happen on a

18

consistent basis as repetition is an effective tool to change individual attitudes and micro cultures
that exist within organizations.
Daruwalla and Darcy (2005) use contact theory to support the notion that awareness or
sensitivity training should be led by PwD. Contact theory suggests that increased interactions
with PwD will promote longer lasting and positively held attitudes toward PwD because
exposure can introduce an individual to new knowledge and more realistic understandings of
disability (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005). Studies that researched the correlation between contact
with PwD and ableist attitudes maintain that personal experiences and interactions with PwD
reduce ableism and stigmatization (Conley & Nadler, 2022; Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005; Friedman
& Awsumb, 2019). Daruwalla & Darcy (2005) assert that role-play and contact with PwD will
be one of the most effective types of intervention programs, but for personal attitudes within the
tourism industry to change, they must be personal interactions.
Training programs developed by PwD and tourism organizations that seek to reduce
attitudinal barriers at the staff level are promising because a lack of empathy is argued to be a
predominant cause of attitudinal barriers (Chikuta et al., 2019; McKercher et al., 2003; Richards
et al., 2010). Empathy is formed within and through our connections with others, demarking a
commitment to understand the other through our experiences (Ahmed, 2013; Bennett & Rosner,
2019; Pedwell, 2014). Members of the organization and PwD involved in training partnerships
can develop programs that promote staff to consider why barriers in outdoor recreation and
nature-based tourism spaces are often overlooked and how these barriers might be experienced
by PwD (Richards et al., 2010).
While well designed training programs might foster empathy, Bennett and Rosner (2019)
warn of risks associated with common practices that designers use to empathize or put

19

themselves into the ‘shoes’ of someone with a disability. Empathic exercises are often used to
‘understand’ the experiences of PwD through singular exercises. Designers might, for instance,
spend an hour using a mobility device to ‘experience’ what it might be like to have a disability,
but in doing so they are not exposed to the texture or compounding complexities of cultural,
social, and institutional influences that shape ongoing experiences for PwD (Bennett & Rosner,
2019; Kafer, 2013; Nario-Redmond et al., 2017). Bennett and Rosner (2019) also highlight how
empathetic exercises like the one described above might cause designers to hyperfocus on one
aspect of an impairment without considering other important aspects required for universal
design which would entail planning for intersectional and diverse experiences within the
disability community.
Without a complete understanding of what it is to live with a disability every day,
designers may play into narratives that gaze upon disability as a spectacle or something to be
amazed by (Bennett & Rosner, 2019). One such spectacle lends itself to the ableist
sensationalization of PwD living their everyday lives. Friedman (2019) describes two beliefs
within the inspirational narrative that focus on “overcoming” disability. One belief is that
disabled people are inspirational for simply completing everyday activities or tasks. NarioRedmond (2019) suggests that when PwD are regarded as inspirational for performing daily
tasks they are infantilized by an able-bodied person’s implicit attitudes that set lower
expectations for PwD. A second belief held within this narrative commends PwD for achieving
something extraordinary and emphasizes the triumphs ‘over’ their disability or impairment.
These portrayals of inspirational disability teach non-disabled people to appreciate their own
lives because they do not have a disability and that disability is something that needs to be
overcome, maintaining that someone with a disability is valued less (Friedman, 2019; Hutcheon

20

& Lashewicz, 2020). The privileging of certain bodies is further highlighted when society
regards white PwD as inspirations (e.g., athletes in the para-Olympics) and Indigenous Peoples
with disabilities as problems (Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020). There are implicit attitudes in the
inspirational disability narrative that seem positive but can contain negative implications such as
perpetuating assumptions about PwD’s abilities, desires, and access requirements (Soetemans &
Jackson, 2021).
Programs designed by tourism organizations and PwD that seek to reduce negative
attitudes must consider that empathy has its bounds. How relational attempts are carried out is of
the utmost importance. Attempts should seek to foster a true sense of understanding, equity, and
recognition for the contributions of PwD to design processes and a reduction of ableism (Bennett
& Rosner, 2019). In response to potential harms of empathy work, Bennett and Rosner (2019)
propose three commitments that scholars, activists, designers, organizations, and businesses alike
can adopt: 1) rather than representing another’s experience, seek partnerships in imagining
design encounters; 2) rather than achieve an understanding, seek a process of ongoing
attunement; and 3) rather than attempting symmetry, recognize and work with asymmetry. These
commitments should serve as guideposts to counter harmful effects of empathy exercises through
relationship building and improvements towards our interactions with accessibility requirements
that are incorporated in design practices.
2.2

Design and Design Processes
As the previous section on ableism alludes, design represents a way of thinking, learning,

and engaging with ourselves, each other, and our environment (Costanza-Chock, 2020).
Designed spaces are not only where interaction between humans can occur; the built
environment also conveys deeper social meaning, including which individuals or groups are seen

21

to belong and which are not (Hamraie, 2013; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). Attitudes toward design
are shaped by the social environment and permeate the design of our built and natural world.
Designers are thus situated within a key role in our society and through their work they create
and order the use of space (Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). Where designers who work on our built
and natural environments hold ableist attitudes, the implementation of their ideas can produce
barriers for PwD, making ableism itself the root of physical barriers (Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012).
Through the work of design professionals, spatial design has the power to dictate who
has access to space, and to what extent they are included in society. In short, design can
(re)produce situations of wins and losses when it produces inaccessible built environments and
structural inequalities (Hamraie, 2013; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). This section explores how
accessible design, universal design, and inclusive design seek to address challenges in the
practical application of design principles that promote inclusivity and accessibility.
2.2.1 Accessible Design
When design processes are undertaken, it is important to question who we are designing
for and what level of usability, function, and accessibility is required (Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012).
Iwarsson and Stahl (2003) examine two definitions of accessibility as a helpful starting point for
understanding the foundations of accessibility and accessible design. First, they state that
accessibility is the opportunity to participate in something desirable depending on physical
mobility. Second, they draw on environment, planning and architecture professions to suggest
accessibility is the simplicity or ease with which activities in society can be completed (Iwarsson
& Stahl, 2003). Iwarsson and Stahl (2003) also argue that these definitions are technical and lack
focus on how a person may interact with the environment. They further suggest that
“accessibility problems should be expressed as a person-environment relationship, which is to

22

say that accessibility is the encounter between the person’s or group’s functional capacity and the
design and demands of the physical environment” (Iwarsson & Stahl, 2003, p.60).
The demand for design that recognizes and meets the requirements of PwD emerged out
of the disability rights movement as people argued for public policy that ensured design would
no longer discriminate and segregate PwD (Hamraie, 2013; Krahn & Campbell, 2011; Steinfeld
& Maisel, 2012). Disability advocates argued that policy was required to improve the built
environment’s overall function and provide access and integration to all (Hamraie, 2013; Krahn
& Campbell, 2011). The objective of such advocacy was to promote a usable world as a norm
where PwD are free from the harmful effects of ableist design (Steinfeld and Maisel, 2012).
Hamraie (2013) highlights the advancement in design practice through the implementation of
accessible design seeks to centre the experiences and the knowledge base of users. While such
practices in accessible design mark a form of progress in our thinking toward more equitable and
just design, accessible design alone has its short comings.
While accommodations can enhance access, design that focuses solely on
accommodation can achieve accessibility while still reinforcing notions of segregation and
stigmatization (Groulx et al., 2022; Hamraie, 2013; Steinfeld & Masiel, 2012). For example, the
design of a picnic shelter may permit access to a person who uses a mobility device, but if the
entrance is located opposite the main designated entrance, it can cause an individual to separate
from their family to access the shelter (Iwarsson & Stahl, 2003). Indeed, access is often legally
required but not provided in a truly barrier free manner, a condition that Steinfeld and Maisel
(2012) describe as the creation of “separate but equal status” (p.17).
The promotion of a ‘separate but equal status’ can be an issue as the separation and
stigmatization of PwD can encourage people to dissociate from their own disability and make

23

distinctions between ‘good’ or ‘bad’ impairments, further dividing the community (KumariCampbell, 2008; Rosenwasser, 2000; Scotch, 1988). In this sense, there is danger in only
considering standards and measurements, while neglecting the relationship of accessible
components to the overall design function and people’s experience of it. As Kumari-Campbell
(2008) argues, without this broader focus, there is a heightened risk of upholding narratives that
suggest there are normal people and those with disabilities (Kumari-Campbell, 2008).
This binary framing is problematic as it can lead to environments where people are further
stigmatized, stereotyped, and excluded because of their minority embodiments, even if accessible
components are present in the design (Daruwalla & Darcy, 2005; Hamraie, 2013; Iwarsson &
Stahl, 2003).
2.2.2 Universal Design
The limitations of accessible design described above prompted additional thought into
how designers can better meet access requirements for all people in a more equitable and just
way. In response to the limitations, architect Ronald Mace created a set of principles to guide
more equitable design practices. Mace coined the set of principles “universal design” (UD).
Universal design is “the design of products and environments to be usable to the greatest extent
possible by people of all ages and abilities” without the need for adaptation or specialized design
(Story et al., 1998, p.11). This definition reflects a desire to improve access while focusing less
on disabilities as an additional consideration or a “special need” (Hamraie, 2013). A
UD approach to access extends beyond barrier-free or accessible design that considers the
diverse requirements of accessibility only as an afterthought or courtesy (Mace, 1985). Members
within the Centre for Universal Design (1997) developed seven guiding principles that should be
evident in UD applications (see Table 1 below).

24

Table 1: Universal Design Principles by Centre for Universal Design (1997).
Universal Design Principle

Description

Equitable use

The design is useful and marketable for people with diverse abilities.

Flexibility in use

The design accommodates a wide range of individual preferences and
abilities.

Simple and intuitive

Use of design is easy to understand, regardless of the user’s
experience, knowledge, language skills, or current concentration level.

Perceptible information

The design communicates necessary information effectively to the
user, regardless of ambient conditions or the user’s sensory abilities.

Tolerance for error

The design minimizes hazard and the adverse consequences of
accidental or unintended actions.

Low physical effort

The design can be used efficiently and comfortably with minimum
fatigue.

Size and space for
approach and use

Appropriate size and space are provided for approach, reach,
manipulation and use regardless of user’s body size, posture, or
mobility.

The seven principles of UD provide an important foundation for the creation of a more
equitable world. However, many definitions and critiques of UD have emerged from within the
literature to improve its comprehensiveness and utilization. Across all definitions reviewed,
Steinfeld and Maisel (2012) identified a recurrent theme of inclusion as an essential component
to the improvement of user experiences. Imrie and Hall (2001) criticize the definition from Mace,
remarking that the definition does not reflect the political nature of inclusion and that there are
significant challenges in influencing social inclusion through technical solutions. In an outdoor
recreation and nature-based tourism context, political and social challenges associated with
applying UD principles can include a lack of accessible and inclusive policy (Aguilar-Carrasco
et al., 2022; Mckercher & Darcy, 2018; Sica et al., 2021), the unwillingness of institutions to

25

support accommodation measures (e.g., invest in accessible infrastructure) (Groulx et al., 2022),
undertrained and ignorant service environments (Chikuta et al., 2019, Mckercher et al., 2003),
and Euro-Western societal ideals of how nature should be experienced (Bell, 2019, Macpherson,
2017; Murdock, 2021; Ray & Sibara, 2017).
Steinfeld and Maisel (2012) propose a new definition of UD: “Universal design is a
process that enables and empowers a diverse population by improving human performance,
health and wellness, and social participation” (p. 29). Interestingly, Steinfeld and Maisel (2012)
acknowledge that their definition is idealistic in the long term but provides realistic goals in the
short term by addressing often neglected processes and outcomes like improved health and social
participation. The definition also focuses on the provision and recognition of needs for
accessibility in the virtual, information, and services arenas (Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). This is
an important expansion as universal design seeks to influence the creation of different types of
environments (i.e., including non-physical) that do not require retrofitting or personal adaptation
to enable participation for everyone (Hamraie, 2013). Universal design, for instance, can inform
the creation of products (e.g., door handles) and systems (e.g., online information systems,
transportation) for the broadest set of potential users (Costanza-Chock, 2020; Steinfeld & Maisel,
2012).
Universal design has moved beyond a concept in which its application simply removes
barriers, but the concept recognizes the complexities of providing an enabling social
environment (Moore et al., 2022). By creating a new norm of inclusion, the implementation of
universal design can reduce stigma and factors that promote social exclusion through the
elimination of structural and social segregation that accessible design often overlooked (Iwarsson
& Stahl, 2003; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). Indeed, Story et al. (1998) highlights from the outset

26

that UD should foster a sense of democracy by returning power to users in the form of choice in
the utilization of design, particularly for groups who typically experience oppression through
interaction with their environments (e.g., children, fat people, older aged adults, women,
racialized groups, and PwD) (Iwarsson & Stahl, 2003). Steinfeld and Maisel (2012) add that
because of what universal design seeks to achieve, many design professionals argue that it shares
a close relationship to sustainability, design for healthcare, aging in place, health promotion,
homelessness, and other social justice initiatives. UD principles can contribute to solutions for
many social problems regarding usability, health, wellness, and social participation (Moore et al.,
2022; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012).
2.2.3 Inclusive Design and Design Justice
While recognizing that UD has utility in addressing barriers for PwD, UD is criticized to
be misleading. The common application of the term suggests that universal solutions to various
types of impairments exist, even though each impairment is experienced differently from person
to person, day to day, and under varying circumstances (Andrykowska, 2010). Scholars have
long observed the inherent value of strengthening the overall utilization of UD principles to
become more considerate of identities that extend beyond disability (Costanza-Chock, 2020,
Hamraie, 2013; Imrie & Hall, 2001; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). Hamraie (2013) suggests that
UD should explicitly centre racial, environmental, and economic justice in the scope of creating
access. When access is framed to include racial, environmental, and economic justice, we
highlight deep histories of disparity in our environments and expand the need for broader access
considerations such as clean air and water, food, parks, and transportation (Hamraie, 2013). A
feminist and disability UD theory also argues for design should accommodate impairments that
frequently accompany ageing. In addition to physical disabilities, cognitive, emotional, and

27

sensory misfitting often happen simultaneously in an ageing population which challenges UD to
address the diversities within disability (Hamraie, 2013).
In consideration of a diverse human spectrum of experiences and interactions with their
environments, the term inclusive design (ID) is growing in popularity. Although related to UD,
ID considers the intersectionality of how people experience space and design. The Inclusive
Design Research Centre (IDRC) defines ID as “design that considers the full range of human
diversity with respect to ability, language, culture, gender, age, and other forms of human
difference” (Inclusive Design Research Centre, n.d.). Echoing the assertion of Andrykowska
(2010), Costanza-Chock (2020) remarks that an inclusive design approach recognizes human
diversity and outright acknowledges the fact that any individual will likely experience different
interactions with the same design or object based on their identity intersections.
The recognition of variances in diverse human interactions re-affirms that disability is a
mismatch between the needs of an individual and the design of physical environments, product,
system, or service (Costanza-Chock, 2020; Darcy & Buhalis, 2011; Oliver 1990,1996).
Understanding of ID is then rooted in the person-environment theory. The person-environment
theory draws our attention to how people develop strategies to interreact with and reject the
barriers in our physical environments (Steinfeld et al., 1979; Wiles & Allen, 2010). Disability
can be experienced by anyone who may experience friction from interacting with designed
products, but the onus of any friction lies within the ability of the design or system to match the
needs of the individual (Costanza-Chock, 2020; Garland-Thomson, 2011). This view effectively
denounces narratives that suggest PwD should adapt to the environment.
Design processes often neglect or appropriate perspectives of people who have little
power and input in design decisions (Bennett & Rosner, 2019; Costanza-Chock, 2020; Design

28

Justice Network, 2018; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012). Within the realm of ID, a framework that
centres design justice encourages designers and practitioners to rethink design processes that
produce inequitable outcomes. The Design Justice Network (2018) suggests that design justice
centres the experiences of people frequently marginalized by design and seek to empower
communities throughout each step of the design process. Empowerment would be achieved
through the engagement of collaborative and creative practices with members of community that
can identify specific barriers frequently experienced by their community (Costanza-Chock, 2020;
Design Justice Network, 2018).
The term matrix of domination, coined by Black feminist scholar Patricia Hill-Collins
(1990), prompted design justice discourse. The matrix refers to race and ethnicity, disability,
sexual orientation, class, gender, and religion as interlocking systems of oppression. The matrix
of domination is used to explain how experiences of varying identities compound and impact
individuals in colonial systems of oppression (Hill-Collins, 1990). For example, a Black woman
who uses a wheelchair will experience the societal expectations of their identity performances
differently than a Black man who uses a wheelchair would. This conceptual model situates our
thinking around how power, oppression, resistance, privilege, penalties, benefits, and harms are
systematically distributed throughout society (Costanza-Chock, 2020; Crenshaw, 1991). The
matrix of domination is used to demonstrate the intersections of how design distributes penalty
(e.g., emotional labour) and privileges (e.g., the freedom to use space without friction) to
individuals based on where they lie within interlocking systems of oppression, and to examine
how oppression operates on various scales (Costanza-Chock, 2020).
Design justice is underpinned by the foundations of the social model of disability that
seeks to recognize interlocking systems of oppression (Bell, 2019, Costanza-Chock, 2020).

29

Injustice conditions created by settler society such as classism, racism, sexism, and ableism
cannot be separated from one another because of their intersections and interdependency
(Disability Justice Network of Ontario, 2019; Hill-Collins, 1990; Lorde, 1984). Design justice
shifts the paradigm from drawing attention to inequalities produced by design to actively
dismantling the matrix of domination through a retooling of intersectional user stories, testing
approaches, training, benchmarks, standards, validation processes, and impact assessments
(Costanza-Chock, 2020).
Conceptually, design justice emphasizes that there are some people who are always
advantaged and others who are disadvantaged by the design, particularly due to the intersecting
structures of race, class, gender, and disability (Costanza-Chock, 2020; Crenshaw, 1991, 2017).
Current structural conditions, for instance, often deny disabled people, women, racial, and sexual
minorities access to work, health care, transportation, and the built environment to prevent them
from influencing systems and processes that disadvantage them and benefit others who control
such systems (Hamraie, 2013). It is critical to acknowledge and address the power that design,
and by association, designers hold in maintaining systems of oppression. Steinfeld and Maisel
(2012) stress that disability activists must recognize the relationship between dominance and
space to alter both the oppressive spatial inequalities and the exclusion of social practices they
tend to promote. Kafer (2013) writes that disability is created when impairments are not
anticipated by those who undertake design processes. Thus, designers have the power to
determine who is included, to what extent they are included, and to produce winners and losers
based on the interactions of people with their design (Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012).

30

2.2.4 Physical Barriers
Dominant design practices have produced an overwhelming presence of physical barriers
in outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism spaces. These barriers limit the frequent use of
the spaces by PwD and can entirely preclude them from participation (Corazon et al., 2019;
Groulx et al., 2022; Michopoulu & Buhalis, 2013; Morris et al., 2011; Perry et al., 2021). Prolific
structural barriers are particularly salient for persons with mobility related impairments who wish
to participate in tourism, particularly nature-based tourism and outdoor recreation (Darcy, 2011;
Figueiredo et al., 2012; McKercher & Darcy, 2018). Perry et al. (2021) highlight the duty to
increase inclusion by providing accessible conditions or experiences where PwD feel safe during
their participation. To advance access and inclusion the tourism industry must address physical
barriers in the outdoors (Daniels et al., 2005; Darcy, 1998; Israeli, 2002; Turco et al., 1998).
A range of physical barriers within the tourism industry also apply to outdoor recreation
and nature-based tourism. These include processes involved in trip planning, transportation,
accommodation facilities, and key features or attractions (Stumbo & Pegg, 2005; Turco et al.,
1998). While there are many more barriers, common examples of physical barriers to access
within outdoor recreation and nature-based spaces often include inaccessible parking, the use of
stairs or steps (Israeli, 2002), absence of ramps, inaccessible access routes (Yao et al., 2004),
inaccessible path gradient and quality, illegible signage due to poor colour contrast, heavy doors,
washroom facilities that cannot accommodate a person using a wheelchair (Linderova, 2017),
splash barriers and toilets, showers, inadequate lighting, and a lack of tactile guide paths (Darcy,
2010; Figueiredo et al., 2012; Israeli, 2002; McKercher & Darcy, 2018; Michopoulou & Buhalis,
2013; Perry et al., 2021; Stumbo & Pegg, 2005; Turco et al., 1998).
Another facet of accessibility that ought to be considered in the planning of outdoor
recreational landscapes includes distances from a local community to an outdoor recreation park

31

or the dispersal of amenities within a park (Koppen et al., 2014; Perry et al., 2021; Stumbo &
Pegg, 2005). Perry et al. (2021) bring attention to the quantity and distance between the
placement of facilities (e.g., washroom) and amenities (e.g., benches, shelter) as common
challenges within the outdoor context. The frequency of benches and opportunities for seating
are highlighted as particularly critical as they serve as resting points, places to gather thoughts,
and as vantage points to view nature and connect with family (Perry et al., 2021). The placement
of onsite information (e.g., trail length, estimated travel time, directions) should be provided in
prominent locations and consistently throughout a site (Olson, 2018). The provision of accessible
infrastructure, facilities, amenities, and information is critical, but the consideration of
placement, type, and frequency should be prioritized as equally important in the planning
process.
Within the realm of physical accessibility, scholars highlight major concerns for the
quality, reliability, and the lack of variety of available accessibility information within parks, in
information centres, and in the online environment (Daniels et al., 2005; Chikuta et al., 2019;
Eachhorn et al., 2008; McKercher et al., 2003; Puhretmair & Buhalis, 2008). The
comprehensiveness and richness of information provided is argued to be a main determinant of
where and if PwD choose to travel (Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Puhretmair & Buhalis,
2008). Due to inconsistent information provision, PwD question whether their energy, time, and
money are worth investing in outdoor recreation when they do not have access to reliable
information (Eichhorn et al., 2008; Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Puhretmair & Buhalis, 2008).
Physical conditions of a park are subject to change due to weathering and the degradation of
infrastructure (Eichhorn et al., 2008). To provide an accessible experience that reflects the most

32

recent park conditions, information must undergo a process of frequent updating and verification
to remain reliable and accurate (Eichhorn et al., 2008; Mayordomo-Martínez et al., 2019).
Following UD principles, information should also be perceptible to each user regardless
of their abilities (Center for Universal Design, 1997). Common barriers to information
perceptibility include print that is too small, insufficient colour contrast between the text and
background, and poor lighting (Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Olson, 2018; Richards et al.,
2010). Olson (2018) further highlights barriers for people who may not speak or read the
language of the written text. Olson (2018) asserts that, where possible, replacing text with
straightforward symbols will convey the most critical information in an accessible manner. For
example, instead of spelling out the term ‘washroom,’ a symbol depicting a man, a woman and
the international symbol of accessibility will be understood more easily by a broad audience. An
ID approach would argue that the sign only requires the symbol of a toilet to indicate the
washroom, and that including gender separated signage and stalls would only serve to deny
people’s identities (Hamraie, 2013).
There is a resounding need for the collection and distribution of objective information
produced by people who have an intimate understanding of access requirements to avoid
fragmented experiences (Costanza-Chock, 2020; Puhretmair & Buhalis, 2008). The application
of accessibility legislation, mandates, or effective technical standards across outdoor recreation
and nature-based tourism spaces could guide design processes to address current and future
physical and informational barriers (Aguilar-Carrasco et al., 2022; Bell, 2019; Chikuta et al.,
2019; Comella, et al., 2019; Eichhorn et al., 2008; Groulx et al., 2022; Puhretmair & Buhalis,
2008). Having access to objective standards measurements completed by experts and people with
lived experience of a disability will instill a higher level of confidence that a potential end user’s

33

access requirements will be met. Accurate information regarding accessibility is critical to
empowering PwD to make their decisions with confidence about how their own abilities might
interact with a given outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism space (Darcy, 1997; Eichhorn
et al., 2008; Linderova & Janeˇcek, 2017; Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Puhretmair & Buhalis,
2008).

34

Chapter Three – Methodology and Methods
This chapter will discuss the use and rationale of community-based participatory research
and photovoice methodology used in this research. The chapter will then discuss how thematic
analysis and creative analytic practice are used to analyze and present the data from field journal
entries and group discussions. I will discuss how these approaches were used and how they align
with the desired outcomes of the chosen methodological approach. I will highlight an ethical
consideration and decision that was made in the development of vignettes which use creative
analytic practice techniques.
3.1

Community-Based Participatory Research – Developing Partnerships
Community-based participatory research (CBPR) is an approach to research that involves

collaborative, equitable, and iterative processes between academic researchers, community
partners, and organization representatives (Coughlin et al., 2017; Israel et al., 1998; TeufelShone et al., 2018). CBPR includes community partners throughout each step in the research
process, such as problem identification, research design, data collection, and the circulation of
information. The approach further includes partners in steps to take action and create change
within their community - e.g., policy change - (Israel et al., 1998; Stack & McDonald, 2018;
Teufel-Shone et al., 2018; Wilson et al., 2018).
The project discussed in this thesis involved a partnership that explored the experiences
of community members who each brought a different impairment or perspective with which they
experience or embody outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism spaces. Two members of the
five-person team participated with a lens that considered access and inclusion in parks –
respectively - as a person with short term memory loss and heightened confusion and as a parent

35

with a child. Three remaining team members represented Spinal Cord Injury BC, bringing lived
and technical experience with visual and mobility impairments.
By incorporating community partners into each aspect of the research process, CBPR
aims to prevent stereotyping, further stigmatization, and other processes that have historically
harmed communities (e.g., lack of informed consent) (Wallerstein et al., 2020). Co-designed
research with PwD can generate trust, respect, and heightened levels of participation within the
community as the process creates accessible conditions and mitigates harmful effects (Stack &
McDonald, 2018). In this project I seek to recognize how ableism pervades interactions that
individuals have with social, built, and natural environments (McKercher & Darcy, 2018). As a
researcher who does not identify with having an impairment that limits the way I might access
and experience nature, it is essential that I learn about access requirements alongside team
members who have this knowledge and experience. Discussed in greater detail below, this
process of learning involved documenting team members’ thoughts, feelings, and interactions
with enablers of and barriers to access immediately following experiences in various regional
and provincial parks in the BC Parks Omineca and Skeena regions.
The process of CBPR also seeks to increase the overall value and utilization of the
research through knowledge co-production (Israel et al., 1998). As an approach more so than a
methodology, CBPR is designed to empower community partners and produce direct benefit to
the health and well-being of individuals and communities with lived experience of an urban
health issue (Coughlin et al., 2017; Hergenrather et al., 2009; Israel et al., 1998; Mayan & Daum,
2016; Stack & McDonald, 2018). Initial connections and work with community partners in a
previous project laid a foundation to build trust and understanding that would facilitate open and
vulnerable discussion about feelings associated with exclusion resulting from ableist park

36

designs and practices. Relationship building was essential to creating conditions where team
members felt comfortable enough to share their experiences and to trust me as the researcher to
represent their experiences in a way that does not intentionally or unintentionally prompt the
erasure of their stories, or the meaning found within them (Bennett & Rosner, 2019).
In a review of community-based research, Israel et al (1998, pp. 178-180) identified nine
principles that underpin a successful CBPR approach. CBPR should:
1. Recognize community as a unit of identity;
2. Build on existing strengths and resources within the community;
3. Facilitate collaborative and equitable involvement of each partner through each stage of
the research;
4. Integrate knowledge and action that mutually benefits all partners;
5. Address social inequalities through co-learning and empowerment of all partners;
6. Provide space for cyclical and iterative processes;
7. Address health from positive and ecological perspectives;
8. Circulate findings and knowledge gained to each partner; and
9. Require a long-term commitment.
Implementation of these CBPR principles can foster a deeper understanding of complex
community social and cultural dynamics and issues, although it should be recognized that the
relative influence of each principle may vary project to project, or even phase to phase within a
project. As an approach that has broad applicability, scholars recognize that the relevance and
utilization of research can be strengthened when partnership development integrates the expertise
and local knowledge of team members who have lived experience alongside academics who hold
a scientific background grounded in theory, systematic inquiry, and data collection. This

37

integration requires researchers to reflect upon and challenge their pre-existing assumptions
(Coughlin et al., 2017; Israel et al., 1998; Minkler, 2005; Teufel-Shone et al., 2018).
I had the opportunity to reflect on and explore my pre-existing assumptions about
disability throughout the process of relationship building. Learning in the field with team
members has provided me with opportunities to explore my misconceptions and ableist beliefs
about disability and challenge reproductions of dominant narratives informed by Western
influenced systems through my process of self-reflexive journaling. I became increasingly aware
of the undue environmental press that persons with disability must contend with because of
inaccessible environments and how commonly they experience this friction. Despite consistent
interactions with inaccessible environments, people can find freedom and enjoyment in a variety
of multi-sensory experiences in nature, regardless of the presence of a disability (Bell, 2019). On
the one hand, I had assumed that it was more difficult to enjoy moments of freedom in nature to
the point where I assumed that PwD may always feel resentment, reproducing disability
narratives of tragedy. On the other hand, I had previously assumed that PwD would always be
grateful for receiving help in overcoming barriers, reproducing harmful expectations on how an
individual should be expected to act or feel. Logically, I knew that I was not immune to
consuming ableist narratives and as a result I was scared that I would say the wrong thing or
offend someone. Initially, this was an uncomfortable space for me to navigate because of
harmful tragic or inspirational disability narratives that I had yet to closely examine. Reflection,
listening, asking questions, and reading literature and blogs written by PwD has been integral to
allowing me to sit in my discomfort as well as guide me through it.
Finally, the broad applicability of CBPR provides flexibility in approach to meet the
individual needs of community partners in a variety of circumstances, which can be particularly

38

relevant to working with PwD (Shumba & Moodley, 2018). I was sensitized to the circumstances
of partners on this project through prior work on the Nature for All project, where I met team
members from Spinal Cord Injury BC and completed standards-based accessibility assessments
with them around BC. During this fieldwork I began to develop a deeper sense of self-awareness
around my misconceptions of disability and built relationships with individual team members.
Much of my learning took place in the vehicle on the drive out to nature sites. I would listen to
various stories, insights, and descriptions of their requirements, and navigation techniques that
are necessary for travel. Before building these relationships there were many simple
considerations I would have missed (e.g., how differently a woman who uses a wheelchair might
experience a flat tire on a remote service road with no communications) in design and trip
planning processes if it were not for these discussions. These relationships enabled my
qualitative inquiry to delve more deeply into personal experiences with enablers of and barriers
to access in the entire trip chain processes. I consider the relationship building process as phase
one of this research, and an essential investment in a methodology that enabled the codevelopment of the research goals.
3.2

Community-Based Participatory Research – Fostering Ongoing Partnerships
Community-based participatory research emerged in the early 1990s drawing from

constructivist and various critical theory perspectives (e.g., race, feminist, disability) that
challenge positivist science’s belief in objectivity, or the possibility of separating the research
from researcher (Israel et al., 1998; Mayan & Daum, 2016; Minkler, 2005; Wilson et al., 2018).
Unlike positivist science, CBPR has roots in utilitarian problem solving, community normative
social and cultural values, and emancipatory understandings (Wilson et al., 2018, p.190). These
influences are evident in the set of guiding principles identified by Israel et al. (1998),

39

particularly the recognition that our reality is influenced by social, political, economic, cultural,
ethnic and gender factors that become more embedded within our societal fabric over time.
Complex factors include poverty, pollution, racism, inadequate housing, income equalities, and
segregated environments that determine health status within a community and require
approaches that recognize how these factors are embedded within social-ecological systems
(Israel et al., 2001). Recognizing systems, structures, and the people within who create these
health conditions can be an important starting point in shifting narratives of victimization to a
belief that individual and community capacity can promote system change (Brydon-Miller,
2007).
Evident throughout the literature on CBPR, building and maintaining partnerships with
the goal of capacity building is the most fundamental element to the success and integrity of the
approach (Mayan & Daum, 2016; Stack & McDonald, 2018). In the present project, investments
in capacity building were made by working with community partners to determine which data
collection sites would be the most meaningful to their community, learning different methods of
qualitative data collection together, and by developing informational narratives in this project
with the intent to circulate them through an online platform ¾ Access Now¾ that allows users
to map out and share information about (in)accessible spaces. Maintaining partnerships is critical
because community partners are essential to identifying sustainable solutions that provide
opportunities for self-advocacy, skill development, and empowerment from within a community
(Coughlin et al., 2017; Stack & McDonald, 2018). At the same time, it is important to note that
a CBPR approach does not automatically empower people, but can create conditions to catalyze
empowerment (Oliver, 1992). The experiences shared in CBPR processes can, for instance, help

40

community partners strengthen their critical thinking and ability to exercise self-determination,
which Stack and McDonald (2018) note are “precursors to empowerment” (p.80).
Partnerships developed within the CBPR framework also consider diverse skills (Israel et
al., 1998), strengths and insights from both community and academic partners in framing public
health problems and solutions (Coughlin et al., 2017). Indeed, best practice suggests that
community partners be consulted for their knowledge and expertise before the process begins,
during the process, and afterward. This continuous engagement helps to ensure that the research
produces meaningful results to each partner on an ongoing basis (Wallerstein et al., 2020). Team
members on this project, for instance, were involved in the development of the idea for this
project and reviewed the accuracy and appropriateness of the findings and final products.
A key benefit to working in continuous partnership is that insights and interpretation
provided by community members can generate a more holistic understanding of context (e.g., a
community’s past and present) that strengthens the overall findings and improves the efficacy of
research translation (Coughlin et al., 2017; Mayan & Daum, 2016). The decision of ownership
over participant stories should be decided early on so the expectations of ownership and
circulation are clear to all partners (Minkler, 2005; Wilson et al., 2018). Ongoing investment in
partnership can also ensure culturally sensitive protocols (e.g., recruitment, compensation) are
built into agreements, as members of community will often have a richer sense of what protocols
are meaningful and appropriate to the community identity (Israel et al., 1998; Mayan & Daum,
2016; Minkler 2005).
Partnerships are built and maintained through the co-development of such protocols
between academics and community partners. The details of partnerships are often forged
through collaborative research agreements between the university and the not-for-profit

41

organizations. Such agreements outline partnership goals, operating norms, expectations,
responsibilities, contingency plans, ownership, and the circulation of data (Israel et al., 1998;
Mayan & Daum, 2016). The content within these agreements should be co-developed to ensure
feelings of equity and respect are reinforced throughout the research process. Unlike positivist
approaches to research that attempt to separate the researcher from their ‘subject,’ CBPR regards
community partners as equals, lending more power to the community when jointly developed
protocols are followed (Israel et al., 1998).
In the present research, project goals and protocols were jointly developed in a funding
application to BC Parks. Agreement to details in this shared proposal went on to guide joint
decision making about more specific implementation measures, like the site selection for data
collection, the appropriateness and relevance of the proposed field journal prompts, and a review
of the fieldwork plan that included destinations and accommodation to ensure there was no
omission of details pertinent to the overall accessibility of the proposed experience. This shared
authority over research processes was achieved through checking with each member individually
and as a group before and during the fieldwork processes.
3.3

Community Based Participatory Research – Sharing Power
Ultimately, an approach like CBPR was deemed appropriate for this research as it has the

potential to build trust that has been destroyed between researchers and the disability community.
Historically, research institutions have studied marginalized groups (e.g., persons with disability,
Indigenous Peoples) without informed and ongoing consent, consideration of ethics, or intentions
of benefiting the marginalized community through principles of reciprocity. In some cases, these
practices have resulted in irrevocable harms to the community (Israel et al., 2001; Teufel-Shone
et al., 2018). To redress such harms, the CBPR paradigm removes the focus from an academic

42

researcher’s potential biases (e.g., research goals that would not be of benefit to the community)
and shifts conversations toward centralizing specific community partner goals and desired
outcomes that benefit the community. The implementation of CBPR principles through a robust
partnership can be regarded as a first step toward establishing and building trust in communities
who have been historically wronged (Israel et al., 1998).
Relationship building and partnership maintenance take many forms, but in CBPR they
are generally used to reduce the effects of power imbalances that often exist between academic
institutions/researchers and human service providers or community-based organizations (Israel et
al., 1998; Stack & McDonald, 2018). Among these imbalances are frequent socio-economic
factors that widen the power gap (Minkler, 2005). Socially and economically marginalized
communities do not often have the power, for instance, to name or define their experience (Israel
et al., 1998). Stack and McDonald (2018) are firm in their assertion that:
[u]sing a participatory approach in disability research may be the only way to address
unequal power relations between academic and community partners and ensure research results
will be presented and used in a way to effectively improve and adequately represent the lives of
people with disabilities (Stack & McDonald, 2018, p.87).
Despite well-meaning intentions, Israel et al (1998) suggest that academics need to be
aware of the ways in which inequities can influence community members’ participation and
influence in collective research and action. Wallerstein (1999) further warns that even outsiders
who pride themselves on being a trusted ally often fail to appreciate the extent of their power and
privilege, and the role they play in research processes and outcomes. The use of photovoice
discussed below sought to address this core concern by providing team members with the
flexibility and freedom to depict their interpretations of their environments without any highly
structured processes that dictated how an individual should move around an outdoor site or what
they should share in a group discussion. The use of creative analytic practice also sought to

43

address this concern by representing aspects of lived experience and producing accessible
information that will be circulated on Access Now, a process determined as valuable by
community partners.
Representation of lived experience is critical to power sharing, and to return power to
community consent throughout the research process. Consent structures need to be co-developed,
informed, and ongoing (Minkler, 2005; Wilson et al., 2018). However, one critique of the ways
in which academic institutions structure consent in research ethics reviews is that it often denies
the opportunity for ongoing consent within existing partnerships (Vishalache & Conforth, 2013).
The current process can create barriers to informed consent because the nature of CBPR
requires iterative processes and research design is often yet to be co-created. As such, team
members cannot prospectively consent to something when they do not know what form the
research will take, how it may change, or what they might share in their journals or group
discussion (Vishalache & Conforth, 2013; Wilson et al., 2018). Minkler (2005) asserts that the
nature of CBPR affords opportunities for constant communication between community partners
that can achieve a flexible informed consent structure. However, gaining consent is a complex
social process and to implement true flexibility institutional reforms are needed. This might
include a restructuring of institutional ethical review processes from a rigid process that fails to
consider cultural differences into a more adaptable model that would suit each individual
community. Wilson et al (2018) assert that this model would require a staggered ethical review
response to accommodate the dynamic and iterative nature of methodology and process within
CBPR.
The CBPR approach also requires flexibility from academic partners and a willingness to
accommodate the needs of community partners so that they feel comfortable sharing their

44

requirements and preferences (Stack & McDonald, 2018). The provision of flexibility in
approach is particularly relevant when working with the experiences of the disability community.
Throughout the process of the present research design, I implemented an approach that
recognized individual access requirements of team members through consistent communication
and member checks. Discussed in greater detail below, a fieldwork plan containing a list of park
destinations for data collection and lodging was sent to each partner to review ahead of time so
they could prepare, understand the nature of the fieldwork, ask questions, and make suggestions
as to how to improve the plan based on their access requirements and preferences.
3.4

Data Collection

3.4.1 Site Selection
In alignment with principles of CBPR the fieldwork plan for data collection was codeveloped with partners from Spinal Cord Injury BC. Data collection locations were determined
through a range of criteria, informed by local experience and knowledge. Processes to engage
this experience and knowledge included identifying key regions that should be included in this
research with BC Parks. A workshop with a member from SCI BC was necessary to further
determine which sites within the BC Parks’ regions would produce the richest and most
meaningful data. The workshop entailed developing inclusion and exclusion criteria for site
selection as well as viewing a map of BC to determine the location of tourist hotspots for naturebased tourism and outdoor recreation. Discussions from the workshop highlighted the need to
include destinations that:
•
•
•

were iconic tourist destinations within the Omineca and Skeena BC Parks regions;
included the presence of meaningful visitor experiences, and the prospect of
accessibility; and
provided accessibility audit information for the site.

45

BC Parks included within the fieldwork itinerary in the Omineca Region and the traditional
territories of the Lhedli T’enneh and Simpcw Peoples included:
•
•
•
•
•

Rearguard Falls Provincial Park
Robson Rivers Campground
Mount Robson Provincial Park
Jackman Flats Provincial Park
Ancient Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park2

BC Parks included in the Skeena Region and traditional territory of the Witsuwit’en Peoples
included:
•
•
•
•

Tyhee Lake Provincial Park
Anderson Flats Provincial Park
Ross Lake Provincial Park
Driftwood Canyon Provincial Park
Data collection also took place in proximal municipal and regional parks and local

establishments, as well as BC recreation sites and trails. These sites included the Cranberry
Marsh Loop, Three Ranges Brewery, and George Hicks Regional Park in the Omenica-Peace
region, and the Bulkley Valley Farmers’ Market and Twin Falls Recreation Site in the Skeena
region. Ultimately, BC Parks and non-BC Parks sites were organized as a set of activity chains
that would resemble a holistic trip that a tourist might seek within these regions. For example,
the entire visitor experience encompasses more than a singular experience at one site, but rather,
is made up of multiple experiences in various contexts. The goal of the project was to explore
multiple possibilities of how a tourist might experience their time in the region, not just limited

The current spelling of Chun T’oh Whudujut is contested by Lhedli Dakelh language keepers.
In Lhedli Dakelh there are no spaces or glottal stops in the word ‘chuntoh’ (forest). Currently,
when referring to the BC Park (Ancient Forest), the Land, Health, and Healing team, a
partnership between Lheldi T’enneh members, elders, and academics from the University of
Northern British Columbia, are referring to the BC Park as Chun T’oh Whudujut otherwise it is
spelled chuntoh. The Uda Dune Chuntoh refers to the broader Interior rainforest (Land, Health
and Healing Team, 2022).

2

46

to BC Parks, and thus the team decided to include a broader variety of possible activities in the
research.
3.4.2 Photovoice
Team members in this research possess a range of abilities, experiences, and different
lenses through which they embody nature. The second phase of this research comprised
fieldwork tasks involving reflections from five team members with representation of a person
with a mobility related impairment and their family member, a person with a sight impairment, a
person with a cognitive impairment, and a parent who considered access and inclusion
requirements for their family with a child. Each team member represents an experience of an
individual with varying identities and lenses, and the identifiers listed here should be recognized
as only one part of who they are. Furthermore, it should not be assumed that someone with a
similar disability or impairment will experience interactions in outdoor spaces in the same way,
as there are varying factors of identities that shape our individual experiences (Geoghegan,
2010).
The use of photovoice methodology enhanced an understanding of what enables access
and creates barriers within the BC Parks regions, and how these spaces are experienced by
persons with a disability (and others) through their own voices. Photovoice is a visual,
qualitative, community-based methodology that emerged from CBPR (Hergenrather et al., 2009;
Lofton & Grant, 2021, Shumba & Moodley, 2018; Wang & Burris, 1997). As a method of
inquiry, photovoice generally involves community partners using cameras to take photographs
that represent their strengths and concerns with pertinent community issues (Hergenrather et al.,
2009; Wang & Burris, 1997).

47

In this research, polaroid cameras, field journals, and group discussion were used as
instruments to document experiences with enablers of and barriers to access in the selected
outdoor sites. Much like the UD principle, photovoice methods provide flexibility in use, and as
a result the method has been applied across disciplines to explore, address, and advocate for a
wide range of community health issues using a qualitative lens (Hergenrather et al., 2009; Lofton
& Grant, 2021; Shumba & Moodley, 2018). This includes regular use as a participatory
evaluation tool, a retrospective evaluation method, and as a community needs assessment tool
(reviewed in Shumba & Moodley, 2018, p. 2). Photovoice is also widely used to reinforce
capacity building complementing one of the CBPR principles listed above (reviewed in Lofton &
Grant, 2021, p. 319).
Grounded in feminist theory, photovoice is designed to empower people by encouraging
them to engage their own voice, language, and history, and to strengthen their self-advocacy
skills through the sharing of lived experience (Coughlin et al., 2017; Hergenrather et al., 2009;
Shumba & Moodley, 2018; Stack & McDonald, 2018). The utility of photovoice extends to give
voice to those most marginalized, to elevate their theoretical and political interest in inclusion,
and to create space for reflections that affirm how their identities may intersect (McCall, 2005).
Photovoice processes include the identification of community issue(s), photovoice training,
camera distribution and instruction, identification of photo assignments, discussion, and data
analysis (Hergenrather et al., 2009). Photovoice also typically includes a forum to share with
policy makers and influential advocates to promote the development of action plans and an
evaluation of program and policy changes (Hergenrather et al., 2009).
In results from a scoping review regarding the use of photovoice with PwD, Shumba and
Moodley (2018) determined that photovoice has been used in ten studies to document responses

48

from persons with physical disabilities, in eight studies including people with intellectual
disabilities, and in three studies including people with sight impairments. Most of the studies
reviewed took a ‘one size fits all’ approach to photovoice that is not congruent with the diversity
and range of abilities in disability studies (Shumba & Moodley, 2018).
In the present study, the research sought to include a high degree of flexibility by
providing opportunities for team members to share concerns of anticipated challenges with using
the proposed data collection method and tools, such as the use of polaroid cameras and field
journals. These opportunities were provided through meetings with the intent of co-developing
research goals. Once I had developed and drafted tools that I thought reflected the team’s desires
based on the information received in meetings, I sent the team the content for review through a
group email. The group email fostered transparency and accountability among the group and for
myself as a researcher. The option to contact me individually was offered in case there was a
concern with the fieldwork plan (e.g., accommodation, working conditions) that a team member
deemed to be more a private or personal matter. The flexible approach created a platform for
team members to provide feedback and share suggestions of how to improve the tool regarding
the usability, and suitability of the tool given their unique embodiments and abilities. The
relationship established within the CBPR approach provided ongoing opportunities to produce
more accurate, responsible, and culturally appropriate representations of the data that I may have
overlooked as someone without lived experience with a disability.
The utilization of polaroid cameras afforded opportunities for an unplugged discussion
within the context of nature-based spaces. The instant prints provided a visual tool to remind the
team members of the experiences they had and to provide context for the group discussions and
data analysis processes. The instant prints were intended to slow the team member down so that

49

the details of their experience would be fresh in their mind as they reflected on their experience
in their journal. Once the photo was taken, partners were instructed to attach their photograph to
a corresponding field journal page and answer the questions soon after, so that they experience
was fresh in their minds. The questions in the field journal were as follows:
1. Describe the experience you just had.
2. What were you thinking, feeling, and doing during this experience?
3. What about this environment enabled or hindered the quality of your experience and
level of participation?
4. Did this experience promote feelings of inclusion or exclusion?
Answers to these questions produced data that informed story writing processes by
providing insight as to what conditions commonly enabled participation and created barriers in
the parks. The data also explored what meaning partners give to terms such as “experience” or
“barriers”, how usable a site may be despite friction given the design, and ultimately what is
important to them while experiencing a site.
The first question allows partners to provide context to describe conditions that lead up
to an experience or reaction regarding an interaction with the design of infrastructure, facilities,
amenities, service, people, and processes that can be found within a park. The second question
focuses on the thoughts, emotions, and behaviour during interactions with the design in the park
environments. Questions of this nature are commonly associated with the concept of empathy
mapping in which user-centered design practice or process that encourages a designer to attempt
to immerse themselves in their design may be experienced through various users (Bennett &
Rosner, 2019; Brown, 2009; Lewrick, Link, & Leifer, 2018). Considering critiques mentioned in
chapter two of this thesis, I use this prompt in recognition of its limitations in crossing the
bounds of my own lived experience to comprehensively understand what it might be like to
experience the design myself. The third question allows partners to reflect critically on what

50

conditions prompted their response. The fourth question is designed to encourage partners to
consider whether this experience prompted feelings of inclusion or exclusion.
At the end of each day of data collection, I would facilitate a group discussion held in
circle at the last site of data collection each day, if the weather and site conditions permitted. I
chose to facilitate the group discussions in an informal and low involvement manner with the
intent to allow partners to revisit sites through natural conversation about their trip experiences.
Due to the prior relationship and experiences of our team members, it was not necessary for me
to ask many guiding questions due to the comfort level developed within the team. My role was
to ensure that we discussed each site, honour the silence, and prod when clarification was needed
around an experience or concept brought up within the group discussion. I chose style of
facilitation because I recognize that I am not the expert and that my greatest learning in this
space has taken place from just listening. If I had an agenda or a preset list of questions, we may
have missed an important topic or experience I wouldn’t have thought about due to my lived
experience with an able body.
The combination of field journals and group discussion provided flexibility in methods of
experiential documentation that conforms to each partner’s preferred or strongest mode of
communication (e.g., written, verbal). The provision of alternative forms of documentation and
communication ensured the appropriateness of using photovoice with team members from the
disability community, instead of taking a ‘one size fits all’ approach that Shumba and Moodley
(2018) cautioned against. Interestingly, the field journals provided a private space for people to
share more about their emotions regarding an interaction, than what they may feel comfortable
sharing out loud, even within an established relationship.

51

One limitation of photovoice can be the small sample size in studies, which can prevent
the generalization of results (Shumba & Moodley, 2018). Although limits to generalizability are
recognized, Hergenrather et al. (2009) argue that insights and information gathered by small
sample sizes can highlight the need for a broader scale inquiry on a given community
issue. Given the strength of CBPR as a method, the small sample size with established familiarity
in this present study, can be viewed as a strength. The pre-established connections between
community partners created space for conversational depth over breadth. The personal
relationships further highlighted the merit of emancipatory research as they each spoke from
their individual worldviews while remaining open to a discussion about them, challenging
positivist approaches that often reject subjective experiences. Wang and Burris (1997) add that a
main goal of photovoice is to draw awareness to an issue, influence community level change,
and reach policy makers. To this end, Lofton and Grant (2021) completed a literature review
assessing the outcomes and actions associated with the use of photovoice during intentional
action planning. Results demonstrated a range of outcomes, including community policy
advocacy, increased funding support for future projects, new interventions and research projects,
and increased community capacity. Based on findings, Lofton and Grant (2021) recommend that
photovoice projects be intentional in detailing how they plan to influence action beyond the
circulation of information. They also suggest that scholars include action plans in their writing to
allow evaluation of why a project using photovoice was successful.
3.5

Data Analysis

3.5.1 Thematic Analysis
A thematic analysis (TA) was completed as one of the first operations required to begin
drafting stories using creative analytic practice. Discussed more below, the stories sought to

52

combine objective accessibility standards data (e.g., infrastructure measurements) collected by
BC Parks and the experiential data collected through photovoice and group discussion. Thematic
analysis is a process and framework that guides researchers to systematically identify, organize,
and reveal patterns of themes across qualitative datasets (Braun & Clarke, 2006; Braun & Clarke,
2012; Terry et al., 2017).
Thematic analysis can be used to analyze qualitative data produced from a range of data
collection approaches, including interviews and focus groups (e.g., Hergenrather et al., 2009;
Neville et al., 2015; Niland et al., 2014). TA is also useful in analyzing textual data such as
journals (e.g., Leeming et al., 2013) and can be helpful in narrative-based methods like the use of
vignettes (e.g., Clarke et al., 2015). In a review of qualitative research methods, Hergenrather et
al (2009) also reported that TA methodology is often applied to data from group discussions
specifically when using photovoice. Data collected from photovoice discussions are analyzed
through codifying data, exploring, formulating, and interpreting themes; work that should be
done in partnership with participants (Hergenrather et al., 2009).
To identify themes and relate patterns using a dataset, researchers implement TA analysis
using a process of coding (Braun & Clarke, 2006; Braun & Clarke, 2012). Coding reveals
patterns of meaning that are identified by the researcher in relation to a particular topic and
research question being investigated (Braun & Clarke, 2012). The qualitative codes are
developed by dissecting each appropriate unit of the data to assign abstract ideas or general
concepts to singular incidences of data that assist in interpretation (Charmaz, 2006; Vollstedt &
Rezat, 2016). Using a grounded theory approach, codes should be oriented towards action and
processes of the research questions being asked (Strauss & Corbin, 1990).

53

Thematic analysis processes are flexible as there are many ways to approach the analysis.
An inductive approach to coding is a bottom-up method in which a researcher creates codes and
themes based on what is in the data (Braun & Clarke, 2012). An inductive approach is based on
the familiarization with the data throughout the coding process (Braun & Clarke, 2006; Braun &
Clarke, 2012; Terry et al., 2017). Whereas a deductive approach is conducted in a top-down
manner, where the researcher comes to the process with a set of predetermined concepts, ideas,
or topics that they use to find meaning within the data (Braun & Clarke, 2012). In this research,
an inductive thematic analysis was used to interpret the reflections from field journals,
photographs, and group discussion. An inductive approach was chosen as I did not want to risk
attenuating the meaning of the data by imposing my own ideas ¾as someone without a physical
disability¾ of what should emerge from the data and potentially missing the richness of what
the data already is.
A TA approach often involves working closely with subjective experiential and personal
data, requiring careful consideration and flexibility in interpretation on behalf of the researcher,
especially when working with the experiences of PwD (Shumba & Moodley, 2018; Terry et al.,
2017). In qualitative versions of TA, the subjectivity of the researcher is seen as an essential
instrument within the coding and analysis process as it is the researcher who generates and
constructs the themes (Braun & Clarke, 2012; Glaser, 1992; Terry et al., 2017). Terry et al.
(2017) further suggest that researchers cannot remove themselves from the research due to the
subjective nature of qualitative research. Although inductive approaches to open coding maintain
an assumption that the researcher works without preconceived notions of concepts or specific
ideas, scholars acknowledge that researchers hold previous skills, knowledge and experiences
that will influence their coding process (Charmaz, 2006; Glaser, 1992). Use of an inductive

54

coding process as described here was important to this work because it recognizes that I engage
with the data with prior life experience, assumptions about disability, and the desire to challenge
such assumptions within my practice. In using an inductive approach, I am acknowledging such
positions inform my coding processes in an intimate way. To ensure that I have not
misinterpreted or omitted key meaning in the data, drafts of the vignettes were provided to
partners for review and approval.
The process of theme development can be divided into three separate phases: open, axial,
and selective coding (Strauss & Corbin, 1990). These phases are not inherently easily
distinguishable from one another but represent different ways of working with the data (Vollstedt
& Rezat, 2016). In the open or initial coding phase, codes are subject to change as new codes
emerge, and are intentionally temporary, comparative, and grounded in data (Charmaz, 2006,
p.48). Axial coding is the process that allows a researcher to investigate the relationships
between codes or concepts that have been created in the open coding process. Axial coding
might explore relation to causal conditions, the context of characteristics of the phenomena being
explored, actions and interaction strategies, and/or the action and interactions being
performed (Strauss & Corbin, 1990, Vollstedt & Rezat, 2016). Finally, selective coding seeks to
integrate and describe the codes further connecting relationships between axial codes that have
been developed, thus developing themes (Strauss & Corbin, 1990, Vollstedt & Rezat, 2016).
Each group discussion was transcribed non-verbatim to remove additional expressions
(e.g., stammers, filler words, pauses, laughter, interruptions) that were not critical to the analysis.
The process of coding and theming of field journals and transcripts from group discussion was
completed using NVivo 12 (qualitative data management software). The review process of the
journal entries and group discussion transcripts produced 101 open codes using NVivo 12.

55

NVivo 12 was also used in axial coding to identify relationships that ultimately became three
final themes through the selective coding process. These themes were provided to partners for
review to ensure they accurately reflected the meanings in which team members ascribe to their
experiences. After revision, they became a key input in the vignette and story development
process as the following section describes.
3.5.2 Creative Analytic Practice
Creative analytic practice (CAP) is a qualitative, arts-based method of collecting and
representing data that is situated outside of conventional social science approaches. Uses of the
method include, but are not limited to, poetic representations, ethnodramas, and fictional
representations (Parry & Johnson, 2007; Richardson, 2000). I used CAP processes to create a set
of hybrid vignettes informed by the experiences of team members and BC Parks accessibility
standards data. CAP is a relevant tool in this analysis because it is often used to promote policy
change and action, as well as knowledge circulation, aligning with the goals of CBPR and
photovoice (Hergenrather, 2009; Israel et al., 1998; Stack & Mcdonald, 2018). CAP is also more
accessible to nonacademic audiences as it uses non-traditional qualitative approaches that convey
research findings in relatable and plain language (Edge et al., 2020; Richardson, 2000).
Use of CAP pushes scientific boundaries, challenging positivist approaches, by
representing multiple ways of knowing and illustrating how science can coexist with lived
experience (Wright, 2018). This process illuminates the role of the researcher, as CAP centres
the personal and social meanings they have derived from the data (Edge et al., 2020; Richardson,
2000). As the practice of CAP acknowledges and incorporates the author’s subjective role in data
interpretation, it aligns with the view in grounded theory TA that one cannot simply remove

56

themselves from experiential qualitative analysis (Glaser, 1992; Parry & Johnson, 2007; Terry et
al., 2017; Wright, 2018).
CAP offers a relevant set of tools to this research as the popularity of narrative-based
analysis has become increasingly visible in disability studies (Smith & Sparkes, 2008). Goodley
and Tregaskis (2006) suggest that impairment is a social phenomenon that is storied, negotiated,
and constructed in diverse ways. Set in this context, the use of narrative becomes particularly
relevant and useful in disability studies because stories and disability are related as cultural and
social productions (Smith & Sparkes, 2008). Indeed, the concept of impairment itself recognizes
accounts of persons with disability that locate impairments in and as personal and social
narratives (Goodley & Tregaskis, 2006). Stories analyze, theorize, and allow audiences to
empathize. Engagement with storytelling can thus help researchers move away from solely
theorizing and explaining, and toward evocation, intimate involvement, engagement, and
embodied participation that fosters understanding of ourselves and others’ experiences of the
world (Richardson, 2000; Smith & Sparkes, 2008).
When utilizing CAP, Richardson (2000) suggests that writers should produce artful,
poetic, evocative, empathetic, multi-voiced narratives that audiences can keep in their minds and
feel in their bodies. Doing so can increase the likelihood of readers having the ability to
empathize with the data. In this sense, CAP can increase inclusivity because it is specifically
designed to engage non-scholarly audiences (Edge et al., 2020; Parry & Johnson, 2007; Smith &
Sparkes, 2008) and promote appreciation and acceptance of another’s lived experience or
embodiments of space (Edge et al., 2020; Smith & Sparkes, 2008). The use of storytelling
creates space to represent personal and social meanings of the data by encouraging readers to see
themselves in the stories, draw their own conclusions, and connect with emotions and

57

embodiments of research participants (Edge et al., 2020; Parry & Johnson, 2007; Richardson,
2000).
Although, Edge et al. (2020) argued that the criteria provided by Richardson (2000)
lacked procedural guidelines of the narrative development processes. In response to a lack of
procedural guidance, Edge et al. (2020) developed their own approach to CAP that draws on
design process and empathy mapping (Brown, 2009; Lewrick, Link, & Leifer, 2018). Their
process includes three stages: knowledge gathering (data collection), synthetization
(identification of themes) and representation (based on empathy mapping and persona
development). To support their writing process, Edge et al (2020) established a vignette pathway
to guide the team to common context and a set of key experiences that should be included in
each vignette.
Research vignettes can range from representations that are completely factual to
completely fictionalized (Edge et al., 2020). A hybrid vignette is fictionalized but written from
an underlying set of empirical observations (e.g., field journals, group discussion) (Boluk et al.,
2019; Edge et al., 2020; Parry, 2007, Wright, 2018). The creation of hybrid vignettes can be
challenging, as Parry and Johnson (2007) argue that representing someone’s lived experience is
complex and can lead to the crisis of representation. This crisis occurs when scholars remove
themselves from the participants, also known as the process of othering. To mitigate this issue
Parry and Johnson (2007) and Richardson (2000) suggest that CAP makes clear the researcher’s
interpretation and position in the representation of the findings.
Implementation of CAP in this thesis involved the development of two hybridvignettes
that serve as samples of the type of content that will be circulated through the Access Now
platform. The vignettes in this study represent a story of how park users may spend their time

58

within the two BC Parks regions. My approach to vignette development follows that of past
research (e.g., Boluk et al., 2019; Edge et al., 2020; Parry, 2007, Wright 2018) and uses
Richardson’s (2000) criteria of making a substantive contribution, ascetic merit, reflexivity,
impact, and expression of reality. However, in recognition of the challenges associated with
persona development in the context of disability studies (e.g., see Bennett & Rosner, 2019), I
have decided against the use of persona development in these hybrid vignettes. The data in the
field journals was naturally more personal (empathetic), poetic, and descriptive in nature,
reducing the necessity for overly fictionalized stories; they are already empathetic pieces.
My relational attempts to connect lived experience and standards data were founded in
the principles of seeking a true understanding of lived experience with (in)equity in outdoor
recreation spaces and a recognition for the contributions of our team members (Bennett &
Rosner, 2019). The crisis of representation was mitigated in my story writing processes through
two decisions. I first chose not to tell someone else’s experiential truth through the voice of a
fictional persona in my story. Even with a well-developed partnership and member checks, I did
not want to risk watering down anyone’s truth, make assumptions of what it is like to have a
disability, nor did I want to unintentionally reproduce any harmful stereotype. In the vignettes,
reflections from the team were posed by using provisional language such as “may” and “might”
so that risk of assuming everyone with a similar impairment will experience the site in the same
way would be mitigated. Second, the parts that include fictional aspects in the story are
contained to elements such as imagining why someone might take a trip to a given region, for
example. My author voice in the storying process simply bolsters the direct descriptions of
places from team members and provides a hypothetical reason that a family or group of people
may decide to travel to these outdoor spaces.

59

Chapter Four – Results and Discussion
In this section I will share the experiences of the team members in various outdoor
recreation and nature-based tourism spaces. Out of the data set, I constructed three themes
¾access to key features, cognitive space, and information¾ that emerged from group
discussions and journal reflections. The reflections have been italicized throughout Chapter Four.
Parentheses following the quotes from group discussion and field journals will indicate the
source of the reflection as well as which team member the reflection belongs to by labelling team
members from 1-5 allowing the reader to follow each individual journey. For example, they are
described as “Team Member 1.” This naming convention was chosen instead of the common
practice of pseudonyms to emphasize the relationship of the team that co-developed the research
design.
4.1

Access to Key Features
This theme conveys the importance that team members place on having access to key

features at a destination. Key features, in the outdoor recreation context, can be thought of as
providing highly valuable experiences that often form the reason to visit a site. Examples of key
features include access to water such as lakes and rivers, and equal access to views of mountains
or waterfalls. Team members noted that sometimes the way access is provided can create
opportunities for interactions with key features that become a secondary experience or reason to
visit itself. For example, a boardwalk that meanders through the forest can create an experience
and a chance to interact with nature en route to a waterfall (i.e., the key feature). The importance
and implications of providing access to key features will be explored throughout this theme.
The team had different expectations for front country parks from those located in the
back country areas. Front country parks refer to parks that are within one kilometre of the centre

60

line of a highway (BC Parks, 2023). The proximity of parks to a highway or community can
make them more readily available to a diverse user group. The team provides rationale that
details why a front country park should require a higher level of access:
For a park that is close to a community and not far off the highway, this is a park where
you should probably be putting the money into making it accessible because you are
likely to get a lot of visitors there. [Tyhee Lake Provincial Park] is so close to Telkwa, it
is almost a community park, that’s how I would view it. It is so close. You would probably
get a lot of people there in the summer for picnics and what not (Team Member Two,
group discussion).
To me, these front country parks should be class A accessible; everything, every amenity
and facility there, even the playground. Maybe something a little further off the beaten
path could be class B, class C, whatever. These front country parks need to do a better
job and consider what you are trying to do here and for whom. There are a lot of visitors,
lots of people. So, you should make it a higher level of accessibility. For a front country
park, I would kind of expect top notch accessibility (Team Member One, group
discussion).
These reflections mirror results from a BC Parks survey regarding park accessibility that
demonstrated front country parks most utilized by PwD were those close to population centres.
This use pattern is a rationale for BC Parks to prioritize accessibility upgrades at these parks (BC
Parks, 2023). The team limits their expectations of park accessibility based on how far off the
beaten track the park is, acknowledging that there are challenges associated with making back
country parks accessible (e.g., funding). It is likely that the adjustment of expectations for levels
of accessibility based on their geographic location is pragmatic, but it also reflects past
experiences of negotiating inaccessible sites. The limitation or adjustment around expectations
for park accessibility is just one negotiation strategy deployed to accept that inaccessible

61

environments exist that create friction in their experiences (Yao et al., 2004). Daniels et al.
(2005) frames the adjustment of expectations for varying levels of accessibility as emotional
work. In their analysis of constraints and negotiations, one participant clearly affirmed that if
they had expected everywhere to be accessible then they would just stay home (Daniels et al.,
2005, p.924). Just because inaccessible environments exist, it does not mean opportunities lack
elsewhere to participate, such as in front country parks.
The team clearly identifies some potential benefits that an increased level of accessibility
in front country parks could provide to proximal communities. Both team members assert that
the design of infrastructure, facilities, and amenities in a front country park should consider the
amount and type of users that may wish to access the park. Across the various sites team
members assert that a higher level of accessibility should be prioritized in front country parks as
they receive and have the potential to receive higher numbers of visitations, especially if they
were designed to be accessible.
4.1.2 Providing Access to Key Features
At Robson Rivers Campground, a front country park, a portion of the team was afforded
the opportunity to view Mount Robson from the Robson River by following a steep, narrow trail
lined with protruding tree roots and large rocks. “The view is almost better here than right at the
base of Mount Robson because you have the trees and the river. It’s a different experience and to
me. That’s why you camp here” (see Figure 1) (Team Member Two, group discussion).
Another team member pointed out the significance of the trail: “If you’re staying in the
campground for days, that would become a part of your daily routine, right? You could
disappear for a couple of hours to a spot like that” (Team Member Three, group discussion).

62

Figure 1: View of Mount Robson from the bottom of the trail.

Yet not everyone had access to the view featured in Figure 1 due to the slope, width, and
condition of the trail terrain: “We would have overnighted and left” (Team Member Five,
group discussion).
For me of course, access to water is always the big challenge. So, my view of the river
and mountain was just in a frame from the top of the hill, I don’t get a scope when all I
see are trees. If they had constructed a platform out a little, then you can get an
unencumbered view (Team Member One, group discussion).
Access to this iconic view would create opportunities and desire for users to extend their
stay in the Robson River Provincial Campground. Access to the view of Mount Robson, widely
regarded for its scenic value, would also create opportunities for place attachment that promotes
connection, a component necessary for increased environmentally responsible behaviour (Li et
al., 2023). The experience with this particular view of the mountain was so influential and
enjoyable that members of the team remarked that they would return or incorporate the
experience into their daily routine at the campground.

63

Conversely, physical barriers prevented Team Member One who has a mobility
impairment from accessing the same view as the rest of the group. The mountain was regarded as
a key feature, and the lack of access to the key feature would have prompted their family to leave
or reduce the amount of time spent in the park as Team Member Five mentions. Despite having
access to other park amenities such as an accessible campsite and washroom facilities, the view
in Figure 1 was regarded as the main reason to visit the campground. Findings from Daniels et
al.’s (2005) study of constraints to travel enjoyment of PwD determined that 99% of a park could
be accessible but if the main feature —that 1%— is inaccessible then the overall enjoyment of
the experience is greatly reduced (p. 926). Similarly, Israeli (2002) describes a noncompensatory disability mindset that shapes the types of experiences that are prioritized.
Regardless of how many attractions and features exist outside of the main attraction, if the
experience is inaccessible and people cannot participate in the enjoyment of it, then they are
likely to leave (Israeli, 2002).
4.1.3 Fostering Independence
Accessing key features can create opportunities for users to explore their own abilities
and boundaries through interactions with nature (Bell, 2019). The experiences of the team at
Rearguard Falls Provincial Park highlight two key opportunities for the exploration of
independence and personal abilities: infrastructure that can increase a sense of safety; and
collaborative achievement in risk taking (Bell, 2019). In urban parks, one of the main concerns
of elderly participants with disabilities was for their physical safety when encountering barriers
(e.g., curbs without cuts, unlevel trail gradient) (Perry et al., 2021). Although concerns about
safety among users exist, perceptions of (un)safety on the part of service providers can act as a
barrier to an individual’s exploratory freedoms because of assumptions made about their ability

64

(Burns et al., 2013). Social attitudes of service providers, other people on the trip, or internalized
narratives may increase a fear of perceived risk and ‘enforced dependency’ that implies PwD are
not capable of assessing their own abilities (Burns et al., 2013, p.1066; Oliver, 1990). Despite
these narratives, PwD are more aware of their own needs and abilities than non-disabled people,
and the necessity to become more aware of one’s limitations in relation to risk can be seen as a
form of independence and identity building (Burns et al., 2013).
The fencing shown in Figure 2 encompasses the stairs and viewing decks of Rearguard
Falls Provincial Park. The fencing in this case was provided to keep everyone safe and did not
impose ableist assumptions highlighted by Burns et al (2013). The fencing provided
opportunities for a young team member to experience an increased level of independence, as
there was a perceived decreased need for close supervision. The presence of the infrastructure
provided an increase in a sense of safety for both the young team members and their caretaker.
As a result of an increased sense of safety, the caretaker’s stress response may be inhibited
(Brosschot et al., 2018). The ability to relax during this experience created the cognitive space
for the caretaker to focus more on their interactions with nature in that space.

65

Figure 2: Fencing encompassing the viewing platform at Rearguard Falls.

Moments of reprieve at Rearguard Falls Provincial Park were appreciated by the team,
but to experience the waterfall, a willingness to engage with risk was necessary for our team
member with a mobility impairment. Risk is widely considered an integral part of many
experiences outdoors (Burns et al., 2013). In this case, despite switchbacks in the trail, the slope
down to the site was extremely high and considered dangerous for people with mobility
impairments to attempt independently. Team Member One, who uses a mobility device, would
not have been able to safely navigate the site independently; their participation was dependent on
the presence of able-bodied friends, colleagues, and family to assist with trail navigation. They
reflect on their experience of Rearguard Falls Provincial Park in group discussion and in their
field journals, respectively:

66

You know why its fun? Because as much as we keep talking about accessibility and
having it, it is also fun to get out of your comfort zone. You mentioned that you get to
experience a little bit of adrenaline, a little thrill and excitement once in a while. So,
when we were going down that hill there, that was lots of fun… And quite often for people
with disabilities, in order to experience that, you need able-bodied friends to help you do
that (Team Member One, group discussion).
I am grateful for my friends to help me up and down the hill. I am feeling blessed to be
able to experience the beauty of the sound of the water rushing over the falls; it’s so
soothing and meditative. Once I was at the viewing platform, I felt that I was able to
experience the waterfall without feeling left out (Team Member One, field journal).
One of the other team members reflected on their experience descending the trail with Team
Member One: “I appreciate the chance to support a colleague getting down the steep slopes to
the main falls viewing platform” (Team Member Three, field journal).
Reflections from Team Member One reveal a tension. The slope of the trail posed a
barrier to independent access, but also proved to be a main source of fun and opportunity to
explore personal boundaries in risk taking (Burns et al., 2013). The steep trail also served as a
site for collaborative achievement that can be mutually beneficial to all parties involved and
encourage social bonding (Bell, 2019). Each of the team members involved in navigating the
trail together expressed feelings of gratitude to explore risk-taking together. Freedoms found in
risk-taking for PwD tend to be managed and undermined by able-bodied people who determine
what risks are acceptable in recreation (Burns et al., 2013). There were no documented instances
of social barriers that would suggest Team Member One not attempt the trail based on
assumptions of their abilities; the team trusted that Team Member One could make their own
decisions around what level of risk they would like to engage with (Burns et al., 2013). Members

67

of this team challenged this narrative by collaborating to mobilize Team Member One’s
exploratory freedoms (Bell, 2019).
4.1.4 The Value in Shared Experiences
The team valued the opportunity to share their experiences in nature with each other. As
demonstrated above, sharing an experience in risk taking with others proved to be a highlight at
Rearguard Falls Provincial Park. However, when the design of infrastructure, facilities and
amenities are not accessible, this can negatively impact individual and collective experience. At
Tyhee Lake Provincial Park, our member with a mobility impairment was conflicted when
prompted to answer whether their experience at Tyhee Lake promoted feelings of inclusion or
exclusion. They could not choose one or the other because experiences of disability and
accessibility do not exist in a binary manner (e.g., see De Schauwer et al., 2021; Howard, 2018).
At times they were able to participate in the full exploration of the park, and at others they were
not able to participate due to the presence of barriers. The following excerpt illustrates one
instance in which Team Member One could not access a key feature:
For me, going around the park with [my grandson], at one point we stopped at the
playground and of course, it was not accessible. And I said, “go ahead.” Right away he
climbed on the swing and said, “papa, push me papa, come and push me!” Well, my
heart gets ripped out eh. I said, “No, I can’t get in there,” and you know… So those are
the kinds of things that diminish the experience and… anyway… that happens a fair
amount (Team Member One, group discussion).
Places such as the playground are often remembered, valued, and considered special
because of the social bonding that can happen there (Budruk & Wilhelm-Stanis, 2013). The
inaccessible design of the playground denied our team member and his grandson the opportunity
to create memories together by sharing fully in the experience. Motivations to participate in

68

recreation often stem from the potential to establish and further develop family and cultural ties
(Budruk & Wilhelm-Stanis, 2013). When denied the opportunity for important social bonding,
interactions with the inaccessible infrastructure (i.e., a playground) can mar the feelings
associated with the entire experience of the park. This emotional moment demonstrates one
consequence of failing to plan for a diverse population. Team Member One stops themselves
mid-sentence before delving into the extent of the emotional impact, to highlight how frequently
they encounter barriers that sever opportunities for social connection.
Emotions about experiences with exclusion were not contained solely to our team
member with a mobility impairment; other team members had their own experiences as
witnesses to various occasions where their team member was excluded: “I’m feeling the water
with [Team Member One] nearby, behind the concrete barrier. I wonder if he would have come
to the water’s edge if offered the same chance as me to do so” (Team Member 3, field
journal); “I felt exclusion because of the exclusion of my colleague who couldn’t come down to
the water” (Team Member 2, field journal).
I felt that disruption [in the group] yesterday when we were at Cranberry Marsh up at
the viewing platform, and you were down below. The group had felt cohesive, even
though we were spread out doing some of our own things. It felt so disjointed and it just
changed the entire experience for me. Same at Rearguard Falls. I guess I could still
appreciate the falls, but I wanted you there with us right at the bottom, and it really
bothered me (Team Member 4, group discussion).
The experiences presented above relate to a disruption in the collective social bonding
process, which is argued to be one of the principal motivators to participate in recreation (Budruk
& Wilhelm-Stanis, 2013; Raymond et al., 2010). Due to a failure to consider, plan for, and
implement accessibility requirements within various front country parks, more than one team

69

member felt excluded; the disruption in the experience created a barrier to the full enjoyment and
connection to be found within outdoor recreation experiences.
At Cranberry Marsh, a tall viewing platform with stairs provided a distinct view and
experience (see Figure 3) from the view available from ground level. Our team member with a
mobility impairment was not given the option of exploring a new perspective because of the
stairs leading up to it:
I mean that lookout is key for people’s experience to see the whole marsh, you know?
For me, I just see everything at three-foot height everywhere I go. And so the family
went up and they got the whole experience. But wheelchair users, lets say... we rarely
get the full experience because of the inaccessibility of lookouts for example. At the
height we’re travelling at, we just don’t get it. I just get to see bull rushes. That’s all I
see (Team Member One, group discussion).
Figure 3: The perspective from the bottom of the stairs leading up to a viewing platform at
Cranberry Marsh (left) vs. the perspective of Cranberry Marsh afforded by accessing the
viewing platform (right).

Team Member One waited at the bottom of the viewing platform for their family and
other members of the team to return and describe their experiences of the viewing platform. The

70

infrastructure separated the group ultimately diminishing the quality of their experience. Failing
to provide access to key features diminished the quality of everyone's overall experience.
Inaccessibility of key features resulted in feelings of frustration and empathy, limited opportunity
for independent exploration, and the denial of freedom to create shared experiences with family
and friends. The inequitable distribution of nature has implications for the health and wellbeing
of people who are denied equal opportunities (Bell, 2019, p. 311). Each of these experiences
highlighted how important providing access to key to enabling the types of experiences that users
seek in their outdoor recreation pursuits.
4.2

Cognitive space
This theme examines how cognitive space, or the capacity to embody an experience in

nature to the desired extent, is impacted through interactions with varying levels of
(in)accessibility. The team emphasized how design and infrastructure in parks can either enable
them to embody their experiences in nature or how their opportunity for relaxation and
enjoyment of the experience can be removed. French phenomenologist Maurice Merleau-Ponty
(1945, 1962) describes our human existence as being with the lived body; bodies that we have
and bodies that we are. However, the connection between our mind and body shifts as various
parts of our body fall in and out of consciousness depending on the various activities we engage
with (Leder, 1990). In other words, there is an inextricable link between our mind, body, and
worldly experiences. Bullington (2009) asserts that “there is no understanding which is not
rooted in our embodiment, and no body experiences which do not partake of some level of
meaning” (p. 102). As we ascribe meaning to these connections, we recognize that the desired
connections may be interrupted.

71

Bullington (2009) provides two helpful examples to explain how mind-body connections
during a given situation can vary and create a disconnection with the surrounding world. First,
she notes that there are situations that naturally call forth the cognitive engagement of the
cognitive level of the lived body like delivering a lecture or watching television. In these
situations, there may be a perceived detachment of mind from body where one is not acutely
aware of their bodily movements. Second, Bullington (2009) offers that when we experience a
more physiological connection to body, such as receiving a massage or falling asleep, the
psychological connection to body fades into the background and foregrounds the awareness of
body. These connections demonstrate how if one thinks too much while participating in a
physical activity, and vice versa, the harmony or connection between the embodiment of the
experience may be disrupted (Bullington, 2009).
The presence of barriers calls forward the need for cognitive attention. When cognitive
attention is activated, it disrupts a harmonious connection to the surrounding environment.
Whether it was a singular interaction or a series of interactions that precluded access for an
individual, each thought about an interaction with a barrier in the environment appeared to
inhibit embodied observations and connections with nature. Perhaps one might have been more
focused on negotiating a barrier rather than experiencing, “the fall colors sparkling in the
sunshine above the clouds,” (Team Member Two, field journal) and the “soothing sound of
running water,” (Team Member One, field journal) or “the colour of the river and feeling the
breeze, putting me in my happy place” (Team Member Four, field journal).
Reflections during group discussion also suggest the disconnection between the lived
body is due to an anticipation of inaccessible features. Our team member with a mobility

72

impairment describes a background or cognitive noise in their head when encountering
inaccessibility:
[My wife] and I went to the States and we were so immersed in this accessibility
[expletive]that everywhere we went its like, “Oh look at that, look at that.” And at some
point we just looked at each other and said, “we need to stop looking for every damn
inaccessible thing and just experience.” Turn off the work brain. It’s the accessibility
radar app running all the time. Sometimes it’s in the background, but it’s always there.
But it really revs up when I get away from home or my regular trip to the [grocery store].
If we’re trying to experience something new like Cranberry Marsh, then the radar goes
up and the app is open. Right away I can see that I can’t get up to the viewing platform
or that I can’t get past the bridge. This is where the app throttles up, when there is no
access to water and I’m not able to get down like everyone else did. This is where the
friction points come in (Team Member One, group discussion).

Team Member One’s reference to past experiences within the group discussion refers to a
geographic location outside of our data collection, but the fixation that actively focuses one’s
attention to inaccessible or anticipated inaccessible components can hold implications for
experiences of nature-based tourism and outdoor recreation more broadly. The additional
expenditure of mental and physiological stress to anticipate whether access requirements will be
met in an environment or to observe that they are not met, can remove the individual from the
experience of their body.
What our team member refers to as the “accessible radar app” can be equated to an acute
attunement to or hyperawareness of interacting with inaccessible environments. Findings from
Burns et al. (2013) highlight a similar hyper awareness where one participant is always
anticipating and looking for barriers to their access in urban and rural environments. However,
this participant framed their hyper awareness as looking forward to challenges. In either case,

73

dissonance of mind, body, and world connection might occur when encountering barriers that
deny embodied connections with nature. Team Member One’s focus shifted from a freely
embodied or unconscious body experience to expending cognitive energy on barrier negotiation.
In essence, Team Member One acknowledges the familiarity or safety they feel on their “regular
visit to the grocery store” by alluding to the predictable conditions that allow them to feel
comfortable, relaxed, and confident. In that store our team member knows that their access
requirements will be met, or that they can negotiate barriers that may be present.
Increased awareness and stress in the cognitive mind occurred at higher frequencies in
unfamiliar environments. The apprehension of visiting new sites was founded in past evidence
and experiences of unfamiliar inaccessible environments. Our team member with a sight
impairment highlights how unfamiliar experiences made them feel at Cranberry Marsh:
I always love more trails, though I feel a slight anxiety when starting, just in case there
is something challenging, visually that I don’t know about... I felt relaxed until I came
to the hidden (to me) step coming off of the bridge (see Figure 4). Steps that are not
marked are a tripping hazard and make me anxious about finding (falling over) more
steps that I cannot see (Team Member Two, field journal).

74

Figure 4: A bridge with an angled lip due to lack of maintenance of eroding soil.

What is significant in this reflection is how our team member mentions their state of
relaxation before encountering a hidden step due to the lack of colour contrast between the
bridge and the trail. A heightened awareness or sense of caution is then required to navigate the
rest of the site safely, reinforcing, or validating feelings of apprehension and anxiety that existed
before the encounter with a barrier.
The fixation with accessibility could be equated to a chronic or default stress response
due to the feelings that arise when encountering a barrier or anticipating the presence of a barrier.
In their research regarding the generalized unsafety theory of stress, Brosschot et al. (2018) refer
to a default chronic stress response when marginalized groups are or have been discriminated
against (e.g., not having access to a key feature). The default stress response is triggered when
there is either a conscious or unconscious perception of unsafety or unpredictability due to a lack
of information about the current context in which an individual is in (Brosschot et al., 2018). For
example, a PwD may consistently experience barriers to access in an urban environment. The

75

information that they have based on their personal experiences demonstrates that those places
within the urban environment are not accessible. If the same PwD is in an unknown outdoor
recreation context, the unpredictability of whether access requirements will be met triggers a
stress response due to a lack of information about the site and how the site might be
experienced.
4.2.1

Creating Cognitive Space
Throughout both data collection periods, team members identified several interactions

with accessible infrastructure, facilities and amenities that allowed them to embody their
experience in nature. For example, the presence of a singular bench located along the extensive
trail network at Cranberry Marsh changed the entire experience for our team member with a
cognitive impairment that affects short term memory and creates additional confusion:

The best part was that I found a bench. With my new [cognitive impairment] I get easily
confused. So just sitting sometimes for five or ten minutes in a quiet place, I can kind of
gather my thoughts. “Oh yeah, I came this way.” I can sort things out and I don’t feel
rushed. It just feels like a safe, peaceful place for my head, because now with my
disability, being around people is very draining, I can’t follow conversations, it never
used to be that way. So I find that I need even more time to just sit back. I felt a sense of
peace and I was grateful for a place to rest and reflect (Team Member Four, group
discussion).
A place for pause was also highlighted at the salmon viewing decks at George Hicks
Regional Park, featured in Figure 5. For one team member, the presence of a bench made all the
difference: “the simple presence of a bench and the sign entirely made my experience at this
spot. It is so calming to sit and listen to the stream pass as I write” (Team Member Three, field
journal).

76

Figure 5: Viewing deck at George Hicks Regional Park with a bench.
Figure 5: Viewing deck at George Hicks Regional Park with a bench.

The presence of a bench is described as simple due to how easy benches would be to
provide in terms of amenities within a site. The bench itself and what the bench provided to our
team member, however, is not necessarily simple. The bench changed the feelings associated
with the entire experience by creating opportunities to write and to connect with sensations of the
natural world. In both instances, the bench provided our team members with essential rest and
the opportunity for cognitive restoration. In their moment of relaxation, they found peace in
being surrounded by nature. The bench created conditions where it was possible for them to
embody the space, indicating that the cognitive mind was able to reunite with body during the
period of relaxation. These findings mirror those of Perry et al. (2021) who found older adults
with disabilities describe benches as a need for rest, places to gather thoughts, and to connect
with family. A lack of benches can also prevent opportunities for further park exploration or to
experience the space as desired (Perry et al., 2021). Providing accessible amenities such as
benches can enhance the experience in a variety of ways.

77

Similarly, accessible boardwalks can create conditions where the mind and body
connection may retreat, limiting the requirement for additional cognitive attention. A universal
boardwalk equipped with slip resistant surfacing provided access for the entire team to the
ancient cedar trees in Ancient Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park. The boardwalk (see
Figure 6) allowed our team member with a sight impairment to release their persistent concern
for their safety because of the opportunities the boardwalk provided in terms of confidence in
footing. Similarly, our team member with a mobility impairment could use the boardwalk with
ease:
The boardwalk provided ample opportunity to experience the forest in its entirety. I feel
that was able to see, hear, and experience the forest via the board walk. Listening to the
stream at the end was very meditative and zen. I feel that in this place, I have been
afforded every opportunity to see enough and to share the experience with my family and
that I have shared in the same experience as everyone else had to some degree (Team
Member One, field journal).
Figure 6: The universal boardwalk at Ancient Forest/Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park.
Figure 6: The universal boardwalk at Ancient Forest/Chun T’oh
Whudujut Provincial Park.

78

The presence of the boardwalk provided three key opportunities. First, use of the
boardwalk created opportunities for the team to easefully move among the tress signaling a shift
in the mind and body connection to a meditative or relaxing state, instead of grappling with the
loud volume of the accessibility radar app. Second, they were able to share the experience with
their family. Last, they felt as though they shared the same quality of experience as the rest of the
group. Their experience was not entirely bound by the preoccupation of wondering what type of
experience the rest of the group was having due to the feeling of being provided with an
experience of equal or similar quality.
To create an experience that people of all abilities can participate in equally without
worrying about whether their access requirements will be met, consistency was discussed as
being crucial:
The most important thing to a person with a disability, particularly in a wheelchair, is
washrooms. Don’t matter where you go, that’s the most A-1 priority. So the good thing
about BC Parks is that they provide those amenities in their front country parks, the
tourists expect that a level of service in those parks. And you know, when I talk about my
accessibility radar app, it throttles down in a BC Park because I know there is a
washroom (Team Member One, group discussion).
If BC Parks provided consistent infrastructure, facilities, and amenities, whether it be a
boardwalk, reliably accessible washroom facilities, or the simple presence of a bench, users
would feel confident that they would be able to participate fully because they would know what
to expect. BC Parks is committed to implementing UD standards to facilities across the parks
systems to enhance an accessible user experience (BC Parks, 2023). Providing consistency can
also develop that sense of familiarity with the brand, which encourages users to return. Knowing
what to expect can change the experience from the stressful anticipation of what barriers might

79

be encountered, to an excitement about the quality interactions and connections that can be made
within the park. Collectively, these experiences have highlighted opportunities that exist within
these spaces that might afford users the opportunity to embrace their mind, body, and world
connection and turn down the volume and frequency of their accessibility radar apps.
4.3

Information: Signage and Wayfinding
Themes of information efficacy were central to discussions throughout the data collection

process. Team members highlighted the importance of seamless wayfinding systems that enable
participation within nature sites. Several factors emerged as critical to informing accessible and
inclusive experiences. Priorities included the presence and placement of signage, the quality of
information, and the use of storytelling to foster connection to the land, our communities, and
ourselves.
4.3.1 Presence and Placement of Signage
The team consistently emphasized constraints caused by a lack of information. The
presence and visible placement of signage was critical to efficient and safe wayfinding. On the
drive to Cranberry Marsh Loop, the absence of directional signage created confusion among the
team, even for members who had previously visited the site. In another instance, team members
nearly missed the turn required to access Tyhee Lake Provincial Park because the directional
signage was placed after the road tourists must turn on to access the park. In each case, the
process of navigating to these sites was convoluted and required additional expenditures of time
and energy resources that could have otherwise been spent enjoying the outdoor site. Team
members agreed upon the need for signage to facilitate opportunities in a way that does not
require extensive cognitive exertion. BC Parks Commitment to Inclusion statement reveals that
of those surveyed in BC, improvements to signage and wayfinding using UD principles were a

80

priority (BC Parks, 2023). In a relevant study, Olson (2018) explored the accessibility of seven
ski resorts through applying universal design principles. Findings suggest that navigation
systems, such as signage and wayfinding that consider sign transparency as a priority, can better
enable recreationists to meet their goals.
For our team member with a sight impairment, the proper placement of signage was
critical. They are often unable to get close enough to the sign to read the information because the
sign is placed too far from the trail or too low to the ground. The choice of font, text size, and
poor colour contrast can be major constraints to the legibility of information (Michopoulou &
Buhalis, 2013; Olson, 2018; Richards et al., 2010). Decisions made to omit these basic
accessibility principles from signage stem from ableist assumptions and deny people the
opportunity to consume information (e.g., ecological knowledge, local context) in an
independent manner. The omission of legible information limits the quality of social interactions
between team members that might have resulted from sharing thoughts about the information on
the sign (Bogart & Dunn, 2019; Shaw & Coles, 2004). In other instances, it can compel
negotiation strategies to overcome the gap created by an ableist design choice. Consistent
interactions with inaccessible signage throughout Team Member Two’s life necessitated the
development and deployment of a personalized negotiation strategy to access the information:
I fully expect signage to not be accessible to me. I often have to look things up later or
ask others to read things to me (which I hate doing- I'm too independent!). So, I was
pleased to be able to read most of the signs (see Figure 7) [at George Hicks Regional
Park]. Walking towards the signs, I made an exclamation of surprise and delight to
finally be able to read things. Sign placement (I could get close enough) and proper
font size and style, meant that I could participate independently ... I felt included
(Team Member Two, field journal).

81

Figure 7: A sign with large, sans-serif font with adequate colour contrast between the text and
background.
Figure 7: A sign with large, sans-serif font with adequate colour
contrast between the text and background.

As a result of inaccessible information, Team Member Two often spends additional time
and energy online, tracking down information that should have been accessible to them in the
moment. Their access requirements are unmet so frequently that they have conditioned
themselves to expect the worst, to the point where they are surprised and thrilled when their
basic access requirements are met. They have adjusted their expectations as a form of selfpreservation to allow themselves to appreciate and preserve the value of their experience, even
when their access requirements are overlooked (Yao et al., 2004). Barriers to easily perceptible
information such as poor colour contrast and poor choice of font is broadly experienced in
nature-based spaces, which particularly impacts people with sight impairments (Bell, 2019;
Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Olson, 2018; Richards et al., 2010).

82

Although there were some positive examples, a general lack of signage across our data
collection sites resulted in feelings of exclusion. Once the team had arrived at Tyhee Lake
Provincial Park, there was no signage to alert team members to the presence of key opportunities
for exploration available within the site. One team member nearly missed the opportunity to visit
the birdwatching platform located along a fairly accessible trail, no more than 500 metres from
where they had been exploring:
I think the biggest problem that I had in [Tyhee Lake Provincial Park] was the lack of
signage, especially if you’re willing to explore. There are all sorts of cool things to find. I
never would have found the bird watching place though if you guys hadn’t mentioned it;
it was such a gem. There’s always a balance between having everything spelled out for
people and allowing them to explore naturally (Team Member One, group discussion).
Here, our team member discusses the potential consequences in the absence of signage
and the complexity in balancing the benefits of creating space for natural exploration. On the one
hand, providing proficient information is essential to creating awareness of available experiences
within the park. Information also enables independent decision-making processes of whether an
individual wishes to engage in each activity. Datillo (2002) explains that having a choice to
participate in various activities is important for PwD, but they add that such opportunities must
contain the freedom to choose options of equivalent value to those of their able-bodied
counterparts. On the other hand, there is freedom and empowerment in self-guided exploration or
exploratory freedoms, enhanced by being provided with options and feeling supported in taking
risks to explore (Bell, 2019).
4.3.2 Quality of Information
The quality and type of information are frequently discussed in the literature as being
important to enhancing access and inclusion (Eichhorn et al., 2008; McKercher, 2003;

83

Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013). In several of the sites our team visited, the signage provided did
not convey a true sense of the quality or type of experience available within the site. In the
experience described by the team member below, a map provided information to alert users to
the trail’s existence, but it undersold the value or potential quality of an experience. If users were
made more aware of the value of engaging with this trail, they might consider this feature as an
essential component to their trip and regard the trail as a reason to visit the site in the future. On
the other hand, if a sign provides too much information regarding what you may experience, it
may diminish the experience or remove the shock value. As Team Member One mentioned
above, there is a balance to allowing people to explore naturally and have their own experiences
in an organic way:
It was the shock of the experience when I arrived at the water and there was this
mountain. What I would draw out of that experience is the contrast between the small,
red, dotted line on those maps gives no sense in any positive way of what you get. And no
sense of what the trail is like either; it’s a very steep and challenging trail. The
information provided on the signage for that trail is deficient in that it doesn’t signal
what opportunity is there. Nor does it signal the level of challenge or requirement for
getting to that opportunity. It’s just the contrast between that tiny, red, dotted line and the
view sitting on the rocks staring at the mountain like, “oh this is what the little red line is
about (Team Member Three, group discussion).
Discussions further highlighted safety issues associated with signs that omit accessibility
related details of the trail. The omission of these details removes the ability of an individual to
make informed decisions about their ability to navigate the trail independently or with an ablebodied companion. Information should enable decision-making processes that empower an
individual to accurately assess risks that have safety implications (Corazon et al., 2019; Daniels
et al., 2005; McKercher et al., 2003; Michopoulou & Buhalis, 2013; Yao et al., 2004). Safety

84

concerns included encountering rough terrain, the unknown consequences of underestimating the
demands of trail conditions, and the potential to get lost. Providing an approximate time estimate
for how long it may take an individual to complete the trail alongside details of distances and
accessibility descriptors was also discussed as beneficial to adequately prepare for the demands
the trail may place on an individual. Adding supplementary details such as these can empower
users with necessary information to choose their experience, returning power to the user
(Iwarsson & Stahl, 2003).
In relation to the provision of signage and other forms of information, the UD principle of
simple and intuitive use captures the ease and quality of the team’s interactions with effective
wayfinding systems (Centre for Universal Design, 1997). Without straightforward signage, team
members identified a higher likelihood of getting lost and a reduced confidence in their ability to
navigate the site independently. Our team member with short term memory loss and increased
confusion share how they felt at Cranberry Marsh:
While walking on a trail you come to a point where you could go two different directions.
There was no signage saying which way is which. If I had been alone, I would have
turned around, I was frustrated that I couldn’t remember what was contained in the park.
I just can’t understand maps anymore. I just need simple, “go this way,” “go that way,”
and provide the distances (Team Member Four, group discussion).
Team Member Four is clear in their need for simple directional signage. They would feel
more confident in their ability to navigate trails if simple directional wayfinding systems were
present. In studies assessing best practices to enable wayfinding for persons living with dementia
in outdoor spaces, the presence of landmarks (e.g., significant natural or simple features) were
more useful and easier to understand than maps and written directions (Gan et al., 2021; Mitchell

85

& Burton, 2010; Sheehan et al., 2006). Clear directional signage located at junctions can
facilitate wayfinding and enable decision making (Biglieri, 2018).
The colour coded system at Jackman Flats Provincial Park was identified as particularly
intuitive to use by Team Members Two and Four (see Figure 8). The system provided consistent
coloured signposts that corresponded to a coloured trail system map at each possible turn and
throughout the trail to remind users of which colour trail you are on. Our member with a
cognitive impairment found this simple colour system to be the easiest to quickly comprehend
and remember throughout the experience. This reflection affirms Olson’s (2018) assertion of the
importance of information repetition throughout trails.
Our team member also noted that if a simple system like this was consistent throughout
the BC Parks system, it may be easier to remember on a longer-term basis rather than being
required to learn a new system from site to site. Consistency can simplify wayfinding processes
that create cognitive space under predictable conditions. The introduction and enforcement of
standards and regulations in a systematic way that provide consistency and predictability is one
solution to enabling the independence of park users so that no matter their ability, they can
successfully and fully participate in each BC Park (Aguilar-Carrasco et al., 2022; Pinna et al.,
2021; Steinfeld & Maisel, 2012).

86

Figure 8: Wayfinding signpost system in Jackman Flats Provincial Park.
Figure 8: Wayfinding signpost system in Jackman Flats Provincial Park.

Other experiences at Jackman Flats highlighted the need for clear wayfinding systems on
the ground that would allow a user to distinguish where the trail goes, especially when there is
poor colour contrast between the trail and the peripheries. The texture of the unique sand trail
provided little colour contrast between the edges of the path and the footprints leading in
multiple directions (see Figure 9). These conditions were especially challenging for our team
member with a sight impairment. Unclear demarcation of the trail created conditions where
energy was spent problem solving, which detracted from the overall enjoyment of their
experience. Team members had to balance their desire to explore the new environment with the
fear and likelihood of getting lost. The team praised board walks as effective tools that could
address issues in wayfinding. At Chun T’oh Whudujut, the boardwalks (see Figure 10) provided
members with a clear sense of direction and equal access to the park. The boardwalks increased
confidence in footing, clearly distinguished the path from the surrounding foliage, and protected

87

the ecologically sensitive area. Users could relax while using the boardwalk as it promoted
feelings of inclusion and reduced the amount of cognitive energy that would otherwise be
required to navigate the site.
Figure 9: The sandy terrain at Jackman Flats Provincial Park with footprints.

Figure 9: The sandy terrain at Jackman Flats Provincial Park with
footprints.

88

Figure 10: Entrance to boardwalk at Ancient Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park.
Figure 10: Entrance to boardwalk at Ancient
Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park.

4.3.3 Storytelling in BC Parks
Storytelling techniques proved to be powerful tools in eliciting feelings of inclusion,
empathy, and in reinforcing team members’ desires to learn and relate to the local context. At
Jackman Flats Provincial Park, an old sign enthusiastically described the history of lichen and
the lodgepole pine and their fight for survival in an abrasive ecosystem. The author of the sign
told the lichen’s story in a way that allowed team members to feel included and relate to the
lichen through a newfound sense of care for the lichen’s ecosystem. The ability of the team to
empathize with and relate to care ethics for lichen was enhanced by the author’s ability to convey
their research and knowledge through the engagement of passionate storytelling (Smith and
Sparkes, 2008). When a tourist is emotionally connected to the land they may be compelled to

89

care for the holistic environment including the well-being of the land and the relationship of the
people who inhabit the land and their cultural heritage (Li et al., 2023; Jamal & Camargo, 2014).
At Tyhee Lake Provincial Park, the bird watching platform provided a similar experience.
Specifically, if offered team members with a place to rest, reflect and read about the local
waterfowl. One sign contained information about the loons describing how recreationists should
be careful not to disturb them (see Figure 11). Upon further inspection, team members
discovered that the sign was written by a local elementary school student who demonstrated
careful consideration and care for the information about loon habitat they included on the sign.
The loon sign was discussed as being more meaningful to members of the team than the BC
Parks signs which are produced en masse (see Figure 12). The inclusion of this sign
demonstrated that the Park values local knowledge enough to feature a student’s work.
Interactions with the sign created meaningful connections between team members, the local
community and wildlife.
Figure 11: A sign created by an elementary school student discussing the loons of Tyhee Lake.

Figure 11: A sign created by an elementary
school student discussing the loons of Tyhee Lake.

90

Figure 12: A sign displayed in many BC parks across the province.
Figure 12: A sign displayed in many BC parks across the
province.

In Driftwood Canyon Provincial Park, stories were told through the combination of a sign
and an audio station experience, depicted in Figure 14 below. The audio station had four buttons.
When pressed the station offered an auditory welcome in the Witsuwit’en language, a brief
history of the land, a song from the Driftwood Canyon Band, and the history of how the Park
came to fruition, respectively. The auditory station served many functions within our team:
Seeing how simple the design of the audio station was, I wonder how I haven’t come
across more of these. It seems to bring so much joy and life to our group. The audio
station was not only enabling, but it created an entire experience that wouldn’t have
happened otherwise (Team Member Three, field journal).

91

Figure 13: The audio station in Driftwood Canyon Provincial Park.

Figure 13: The audio station in Driftwood Canyon Provincial
Park.

The audio station was
discussed as enhancing the
overall experience in three
distinct ways. First, the
diverse delivery of
information provided an
alternative mode of
consuming information that
can be helpful to meeting

access requirements of many different people. Second, the music provided endless opportunities
for play, fun and dancing, which allowed team members to connect with each other, across
generations. Last, hearing the history of the Wet’suwet’en Peoples and the land they care for in
the context of a BC Provincial Park, enhanced the overall experience and connection to the land;
evoking emotions of hope for decolonization and indigenization in these spaces (Simpson, 2014;
Tuck & Yang, 2012). Decolonization is a tangible process that is contextual and can look
different for each Indigenous Nation or person (Grimwood et al., 2019). Actions toward
decolonization could seek to dismantle colonial power structures and to recover or restore
Indigenous lands, histories, cultures, and lifeways (Grimwood et al., 2019; Simpson, 2014; Tuck
& Yang, 2012). Settler colonialism and conservation practices such as the development of
provincial and national parks have deep roots in the dispossession of land and displacement of
Indigenous Peoples (Cowing, 2022; Hutcheon & Lashewicz, 2020; Mason, 2021; Murdock,
2021). Partnerships between Indigenous Nations and BC parks that seek to share truths can look

92

like a step towards decolonization, indigenization, and reconciliation as BC Parks recognizes
their colonial legacy and looks forward to partnerships (BC Parks, 2023).
Features recognizing this history were also present along an accessible trail located at the
base of Mount Robson. This short trail contains a series of storied signs that seek to indigenize
the park by depicting the history of the land through the words of the local First Nation, the
Simpwc People of the River (see Figure 14). The development of this story-walk required years
of ongoing collaboration between members of the Simpwc Peoples, representatives from BC
Parks and Silky Henn Design. The approval process was rigorous and required continuous
collaboration with the Simpwc Nation to ensure the words presented were in their own voice and
truths, and to ensure that the art accurately reflected the story the Simpwc Peoples would like to
convey (Ewing, 2022-personal communication).
Figure 14: Introduction to “A Journey Through Time,” story walk sign at the base of Mount Robson.
Figure 14: Introduction to “A Journey Through Time,” story walk sign at the base of Mount
Robson.
3

3

Larger photo examples of the story walk signs will be provided in the appendices section.

93

The new signage replaces and challenges the previous story walk which shared only
colonial narratives and worldviews. The current story walk blends two contrasting perspectives
regarding the creation of Mount Robson Provincial Park, that of the Simpcw Peoples and that of
settlers. Team members discussed the significance of the decision to include signs depicting and
describing stories of colonialism. Team members recognized the power held within the signs that
juxtaposed Indigenous histories, languages, and perspectives within a BC Park. There were
strong reactions to the information contained within the signs along the story walk: “A lot of the
information about Indigenous experiences was new to me. I am a bit ashamed about how little I
know about this area despite growing up here” (Team Member 2, field journal).
The thing that hit me the hardest emotionally was that the signs use strong language that
acknowledge Indigenous Peoples and tells history from their perspective. I cried when I
read the line “Mount Robson Provincial Park was created without consideration or
regard for the local Indigenous Nation.” I cried because I didn’t think I would ever see
this acknowledged on a government sign. (Team Member Four, field journal).
The signs prompted feelings of responsibility to decolonization and indigenization efforts:
Maybe an emotion I had with like some of the work of telling the indigenous dispossession
story, along with, like the celebrated story of Parks, was probably reflecting on the amount of
work that it probably took to do something that's like a relatively small project. It made me
think about the complexity and scale of the work that we have to do more broadly, whether
it's around parks or urban planning and things like that that kind of added for me for sure
(Team Member Three, group discussion).
The stories shared voices and truths of Indigenous Peoples, creating space for deeper
reflections about our relations to the land and the team’s roles in settler colonialism. This
collection of reflections emphasizes the need for the integration of perspectives that are often

94

silenced by the ongoing violence associated with settler colonialism. The significance of these
signs extends beyond solely educational utility but demonstrates action toward recognizing
previous harms and reconciling with ongoing harms. The signs evoked feelings of being
supported in a shared responsibility to learn more about indigenous histories, contemplate our
contemporary challenges of land management, and to decolonize and indigenize our park spaces
(Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 2015).

95

Chapter Five – Knowledge Translation
The vignettes presented below were developed from the experiences that team members
documented in field journals and group discussions, as well as available BC Parks standards data
and my voice as the author. The vignettes detail possible experiences that park users may have in
the Omineca and Skeena Region, respectively.
5.1

Mount Robson: Weekend camping trip

5.1.1 Ancient Forest/ Chun T’oh Whudujut Provincial Park
After a long week of work, it is finally here, the weekend. This is one of the first opportunities
for a camping trip after a prolonged, cold winter. Leaving from Prince George in the afternoon,
the yellow lines stretch the length of Highway 16 East to guide you to the iconic Mount Robson.
Approximately 115 kilometres from Prince George waits the Chun T’oh Wudujut within the
broader inland temperate rainforest teeming with ancient cedars; an ideal spot for a halfway
break. Clear directional signage guides you to the site where you are greeted by a large sign that
reads in clear, contrasted lettering, ‘Ancient Forest Provincial Park/ Chun T’oh Whudujut.’
The vehicle access route opens to a large, flat parking lot located directly off the highway.
Designated accessible parking is not available at this site. Although, one could take their chances
by parking in the vast unmarked space the parking lot provides. An accessible pit toilet is
provided on the first landing, should a bathroom break be required before starting your journey.
One might have to traverse through larger gravel that evens out to a smaller crushed gravel path.
An access route is marked by signage as accessible and skirts along the edge of the parking lot
up a lengthy run to a landing at the beginning of the boardwalk and an area designated as the
drop off zone. If a person with mobility access requirements were travelling alone or with
children, they would have a difficult time exiting their vehicle and then moving their vehicle

96

back to one of the standard sites provided. At the trailhead, you will be equipped with a map that
details the trail elevation gains and losses, distances, and travel times; information that may
enable you to navigate the park with
confidence.
The entrance to the 450 metre universal

Figure 15: Access route and boardwalk entrance.

Figure 15: Access route and boardwalk entrance.

access boardwalk can be easily accessed
on the right hand side as there is no

Figure 15: Access route and boardwalk
entrance.

threshold. The threshold on the left-hand
side is approximately 5 cm requiring
extra caution from users. The length of
the boardwalk provides a stable and firm
surface as the boards meander through
the towering cedars that beckon you
further from the sounds of the busy
highway and deeper into the respite of the
forest. The boardwalk, 1.4 metres in

Note. BC Parks Accessibility Information, n.d.

width, can provide individuals of all abilities with a spacious opportunity to walk or wheel as
they fully embrace their nature experience. A variety of bench seating is placed in intervals of
less than 100 metres along the boardwalk. A bench pressed against the guard rail can provide
you with adequate back and arm support near the halfway point of the boardwalk. This is a
peaceful spot to sit, relax, and ground yourself in the moment. You may choose to spend restful
time with your family on the bench, although it may be difficult for a person who uses a
wheelchair to sit next to their family as a smaller wooden plank bench sits adjacent to the bench.

97

At the end of the boardwalk, a platform suspended over a modest mountain stream provides a
quiet and an equal opportunity to absorb the forest through each of your senses as the stress
melts from your shoulders.
Figure 16: Rustic boardwalk.

Veering off from the universal access
boardwalk, a rustic, narrow planking
system loops through the forest and back

Figure 16: Rustic boardwalk.

Figure 16: Rustic boardwalk.

to the parking lot over the span of 2.3 km.
Although the walkway no longer provides
universal access due to the presence of
steps, the new planking can facilitate
access for some. For those with sight
impairments or low vision, the boardwalk
provides adequate colour contrast from
the forest floor and potentially some
reprieve from the continuous vigilance of
your footing. As you gradually climb in

elevation, there are no railings to support you, but having navigation poles can help to guide your
way along the winding trail that leads you deeper into the expansive rainforest ecosystem.
The steps lead you further up the landscape, helping you to climb in elevation, potentially posing
some challenges for people with a lower range of mobility but offering an opportunity to
increase heart rates. Strewn along the trail system are small shelf style benches located
periodically throughout the trail system. These benches provide opportunities to catch your
breath, clear your mind, remember how far you have come, and where you are going.

98

Despite the clear

Figure 17: A sign detailing the history of ecological protection.

directional guidance of
the planked trail, a few

Figure 17: A sign detailing the history of ecological
protection.

forks in the trail lack
directional signage that
might cause confusion
and feelings of concern,
especially for those who
already experience

Figure 17: A sign detailing the history of ecological
protection.

friction while navigating
independently. The lack
of clear wayfinding support may leave you wondering which path you should take without the
knowledge of what your choice might entail, as both have different unknown outcomes. If you
choose the trail that leads further up into the cedars, you will be led to a bridge raised over a
small creek with a view of a waterfall cascading down the side of the mountain. The other path
would gently guide you to another trail called the Big Tree Loop or back down to the parking lot
with similar trail conditions throughout.
Interpretive signs installed along the trail detail information about the lichen coating the trees,
the moss and devils club that blanket the forest floor, and woodland creatures that scurry about.
These signs share a story of how the trees organize themselves to protect all life within their
reach. The signage also describes a layered story of the Ancient Forest highlighting plans for the
forest to be slated for logging to becoming protected as a UNESCO heritage site that is comanaged between the Lhedli T’enneh First Nation and BC Parks. The signage at the Radies tree,

99

named after Dave Radies, a researcher who was integral to the protection of the forest, details the
restoration work to conserve the lifeforce within the forest allowing you to participate in the
restorative journey as you experience the forest.
In Chun T’oh Whudujut you can inhale the crisp scents of cedar bark as you gaze up at the trees
along the ridge. Even if you do not perceive it, the streams gently flow to deliver nutrients to the
forest as the landscape changes around them. The ancient cedars communicate with each other as
they stand guard, indifferent to the tribulations of the outside world. We story the forest; how
would the forest story us?
Figure 18: Trees that stand guard in the forest/chuntoh.

Figure 18: Trees that stand guard in the forest/chuntoh.

Figure 18: Trees that stand guard in the forest/chuntoh.

5.1.2 Robson River Campground
From Chun T’oh Whudujut, Robson River campground is located approximately 175 km East
along Highway 16. As you approach the turn off on the left-hand side, a sign denoting the

100

distance to the

Figure 19: Accessible campsite.

campground pulls you into

Figure 19: Accessible campsite.

a lush forest, sheltering
Figure 19: Accessible campsite.

you from the rush of the
highway. Due to an
increased sense of safety,
there are ample
opportunities to ride

Note. BC Parks Accessibility Information, n.d.

bicycles and explore the campground’s smoothly paved roads. The campground boasts nearly 40
reservable standard campsites and one accessible campsite (number seven). Each site is marked
by highly contrasted numbers on short, wooden posts. The accessible campsite is paved
providing you with a firm and level surface for camping. Pine needles line the edges of the site,
reminding you that you are still in nature. While the hard surface prevents tenters from using
pegs to secure their tent, the paved site offers a great option for many, especially those who wish
to camp in their vehicle. A picnic

Figure 20: Parking available outside of the washhouse.

table with an overhanging end is
placed near the edge of the site, a
safe distance from the single
walled fire ring.

Figure 20: Parking available outside of the washhouse.
Figure 20: Parking available outside of the washhouse.

An accessible toilet and shower
building is located adjacent to the
accessible campsite, connected by
the campground road with a

Note. BC Parks Accessibility Information, n.d.

101

running slope of no more than 3°. Outside of the washhouse, signs reserve two parking spots for
people who use wheelchairs and others who may require low mobility parking such as older aged
individuals and parents with small children. The entrance to the toilet and shower room is
guarded by a door furnished with a small D handle for pulling and a deadbolt style lock. The
washroom is equipped with grab bars and a sink with knee provided clearance underneath. The
entrance to the shower
has a low threshold that
provides access to an

Figure 21: Accessible washroom in shower building.
Figure 21: Accessible washroom in shower building.
Figure 21: Accessible washroom in shower building.

adjustable showerhead
and fold down seating.
For a person with low
mobility or who uses a
wheelchair, the
bathrooms may provide a
sense of comfort and

Note. BC Parks Accessibility Information, n.d.

relief because they host a
predictable level of service associated with the BC Parks brand.
A nearby trail and viewpoint — a short distance from campsite seven along the road — are
marked by a basic map attached to a bright yellow sign cautioning parents to supervise their
children. A brown sign with white lettering sits nearby, signifying the direction the trail is
waiting to lead you. From the ridge you may feel the warmth of the sun and through the frame of
the trees you can catch a glimpse of Mount Robson and its sparkling glacial water below. There

102

is no platform at the top of the ridge that affords people equal opportunities to receive an
unencumbered view of the mountains and the river.
The trail itself is 1 metre wide at the top and narrows to a consistent 50 centimetres wide for the
remaining length. The running slope is over 5° with a varying cross slope as roots and large
rocks protrude from the ground. The condition of the trail restricts independent access for people
who use a wheelchair, limiting the overall quality of their experience as they do not get to
participate in viewing the key feature of the park. Although, the trail can facilitate access for
others; slow, calculated footing and poles may enable some individuals with lower mobility or
low vision as they navigate the narrow trail traversing down to the river. Otherwise, it may not
be safe to navigate, and a key opportunity will be missed.
The trail opens to the vast path of the river, and when the waters are low, there is an opportunity
to walk along the rocks. Mount Robson towers over the valley boasting its snow caps and lined
tattoos that have been carved into its rock over thousands of years. Once you are down near the
river, the large boulders
and logs can suddenly
become helpful if used as

Figure 22: View of Mount Robson at the bottom of the trail.
Figure 22: View of Mount Robson at the bottom of the trail.
Figure 22: View of Mount Robson at the bottom of the trail.

seating to take in the
majestic views and the
sounds of the water that
wash over you. If you are
experiencing a change in
your capacity to remember
which direction you came

103

from, the trail leading one way down and one way up may provide you with feelings of
confidence to navigate your way back independently. The trail can guide you on your way back
to your campsite with a renewed perspective and sense of energy that you received from soaking
in the views. The smiles of your friends and family paired with the smell of a familiar campfire
warm you as the cover of the trees insulates you for the night from the outside world.
5.2

Skeena region: Daytrips from Telkwa

5.2.1 Tyhee Lake Provincial Park
From Prince George, Highway 16 West steers you ~355 kilometres towards some much-needed
down-time in nature. The Inn at the Creamery awaits, tucked away from the highway nestled in
the Village of Telkwa. Beyond the accessible front porch of the Inn sits a short, firm, and level
boardwalk, although access may be challenging as there are significant slopes at its beginning
and end. A green lawn extends to a firm path following the aquamarine waters of the Telkwa
River, the perfect setting for a morning stroll. The smell of freshly roasted coffee welcomes you
as you receive a tour of the Inn and

Figure 23: Accessible room at Inn at the Creamery.

your accessible room. The room is

Figure 23: Roaster side accessible room at Inn at the
Creamery.
Figure
23: Accessible room at Inn at the Creamery.

furnished with a double bed and a
three-piece wet bathroom with a
roll in shower. A café in the lobby
of the Inn offers an assortment of
coffee and latte options, baked
goods, delicious seasonal soups and
homemade bread inviting you to
stay and relax.

Note. Photo taken by Inn at the Creamery.

104

After settling in for a quick bite to eat at the Inn, opportunities to soak up the sun at Tyhee Lake
Provincial Park are a mere 3-minute drive away. As you drive along Telkwa High Road, a sign
pointing to the right is located approximately 10 metres past the correct turn onto Tyhee Road to
reach the park. Due to the placement of the sign, it is possible to get confused and drive by the
turn off believing the turn is still upcoming. As you navigate your way to the park, you can be
sure you are in the right place when you locate the bright yellow gate and entrance sign with
large lettering and fading colour contrast.
As you pull into the vast parking lot you will find two sets of two accessible parking spaces, each
5m by 5.8m and large enough to accommodate a variety of vehicles with lifts. The stalls are
reserved by vertical and horizontal markings. Cross hatching on the ground demarcates a direct
and safe access lane to the
path that leads down to the
lake. The surface is level,

Figure 24: Accessible parking.
Figure 24: Accessible parking.
Figure 24: Accessible parking.

firm and relatively flat with
minimal to no cross slope.
As you approach the trail,
you are greeted by a clear
sightline view of the glass
like water and shadows of
trees stretching across the
lake that reach out to coax

Note. BC Parks Accessibility Information, n.d.

you closer toward the water’s edge.

105

Between the parking lot and the day use area lies a set of stairs without colour contrast or tactile
indicators. For those who walk but need support, graspable handrails are there to guide you to the
Figure 25: Two accessible picnic tables overlooking the lake.

landing. The stairs
create conditions for
brief group
separation as
someone who uses a
wheelchair will be
required to take the
alternate accessible

Figure 25: Two accessible picnic tables overlooking Tyhee Lake.

path that will guide

Figure 25: Two accessible picnic tables overlooking the lake.

you closer to the
water’s edge.

Generally, the exterior pathways are as wide as 1.2m. The level, stable, and firm pathways
connect to each main feature within the day use area. No matter which route you take, you are
provided with a variety of perspectives that allow you to look out over the lake and as you
breathe in the fresh air.
Among the many standard picnic tables spread out across the day use area, two are an accessible
style with overhanging ends. The tables provide an ideal opportunity for passive reflection as the
calls of the loons echo across the lake. Should you decide to venture further around the park, you
may experience hidden, rough divets and holes in the grass that require extra caution in your
maneuvers. The bumps may pose a risk for those who use manual wheelchairs and may not see
them easily or are unaware of their presence. A small gravel trail parallels the water’s edge

106

providing you with a closer view of the reflecting colours of the trees off the lake. These features
may be navigable with adaptive equipment such as a mobility device or poles depending on your
access requirements and comfort level in participating under these conditions.
The park hosts a

Figure 26: Entrance to the playground.

playground site held
together by 4 X 4 timber

Figure 26: Entrance to the playground.
Figure 26: Entrance to the playground.

planks containing a loose
gravel surface. To arrive at
the playground, one must
navigate the bumpy grass or
by an alternate accessible
pathway. The accessible
pathway provides you with
an opportunity to watch
your children as they play, but the threshold and gravel surface will prevent someone who uses a
wheelchair from playing with their little ones.

107

As the energy from your
afternoon snack and coffee
Figure 27: Entrance to the picnic shelter.
Figure 28: Entrance to the picnic shelter.

begin to fade, the option to
utilize the picnic shelter
with a cookstove may
become appealing. An
accessible path provides
access to the 7m X 10m
picnic shelter over little to no

Note. BC Parks Accessibility Information, n.d.
Figure 28: Accessible pit toilet.

threshold that glides you
onto a smooth concrete
surface. None of the picnic
tables in this shelter have an
overhanging end. There is
another option to use a
more secluded picnic
shelter equipped with an
outdoor kitchen, lighting,

Figure 28: Accessible pit toilet.
Figure 27: Accessible pit toilet.

accessible picnic tables, and
a wood stove that would
provide guests with rich

opportunities to gather; although there is no accessible path leading up to it and it must be
reserved by registered guests only.

108

Should you require a bathroom break, a designated accessible pit toilet located near the group
shelter is available to assist. The door has a lever style handle and a clearance of 870mm. The
interior dimensions are 1.5 x 1.5 m providing maneuvering space. Grab bar heights range from
840mm to 895mm. The toilet height in pit toilets across the site range from 385mm to 600mm,
which may provide opportunities for a range of people to use the bathroom independently.
Figure
Figure29:
29:The
Thetrail
trailleading
leadingtotothe
thebird
birdwatching
watchingplatform.
platform.

As you freely explore the
day use area, you may

Figure 29: The trail leading to the bird watching platform.

come across an
unmarked trail leading
through the trees along
the lakeside. There is no
signage present to
indicate the trail’s
accessibility, distance, or
where it may lead. The
lack of signage might

prevent you from exploring and finding the bird viewing platform nested in a peaceful marsh, a
meaningful experience few would want to be excluded from. If apprehension of the unknown
does not prevent you from exploring, the trail may provide users of all abilities with the
opportunity arrive at the bird viewing platform but extra caution and attention may be required to
navigate the grass encroaching from the sides and some fallen obstacles, if the trail is not
maintained.

109

At the edge of the marsh
stand signs alerting users

Figure 30: The birdwatching platform.
Figure 31: A view of Tyhee Lake.
Figure 31: A view of Tyhee Lake.

to the local wildlife that
may reside in the waters. A

Figure 31: The birdwatching platform.

sign created by an
elementary school student
details instructions for how
to protect and be respectful
of the local waterfowl. The
signs carry clear and
carefully considered messages by local youth who care about their community. The signage can
create an opportunity for you to feel included in their important advocacy work. A short
boardwalk ushers you toward a bench that provides a view of the marsh laden with wildlife. As
Figure 31: A view of Tyhee Lake.
Figure 30: The birdwatching platform.

you sit on the platform
and begin to relax a
light breeze may brush
your face as you gaze
upon the thick clouds
in the distance that
harbor Hudson Bay

Figure 30: A view of Tyhee Lake.

Mountain as it gently
whispers your name.

110

Chapter Six – Conclusion
Design of outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism spaces can promote interactions
that create deeper relationships with nature, self, and our communities. This project set out to
further document what accessibility information, service, and physical barriers exist in current
BC Parks systems through the lens of a person with lived experience of a disability. The themes
and stories developed in the preceding two chapters provide an overview of a variety of
interactions within nature that PwD experienced in the BC Parks Omineca and Skeena Regions.
The interactions of the team with various infrastructure, facilities, and amenities in natural
environments provides experiential data that can enhance understanding of accessibility
challenges and opportunities within park spaces. Contributions of the team also highlight
potential gaps in the system where a higher level of service could be provided to better meet the
access requirements of a diverse user group. The work in this thesis may provide a road map for
BC Parks management as they develop strategies and standards to advance access and inclusion
(BC Parks, 2023).
This research also explored how storytelling processes might synthesize accessibility
information to provide potential park users with an understanding of how BC Parks may be
experienced. Stories weaved objective accessibility standards data with experiences reflected in
the field journals and group discussions. Ethical consideration was given to the appropriateness
of using empathy mapping and persona development to compose empathetic stories. The
resulting narratives did not use persona development due to a risk of attenuating the voice of
community partners involved in the research. The stories demonstrate how storytelling can be
used to produce intuitive information that describes how individuals with different access
requirements may experience a park (given its state of accessibility). The documentation,

111

translation, and circulation of this type of information is intended to address a dearth of reliable,
comprehensive, and easily consumable information. Information that weaves visitor experience
and objective measures can help a person with specified access requirements gain a richer sense
of how a park may meet or not meet their access requirements and expectations.4
The three themes ¾access to key features, cognitive space, and information¾
constructed from the team’s reflections document barriers to and facilitators of access in several
park spaces in Northern BC. The theme of access to key features (e.g., waterbodies and
mountains) highlighted the importance of providing access to such features to create a desire on
behalf of the user to stay longer, incorporate the site into their routine, and to return to the site.
When access to key features was not provided the overall enjoyment of the experience was
significantly diminished. Key features served as prominent sites for interactions to take place
between group members and family, and social bonding was noted as a main motivation to
participate in experiences at parks.
A second theme spoke to the importance of providing opportunities for cognitive space,
presenting key insights for what users are looking for in their interactions with nature. Stress,
safety, relaxation, and the capacity for cognitive restoration emerged through many of the
reflections, often in ways directly related to interactions with access barriers and facilitators.
Finally, the theme of information provided insight into how important reliable and
comprehensive information can be to effective knowledge translation and wayfinding practices.

The stories are samples of a larger story that depicts an entire potential activity chain or trip, as
one may experience in this region. Fully developed stories that mirror the paths our team
travelled will be circulated through the Access Now platform to provide people with an
opportunity to consume the information in a descriptive way to enable their own decisionmaking processes about their visits in BC Parks.
4

112

The type of information also had significant impacts on the quality and types of experiences
within the parks.
The information conveyed throughout this thesis has implications for park planning and
management. Several recommendations for the planning and management of BC Parks below
offer potential solutions recorded directly and indirectly from team member reflections in field
journals and group discussions.
Recommendations regarding key features:
•

•
•

Build accessible infrastructure such as platforms or boardwalks that can facilitate access
for people who use wheelchairs to access the same view or experience as everyone else.
Team members specifically referenced opportunities to enhance participation at Robson
Rivers Campground, Anderson Flats Provincial Park, and the Twin Falls Recreation Site.
Create secondary experiences through the provision of accessible infrastructure and
additional features such as interactive elements that can engage people of all ages and
abilities or interpretive signage like the story walk at Mount Robson Provincial Park.
Maintain accessible infrastructure so that it remains safe and accessible.

Recommendations regarding creating cognitive space:
•

•

•

•

Provide fencing, accessible picnic tables, and accessible benches to facilitate
opportunities for relaxation, cognitive restoration, and social bonding. Specifically, the
team mentioned how their experience would have been enhanced at Rearguard Falls
Provincial Park if there was seating offered on the platforms.
Provide consistency in wayfinding systems so that users may develop a level of
familiarity and confidence in the BC Parks brand. If the user knows what to expect in
terms of access, they may have a lower stress response that will allow them to connect to
their body, minds, and nature.
Provide benches that meet standard throughout the site. Specifically, benches should be
provided every 61m along a trail and the team placed emphasis on how benches on
platforms would allow people to connect with one another and encourage them to stay
longer.
Consider accessibility standards that facilitate ease of use such as stripping on stairs that
provides colour contrast, railings for walkways, and slip resistant, level surfacing that can
allow users to think more about the quality of their experience rather than how to
navigate barriers.

Recommendations regarding information:
•

Provide and place signage in a logical place that considers what the purpose of the sign is
or what information the sign is trying to convey. Specifically, directional signage should

113

•
•
•

•

•

be placed before crucial turns or in a way that makes intuitive sense. Interpretive signs
should be placed close enough to the trail and at a reasonable height or angle so that
anyone, regardless of ability, can participate.
Provide current and up to date information accompanied by a date the objective
measurements and photos were taken.
Provide information with accessible font, font size, and colour contrast.
Provide information through a range of delivery methods to accommodate a range of
users. Specifically, signage should be available online or through a QR code so that users
may access the information at any time, especially if it was not accessible to them on site.
Provide information through tactile and auditory means.
Provide users with comprehensive information that alerts them to opportunities available
on site, as well as information about terrain, slope, obstacles, distance, and estimated
times. This can create space for users to make informed decisions about whether they
would like to participate based on their own assessment of the environment, given the
information.
Provide users with stories told from multiple perspectives and with varied representation
so that users may participate and consider their position in the story of the park.

The findings and recommendations from this project should be considered in light of several
limitations. The team included five individuals which limits the range of types of experiences.
While the team included a range of perspectives, only three impairments (e.g., mobility, sight or
low vision, and cognitive with limited short term memory recall) were represented in the study.
The smaller sample size limits the broader representation of experiences.
The team members included in the study were also all white and middleclass. One team
member self-identified as queer, and there were two cisgender men and three cisgender women.
A larger, more diverse, and representative team would likely produce different results based on
experiences with other identities. Future studies might wish to consider a research design that
posits questions about other aspects of their identity may impact how they experience outdoor
recreation and nature-based tourism in BC Parks. The consideration of multiple identities might
help to identify other barriers to access not captured within this study. The stories contained
within this thesis were developed with limited access to detailed objective measurements

114

necessary to providing potential users a fuller understanding of what is available to them at the
park and what may limit their participation.
Findings that emerged from this work within the partnership between UNBC researchers and
members of Spinal Cord Injury BC lay a foundation for future work to advance understandings
of access and inclusion requirements in outdoor recreation and nature-based tourism systems.
The type of information produced through story writing processes may be used to enable trip
planning processes in the online environment. More collaborative partnerships are required to
peel back the layers of ableism in design practices to create a more equitable and inclusive
outdoors.

115

References
Accessible British Columbia Act, S. C. (2021). https://www.leg.bc.ca/parliamentarybusiness/legislation-debates-proceedings/42nd-parliament/2nd-session/bills/firstreading/gov06-1
Accessible Canada Act, S. C. (2019). https://laws-lois.justice.gc.ca/eng/acts/A-0.6/, 10.
Aguilar-Carrasco, M.J., Gielen, E., Vallés-Planells, M., Galiana, F., Almenar-Muñoz, M., &
Konijnendijk, C. (2022). Promoting inclusive outdoor recreation in national park governance:
A comparative perspective from Canada and Spain. International Journal of Environmental
Research, 19(5), 2566.
Ahmed, S. (2013). The cultural politics of emotion. Routledge.
Amodio, D. M., & Mendoza, S. A. (2011). Implicit intergroup bias: cognitive, affective, and
motivational underpinnings. In B. Gawronski & B. K. Payne (Eds.), Handbook of implicit
social cognition: Measurement, theory, and applications (pp. 353-374). New York City:
Guilford Press.
Andrykowska, H. (2010). Inclusive design: providing access to outdoor developed areas in the USA
and the Republic of Ireland. Architecture, civil engineering, environment, 2, 5-14.
Barnes, C. (1996). Theories of disability and the origins of the oppression of disabled people in
Western society. In L. Barton (Ed.), Disability and Society: Emerging Issues and Insights
(pp.43–60). New York: Longman.
BC Parks. (2023). Commitment to inclusion. BC Parks.
https://nrs.objectstore.gov.bc.ca/kuwyyf/bcparks_commitment_to_inclusion_english_fa8c686
184.pdf
BC Parks. (n.d.) Mandate. https://bcparks.ca/about/mandate/
Bell, S. L. (2019). Experiencing nature with sight impairment: Seeking freedom from ableism.
Environment and Planning, Nature and Space, 2(2), 304–322.
Bennett, C. L., & Rosner, D. K. (2019). The promise of empathy: Design, disability, and knowing the
“other”[Paper presentation]. CHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems,
Glasgow, Scotland, UK. https://creativetech.mat.ucsb.edu/readings/promise_of_empathy.pdf
Berbary, L. (2015). Creative analytic practices: Onto-epistemological and theoretical attachments,
uses, and constructions within humanist qualitative leisure research. International Leisure
Review, 41(3), 1-19.
Biglieri, S. (2018). Implementing dementia-friendly land use planning: An evaluation of current
literature and financial implications for Greenfield development in suburban Canada. Planning
Practice & Research, 33(3), 264-290.

116

Bogart, K.R. & Dunn, D.S. (2019). Ableism special issue introduction. Journal of Social Issues,
75(3), 650-664.
Boluk, K., Muldoon, M., & Johnson, C. (2019). Co-creating an integrated curriculum alongside
community partners: A creative analytic approach. Tourism Recreation Research, 44(1), 1-14.
Braun, V., & Clarke, V. (2006). Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qualitative Research in
Psychology, 3(2), 77–101.
Braun, V., & Clarke, V. (2012). Thematic analysis. In H. Cooper, P. M. Camic, D. L. Long, A. T.
Panter, D. Rindskopf, & K. J. Sher (Eds.), APA handbook of research methods in psychology,
2 (pp.57-71). American Psychological Association.
Brosschot, J.F., Verkuil, B., & Thayer, J.F. (2018). Generalized unsafety theory of stress: Unsafe
environments and conditions, and the default stress response. International Journal of
Environmental Research and Public Health, 15(464), 1-27.
Brown, T. (2009). Change by design: How design thinking transforms organizations and inspires
innovation. New York, New York: Harper Collins.
Brydon-Miller, M. (2007). Ethics and action research: Deepening our commitment to principles of
social justices and redefining systems of democratic practice. In Reason P., Bradbury H.
(Eds.), Handbook of Action Research (2nd ed., pp.199-210). Los Angeles: Sage Publications.
Budruk, M., & Wilhelm Stanis, S. A. (2013). Place attachment and recreation experience preference:
A further exploration of the relationship. Journal of Outdoor Recreation and Tourism, 1, 5161.
Bullington, J. 2009. Embodiment and chronic pain: Implications for rehabilitation and practice.
Health Care Analysis, 17(2),100–109.
Burns, N., Watson, N., & Paterson, K. (2013). Risky bodies in risky spaces: Disabled people’s pursuit
in outdoor leisure. Disability and Society, 28(8), 1059-1073.
Burstow, B. (2003). Toward a radical understanding of trauma and trauma work. Violence Against
Women, 9(11), 1293–1317.
Byrne, J., Wolch, J., & Zhang, J. (2009). Planning for environmental justice in an urban national
park. Journal of Environmental Planning and Management, 52(3), 365-392.
Centre for Universal Design (1997). The Seven Principles of Universal Design.
https://universaldesign.ie/What-is-Universal-Design/The-7-Principles/
Charmaz, K. (2006). Constructing grounded theory: A practical guide through qualitative analysis.
London: Sage Publications.

117

Cheng, T.M., Wu, H.C., & Huang, L. M. (2013). The influence of place attachment on the
relationship between destination attractiveness and environmentally responsible behavior for
island tourism in Penghu, Taiwan. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 21(8), 1166–1187.
Chikuta, O., Du Plessis, E., & Saayman, M. (2019). Accessibility expectations of tourists with
disabilities in national parks. Tourism Planning and Development, 16(4), 1–18.
Clarke, V., Braun, V., & Wooles, K. (2015). Thou shalt not covet another man? Exploring
constructions of same-sex and different-sex infidelity using story completion. Journal of
Community & Applied Social Psychology, 25(2), 153–166.
Comella, A., Hassett, L., Hunter, K., Cole, J., & Sherrington, C. (2019). Sporting opportunities for
people with physical disabilities: Mixed methods study of web- based searches and sport
provider interviews. Health Promotion Journal of Australia, 30(2), 180–188.
Cook, P. A., Howarth, M., & Wheater, C. P. (2019). Biodiversity and health in the face of climate
change: Implications for public health. In M. R. Marselle, J. Stadler, H. Korn, K. N. Irvine, &
A. Boon (Eds.), (pp. 251–281). Biodiversity and health in the face of climate change. Cham:
Springer.
Conley, K. T., & Nadler, D. R. (2022). Reducing ableism and the social exclusion of people with
disabilities: Positive impacts of openness and education. Psi Chi: The International Honor
Society in Psychology, 27(1), 21-33.
Coughlin, S. S., Smith, S. A., & Fernandez, M. E. (2017). Handbook of community based
participatory research. The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, 106(4), 1-10.
Corazon, S. S., Gramkov, M. C., Poulsen, D. V., Lygum, V. L., Zhang, G., & Stigsdotter, U. K.
(2019). I would really like to visit the forest, but it is just too difficult: A qualitative study on
mobility disability and green spaces. Scandinavian Journal of Disability Research, 21(1), 1–
13.
Costanza-Chock, S. (2020). Design justice, community led practices to build the worlds we need.
Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press.
Cowing, J.L. (2020). Occupied land is an access issue: Interventions in feminist disability studies and
narratives of Indigenous activism. Journal of Feminist Scholarship, 17, 9-25.
Crenshaw, K.W. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence
against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), 1241-1299.
Daniels, M., Drogin Rodgers, E., & Wiggins, B. (2005). “Travel Tales”: An interpretive analysis of
constraints and negotiations to pleasure travel as experienced by persons with physical
disabilities. Tourism Management, 26(6), 919–930.

118

Darcy, S. (1997). Tourism patterns and experiences of New South Wales people with a physical
disability. Tourism New South Wales.
Darcy, S. (1998). Anxiety to access: The tourism patterns and experiences of new South
Wales people with a physical disability. Tourism new South Wales.
Darcy, S. (2010). Inherent complexity: Disability, accessible tourism and accommodation information
preferences. Tourism Management, 31(6), 816–826.
Darcy, S., & Buhalis, D. (2011). Accessible Tourism: Concepts and Issues. Channel View
Publications.
Darcy, S., & Pegg, S. (2011). Towards strategic intent: Perceptions of disability service provision
amongst hotel accommodation managers. International Journal of Hospitality Management,
30(2), 468–476.
Daruwalla, P., & Darcy, S. (2005). Personal and societal attitudes to disability. Annals of Tourism
Research, 32(3), 549–570.
Dattilo, J. (2002). Inclusive leisure services: Responding to the rights of people with disabilities. State
College, PA: Venture Publishing.
Design Justice Network. (2018). Design Justice Network Principles. https://designjustice.org/readthe-principles
De Schauwer, E., Daelman, S., Vandenbussche, H., Sergeant, S., Van de Putte, I., & Davies, B.
(2021). Desiring and critiquing humanity/ability/personhood: Disrupting the ability/disability
binary. Disability & Society, 36(2), 286-305.
Dickson-Swift, V., & James, E. L., & Kippen, S., & Liamputtong, P. (2007). Doing sensitive
research: what challenges do qualitative researchers face? Qualitative Research, 7(3), 327353.
Disability Justice Network of Ontario. (2019). The ‘Unfit’ Canada: A History of Disability Rights and
Justice. https://www.djno.ca/history-of-disability-justice-right
Edge, S., Boluk, K., Groulx, M., & Quick, M. (2020). Exploring diverse lived experiences in the
Smart City through Creative Analytic Practice. Cities, 96, 1-11.
Eichhorn, V., Miller, G., Michopoulou, E., & Buhalis, D. (2008). Enabling disabled tourists? Social
progress through schemes. Annals of Tourism Research, 35(1),189–210.
Figueiredo, E., Eusebio, C., & Kastenholz, E. (2012). How diverse are tourists with disabilities? A
pilot study on accessible leisure tourism experiences in Portugal. Annals of Tourism Research,
37(4), 1097–1116.

119

Friedman, C. (2019). Mapping ableism: A two-dimensional model of explicit and implicit disability
attitudes. Canadian Journal of Disability Studies 8(3), 95-120.
Friedman, C., & Awsumb, J. M. (2019). The symbolic ableism scale. Review of Disability Studies: An
International Journal, 15(1), 1-20.
Gan, D. R. Y., Chaudhury, H., Mann, J.., & Wister, A. V. (2021). Dementia-friendly neighborhood
and the built environment: A scoping review. The Gerontologist, 62(6), 340–356.
Garland-Thomson, R. (2011). Misfits: A feminist materialist disability concept. Hypatia, 26(3), 591609.
Geoghegan, M. (2020). Optics of intersectionality: Unpacking women’s travel experiences through
Instagram. Dearcadh: Graduate Journal of Gender, Globalization, and Rights, 1, 34-49.
Goodley, D., & Tregaskis, C. (2006). Storying disability and impairment: Retrospective accounts of
disabled family life. Qualitative Health Research, 16(5), 630-646.
Glaser, B. (1992). Basics of grounded theory analysis. Mill Valley, CA: Sociology Press.
Grimwood, B., Stinson, M., & King, L. (2019). A decolonizing settler story. Annals of Tourism
Research, 79.
Groulx, M., Freeman, S., & Lemieux, C. (2022). Accessible nature beyond city limits – A scoping
review. Journal of Outdoor Recreation and Tourism, 37, 1-12.
Hamraie, A. (2013). Designing collective access: A feminist disability theory of universal design.
Disability Studies Quarterly, 33(4), 1-33.
Harder, J. A., Keller, V. N., & Chopik, W. J. (2019). Demographic, experiential, and temporal
variation in ableism. Journal of Social Issues, 75(3), 683-706.
Hergenrather, K.C., Rhodes, S.C., Bardhoshi, G., & Pula, S. (2009). Photovoice as a community
based participatory research: A qualitative review. American Journal of Health Behaviour.
33(6).
Hill-Collins, P. (1990). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of
empowerment. Boston: Unwin Hyman.
Howard, M. (2018). Beyond the binary: A nexus of disability. Knots: An Undergraduate Journal of
Disability Studies. 3, 12-14.
Hume, J. (1995). Media Guidelines. Sydney: Disability Council of NSW.
Hutcheon, E. J., & Lashewicz, B. (2020). Tracing and troubling continuities between ableism and
colonialism in Canada. Disability and Society, 35(5), 695-714.

120

Imrie, R., & Hall, P. (2001). Inclusive Design: Designing and Developing Accessible Environments.
(1st ed.). Taylor & Francis.
Inclusive Design Research Centre. (n.d.). Philosophy. https://idrc.ocadu.ca/about/philosophy//
Israel, B. A., Schulz, A. J., Parker, E. A., & Becker, A. B. (1998). Review of community-based
research: Assessing partnership approaches to improve public health. Annual Reviews Public
Health. 19, 173-202.
Israel, B. A., Schulz, A.J., Parker, E. A., & Becker, A. B. (2001). Community-based participatory
research: Policy recommendations for promoting a partnership approach in health research.
Education for Health, 14(2), 182-197.
Israeli, A. A. (2002). A preliminary investigation of the importance of site accessibility factors for
disabled tourists. Journal of Travel Research, 41(1), 101-104.
Iwarsson, S., & Stahl, A. (2003) Accessibility, usability, and universal design—Positioning and
definition of concepts describing person environment relationships. Journal of Disability and
Rehabilitation, 25(2), 57–66.
Jamal, T., & Camargo, B.A. (2014). Sustainable Tourism, justice, and an ethic of care: Toward the
just destination. Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 22(1), 11-30.
Kafer, A. (2013). Feminist, queer, crip. Indiana University Press, Bloomington, IN.
Kaur, R. (2020). Homebody. Simon & Schuster.
Kimmerer, R. K. (2018). Mishkos Kenomagwen: The teachings of grass. In R. K. Kimmerer,
Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of
plants (pp. 156-166). Milkweed Editions.
Koppen, G., Tveit, M. S., Sang, Å. O., & Dramstad, W. (2014). The challenge of enhancing
accessibility to recreational landscapes. Norwegian Journal of Geography, 68(3), 145-154.
Krahn, G., & Campbell, V. (2011). Evolving views of disability and public health: The roles of
advocacy and public health. Disability and Health Journal, 4, 12-18.
Kumari- Campbell, F. (2001). Inciting legal fictions: 'Disability's date with ontology and the ableist
body of the law. Griffith Law Review, 10, 42-62.
Kumari-Campbell, F. (2008). Exploring internalized ableism using critical race theory. Disability and
Society, 23(2), 151-162.

121

Lackey, N.Q., Tysor, D.A., McNay, G.D., Joyner, L., Baker, K.H., & Hodge, C. (2019). Mental
health benefits of nature-based recreation: A systematic review. Annals of Leisure Research. 4,
379–391.
Land, Health, and Healing Team. (2022). Take a walk in Uda Dune Chuntoh/ the Ancient Forest: A
living information and activity booklet. Designed for: Land, Health, and Healing Series
Gathering. https://bit.ly/3WbmM9H.
Leder, D. (1990). The absent body. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Leeming, D., Williamson, I., Lyttle, S., and Johnson, S. (2013). Socially sensitive lactation: Exploring
the social context of breastfeeding. Psychology and Health, 28(4), 450–468.
Lewrick, M., Link, P., & Leifer, L. (2018). The design thinking playbook: Mindful digital
transformation of teams, products, services, businesses and ecosystems. Hoboken, New
Jersey: John Wiley & Sons.
Li, T., Liao, C., Law, R., Zhang, M. (2023). An integrated model of destination attractiveness and
tourists’ environmentally responsible behavior: The mediating effect of place
attachment. Behavioral Sciences, 13(264), 1-13.
Linderova, I., & Janeˇcek, P. (2017). Accessible tourism for all – current state in the Czech business
and non-business environment. Ekonomie a Management, 20, 168–186.
Lofton, S., & Grant, A. K. (2021). Outcomes and intentionality of action planning in photovoice: A
literature review. Health Promotion Practice, 22(3), 318-337.
Lorde, A. (1984). Sister outsider: Essays and speeches. Trumansburg, NY: Crossing Press.
Macpherson, H. (2017). Walkers with visual-impairments in the British countryside:
Picturesque legacies, collective enjoyments and well-being benefits. Journal of Rural
Studies, 51, 251–258.
Marks, D. (1999). Controversial debates and phycological perspectives. London: Routledge.
Mason, C. (2021). Chapter 5: Colonial encounters, conservation, and sport hunting in Banff National
Park. In C. Adams (ed.), Sport and recreation in Canadian history (pp. 76-99). Human
Kinetics Publishers.
Mayan, M. J., & Daum, C. H. (2016). Worth the risk? Muddled relationships in community-based
participatory research. Qualitative Health Research, 26(1), 69-76.
Mayordomo-Martínez, D., S´anchez-Aarnoutse, J. C., Carrillo-de-Gea, J. M., GarcíaBern´a, J. A.,
Fern´andez-Alem´an, J. L., & García-Mateos, G. (2019). Design and development of a mobile
app for accessible beach tourism information for people with disabilities. International
Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 16(12), 2131.

122

McCall, L. (2005) The complexity of intersectionality. Signs Journal of Women in Culture and
Society, 30(3), 1772-1800.
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1945/1962). Phenomenology of perception. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.
McKercher, B., Packer, T., Yau, M., & Lam, P. (2003). Travel agents: Facilitators or inhibitors of
travel for people with disabilities? Tourism Management, 24(4), 465–474.
McKercher, B., & Darcy, S. (2018). Re-conceptualizing barriers to travel by people with disabilities.
Tourism Management Perspectives, 26, 59-66.
Michopoulou, E., & Buhalis, D. (2013). Information provision for challenging markets: The case of
the accessibility requiring market in the context of tourism. Information & Management,
50(5), 229–239.
Ministry of Environment. (n.d.). Park Accessibility Information – BC Parks. Province of British
Columbia. https://bcparks.ca/accessibility/parks/#41-46
Minkler, M. (2005). Community-based research partnerships: Challenges and opportunities. Journal
of Urban Health: Bulletin of the New York Academy of Medicine. 82(2), ii3-ii11.
Mitchell, L., & Burton, E. (2010). Designing dementia friendly neighbourhoods: Helping people with
dementia to get out and about. Journal of Integrated Care, 18(6), 1-8.
Moore, A., Boyle, B., & Lynch, H. (2022). Designing for inclusion in public playgrounds: a scoping
review of definitions, and utilization of universal design. Disability and Rehabilitation
Assistive Technology, 9, 1-13.
Morris, J., O’Brien, E., Ambrose-Oji, B., Lawrence, A., Carter, C., & Peace, A. (2011). Access for
all? Barriers to accessing woodlands and forests in Britain. Local Environment, 16(4), 375–
396.
Murdock, E. G. (2021). Conserving dispossession? A genealogical account of colonial roots of
Western conservation. Ethics, Policy, and Environment, 24(3), 235-249.
Nario-Redmond, M. R., Gospodinov, D., & Cobb, A. (2017). Crip for a day: The unintended negative
consequences of disability simulations. Rehabilitation psychology, 62(3), 324-333.
Nario-Redmond, M.R. (2019). Ableism: The causes and consequences of disability prejudice. WileyBlackwell.
Neville, S., Adams, J., Bellamy, G., Boyd, M., & George, N. (2015). Perceptions towards lesbian, gay
and bisexual people in residential care facilities: A qualitative study. International Journal of
Older People Nursing, 10(1), 73–81.

123

Nichols, R. (2017). Legal Violence and the Limits of the Law. Routeledge.
Niland, P., Lyons, A., Goodwin, I., & Hutton, F. (2014). ‘See it doesn't look pretty does it?': Young
adults’ airbrushed drinking practices on Facebook. Psychology & Health, 29(8), 877–895.
Nocella, A. J. II. (2017). Defining eco-ability: Social justice and intersectionality of disability,
nonhuman animals, and ecology. In: Ray, S. J. & Sibara, J. (Eds.), Disability studies and the
environmental humanities: Towards an eco-crip theory (pp.141-167). Nebraska: Board of
Regents of the University of Nebraska.
Oliver, M. (1990). Politics of Disablement. Macmillan International Higher Education.
Oliver, M. (1992). Changing the social relations of research production? Disability, Handicap and
Society, 7(2), 101-114.
Oliver, M. (1996). Understanding Disability: From Theory to Practice. St Martin’s Press.
Olson, M. A. (2018). Application of the principles of universal design to evaluate active-leisure
facilities used by baby boomers: Examples from seven ski resorts. Activities, Adaptation &
Aging, 42(2), 143-162.
Parry, D. C., & Johnson, C. W. (2007). Contextualizing leisure research to encompass complexity in
lived leisure experience: The need for creative analytic practice. Leisure Sciences, 29(2), 119130.
Parry, D. C. (2007). “There is life after breast cancer”: Nine vignettes exploring dragon boat racing
for breast cancer survivors. Leisure Sciences, 29(1), 53–69.
Perry, M., Cotes, L., Horton, B., Kunac, R., Snell, I., Taylor, B., … & Devan, H. (2021). “Enticing”
but not necessarily a "space designed for me”: Experiences of urban park use by older adults
with disability. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 18(2),
552.
Pedwell, C. (2014). Affective relations: The transnational politics of empathy. Springer.
Pinna, F., Garau, C., & Annunziata, A. A. (2021). Literature review on urban usability and
accessibility to investigate the related criteria for equality in the city. In Gervasi, O. (Ed.),
Computational Science and Its Applications. Springer: Cham, Switzerland.
Piepzna-Samarasinha L. L. (2018). Care work: Dreaming disability justice. Arsenal Pulp Press,
Vancouver, CA.
Pr¨obstl-Haider, U. (2015). Cultural ecosystem services and their effects on human health and wellbeing–a cross-disciplinary methodological review. Journal of Outdoor Recreation and
Tourism, 10, 1–13.

124

Pühretmair, F., & Buhalis, D. (2008). Accessible tourism introduction to the special thematic session
[Paper presentation]. International Conference on Computers for Handicapped Persons.
https://owl.purdue.edu/owl/research_and_citation/apa_style/apa_formatting_and_style_guide/r
eference_list_books.html
Ray, S. J., & Sibara, J. (2017). Introduction. In: Ray, S. J. & Sibara, J. (Eds.), Disability studies and
the environmental humanities: Towards an eco-crip theory (pp.1-25). Nebraska: Board of
Regents of the University of Nebraska.
Raymond, C. M., Brown, G., & Weber, D. (2010). The measurement of place attachment: Personal,
community, and environmental connections. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 30(4),
422-434.
Richards, V., Pritchard, A., & Morgan, N. (2010). (Re) envisioning tourism and visual impairment.
Annals of Tourism Research, 37(4), 1097–1116.
Richardson, L. (1997). Fields of play: Constructing an academic life. Rutgers University Press.
Richardson, L. (2000). Writing: A method of inquiry. In Handbook of qualitative research. Denzin,
N., & Lincoln, Y (Eds.) Handbook of qualitative research (pp.923-948). London: Sage.
Richmond, C. (2018). The relatedness of people, land, and health: Stories from Anishinabe Elders. In
M. Greenwood et al., Determinants of Indigenous Peoples’ health: Beyond the social (2nd ed.,
pp. 167-186). Canadian Scholars’ Press.
Romagosa, F., Eagles, P. F., & Lemieux, C. J. (2015). From the inside out to the outside in: Exploring
the role of parks and protected areas as providers of human health and well- being. Journal of
Outdoor Recreation and Tourism, 10, 70–77.
Rosenwasser, P. (2000). Tool for transformation: Cooperative inquiry as a process for healing from
internalized oppression [Paper presentation]. Adult Education Research Conference,
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. https://newprairiepress.org/aerc/2000/papers/77
Scott, D., & Lee, K. J. J. (2018). People of color and their constraints to national parks visitation. The
George Wright Forum, 35(1), 73–82.
Sharp, R. L., Lemieux, C. J., Thompson, J. L., & Dawson, J. (2014). Enhancing parks and protected
area management in North America in an era of rapid climate change through integrated social
science. Journal of Park and Recreation Administration, 32(4), 1-18.
Shaw, G., & Coles, T. (2004). Disability, holiday making and the tourism industry in the UK: A
Preliminary Survey. Tourism Management, 25, 397-404.
Shaw, G., Veitch, C., & Coles, T. (2005) Access, disability, and tourism: Changing responses in the
United Kingdom. Tourism Review International, 8(3), 167-176.

125

Shumba, T. W., & Moodley, I. (2018). Part 1: A review of using photovoice as a disability research
method: Implications for eliciting the experiences of persons with disabilities on the
Community Based Rehabilitation programme in Nambia. African Journal of Disability, 7(0),
1-11.
Sheehan, B., Burton, E., & Mitchell, L. (2006). Outdoor wayfinding in dementia. Sage Journals, 5(2),
271-281.
Sica, E., Sisto, R., Bianchi, P., & Cappelletti, G. (2021). Inclusivity and responsible tourism:
Designing a trademark for a national park area. Sustainability, 13(1), 1-11.
Simpson, L. B. (2014). Land as pedagogy: Nishnaabeg intelligence and rebellious transformation.
Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education and Society, 3(3), 1-25.
Small, J., Darcy, S., & Packer, T. (2012). The embodied tourist experiences of people with vision
impairment: Management implications beyond the visual gaze. Tourism Management, 33(4),
941–950.
Smith, B., & Sparkes, A. C. (2008). Narrative and its potential contribution to disability studies.
Disability and Society, 23(1), 17-28.
Soetemans, J. K., & Jackson, L. M. (2021). The influence of accessibility on perceptions of people
with disability. Canadian Journal of Disability Studies, 10(1), 185-206.
Spinal Cord Injury BC. (2022). Frequently asked questions. Spinal Cord Injury BC. https://scibc.ca/about-us/faq/
Stack, E., & McDonald, K. (2018). We are “both in charge, the scademics and self advocates”:
Empowerment in community based participatory research. Journal of Policy and Practice in
Intellectual Disabilities, 15(1), 80-89.
Steinfeld, E., Schroeder, S., Duncan, J., Faste, R., Chollet, D., Bishop, M., Wirth, P., & Cardwell, P.
(1979). Access to the built environment: A review of the literature. U.S. Department of
Housing and Urban Development Office of Policy and Development
Research. http://www.fastefoundation.org/publications/access_to_the_built_environment.pdf
Steinfeld E. & Maisel J. (2012). Universal design: Creating inclusive environments. John Wiley &
Sons.
Story, M. F., Mueller, J. L., & Mace, R. L. (1998). The universal design file: Designing for people of
all ages and abilities. Revised edition. (Report No. EC 308 743). Center for Universal Design.
https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED460554.pdf
Strauss, A., & Corbin, J. M. (1990). Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory procedures and
techniques. Sage Publications, Inc.

126

Stumbo, N., & Pegg, S. (2005). Travelers and tourists with disabilities: A matter of priorities and
loyalties. Tourism Review International, 8(3),195-209.
Te Hiwi, B. (2021). Chapter 3: Indigenous peoples’ cultures and physical activities. In C. Adams
(Ed.), Sport and recreation in Canadian history (pp. 36-55). Human Kinetics Publishers.
Terry, G., Hayfield, N., Clarke, V., & Braun, V. (2017). Thematic analysis. In Willig. C., & Stainton
Rogers, W. (Eds.), The SAGE Handbook of Qualitative Research in Psychology. (pp. 17-36).
(2nd). London: Sage Publications.
Teufel-Shone, N. I., Schwartz, A. L., Hardy, L. J., de Heer, H. D., Williamson, H. J., Dunn, D. J.,
Polingyumptewa, K., & Chief, C. (2018). Supporting new community-based participatory
research partnerships. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health,
16(44), 1-12.
Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. (2015). Honouring the Truth, Reconciling for the
Future: Summary of the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada.
Tuck, E., & Yang, K. W. (2012). Decolonization Is Not a Metaphor. Decolonization, Indigeneity,
Education & Society, 1(1), 1-40.
Turco, D. M., Stumbo, N. J., & Garncarz, J. (1998). Tourism constraints for people with disabilities.
Parks and Recreation Journal, 33(9), 78-84.
Van der Kolk, B. A. (2015). The body keeps the score: Brain, mind, and body in the healing of
trauma. Viking Penguin.
Vishalache, B., & Cornforth, S. (2013). Using working agreements in participatory action research:
Working through moral problems with Malaysian students. Educational Action Research,
21(4), 582–602.
Vollstedt, M., & Rezat, S. (2016). An Introduction to grounded theory with a special focus on axial
coding and the coding paradigm. Kaiser, G., & Presmeg, N. (Eds.). In compendium for Early
Career Researchers in Mathematics Education. (pp. 81-100). Springer Open.
Wallerstein, N. (1999). Power between evaluator and community: Research relationships within New
Mexico’s healthier communities. Social Science Medical, 49, 39–53.
Wallerstein, N., Oetzel, J. G., Sanchez-Youngman, S., Boursaw, B., Dickson, E., Kastelic, S., Koegel,
P., Lucero, J. E., Magarati, M., Ortiz, K., Parker, M., Peña, J., Richmond, A., & Duran, B.
(2020). Engage for equity: A long-term study of community-based participatory research and
community-engaged research practices and outcomes. Health Education and Behaviour,
47(3), 380-390.
Wang, C., & Burris, M. A. (1997). Photovoice: Concept, methodology, and use for participatory
needs assessment. Health Education and Behavior, 24(3), 369-387.

127

Wang, C., Zhang, J., Xiao, X., Sun, F., Xiao, M., & Shi, Q. (2020). Examining the dimensions and
mechanisms of tourists’ environmental behavior: A theory of planned behavior approach.
Journal of Cleaner Production, 273, 1-10.
Weber, J., & Sultana, S. (2013). Why do so few minority people visit national parks? Visitation and
the accessibility of "America’s best idea.” Annals of the Association of American
Geographers, 103(3), 437–464.
Wiles, J., & Allen, R. (2010). Embodied ageing in place: What does it mean to grow old? Chouinard,
V., Hall, E., & Wilton, R. (Eds.), Towards Enabling Geographies: 'Disabled' Bodies and
Minds in Society and Space. (pp. 217-236). Burlington: Ashgate.
Wilson, E., Kenny, A., & Dickson-Swift, V. (2018). Ethical challenges in community-based
participatory research: A scoping review. Qualitative Health Research, 28(2), 189-199.
Wright, R. K. (2018). ‘Doing it for Dot’: Exploring active ageing sport tourism experiences through
the medium of creative analytical practice. Journal of Sport Tourism, 22(2), 93–108.
Yau, M., McKercher, B., & Packer, T. L. (2004). Travelling with a disability: More than an access
issue. Annals of Tourism Research, 31(4), 946-960.
Zhang, G., Poulsen, D.V., Lygum, V.L., Corazon, S.S., Gramkow, M.C., Stigsdotter, U.K. (2017).
Health-promoting nature access for people with mobility impairments: A systematic review.
International Journal of Environmental Research in Public Health, 14(7), 703.

128

Appendix 1: Field Prompts

129

130

Appendix 2: Story walk signs at Mount Robson Provincial Park

131

132

133

134