Winter has a way of closing in around you. The cold seeps through the windows, the days blur together, and the world outside feels just out of reach, too muddy, too wet, too windy, too cold. As much as I love the coziness of warm blankets and endless cups of tea, after months of grey skies and chilly air, my body was craving some vitamin D. I wanted fresh air, movement, and—most of all—a reminder that adventure is always possible.
Enter my all-terrain wheelchair - Basil
The beach has always been a place representative of freedom. The rolling waves, the endless sky, the feeling of being in touch with nature’s wonder — it’s magic. But for years, it was also a challenge. Sand and standard wheelchairs don’t mix well, and while I’ve always found ways to explore, there were limits. Until now.
Taking Basil to the beach was something I had been actively looking forward to, and it truly was everything I hoped for.
As I rolled onto the beach (after navigating a slightly terrifying rocky outcrop!), I felt the tension of winter melt away, replaced by excitement and adrenaline which has been hard to find these past few months.
Basil’s sturdy wheels gripped the sand effortlessly, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just observing the shoreline from a distance—I was in it, rolling at speed! The ocean stretched out before me, shimmering under the low winter sun. Will, just as excited as me, ran ahead, leaving tiny paw prints in the wet sand. It was pure bliss.

This wasn’t just a trip to the beach. It was a reminder that limitations are meant to be challenged. That adventure doesn’t stop just because the terrain is tough. And that as Winter fades to Spring, hope returns, and we can safely start looking forward to a Summer full of fun in the Great Outdoors.
Sitting there, watching the waves roll in, I felt a specific type of gratitude. Grateful for technology that allows me to explore. Grateful for the people who design and advocate for accessible adventures. And grateful for the simple, undeniable and unique beauty of nature when you get the chance to immerse yourself in it.

As I turned back toward the car park, I knew one thing for certain—this was just the first of many beach days to come. The first of many new challenges being faced.
Because hope, it turns out, feels a lot like the sea breeze on your face and the rolling of waves at your wheels.

Comments