Stan Morse relaxes outside a cafe in Rome during his world travels this past fall and winter (left)

Reflections
By Stan Morse
April 30, 1998

Stan Morse, a semi-retired Chelan attorney, recently returned from six months abroad while researching a book on traveling for disabled people. Morse was paralyzed in a skiing accident in 1972. Here is his last report.

CHELAN -- It was an act of rebellion, this trip of mine around the world in a wheelchair. A declaration that commonly held beliefs about limitations of the disabled are wrong. We are all free to define our lives. To take quality risks. To grow. And a wheelchair (or any other disability) will slow you down only if you let it.

But you can't expect people to accept a proposition defying common belief, without demonstrating it's truth. So I strung together scuba diving, fly fishing, overnight train trips, along with negotiating dangerous streets in Bangkok and ancient streets in Rome, to show it was possible.

People ask me if I had fun. Well, sure, I had fun. Diving on the Barrier Reef was fun. The Australian Tennis Open was fun. Going with friends to a movie in Rome, then feasting on Chinese food, was fun. One of my purposes was to show that travel in a wheelchair could be enjoyed, not just tolerated. But this wasn't intended as a vacation. If I'd wanted several months of relaxation and fun, I'd have gone to Hawaii and rented a bungalow.

While I traveled, I wrote 20,000 words and took numerous photographs for newspaper articles. I wrote 80,000 words on a book manuscript that I'm now polishing toward a final draft. For each hour of "fun" there was at least one hour spent in the confines of a hotel room, patiently typing on my laptop, searching for words to capture the day.

Then, there were the practical aspects of extended travel. Finding accessible accommodations, arranging transportation, eating healthy foods, surviving on a budget. And often, there was no way something had been done before, so I was constantly inventing solutions to problems, such as using a desk chair to ride a tiny hotel elevator in Genoa.

I was sick twice; fortunately, only with head colds. I lost a $700 digital camera. There were days when it was hot and humid and I was stuck in a huge city like Singapore with nothing planned. These were times of growth, not fun.

But this "growth -- not fun" was the most rewarding. I came to see myself more clearly; my strengths as well as my weaknesses.

I learned to occasionally let go of my stubborn independence; to ask people for help when it was necessary, rather than forego an interesting experience. I couldn't have stayed overnight on Australia's Barrier Reef had I not allowed the crew of Reef Encounter to carry me below-deck to the bathroom, shower and my cabin. I wouldn't have taken the 5-hour bus trip from Perth in western Australia to Margaret River had I not been willing to ask strangers to carry me on and off the bus.

By expanding my comfort zone, I let people into my life. Thereby sharing my life experience with others, and allowing them to see a positive disabled lifestyle. And my impression was that people liked to help; they enjoyed my enthusiasm.

I'd do it again. In fact, I hope to, but this time with someone running a digital television camera. That would then be used on the Internet.

I'd like to see more of Italy. I want to see Spain and Holland. And maybe the next time around, Egypt and Iran will be safe enough for me to see.

I'd like to involve kids, somehow, in this next project. Some of the strongest interest came from children I met, particularly at a school in Sicily. I believe I truly reached the kids with my message of independence. For some, it was their first up-close encounter with a person in a wheelchair. I like to think I swayed them toward believing that disabled people are actually quite "normal" in the way they live their lives. If nothing else, I made them think.

I'm excited about this year. There are wonderful possibilities. We'll see what comes. I trust something will. Because anything can happen, if you believe in yourself.