Reigniting the spark

When we bought a property on Galiano Island, the intent was to build a family cabin. Simplicity, laughter, good food, good company, good music.

As the seasons changed, so did the forest, lighting, and experiences. While being there, I had the opportunity to slow down and occasionally drown out the noise that constantly filled my head since being diagnosed with a life altering disease in 2006, yet continuing to lead or help lead environmental consulting firms.

In time, the cabin vision evolved to be bigger than just my family. It started to include many of the amazing people we have met since MS arrived. The expanded dream was that on the weekends or weeks we weren’t using the cabin, we would lend or rent it out to other families with mobility challenges.

A wheelchair was a new world for me. Turning radius issues. Tipping over in my wheelchair in front of my new co-workers just before giving a presentation (nailed it in my torn, blood stained shirt). Running over toes and apologizing profusely. But most importantly, understanding that all of those moments helped me build resilience to turn the corner.

In the last decade, I have used a wheelchair and discovered that finding a hotel room, resort, and especially a cabin where I didn’t feel totally out of place or an afterthought was almost impossible. Through business and family life, I have stayed in plenty of places that are somewhat accessible. Sadly, good intentions only go so far. A recently renovated wheelchair accessible hotel room at the end of a really long hallway with super thick carpet. A lovely accessible bathroom filled with empty alcohol boxes in a restaurant. Beautiful grab bars in totally the wrong place.

I am not a complainer.

I am a doer. Over the last number of years, I have worked with various organizations and establishments to help them become much more accessible. No tokenism, or face saving measures, just helping with design or removing barriers, with the goal of making people’s lives easier, less frustrating, and more enjoyable.

In the seven years we have owned the 11 acres on Galiano Island, 10 forested, one acre of cleared field, we have built 250 metres of wheelchair accessible gravel pathway through the forest; a wheelchair accessible outhouse affectionately called “the cabana” because of its lack or odour, abundant natural light, and spacious interior; and a bunkhouse with a wide door, lower bunk bed with grab bars, and a ramp.

Many of you reading this know me and my propensity for telling long-winded stories. Some moderately interesting. Some just long. Through the years, people have told me that they live vicariously through my projects.

As a result, an amazing cast of supporters has emerged to help with the cabin project. Some old friends, but many new ones. Cheques written by people that were totally unexpected. Their contributions bought gravel, lumber, or safety gear. My joy has been watching people apply their proven skills. Seeing others learn skills they had an interest in, but never tried. Or those who told me they had no relevant skills, but proved otherwise.

Coming off of watching my son fly while we did a recent carpentry project, I asked him if he was interested in helping me drive our Galiano Island wheelchair accessible project.

He looked at me and said “I’m in.”

At that moment, the vision came together. I saw a kid and his buddies camping on the property. He and I working through different barriers, whether solidifying the pathways that are in the sun and fighting the grasses poking through; getting permission from the Islands Trust to do short-term rentals because we think what we are doing in providing a place for accessible adventures is different from the norm which is not permitted; learning financial management for the property; or how to harness the power of the sun to generate power.

Through circumstance, because of me, my kids have already lived a life different from many. They can do things beyond their years. Cooking. Using power tools. Understanding the concepts of a fulcrum and leverage to help get their dad off the floor when they only weigh 60 pounds. How not to be embarrassed by their dad, and the way he moves, but proud to be on Team Ray.

My goal isn’t to overburden my wife or kids, but to find meaningful ways to participate in my family, share useful knowledge with them that will enrich their lives, and maybe, just maybe, build that accessible cabin where people can breathe and remember what is possible in their life.