Why cruising is the most accessible way to travel overseas

Telegraph

a day ago

It was day one of our week-long cruise to the Norwegian fjords, and barely 90 minutes since we'd handed over our passports at P&O Britannia's accessible check-in quarters, we were already in our cabin.
'How fast was that?' I enthused to my partner, Paul, a wheelchair user since a spinal injury at the age of 21. He nodded enthusiastically, still thrilled that he'd been able to bring a second back-up chair, and by the generously sized wet room which had greeted us.
We cracked open our bottle of champagne – part of the 'one bottle of wine per person' we were permitted to bring with us – and settled into our accessible cabin on deck 11, preparing to spend the following day at sea cruising along the inky blue waters off North West England.
We used this day to explore the ship, finding that it was – on the whole – wonderfully easy to get around, with plenty of other wheelchair- and scooter-users amongst our fellow passengers, and specific tables at the buffet and lifts between floors reserved for wheelchair users (though not everyone observed these rules).
Satisfied that our on-board experience would be a pleasant and easily navigable one, our attentions – and anxieties – turned to whether the same would be true of the various shore excursions ahead.
We needn't have worried. P&O had clearly given much forethought to the ports which would prove most accessible for disabled passengers, with each destination offering step-free and (mostly) flat roadways and paths, allowing us to explore each without incident.
Amongst our stops were the cities of Stavanger and Kristiansand – both delightful and very scenic – but it was the small farming village of Skjolden which really stood out.
Gliding up the calm, crystal clear Sognefjord, we passed tumbling waterfalls and hillsides dotted with pretty wooden homes – then, as we neared the shore, we heard the bells of mountain sheep ringing as farmers toiled their lands nearby.
Having disembarked, we followed a beautiful accessible tarmac road which wound around the feet of rugged, snow-capped mountains – a stunning place, and everything we'd hoped a cruise around Norway would offer. We stopped for a picnic at a little bench by the water, taking it all in as other cruisers – on foot, in wheelchairs or on scooters – passed by, deciding which of the various pathways ahead took their fancy as mountain goats and highland cows watched from the nearby fields with interest.
That evening, we returned to the ship and watched the sun set from the rear deck, the sky and still waters streaked with the same deep hues of burnt orange and bruised purple.
But it wasn't all plain sailing. As we'd been supping our champagne on that very first day, a wheelchair disaster of sorts had been unfolding below us on deck seven. Fellow passenger Alan Rogers, who has multiple sclerosis, had gone for some fresh air on the rear deck in his P&O-approved chair. While rolling himself down a too-steep ramp, he had come crashing out of it and was left lying on deck, helpless and in pain.
Paul had tried to access the rear deck via this same ramp some days later, and also found it much too steep, saying that he'd needed two strong men 'to lift up the wheelchair and get me out'.
When asked, P&O told us that their safety officer has no issues with the ramp, having recently been aboard the Britannia and found it all in order and within their specifications.
'But why don't they consult the wheelchair users who need these facilities?' says Alan. 'And if the ramps can't be fixed, what about a buzzer to call staff to hold open doors and to hold the wheelchair as you go through them?'
P&O's newer ships, he told us, are better on this score. 'My first trip with my wife, Rachel, was on the Iona,' he says of another of the line's ships, launched in 2020. 'It was brilliant, with a decent-sized wetroom and electric buttons to press for the doors and balcony. I don't fly any more, and though cruises are definitely more accessible than a flight, I'm still limited in what I can go on.'
He hopes that by speaking out, P&O might be prompted to adjust the ramps on the older ships to ensure the safety of other passengers.
Nevertheless, overall Paul and I were impressed. Thanks to the all-encompassing nature of a cruise, this was the first holiday I had successfully organised myself, and the price – £899 per person, including all meals – had been manageable on my part-time salary.
This approach also meant that we had been able to entirely avoid flying (which, with Paul's wheelchair and my own mental illness, which makes me claustrophobic in airports, is often an ordeal) or renting a car, but still get right into the heart of the rugged fjords and snowy mountains in all their beauty.
Cruising is still a welcome lifeline for many wheelchair users who want to travel – but with just a few small tweaks, it could be even better.