Travellers World

Travelling with a wheelchair — the good, the bad and the not-a-chance

Category: Before you book

  • The questions we ask before we book a hotel

    “Is the hotel accessible?” is the worst question you can ask, because the answer is always yes. Everybody says yes. The receptionist says yes, the booking site says yes, the little wheelchair icon says yes. Then you arrive and there are three steps up to the front door and a bathroom you could not turn a shopping trolley in.

    So we stopped asking it. Now we ask specific questions that cannot be answered with a cheerful yes, and we ask them on the phone, not by email, because you learn as much from the pause before the answer as you do from the answer.

    Getting in the building

    • How many steps are there between the car park and reception? (Not “is it step-free” — make them count.)
    • If there is a ramp, how steep is it, and is there a handrail?
    • Is the main entrance the accessible one, or is it round the back past the bins?
    • Is the front door automatic, or does someone have to hold it?

    The room

    • What is the clear width of the bedroom door, in centimetres?
    • Is there space to get a wheelchair down both sides of the bed, or just one?
    • How high is the bed from the floor?
    • Is the room on the ground floor? If not, how many lifts serve it, and what happens if the lift fails?

    The bathroom — where it usually falls apart

    This is the one that catches us out most often, so we ask the most here.

    • Is it a wet room with a level floor, or a shower tray with a lip?
    • Is there a fixed glass screen? (A screen can make a side transfer impossible even in a room that is otherwise fine.)
    • Is there a shower seat, is it fixed or free-standing, and which side is it on?
    • Which side of the toilet are the grab rails on? Left, right, or both?
    • Is there a red emergency cord, and does it reach the floor?
    • Can you get a wheelchair under the sink?

    The question that tells you everything

    After all that, we ask one more: “Could you send me a photograph of the bathroom?”

    A hotel that is genuinely set up for disabled guests will have those photos to hand, or will happily walk down the corridor and take them. A hotel that hesitates, or says the photos are on the website (they are not), is telling you something. We have booked on the strength of a blurry phone picture of a grab rail more than once, and we have never regretted it.

    Your turn: if you have experiences of your own — the places that got it right, and the ones that got it badly wrong — tell us in the comments below. Every report helps the next traveller.

  • Blue badge parking: what to check before you set off

    A blue badge does not get you a parking space. It gets you the right to a parking space, which is a different thing entirely on a wet Saturday in a seaside town.

    What the badge actually does

    The badge belongs to the person, not the car, so it travels with you into a taxi or a friend’s vehicle. Since 2019 the scheme in England has also covered hidden disabilities, which was a long overdue change. Councils charge different amounts — up to £10 in England, free in Wales, up to £20 in Scotland — and it runs for three years.

    The rules on where you can park vary by council, and they vary a lot in central London, where several boroughs run their own schemes and the standard badge concessions do not apply. Check the specific borough before you drive in. We have learned that one the expensive way.

    What to check before you set off

    • How many accessible bays are there? “We have disabled parking” can mean twelve bays or one.
    • Are they bookable? Some attractions will reserve one. Always worth the phone call.
    • What is the surface? A gravel or cobbled car park is effectively inaccessible however wide the bay is.
    • Is the bay wide enough for a side transfer or a rear ramp? If you use a rear-loading vehicle you need space behind, which a standard hatched bay does not always give you.
    • Height barriers. The great enemy of the adapted van. Multi-storeys and supermarket car parks are full of them, usually at 2.0 or 2.1 metres.
    • How far is the bay from the entrance, and what is between them? A bay two hundred metres away across a slope is not really an accessible bay.

    Two things worth carrying

    A parking clock, the blue plastic dial that some councils require alongside the badge on single yellow lines. And the badge itself displayed clock-face up, expiry visible — a badge that has slid face-down on the dashboard is a ticket, and appealing it is a tedious afternoon.

    If the bays are all taken by people without badges

    In a private car park — supermarket, retail park, hospital — it is worth telling the staff, because enforcement there is entirely down to the operator and they often do not realise how bad it has got. On a public road it is a council matter. Neither will help you today, which is why we always have a plan B car park before we leave the house.

    Your turn: if you have experiences of your own — the places that got it right, and the ones that got it badly wrong — tell us in the comments below. Every report helps the next traveller.

  • Travel insurance, the GHIC, and insuring the chair

    Travel insurance is the least interesting subject on this site and the one where getting it wrong costs the most. Two things make it different for us: pre-existing conditions, and the wheelchair itself. Standard policies handle both badly by default.

    Declare everything. Genuinely everything.

    The medical screening questions are tedious and the temptation to skim them is real. Resist it. A claim for a chest infection abroad can be refused because of an undeclared, completely unrelated condition — insurers can and do void policies for non-disclosure. Every condition, every medication, every “oh, and” goes in. If the screening makes the quote enormous, that is information too: it means you need a specialist insurer, not a smaller lie.

    The specialist market is better than people expect. There are insurers and brokers who deal with disability and serious conditions all day, and a directory of them is maintained for exactly this purpose — the British Insurance Brokers’ Association helpline will point you to members who cover your situation. The premium is often less frightening than the mainstream comparison sites suggest, because a specialist is pricing your actual risk rather than panicking about a list of words.

    Insure the chair like the vehicle it is

    A powered wheelchair can cost as much as a small car, and a standard travel policy’s baggage limit will not come close — single-item limits of a few hundred pounds are typical. Check, specifically:

    • The single-item limit, against what the chair would actually cost to replace. Not what you paid — what it costs now, with your seating and controls.
    • Mobility equipment cover as a named section, or a standalone wheelchair policy alongside the travel one. Some home contents policies extend to the chair away from home; some don’t leave the country.
    • Hire costs while yours is repaired — the bit that keeps the holiday going.
    • Airline damage interplay: the airline is liable first when they break it, but their liability caps are low against a powered chair. Your insurer needs to pick up the rest, and the photographs-at-the-gate habit is what makes that claim smooth.

    The GHIC, and what it is not

    For Europe, carry a GHIC — free from the NHS website (never pay a middleman site for one). It gets you state healthcare on local terms in the EU. What it does not do is fly you home, cover a missed cruise, or repair a wheelchair. It is a supplement to insurance, not a substitute, and every year people find that out the hard way at altitude.

    Your turn: if you have experiences of your own — the places that got it right, and the ones that got it badly wrong — tell us in the comments below. Every report helps the next traveller.