Travel has never been a simple matter for us. Deciding where to go, what to see, and how to get
there often feels less like booking a holiday and more like planning a small military operation —
minus the uniforms, but with just as many maps. Every trip begins long before we’ve packed a
suitcase, with hours of research, route-plotting, and quiet negotiations with reality.
Travelling with a wheelchair adds its own layer of complexity. The biggest challenges are rarely the
dramatic ones; they’re the everyday obstacles most people step over without a second thought.
Uneven pavements, awkward kerbs, busy junctions, and mysteriously inaccessible entrances can
turn a simple outing into an unexpected adventure. Over time, we’ve learned that “adventure” is
often just another word for “this might take longer than we thought.”
Public transport quickly becomes the backbone of any trip, and at first glance it seems
straightforward enough. But accessibility varies wildly. Not every stop is wheelchair-friendly, and
sometimes the difference between accessible and impossible comes down to something as trivial —
and infuriating — as the height of a kerb. More than once, Google Street View has become our
unlikely scouting partner, letting us inspect bus stops and entrances from the comfort of home, long
before we arrive in person.
And of course, accessibility doesn’t end with transport. The nearest stop is not always the most
practical one. Far too often, the main entrance to a building is proudly displayed at the top of a
flight of steps, while the accessible entrance lurks around the side like a guilty secret. Learning to
navigate these quirks has become as much a part of our travels as visiting the attractions
themselves.
This series of journals chronicles our trips across the United States, beginning in 2012, as we
explored some of the country’s most iconic cities. Each book follows our routes, experiences,
successes, and occasional frustrations, expanding on our blog with additional stories, observations,
and personal reflections.
Along the way, you’ll find not only accounts of the places we visited but also the realities of
travelling with mobility challenges. Some days everything goes smoothly. Other days a broken lift,
a missing ramp, or a deceptively steep pavement forces a complete rethink. That’s simply part of the
journey — the part you don’t see on the postcards.
With each trip, we’ve grown more confident and more skilled at navigating unfamiliar cities and
their public transport systems. We’ve also learned the important difference between what is
achievable and what is only theoretically achievable — a distinction that becomes painfully clear
when you’re trying to push a wheelchair up a hill that looked perfectly reasonable on a map.
These journals are a record of those adventures: the places we discovered, the challenges we faced,
and the memories we made along the way.
Introduction
This was our third visit to San Francisco, but the first time we’d seen it in spring. Our previous trips
had been over Christmas and in the middle of January — both wonderfully crisp and bright — but
there was something special about arriving to a city waking up for the season. The parks were
greener, the gardens were starting to bloom, and we were quietly hoping to spot more of the Anna’s
Hummingbirds that seem to treat the city as their personal playground at this time of year. They’re
around all year if the winter’s been kind, but spring is when they really show off.
One thing we’ve learned about San Francisco is that the weather has a mind of its own. The
temperatures are surprisingly consistent — usually somewhere between 14 and 18°C — but during
our stay most days crept up into the low twenties. It sounds almost Mediterranean until the fog rolls
in and the wind sweeps across the bay, reminding you exactly where you are. We’ve been caught
out before: one minute you’re basking in the sunshine, the next you’re shivering and wishing you’d
packed something warmer. These days, we don’t argue with the forecast. We just bring the extra
layer.
Planning this trip took just as much effort as the previous ones. San Francisco’s hills haven’t
flattened themselves out in the years since we last visited, and travelling with a wheelchair means
every route needs careful thought. We’d already ticked off most of the big attractions, so this time
we wanted to explore a little further afield. That was exciting — new places, new views — but it
also meant new accessibility puzzles to solve. A reliable Plan B wasn’t optional; it was essential.
Thankfully, the city’s public transport system is generally very accessible. The main complication
comes from the Muni Metro trams, which run both at street level and underground. Not every street
stop has a raised platform — often because there simply isn’t space — so I spent more hours than
I’d care to admit studying Google Street View, zooming in on kerbs like a man preparing for a very
niche exam. If the kerb was high enough, Jane could usually get on and off without trouble. If not…
well, that’s what Plan B was for.
The underground stations all have lifts, which is the good news. The bad news is that some of them
seem to have taken on a second life as public conveniences. Using them often meant holding your
breath and hoping the journey between floors was mercifully short. I still don’t understand how
anyone can produce that much liquid in the time it takes a lift to travel a few metres, but clearly
there are skills in this world I will never master.
The pages that follow are an expanded version of the blog we wrote during our two-week stay —
later turned into photo books and even an audio version. They tell the story of where we went, what
we saw, the challenges we faced, and the little surprises that make travelling such a mix of joy,
frustration, and discovery.
So here it is: our account of two weeks in the City by the Bay, from 30th April to 14th May 2017
So here are a few statistics about our trip
Going it took 19 hours from home to the Hotel Triton.
It's around 5363 miles or so from London to San Francisco.
11 hours in the air going at a speed of 550 miles an hour at 38,000 feet.
10 hours coming back at a speed of 560 to 610 miles an hour due to the jet stream.
Returning it took 16 hours from the hotel to home.
We took over 1200 photos between us and about over an hour of video in small clips.
We travelled around 150 miles while we were there.
Travelling on about 70 buses, trams and streetcars.
We spent around $1,000.
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