Nature-loving disabled woman ‘literally padlocked out’ of favourite landscapes

Nature loving disabled woman literally padlocked – Bethany Handley, 26, spent her earliest years immersed in the wild, a life shaped by the rhythms of nature. Growing up in Monmouthshire, she often wandered the woods with her younger brother, crafting dens and diverting streams, her days filled with the mess and magic of outdoor play. “Every memory I have is rooted in the natural world,” she recalls, describing her childhood as one of untamed freedom. The family’s love for the outdoors was evident in their weekend adventures—scaling peaks like Sugarloaf and the Skirrid, splashing through waves at the beach, and paddling down the River Wye. Yet, this idyllic connection to the earth began to wane as Bethany’s health deteriorated over time.

What started as mild symptoms during her GCSEs escalated into a series of diagnoses. Glandular fever, she says, was the first major setback, leaving her with lingering fatigue that eventually sapped her physical strength. At 16, endometriosis added to the complexity, while other conditions contributed to a gradual loss of mobility. Three years ago, the decline became undeniable: Bethany found herself unable to walk at all. “It was more disabling than my medical conditions,” she explains, reflecting on the moment she realized she was “literally padlocked out” of the landscapes that once defined her.

A childhood of wild exploration

Bethany’s early years were a blend of creativity and adventure. Though she faced challenges with depth perception, her visual impairment didn’t deter her from embracing the outdoors. Instead, it fueled her imagination—writing plays, directing her brother, and enacting scenes in the woods. “I used to be the boss of the game,” she says, laughing at the memory of her childhood antics. Her family’s active lifestyle allowed her to navigate the world with a sense of agency, even as she sometimes stumbled over obstacles. The natural world was her playground, and she was determined to keep its spirit alive despite the physical limitations she later encountered.

When Bethany’s health began to falter, she turned to nature as both a refuge and a source of inspiration. After leaving school, she worked as an outdoor pursuits instructor, teaching others to hike and swim. This role gave her a chance to stay connected to the wild, but it also highlighted the barriers she faced. “I still had the strength to move, but it was getting harder to do so,” she says. Eventually, her body gave out, forcing her to abandon her independence. She enrolled at Cardiff University, where she found a new way to engage with the natural world through creative writing—a passion she had nurtured since her youth.

From student loans to a wheelchair

For a time, Bethany managed to adapt, using her student loan to purchase a wheelchair from eBay. However, the chair was ill-suited for her 6ft frame, making it feel like “riding a kid’s bike.” The experience was anything but smooth—her housemates had to push her around, and rough terrain or potholes would send her tumbling out. Despite the discomfort, she grew to appreciate the wheelchair as a tool of freedom. “People often say using a wheelchair is a sign of surrender,” she notes, “but for me, it was the bravest thing I could do—choosing to live fully even when the world felt smaller.”

Her journey took a dramatic turn when she collapsed on her kitchen floor after summiting Cader Idris, a mountain in mid Wales. That evening, she realized her legs no longer responded to her commands. “I could still hike, but I had to rest for hours afterward,” she recalls. “I could wild swim, but only if I planned rest days. It was like my body was on a constant edge.” The decline accelerated, and she soon required a full-time wheelchair. Accessible housing became a necessity, but it was a luxury she couldn’t afford. For over a year, she relied on a nearby leisure center to shower, as her home had no bathroom at all. “Living in my parents’ front room, sleeping on a sofa, felt like a prison,” she says.

Bethany’s story is one of resilience and reinvention. She has since become a passionate advocate for making nature accessible to all, regardless of ability. “The natural world should be a place of inclusion, not exclusion,” she argues. Yet, even with her newfound role as a writer and activist, the emotional toll of being physically separated from the places she once cherished remains profound. “There are seven stiles within a mile of my home,” she points out, “but each one is a barrier I can’t cross.” This disconnect, she feels, is more than just physical—it’s a sense of loss that cuts deeper than any diagnosis.

The struggle for independence

After years of adjusting to her new reality, Bethany began to reclaim her sense of agency. She joined the university club scene, taking part in social events that brought her back into the world. “It was a slow process,” she admits, “but I learned to see my wheelchair not as a limitation, but as a bridge to freedom.” However, her triumphs were tempered by the ongoing challenges of navigating a landscape that had once been her playground. The transition to an NHS-issued wheelchair was another hurdle—its weight and design made it harder to move through the terrain she still loved. To overcome this, Bethany launched a crowdfunding campaign and sought charity support, determined to restore her connection to the wild.

Her experience mirrors a broader struggle for disabled individuals to access the natural environments they cherish. “Nature has always been my escape,” she says, “but now it feels like a privilege I have to fight for.” Bethany’s journey from active hiker to wheelchair user is a testament to her determination, but it also underscores the barriers that exist between people and the landscapes that shape their lives. “I think the real disability is not the lack of legs, but the way the world is designed,” she reflects. “It’s like the natural world is saying, ‘You don’t belong here.'” For Bethany, the fight isn’t just for mobility—it’s for a place in the world that honors her right to explore, create, and belong.

Her story continues to inspire others, proving that disability and nature can coexist. Bethany’s work as a writer and advocate aims to challenge perceptions and open doors for those who feel excluded. “I want to show that being locked out of the landscapes we love is a form of quiet exclusion,” she says. “It’s not just about the wheelchair—it’s about how we design our lives and our spaces to include everyone.” With each step she takes in her wheelchair, Bethany is not just reclaiming the wild; she’s redefining what it means to live in harmony with nature, even when the world seems to push back.