Being in a wheelchair doesn’t stop Giselle Moor travelling. Since becoming disabled eight years ago, she has completed marathons internationally and visited 24 countries across 4 continents. But she’s honest about the challenges – seeing the world as a wheelchair user is often exhausting, anxiety-inducing and inconvenient. Here, as a speaker at Cairns Crocodiles, she gives an honest review of her flight with Qantas and stay at Novotel Cairns Oasis Resort.
The run up to any trip feels less like excitement and more like a military operation. But when the opportunity came to travel to Cairns for The Crocodiles Conference, I worked through my worries and got on the plane.
It’s often hard to pinpoint what makes the difference between a trip that makes you want to book the next one and one that puts you off for months. It’s often just a feeling. But I’ve realised it’s less about the set up and more about the series of interactions.
On the check-in – ‘This one was good’
Flying with Qantas, check-in is where it starts and for me it’s the most loaded moment of any trip. It’s where I make my requests, where I fight my battles and where I often repeat 972 times my chair must make it to the gate on the other side not disappear into the hold without warning.
A bad check-in can set the tone for an entire journey. A good one can dissolve the anxiety before it’s even had a chance to build. This one was good. No fanfare or lengthy reassurance. Just a clear, calm conversation about how it was going to work.
My suitcase tagged. My wheelchair tagged. Both without me having to mention it. Neither did the woman at the Qantas check-in, who told me the plan before I’d even asked the question. And the plan was exactly what I would have asked for. That was it. One interaction. I knew, they knew, what I needed, and it makes all the difference. I didn’t get nervous again until we were almost there.
I landed in Cairns and was reunited with my suitcase and, arguably, the more important item, my wheelchair. Off we go to my hotel.
“Novotel Cairns Oasis Resort was a sanctuary”
Little did I know. Novotel Cairns Oasis Resort would be a sanctuary and my slice of paradise amidst the chaos of Cairns Crocs.
Whilst I could chat about the specifics of the room, not much needs to be said except the room worked, the basics were done right. The bed was low and bathroom was huge. An added bonus when I had to get fully glammed up in glitter for the Pinterest party that evening – so much counter space to spread my cosmetics across.
The towels were big enough to wrap my whole body in sat down, the small detail often so overlooked. My room also featured a giant balcony with enough room for me, my wheelchair and a table set, a rare find.
When you use a wheelchair space is everything, because there’s nothing more annoying than banging into walls, chipping paint and not being able to turn around in a small space. The room worked. But rather than the non-negotiables of disability travel, I’d rather talk about the “nice to haves”. As someone who was able bodied, I was always offered the full experience. I could access the extras. My want to work out and my desire to sit by a pool did not disappear, and the highlight of my stay was being able to access the same facilities as everyone else.
A ground level gym with more than enough space to weight train, stretch and move the rower so I can transfer on it. Access to the poolside restaurant and outdoor area. And, a ramp to the pool.
This garden felt like paradise and one I had the magic key to, too. Beaches are almost always inaccessible, so as a wheelchair user a good pool isn’t a nice-to-have. It’s a deciding factor. We will pick a hotel on its pool before almost anything else. But this place offered both because the Novotel Cairns Oasis Resort had a mini poolside beach, a swim up bar, rubber rings, the whole thing.
“Something I haven’t experienced independently in 8 years”
I sat on a Wednesday morning, coffee in hand and toes in the sand. That is something I have not experienced independently in 8 years. It’s the small things. As a future disabled parent, this very thing gives me easy access to an activity that has always felt out of reach. Building sandcastles on the beach with my future children.
I pull out of the daydream because I have a panel to moderate. I’m looking at green trees, a blue pool, the bright sun in the sky. It has helped me feel at peace, which is exactly what I needed before taking to the stage that afternoon. But off I must go, saying goodbye to sanctuary and heading to the conference.
So often, when it comes to disability, function comes at the cost of everything else. We rarely get cool or pretty, we rarely get the extras and it can often feel like you should feel lucky, that you get to be there at all. But in my opinion, function is just the floor. A room I can navigate without banging into things, an aisle chair to board my flight and knowing that my wheelchair will be at the other side safely. That’s not good travel, it’s just not bad travel. It’s the bare minimum.
In 8 years of being disabled I’ve learnt that paradoxically, independence requires other people. To exist independently in the world, you need others to show up and do their job. Not go above and beyond. Just do their job. But as a wheelchair user, you do have dozens of those interactions every single day. And each one has the power to make or break it. When people turn up positive with a smile, willing to help me, I feel supported.
You can have policies and practices in place, but you need the right people to execute them.
The ramp to the pool didn’t appear by accident. Neither did the woman at check-in who told me the plan before I’d formed the question. Features don’t build themselves and policies don’t execute themselves. Behind every good experience is a person that cares.
Giselle Moor speaks on resilience, identity, inclusion and disability – drawing on her experience of sustaining a spinal cord injury at 24 and rebuilding her life on her own terms. If you’d like to enquire about speaking opportunities, contact her at hello@gisellemoor.com
