Whilst accessible train travel in the UK has improved in some ways, travelling independently in an electric wheelchair still often requires huge amounts of planning.

A few weeks ago, I was booked to visit a primary school in Pontefract. Like most school visits I do, I was excited. I genuinely love this part of my work – meeting pupils, answering questions, challenging perceptions around disability and hopefully leaving children with a better understanding of inclusion and accessibility than many adults have.

Normally, I travel independently without too many issues. Over the years I have visited schools and organisations across the Midlands, Coventry, Staffordshire, London and Burnley. I use an electric wheelchair and, whilst travel often takes more planning for me than it does for non-disabled people, I have developed systems that usually make it manageable.

But this visit was different.

The Planning Started Weeks Before

Before confirming the booking and my travel arrangements, I did what disabled people often have to do before travelling anywhere unfamiliar: research. And lots of it.

I checked:

• Train routes
• Hotel locations
• Wheeling routes around Pontefract – even looking at Google Maps to check for dropped kerbs
• Taxi availability and accessible companies
• Distances between the school, station and potential hotel – to ensure my wheelchair battery would cope
• Accessibility information and whether stations were staffed or unstaffed
  

I considered travelling up the night before (at my own expense) to reduce stress and ensure that if anything went wrong, I’d still arrive at the school on time. This wasn’t me being over-prepared. This is what disabled people often have to do simply to make a journey that many others could make spontaneously.

When “Accessible” Doesn’t Mean Accessible in Practice

At first glance, the journey appeared possible.

Passenger Assistance could be booked.
Accessibility information online did not make it immediately obvious that the station would be unworkable for someone travelling independently in an electric wheelchair.

But I had a nagging feeling about travelling alone to an unmanned station, especially somewhere unfamiliar. What would happen if there was no accessible route between platforms? What if my train arrived on the wrong side?

So, whilst we were recently in York, my husband and I decided to stop off in Pontefract on the way home and check the station in person.

Thank goodness we did.

The Station Wasn’t Accessible for a Wheelchair User

The moment we arrived, the problems became obvious.

The station:

• is unstaffed
• does not have lift access
• relies on a stepped footbridge between platforms
• only has practical access from one side

Standing there in my wheelchair, it quickly became clear that this was not a station I could safely and independently navigate.

What shocked me most was that I had already been able to book Passenger Assistance for this journey. Let that sink in. I was allowed to arrange assistance for a journey that was not physically possible for me to complete independently. When I later alerted the rail company to the issue, the assistance booking was simply cancelled. No apology. No explanation. No acknowledgement of how serious this could have been.

Because what if I had not checked beforehand? What if I had travelled alone, arrived at an unmanned station and discovered in real time that there was no safe or accessible way to continue my journey?

Accessibility failures are not just inconvenient. Sometimes they are dangerous.

Accessibility on Paper vs Accessibility in Real Life

Experiences like this highlight one of the biggest problems with accessible train travel in the UK: journeys that appear workable on paper can become impossible in reality.

A station may tick a box because one platform has step-free access.
A journey planner may allow assistance to be booked.
A website may display the wheelchair symbol.

But none of that means a disabled person can realistically and safely complete the journey. Accessibility is not just about whether infrastructure technically exists. It is about whether people can travel with confidence, dignity and independence.

The Anxiety Nobody Sees

One of the reasons I kept questioning the journey was the thought of travelling alone to an unmanned station. I spent hours stressing about it – what if I booked assistance but nobody was there? How would I leave the station – were there dropped kerbs? We also drove from the station to the school and some of the route was questionable for an electric wheelchair

That anxiety is difficult to explain to people who have never had to think about accessibility in this way.

Most people can get on a train without wondering:

• What happens if I cannot get off independently?
• What if the accessible route does not exist?
• What if there is nobody there to help?
• What if the information I have been given is wrong?

Disabled people often carry all of those calculations quietly in the background before a journey has even started.

The Emotional Side Nobody Talks About

What upset me most was not just the logistics. It was the feeling.

I hate letting people down. I had been genuinely looking forward to visiting the school and meeting the children. Cancelling felt awful, even though I knew the barriers were outside my control.

And honestly? It was gutting.

Because most of the time, I can travel independently. I work hard to make that possible. I plan carefully. I problem solve constantly. I adapt.

So being reminded that there are still places I cannot safely reach by myself hit harder than I expected.

There is a strange kind of grief in discovering that your independence still has invisible boundaries.

This Shouldn’t Depend on Luck

The most worrying part of all of this is that I only discovered the problem by chance.

If we had not happened to be in York…
If we had not decided to stop and check…
If I had simply took all the information I had at face value…

I could have ended up stranded at an unmanned station.

That should concern all of us.

Because accessibility should not depend on disabled people conducting reconnaissance missions in advance just to stay safe.