"Life's not fair, so start from there." --- Hetsy McCoy

Hetsy McCoy was my mother. She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at the age of 18. She died of colon cancer at age 67, in July of 2009.

You might wonder what "fairness" has to do with wilderness. Having a mother who used a wheelchair, advocated for wilderness protection and enjoyed wilderness experiences in her own way taught me that I do not need to do everything or go everywhere in order to fully experience life -- and especially wilderness.

I first came to Utah to share my enthusiasm for wild places with people of all abilities. I worked for SPLORE, an organization that takes people of all abilities on outdoor adventures including whitewater rafting, canoeing, rock climbing and nordic skiing. Prior to this experience, I worked with Challenge Alaska and the City of Eugene Specialized Recreation Department, in Oregon, running the same sorts of outdoor programs.

These organizations, along with others like Wilderness Inquiry of Minnesota, guide trips for people with disabilities both outside and inside wilderness areas. They do not use off-road vehicles or illegal roads to accomplish this task. Instead, they use waterways, adaptive equipment and a "can-do" attitude.

Hetsy conducted wilderness travel in a canoe as well as in a raft. The highlights of her adventures included a two-day trip down the Fisher Towers stretch of the Colorado River followed by a 16-day trip, on the same river, through the Grand Canyon. Soon thereafter she spent five days on the San Juan River in southern Utah. These trips were enormously rewarding for us.

My mother was living proof that people with disabilities do not need the assistance of mechanized transport to travel into wild places. Perhaps not everyone can access and experience every natural setting in exactly the same way, but that does not mean they cannot have a valuable -- even life-changing -- wilderness experience.

Was it fair that my mom could not walk to the top of a desert mountain or mesa? Of course it was not fair. But that does not mean we should destroy the very characteristics that qualify an area for wilderness protection just so she can access it by a motorized machines? She and many others like her think not -- they appreciate the solitude, the silence and the scenic beauty of these places, even if they can't access them.

I am on the advisory board for Great Old Broads for Wilderness, an organization that gives activists of all ages a voice in protecting our national wilderness heritage. Many Great Old Broads members can no longer access the wilderness areas they love, but they are nevertheless opposed to road construction and motorized travel in these pristine areas.

If they cannot walk, canoe, or horseback ride into wilderness, they rest content in the knowledge that it exists for its own sake and for the enjoyment of others. One Great Old Broad said it well: "I may not be great, but I sure am old and I want to know that wilderness exists, whether I ever get to experience it or not."

These are not new ideas. Nor should they seem unusual or outrageous. They simply come from an attitude of humility and respect and a belief that the natural world has intrinsic value apart from human needs and desires.

Liz McCoy has been an advocate for people with disabilities and an environmental activist for the past 15 or so years. She lives in Salt Lake City.