My husband is a bag of faulty parts. Two knee replacements, a recent pelvic fracture and a shoulder strain have relegated his Boy Scout trekking into memory.  Gazing into the Milky Way’s gentle gleam from a fireside log simply isn’t happening; getting him to his feet would take an entire troop of teens.

That hasn’t stopped us from visiting America’s national parks. The park service has always prioritized accessibility, creating turnouts and easy paths that enable the 40 million mobility-challenged Americans to appreciate the natural beauty of jagged mountains and rocky canyons. Such prescience is proving ever more important as baby boomers crash through the 65 age barrier. 

But accommodations in and near parks aren’t always forgiving. Historic lodges and cabins often involve steps and staircases. Units retrofitted to meet accessibility requirements are often far from views, and to be honest, not all that appealing.  

Glamping resorts offer an alternative, with actual beds and indoor plumbing.  But as we learned on two cross-country driving trips, glamping resorts aren’t always as “glam” as their websites would have you believe. Some resemble a Motel 6, with dozens of platforms crammed together on a dusty field. Others are so close to the highway that traffic is a constant refrain. 

We’d booked Open Sky Zion for its sophistication and remote-yet-close location. We hoped it lived up to its promise.

After a day at Zion National Park, we were ready for a little peace. Each day, Zion hosts thousands of visitors each day – families and couples, serious hikers and casual walkers. All are drawn to the red rock walls of its narrow canyon and the blue heavens soaring above. Though the park encompasses nearly 150,000 acres, finding solitude requires an early start and off-the-track hikes over terrain too rugged for my husband’s titanium knees. Even the groomed path along the Virgin River proved challenging for him, and eventually we headed out of the park toward our glampsite. 

Our GPS directed us off the highway to a dusty road so discreet we initially drove past it. The dirt road led past a ravine, a pistachio orchard and a cheerful farm. The drive took us far from the highway and deep into a valley surrounded by cliffs. 

About three miles in, we came to a small gated glampsite at the base of the mesa. Set amid the sandy stones and brush were a handful of tented safari camps surrounded by juniper bushes. We’d reached Open Sky Zion.

In deference to my husband, we’d requested an accessible luxury camp. The check-in person led our car to a generous tent, named the Desert Rose, at the foot of the cliff. We peeked inside the glass door to find an airy space set with a king bed, pair of sitting chairs, coffee table and gas fireplace in tones reflecting the nature around us. It didn’t look like an accessible room – but it was. 

For baby boomers, appearances matter. We’re the generation determined to defy age. We lift weights, color our hair. We may be too old to climb the stairs, but we’ll be darned if we want our glamping camp to come with a ramp or a hand rail. 

This one looked, well, like a luxury tented camp. The walkway from the parking space to the wide terrace was gently sloped, allowing us to easily roll our luggage onto the wide stone terrace.  Inside the wood-framed tent, the plank floor sat at the same level. As we neared the bathroom, the wood gave way to dark tile – again without requiring any steps. 

Here, in the bathroom, were the only visible aids: grab bars near the toilet and a walk-in shower spacious enough for a wheelchair. A side door led to an outdoor shower tucked amid the stone – on a floor flush with the terrace. The spray soothed warm, dry skin. 

We lounged on our terrace, watching a bright blue bird flit in the juniper bush. The flat, sandy path led past the rock-lined pond and we flirted briefly with the idea of a plunge. But dinner at the on-campus, chef-run restaurant Black Sage beckoned, and soon we were sipping on pinot noir and a dish called “smoked meatloaf” that was too delicately seasoned for such a humble name.  

By the time we returned to our terrace, the full moon was shining overhead, obscuring all but the brightest stars. We snuggled into our swing, and breathed in the moment. The Milky Way would have to wait. 


***Jane Wooldridge is a winner of the Lowell Thomas Travel Journalist of the Year Award. Her forthcoming book, “Luxury in the Wild,” will be published by Frommer’s in 2025.