Edie Perkins is an athlete, adventurer, and handcyclist. Edie traded running shoes for wheels after being struck by a car while on a bike ride in 2017. She is now paralyzed from the chest down and uses a wheelchair (or handcycle!) to get around. Since her injury, she has dedicated herself to empowering others with disabilities, advocating for access to recreational spaces, and helping people get active through adaptive sports.
In this post, Edie shares her trip to the Lamoille Valley Rail Trail.
Even after four years in Vermont, I feel like I’ve only just scratched the surface of what it has to offer. This summer and fall, I’m on a mission to change that—and I’m starting with accessible adventures close to home.
I’ve been paralyzed from the chest down since a 2017 car vs. cyclist injury (I was the cyclist) and now I use a wheelchair – or handcycle! – to get around. Exploring the outdoors looks a little different, but my love of nature and sense of adventure hasn’t gone anywhere.
Fortunately, Vermont has been making tremendous strides improving accessibility in the outdoors. Check out the Trail Accessibility Hub (TAH), an incredible new resource that provides land managers with trail assessments, information, and guidance on making their land accessible to all. I’ve recently been using Trail Finder to locate wheelchair-friendly trails, and it’s opened up new possibilities for me.
My most recent adventure took me to the Lamoille Valley Rail Trail (LVRT), and my first reaction was: Wow—this is cool! Ninety-three miles of car-free trail, stretching across 18 Vermont towns from St. Johnsbury to Swanton. It’s the longest rail trail in New England and open year-round for just about every kind of activity you can imagine: walking, cycling, horseback riding, snowshoeing, skiing, even dogsledding and snowmobiling.
On another hot, blue-sky day late in summer, I headed to Hyde Park in north-central Vermont. It’s about an hour from where I live; and, at mile 51—it’s just about the middle of the trail. Even better, there was parking right on the path. For this excursion, I decided to use my handcycle.
The trailhead was easy to navigate and had everything you could want: A big map of the LVRT, mileage markers for the next towns, and—bonus—a clean, wheelchair-accessible port-o-potty. Once I’d made a pit stop, I loaded my chair back into the car, got onto my handcycle, and pointed north toward Johnson.
The trail itself is a wide, compacted gravel path—smooth enough for a wheelchair or handcycle—with grassy shoulders and gentle grades. Within just a few miles, I rolled through pine forests, fields of late-summer corn, and stretches that opened up to the Lamoille River with mountains beyond.
And the views! The sky was impossibly blue, and the trees hinted at the fall foliage show still to come. A few were already splashed with orange and red, teasing the full autumn that makes Vermont famous. I immediately knew I’d be back in a few weeks to see the trail in full show.
Now, if you’re thinking, "This must be the perfect trail for a handcyclist." Well… yes and no. For some riders, it might be ideal. But my racing handcycle is built for the road, and on crushed stone it rattles like crazy. My head rests on the frame, and I feel everything! Additionally, I like variety in terrain, and rail trails are, by design, pretty flat. Finally, the frequent road crossings—where I have to stop completely because my low-to-the-ground bike has poor visibility—breaks up the rhythm of the ride. It’s beautiful, but it’s not exactly my dream setup for everyday rides.
That said, the LVRT is still an incredible experience. The scenery is iconic Vermont, and the thought of biking from town to town along a 93-mile path with no cars is just too good to pass up. I’d love to ride the whole thing in 2–3 days—it would be a blast.
For me, the LVRT is a bit like the Colchester Causeway: I love it, and I’ll keep going back, but not every day. Every couple of weeks? Absolutely. Especially when the leaves start to turn.
Stay tuned—I may just roll the whole trail before the season’s out.
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