The singing of birds. The buzzing of bugs. The rustling of leaves on cottonwoods overhead. The water lapping against the shore.
It’s a cloudy morning at Cherry Creek State Park, otherwise Melton would be enjoying another favorite sensation of nature: the sun on her smiling face. Instead this morning she feels the cool breeze over the reservoir, carrying with it a certain scent.
“I can smell fish,” remarks her companion this morning, Theresa Montano, who is also blind.
Melton and Montano are joined by another.
“Hey there, this is Samantha,” says the voice on Montano’s phone. “What can I help you with today?”
Melton and Montano are here to enjoy Cherry Creek State Park. And Samantha is here to help — among the worldwide network of professional, around-the-clock agents lending their eyes through a phone app called Aira.
The agents are called “visual interpreters.” They see through the camera of the phone being held by the customer who is blind or low-vision.
The customers are called “explorers.” They might pull up the app for help in reading a piece of mail, or navigating an airport, or ordering at Starbucks or shopping at Target. (The stores have had contracts with Aira, allowing customers to call up an agent free of charge.)
“Explorer” is a proud term for Aira, says Everette Bacon, the company’s vice president of blindness initiatives. “Because we know blind individuals before may not have always had an opportunity to explore their neighborhoods, their worlds.”
Now, they are exploring Colorado’s state parks.
That’s thanks to the state expanding its $250,000 contract with Aira to the 42 parks — adding geofences to the lands along with previously mapped government buildings.
That means the Aira agent on camera has the GPS information to assist in guiding around the parks. And it means the app automatically registers the parks as free zones; no cost to the explorer, who would otherwise have to pay about $50 for a monthly starting plan.
“It’s exciting. It just opens up a new opportunity,” Melton says this morning at Cherry Creek. “Let’s get outdoors.”
Let’s get on a path, goes the instruction to Samantha.
“Absolutely,” she responds from her desk in South Carolina. “It looks like there is a paved path about 30 feet ahead in the direction of the camera if you want to start walking.”
Melton and Montano walk ahead, asking questions here and there, swiveling the camera phone around for Samantha to see.
“Can you tell me about the trees and the plants and the scenery?” Melton asks.
“Absolutely,” Samantha says. “To the left it looks like the grass has been mowed or managed in some way. And then to your right is this tall, wavy grass, spindly and yellow.”
Farther right is the big, blue body of water; Samantha describes the boats docked and the paddleboarders pushing out from shore. She also describes the curious, “funnel shape” sculptures providing shelter over the picnic tables, around where Melton and Montano started.
“Ahh,” Montano remarks. “We were wondering what those looked like!”
People who are blind or low-vision are all too often left wondering. That’s what has motivated Montano in her role with the state’s Technology Accessibility Program (TAP), under the governor’s Office of Information Technology.
Montano started with TAP about seven years ago amid a career in software engineering. The state “wanted to start a program to really change the culture,” she says.
TAP was aimed at closing gaps between state workers of all abilities as well as the citizens they served of all abilities. The idea was to harness technology “to make everything more accessible, everything from accessible documents to accessible emails,” Montano says.
Everything from more accessible government websites to, yes, more accessible government properties, such as DMVs. That’s where Aira came in.
“Colorado is very unique,” says Bacon, the blind executive who joined Aira while advocating for accessibility around his home Salt Lake City. “There’s just a lot of blind people who are great advocates in Colorado, and they’ve been able to stress access to visual information as a right. They worked legislatively to make that happen.”
He was referring to House Bill 21-1110, which expanded the terms of unlawful discrimination and ordered state agencies to get in line with new accessibility standards. That included Colorado Parks and Wildlife.
CPW alongside TAP and Office of Information Technology announced Aira’s expansion to state parks this summer.
The partnership “helps ensure accessibility for all in Colorado’s great outdoors,” said the office’s Executive Director David Edinger. “Together, we are not only transforming the way people who are blind or low-vision enjoy our state’s natural beauty but also setting an example of how public-private collaborations can create meaningful impact.”
There are limits to Aira, CPW has granted.
One being the need for cell service to run the app; among Front Range state parks, Staunton and Golden Gate Canyon are probably not good ideas. And one might consider a shorter stroll rather than a hike, as the free service runs out after 30 minutes. (Users can make another call, likely reaching a different agent.)
“There is also a learning curve for technologies like this,” read a CPW statement, “and some age-based generations have adopted the service more quickly.”
The state considers Aira an “accommodation,” says Kelly Tabor, TAP’s communications manager. “But we’re not perfect. We’re not aiming for perfect, we’re aiming for progress.”
It’s progress not seen elsewhere in the outdoors, Bacon says. “Before, if I wanted to go to the park, I probably would’ve had to go with somebody to guide me.”
He continues: “It’s really independence and freedom that blind people haven’t necessarily had before. Many blind individuals are somewhat homebound and not able to explore too well. Maybe that’s because they haven’t been able to learn how to travel independently or haven’t had a family member or friend or something to help them.”
The outdoors can be intimidating. “Some people will always hesitate,” Montano says.
Blindness hasn’t stopped her. She loves skiing and riding bikes, sometimes atop a tandem with her blind friend in the other seat. That’ll be Melton.
“The outdoors is such a part of the Colorado culture,” she says here along the path at Cherry Creek State Park. “Just to be able to come out and enjoy the park, it’s participating in that culture and enjoying this peace and meditation.”
Aira guides her to a peninsula overlooking the water. She stops at the point where she can hear the water and the birds. She can smell the fish. She can feel the breeze on her face, and that sunshine breaking through the clouds.
It’s true, she says: “You don’t have to see to enjoy.”
© 2024 The Gazette (Colorado Springs, Colo.). Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.
