About AutismTrek

I was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome in 2009 at age 34, but the signs were always there. I was the loner at school, the one who felt socially awkward and hesitant to join conversations. I didn't have many friends, and I was persistently bullied throughout my schooling years.

The diagnosis came after I heard Dr. Tony Attwood on the radio talking about Asperger's. His descriptions resonated so strongly that I sought a formal diagnosis. The assessment documented what I'd lived but couldn't fully articulate: difficulty recognizing social cues, literal interpretation of language, strong preference for routine and order, sensory sensitivities to noise and crowds, and challenges with interpersonal communication. I was diagnosed with Asperger's under the DSM-IV, which later became Level 1 autism under the DSM-5.

The diagnosis was validating, but it also highlighted what I'd missed. At 34, there was no early intervention, no social skills training during childhood, no framework for understanding why certain situations felt overwhelming. I'd spent three decades figuring things out on my own.

After a few sessions with a psychologist and a period of self-reflection, I made a decision that changed my life: I joined the NSW Rural Fire Service as a volunteer firefighter shortly after my diagnosis and am still actively involved, having now served for almost 17 years. I saw it as a way to learn social skills and build confidence in a structured, supportive environment.

The RFS has become my family. Through firefighting, I learned valuable social skills I'd missed out on due to late diagnosis. I've gained experience not just in fire suppression, but in specialist roles including ground crew for firefighting aircraft. The structured environment, clear roles, and acceptance I found in the fire service helped me develop skills that early intervention might have provided if I'd been diagnosed as a child.

I've been a Star Trek fan since the 1990s, introduced to the franchise through The Next Generation. I found myself drawn to the character Data, played by Brent Spiner, and also connected with Reginald Barclay, played by Dwight Schultz. At the time, I didn't understand why these characters resonated so deeply with me — this was before my diagnosis.

Now I know: I was seeing autistic traits reflected back at me. Data's struggle to understand human social conventions, his literal interpretation of language, his intense focus on his interests — these mirrored my own documented experiences. My assessment noted that I “think in 'black and white', logical terms” — exactly how Data processes information. Barclay's social anxiety and difficulty fitting in felt painfully familiar.

Star Trek wasn't just entertainment for me. It was a framework for understanding social interaction, a practical guide for navigating a neurotypical world. The show's philosophy of “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations” resonated on a level I couldn't articulate until years later.

I've continued to enjoy Star Trek through Deep Space Nine, Voyager, and Lower Decks. The franchise's consistent message of acceptance and inclusion has remained a touchstone throughout my journey.

Travel became another passion of mine. My interest in World War II, particularly WWII aircraft and general military history, has taken me to 26 countries — mostly throughout Western Europe, but also to North America, the Caribbean, South Pacific islands, and the Asia-Pacific region. I've travelled extensively within Australia and recently visited New Zealand's North Island.

Since 2001, I've travelled mostly solo internationally, and domestically since 1995. For years, I loved it. The planning satisfied my need for structure and order. The discovery fed my intense interests. The freedom was exhilarating.

But something changed around 2010. As I grew older, I noticed my tolerance for certain sensory stimuli decreasing. Airports became more overwhelming. Crowds triggered anxiety I hadn't experienced before. I needed to stim more frequently. Occasionally, I experienced minor panic attacks that caused significant distress.

The sensory sensitivities that were manageable at 34 became barriers at 40. Travel, which used to excite me, now caused anxiety. I was losing something I loved.

In 2023, I discovered the Hidden Disabilities Sunflower program. This simple lanyard, which signals to airport and airline staff that I might need additional support or patience, made an enormous difference. Travel became less stressful. In many cases, it became enjoyable again.

But here's what frustrated me: I had to discover this resource on my own. There was no support network for autistic adult travellers. No one told me this program existed. No one offered strategies for managing the sensory challenges of airports and airplanes.

I searched for support services focused on autistic adults who travel independently or semi-independently. I found almost nothing.

This wasn't just about travel. Throughout my journey since diagnosis, I attended autism peer support groups, autism social gatherings, and tried various autism support services. Without exception, they were all focused on children and adolescents.

The message was clear: if you're an autistic adult, you're mostly on your own.

The psychologist's report had recommended “social skills training” and noted that I'd benefit from support with “recognising social cues, regulating comments and behaviour within a social context, and navigating relationships.” Sixteen years later, I'm still looking for these services designed for adults.

In early 2025, I attended what's advertised as the Southern Hemisphere's largest airshow — exactly my kind of event. The organisers proudly advertised they had a sensory room available for autistic people.

The sensory room was completely focused on the needs of autistic children. While autistic adults were technically welcome, nothing about the space was designed for us. To make matters worse, the space provided had no noise dampening at all — a fundamental failure by the airshow organisers who'd overlooked the needs of autistic adults entirely.

This wasn't an isolated incident. Venues celebrate their “autism-friendly” accommodations — which almost universally means “child-friendly” accommodations.

The lack of services reflects a deeper problem: there's very little research on autistic adults, and even less on autistic adult travellers specifically. Most autism research focuses on children. The challenges, needs, and experiences of autistic adults — particularly around travel and independence — remain largely unstudied and misunderstood.

This creates a vicious cycle: no research means no understanding of needs, which means no development of appropriate services, which means autistic adults continue to struggle alone.

This needed to change, so I contemplated doing something about it myself. But what, and how?

The seeds of AutismTrek were planted during Star Trek: The Cruise 7. There, I met actor John Billingsley, who played Dr. Phlox on Star Trek: Enterprise, and his wife Bonita Friedericy. We had a conversation about their charity work with the Hollywood Food Coalition — their inspiration, how they got started, and what drove their commitment to making a difference.

Something clicked. I shared my idea with them: making autism travel more accessible for adults. They were enthusiastically supportive. We met a few more times during the cruise, and I told them my idea for the name “AutismTrek.” Once again, they enthusiastically supported the concept and encouraged me to pursue my dream.

That conversation crystallised everything I'd been thinking about for years. The franchise that had given me a framework for understanding social interaction and a vision of acceptance was inspiring me to create something that could help others like me.

I finally had my answer to “what and how?”