My friend Anthony has never been on snow. In part because he’s got cerebral palsy and in part because he’s unobservant – it chucked it down a few years ago when we were on holiday in Scotland, and he definitely could have got out there and done a few wheel spins, but he was too engrossed in the BBC’s adaptation of Pride and Prejudice to notice.
Nor has Anthony been to Colorado, so when I learned that the western US state has one of the best setups for adaptive skiing in the world, I felt it was time that Ant got a close up of both – while sliding down a mountain in a sit-ski, which is essentially a pimped-up sledge.
After arriving in Denver, we set off for the mountains on the Winter Park Express, otherwise known as the ski train, which has been conveying folk from the city’s downtown to the resort of Winter Park since 1940.
At one point in the two-hour journey, having twisted up and into the Southern Rocky Mountains, we’re told that “a tenth of Colorado” is visible out of the window. Make no mistake, the train ride has an epic quality – and yet fares start from as little £7 one-way. What a way to get to the snow.
Winter Park is a resort town of 1000 residents that’s dominated by a mountain called Mary Jane. It’s also home to the National Sports Centre for the Disabled, which got going in 1970 when a local guy called Hal O’Leary took some youthful amputees and taught them how to ski.
“There are a hundred ways of sliding on snow,” says Mark Stump, a native Texan with a soft spot for Prue Leith, and a key cog in the NSCD machine. For roughly £100, Mark explains, visitors to the centre are sized up, kitted out, issued a lift pass, then taken out by a fully trained instructor for a session on the slopes.
The centre – which relies on its 2000 volunteers to run these sessions – also has a competitive branch, helping wannabe Paralympians from all over the world ready themselves for competition.
One local lad, Trevor Kennison, retrained as a sit-skier at the NSCD after being paralysed in a snowboarding accident. Trevor is the star of the Netflix documentary Full Circle, wherein Kennison returns to the scene of his acciden and does a double backflip in a sit-ski. Legend.
We learn all the above at Coffee & Tea, an iconic Winter Park cafe. Studying the menu, Ant is torn between the breakfast burrito (which is a mainstay round here) and the biscuits and gravy.
“What do you recommend, Mark?” says Ant.
“Coors Banquet.”
“Isn’t that a fairly strong beer?”
“Yep.”
“But it’s only 9am, Mark.”
“Ok, fine. Take a Coors Light.”
(For the record, Mark was joking.)
After breakfast, Ant is introduced to his vessel, a Dynamique sit-ski. It’s basically a throne on two skis, with outriggers attached for extra stability. After layering Ant up to the point of mummification, we top him with a helmet, load him into his chariot, then proceed to the chairlift. Judging by the noises he’s making, I don’t think Ant much likes the look of it.
“Er, Mark. How do you plan to get me on that thing?”
“Don’t worry, Anthony. It’s easy.”
And it was easy, not least because the sit-ski possesses a nifty mechanism that allows the seat to be raised from the skis, fixed in that position, and then slipped onto the chairlift as if it were as easy as buttering toast.
As Mark and Anthony shoot off into the distance, I hear Ant let out a protracted yodel, which probably indicates pleasure, but could also signal distress. I’ll check later.
We regroup at the top, where Mark issues Ant some instructions.
“Ok, Anthony. To assist with the turns, when I say right, I want you to lean right. Got it?”
“And when you say left?”
“Smart arse.”
We descend on a series of green and blue runs, which are great for beginners, having less in the way of troublesome variables.
As I ski alongside him, I can tell that Ant’s still a bit nervy, which is fair enough given that this is his first time on snow. But he’s in great hands, with Mark Stump at his rear, ably steering him through the narrow sections and then letting out the tether (by which the pair are connected) when the going is easier.
I check in with Ant at the bottom.
“How was that, mate?”
“Terrifying.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Let’s do it again.”
With each up and down, Ant’s apprehension concedes to unalloyed delight. It’s lovely to behold. Until, that is, I take a major tumble while trying to capture Ant on camera. When I’m back on my feet, Ant gives me a telling off. “Forget about the footage, Ben. It doesn’t need to be recorded to have happened.” Fair enough.
We break for lunch at a lodge halfway up the mountain: hot bowls of chilli con carne, which come with chunks of cornbread for dipping. Yum. While making use of the facilities, Ant pulls the grab bar off the cubicle wall when attempting to haul himself upright. He looks at the grab bar, then at me, then brings the bar to his ear as if it were a phone and says, deadpan: “Anthony to reception. New grab bar needed in cubicle two.”
After skiing for another couple of hours, we check into our accommodation, The Vintage Hotel, where nothing has changed since it opened in 1986, but in a good way.
Our room is at once cosy and spacious. There are two double beds, a roll-in shower and grab bars that don’t come off the wall. We think about checking out the outdoor jacuzzi on level two, but it’s minus 12 degrees outside so get into bed and watch Sense and Sensibility instead.
The next morning, after a couple of gentle runs to remind Ant what he’s up to, we go higher and deeper into the mountain, again with Mark Stump as our anchor. Ant is increasingly at ease – which is probably why he stacks it a couple of times in quick succession. Mercifully, he’s sufficiently encased and bundled that his tumbles only bring a smile to his face.
During our final session, Ant’s mood is bordering on ecstatic. I get the feeling he’d stay out here forever given the choice, and I reckon Mark Stump would as well, but I’m conscious that time is ticking.
“Shall we make this the last run?” I say.
“No way,” says Mark. “We don’t do last runs around here.”
“No?”
“Let’s do two more runs but skip the second.”
“I’ve got an even better idea,” says Ant. “How about we do three more but skip the last two?”
Mark Stump is delighted. “Now you’re talking, Anthony. Now you’re talking.”
Back at basecamp, our adventure at an end, I don’t mind saying there are plenty of high-fives and hugs. I feel a peculiar sense of pride – for everything the NSCD does, and also for Ant’s achievements.
Still swaddled in his ski gear, Ant’s already talking about coming back in the summer, to try out an accessible mountain bike.
“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ says Ant. ‘First things first – where’s my Coors Banquet?”
How to do it
United Airlines offers direct flights from London Heathrow to Denver. Flights take around 10 hours. Prices start at £583 return.
The Winter Park Express runs Thursday to Sunday (in season). The journey takes about 2.5 hours, and one-way fares start at $9 (£7).
Where to stay
Accessible rooms at The Vintage Hotel start from £115. The hotel is a stone’s throw from the slopes and has a heated outdoor pool and hot tub.
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