16-02-2025
I thought my disability would stop me from skiing
With spectacles on a chain, vintage knitwear and an antique obsession, my 'Grandma Sav' aesthetic was always a running joke. Then I broke my hip, and things got all too real.
As a Type 1 Diabetic, I've felt old before my time. Cataract surgery as a teenager, swollen legs and now with a hip replacement, skiing was a dream I'd parked. Until now. The invite came from Breckenridge, a charming ski town in the Rocky Mountains: 'Experience our disability skiing programme…' That word, disability. I hate it. And I hate even more that I fall into that category. But the fact is my health complications mean I'm less able to do things others take for granted.
The slopes of Colorado were calling. And with the Invictus Games around the corner, celebrating the transformative power of adaptive snow sports, my hurdles felt comparatively small. Watching winter athletes push boundaries on this scale gave me the final nudge to experience first-hand how adaptive skiing can redefine what's possible.
Arriving in Denver on the coldest day of the year was a baptism of ice. At a toe-curling -30F (-34C), even the most rugged mountain dwellers were chilled to the bone. What had I gotten myself into? As someone who wears jumpers mid-summer, with circulation that's always struggling to get going, I'd already kissed my extremities goodbye.
A two-hour drive from Denver, through screensaver landscapes that left me as breathless as the altitude, lay the charming town of Breckenridge. I was warned about altitude sickness and having moved no further than from sofa to fridge in the past three months, the endurance factor would be an uphill struggle.
I arrived at Gravity Haus, the cool-kid lodging on the Breckenridge block. Perched at the top of Main Street, it's conveniently close to the best eateries, bars, and shops. Plus, it's just across the plaza from Breckenridge Outdoor Education Centre (BOEC), where my adaptive ski lessons would be. With equipment rentals, the Maggie restaurant, and even the Quicksilver chairlift all within a snowball's throw, it was a total ski-in/ski-out dream – and, importantly, ideal for someone with limited mobility.
On arrival at BOEC I was welcomed by Jeff Inouye, the programme's chief for over 30 years, along with my specialist instructor, Sam, and Marcy, one of 300 dedicated volunteers. The warmth of Jeff and his team melted any worries. After a thorough two-hour session testing out which adaptive equipment would work best, a process tailored to each student, we decided on the seated bi-ski.
Adaptive skiing is about precision and teamwork. There's always a 2:1 instructor-to-student ratio, ensuring a level of support that goes beyond anything at regular ski school. Sam secured me firmly into the 'bucket' of the bi-ski. She meticulously adjusted my outriggers (the arm-controlled skis), then I learnt how to control them. As I followed her commands, practising my lefts and rights, regaining my balance by looking forward, it was incredible to feel the whole rig tilt with just the slightest movement of my head.
Communication is also key. Between instructors, and between students and instructors – the responsibility put on students is something I didn't expect. 'If you wanna ride, go to Disney!' Jeff called out to me. His no-nonsense, straight talking was refreshing. With this scathing quip my chauffeur-driven dreams of being pushed down the hill like Lady Penelope were dashed. No instructor would be physically holding on to me. Just guiding with tethered straps. The bi-ski isn't a glorified sled, this is high-octane sport.
When we ventured onto the slopes, people stared, but not how I was used to. With my dad using a stick and later a wheelchair due to his MS, I'd grown accustomed to side-eyes and gawking. But this time it wasn't pity, it was awe. It's one thing to be a competent skier with two functioning legs, but carving down the slopes in a sit ski? That's next level. The thrill of doing something I 'shouldn't' be doing. It was that 'wow' moment for them and the feeling of redefining possibility, for me.
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Then came the moment I'd dreaded: the chairlift. I'd catastrophised all sorts of disasters: flopping out at the top, causing a pile-up of unsuspecting skiers, being mowed over. The reality was far simpler, yet equally terrifying. I was so snugly packed into the bi-ski that shoehorning me out wasn't a possibility. As the chairlift slowed for boarding, Sam and Marcy tilted me forward and perched me on the lift perpendicular, poised like a rocket about to launch, then lowered me onto the seat, wedged securely. Admittedly it's not the most relaxing of positions, suspended in mid-air, tilted forward over the edge of the chairlift, with no control. But, with an instructor on either side, I felt safe.
There was constant reassurance from Sam and Marcy and at every moment I knew I was in capable hands. As a duo, there's a spotter on the pistes and an extra pair of hands to help lift equipment. It's no wonder then that I felt surprisingly secure as we prepared to descend off a precipice ominously named 'The Whale'.
Sam gave me her signature reassuring smile. 'You've got this,' she said, as she checked the tethers. The sharp Colorado air stung my cheeks, and a pang of fear hit my stomach. But Sam was unflappable. As we pushed off together, the ground falling away beneath us, she was right. I shouted back to Sam, but she was way up the hill behind me. The sudden realisation that she wasn't holding onto me was frightening and then thrilling. I was skiing on my own. Carving the snow like I belonged there. I couldn't believe it; I was flying down the slope, guided by Sam on the tethers.
For many students, this independence is transformative. BOEC isn't just about enabling people to ski; it's therapy disguised with adrenaline. Jeff told me about a boy who was non-verbal when he first arrived. Years of traditional therapy hadn't made much progress, but through skiing, his confidence soared and so did his communication skills. Skiing gave him a voice.
And Jeff makes sure that finances aren't a barrier to these transformative experiences. Each year, BOEC provides over £80,000 in scholarships, ensuring that anyone who wants to hit the slopes can do so.
After our session, the atmosphere was electric. Back at headquarters, students shared stories, and parents beamed with pride. For parents, familiarity breeds comfort and at BOEC, returning year after year builds a crucial foundation of trust. I watched as a mother tucked her son with Down's Syndrome into a sit-ski, kissed his forehead and they set off together, his excited yelp echoing. I blinked back tears.
BOEC isn't just a programme, it's a life-changer. The instructors create opportunities, provide access and empower people with disabilities to experience the great outdoors. Here, skiing isn't just an activity; it's a pathway to independence and a reminder that adventure should be for everyone.
Essentials
Adaptive ski lessons with the Breckenridge Outdoor Education Centre cost from $255 (£205), for a full day, 1:1 instruction, lift pass and equipment. For more info about adaptive ski and snowboard lessons, scholarship applications, internship programmes and volunteering roles with the Breckenridge Outdoor Education Centre visit
Gravity Haus, Breckenridge offers accessible room from $173 (£139) per person per night. United Airlines flies from London Heathrow to Denver from £468 return. Return transfers with Epic Mountain Express costs from $228 (£183) per person.
Savannah was a guest of Breckenridge and Vail Resorts.
The best resorts for adaptive skiing
Five more ski resorts that offer adaptive ski and snowboard programmes.
Courmayeur, Italy
Courmayeur ticks almost all boxes for accessibility, particularly when it comes to accommodation choices. For those in a wheelchair, the Cresta et Duc is the most conveniently located within a short horizontal run to the gondola. Gran Baita is particularly aware of meeting the needs of those with MS.
Sälen, Sweden
Home to the largest ski area in Sweden, adaptive skiing is available at Hundfjället. Sit-skiing, ski-carting, bi-skiing and standing-skiing lessons are available through Ski Star, which also offers a Priority Boarding pin to grant guests with disabilities lift queue priority. Skistar Lodge Hundfjället is at the foot of the slopes and offers modified accessible apartments.
Tignes, France
This high-altitude French resort is used by adaptive skiing competitors for pre-season training. ESF Tignes La Lac offers adaptive handiski instruction, providing Dualski and Stabilo equipment. They handle all needs, including transfers, lift access and descents. Tigne's wheelchair-friendly accommodation and restaurants are available via Tignes.
Val d'Isère, France
Val d'Isère is particularly popular with independent paraplegic skiers, amputees and those with other physical disabilities who want to ski off-piste. The village resort has a good selection of wheelchair-accessible and adapted hotels, some situated right on the snow and in the village centre.
Whistler Blackcomb, Canada
Canada's biggest resort offers Whistler Adaptive Sports Programme, providing an extensive range of adaptive equipment and specialised instruction. Trained and certified instructors, guides and assistants help those with physical and cognitive disabilities or neurodiversity access the slopes. Many hotels provide accessible accommodation but Fairmont Chateau stands out, with many of the hotel's areas being fully accessible.
Find more information about adaptive snow sports and accessible resorts at Ski 2 Freedom.
