Bounding free on skis

Hurtling down a steep, icy slope on two planks is challenging enough for most people - so what's it like to do it blind? Grace Garveymeets a group of visually-impaired skiers.

It's the kind of winter's day on which most sane people would stay in bed given half a chance - cold and dark with a weeping drizzle. But the dry ski slopes in Kilternan are dotted with skiers who, all year round, live without light. They're not from the far reaches of Antarctica, inhabiting some long polar night. They're blind.

Gerry Shanahan props his skis against a ledge and lights up a smoke. He's flushed from his last run and, cigarette aside, looks the picture of health.

His eyes are hooded but not quite shut, and when he describes the sense of freedom he gets on skis, his blindness is forgotten. Throwing back his head and laughing about some close call, he becomes just a fellow ski-fiend who's happiest barrelling down a mountain at speed.

It's 15 years since the National Council for the Blind took a group of skiers to St Johann, Austria, for the first annual Ski Challenge. The idea that he too could have a crack at slaloming down the slopes occurred to Shanahan when he saw a video of the trip. Shanahan - from Thurles, Co Tipperary - is visually impaired rather than blind, suffering from glaucoma that caused his sight to deteriorate over time. Although excited at the prospect of skiing, he put it on the long finger until 2004 and now wishes he'd gone sooner.

"Coming down the first day frightened the life out of me, but about half-way down I got comfortable and thought, 'I could sing now'. "

It all began much earlier though, back in 1982. A nine-year-old schoolboy called Donal Fitzpatrick entered a radio competition on Poparama, winning four ski lessons at Kilternan for his efforts. When he presented himself at the ski club, however, he was told he couldn't take the prize because of his blindness. One of the instructors, Kathleen Sythes, overheard the conversation and resolved to see if there was something she could do.

Taking herself to the top of the slope, she asked her husband Eddie to blindfold her and guide her down. Safely at the bottom, she thought, why not.

"If I can do it blindfolded, Donal can do it blind." Skiing into the abyss, however, was not easy, she says. "My balance was terrible and I couldn't tell when I'd stopped. It's strange, you think you're still moving when you can't see."

But Fitzpatrick taught Sythes, just as she taught him. "I could ask him questions I couldn't ask an adult, such as, 'How do you know which way you're pointed', and I learnt from him," she says. Sythes believes skiing helps blind and visually-impaired people develop social skills and confidence - and she's delighted when they begin to take trips themselves. "It's wonderful, it opens up a new world to them."

Donal Fitzpatrick is remarkably polite when he answers the phone, given that he's in Colorado and it's 5.30am local time. He calls back a couple of hours later, full of the joys of Breckenridge, which he says got six inches of snowfall during the night. It's his first time skiing in the US and it's living up to the hype with "lovely open slopes and great snow".

Blind since birth, Fitzpatrick - now 34 and a lecturer at the school of computing at DCU - loves the liberation that comes from being able to participate in a sport on the same terms as a person with sight.

"There's a sense of speed, freedom and control that's hard to get in other sports when you're blind. It's integration in its truest sense," he says. Fitzpatrick still joins the annual trips to Austria whenever he can and always sets aside an afternoon to ski with Sythes.

So how does it all work? How does someone who can't see swap a white cane for a pair of ski poles and take the ultimate leap of faith at 3,000 feet? The Ski Challenge is a collective effort involving the National Council for the Blind, 2FM (Larry Gogan is going this year), Ski Club of Ireland, Topflight and members of the public. Volunteers ("ski buddies") outnumber blind skiers by at least three to one. These are sighted people who each raise €2,150 to go on the trip.

The ski buddy's job is to look after whichever blind or visually-impaired person they've been paired off with for the day. This means making sure their charge gets breakfast, boots and skis - and delivering them to the starting point at the foot of the slopes. They meet in one of the mountain restaurants at lunchtime and again in the evening for après ski. In between times, the off-duty buddy has ample opportunity to ski.

On the mountain, each blind skier - wearing a brightly coloured bib to prompt other skiers to take care - is assigned a ski instructor. One-on-one instruction is essential because the blind skier needs direction at every turn. As a result, many become accomplished skiers, making up for in style what they might lack in speed.

Senator David Norris cheerfully admits to being rubbish on skis. "I wasn't the worst though, by any means," he insists. Norris, who suffers from macular degeneration of the retina "which makes details a bit fuzzy", went on the first Ski Challenge and is delighted the group is celebrating its 15th outing this year.

"It was most enjoyable, immense fun," he says. He's not surprised that many blind skiers from the original group are dusting off their skis once again. They had a huge advantage over their sighted cohorts, according to Norris. "They couldn't see the terrors that lay ahead. I could and I was petrified."

He says the hard evidence for what could happen was difficult to ignore. "Up in the chairlift, you'd look down and see the pine trees decorated with everything from wigs to false teeth. It was horrendous." Nonetheless, by the end of the week, he was sufficiently adroit to ski down the slopes in swimming trunks.

Terrifying prospects aside, the blind skiers who rise to the ski challenge year after year are testament to the safety of the sport. Many participants describe the euphoria and adrenaline rush they experience coming down a wide, open run. Others talk in more pragmatic terms of increased fitness levels, a sense of achievement and a wider circle of friends. More focus on the delight of days spent in the crisp, fresh air, and the sense of peace on the mountain. And all agree the singsongs at night are fun.

There's a theory that when a person goes blind, their other senses are heightened as if to compensate for the loss of sight. Is it true? It is, apparently, a myth. But, if the Kilternan set are anything to go by, in spite of the dark aspect - their dispositions are sunnier than most.

This year's Ski Challenge takes place from March 8th to 15th, and includes six days' skiing. For more information, see www.ncbi.ie or contact NCBI on 1850-334353