Geoff Krill and Cameron (Cam) Shaw-Doran are great skiers. To use the vernacular, they kick butt on snow. At least, on one of the last days of this past snow season, they solidly kicked mine. They did it without benefit of functioning legs; each of them rode a sit ski, a seat with shock absorbers mounted on a single ski. (“No worry about crossing your tips,” said Krill, smiling.)

Most people would see these guys as “disabled,” yet they were subtly holding back so that an age-impaired companion who was obviously not in their league as a skier (that would be me) could keep up. Very PC of them. We were all planning to go road biking together that afternoon and, frankly, after seeing them on skis, I was wondering if I had what it would take.

Krill and Shaw-Doran are just two of the millions of Americans living with disabilities. While they may be particularly athletic, their interest in the outdoors is not unique. Many people with disabilities enjoy activities such as hiking, cycling, and paddling, and more and more organizations are helping to make such outdoor recreation accessible to them.

Krill, 34, is the winter sports director at New England Disabled Sports at Loon Mountain in Lincoln, N.H. Shaw-Doran, 30, is a Franconia, N.H., native and sales representative for a sports drink company. Both lost the use of their legs to spinal-cord injuries, Krill in a snowmobile mishap in 1995, Shaw-Doran in an automobile accident in 1997. Both describe themselves as active and athletic before their accidents, and neither seems to have slowed down since. They are high-level competitors on sit-skis and also ride high-tech, arm-propelled hand cycles. Krill competes nationally in downhill mountain biking competitions for people with disabilities and was one of a group of “team hikers” who made it to AMC’s Galehead Hut when the renovations that made it fully accessible were completed in 2000. (He used a hand-powered wheelchair.)

Thanks to adaptive technology, Krill and Shaw-Doran can drive to a destination, get their skis or cycles out of their cars, and go. They don’t need any help, though they’ll accept it if offered. These guys are athletes, and don’t cut themselves or their able-bodied companions much slack.

Thankfully, they didn’t have to cut me any slack on the cycles. It was the first ride of the season for all of us. Shaw-Doran had pulled his cycle off the trainer on his porch that morning. “Just because I had it set up doesn’t mean I used it,” he says, making excuses like everyone else. He and Krill use arm-powered tricycles that are heavier than bikes, and given that arm and shoulder muscles are smaller than thighs and glutes, their pace uphill is necessarily slower than that of a bicycle, but the difference on flats or downhill is negligible.

“We aren’t heroes,” says Krill, “and we don’t want to be treated that way. In fact, it’s a little embarrassing when people come up to you and say what an inspiration you are. I’ve been a mentor for Cam and other people facing challenges, but that’s just by example, showing that you can have a pretty cool life with a disability. …I’m doing what I want to do, getting out and enjoying life with friends.”

Looking beyond the sentimentality that might cause your eyes to moisten when you hear a story like Krill’s or Shaw-Doran’s isn’t easy. But it’s necessary if you want to see what’s really happening today for people who love the outdoors and also have disabilities. The real story is about opportunities; about “can do,” not “can’t do”; about living outdoor dreams despite what others might perceive as handicaps.

 

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