A Day With Warriors
Photos by Bob Winsett
Vail Veterans Program helps injured soldiers learn to live all over again
There’s just something about trying — and let’s emphasize “trying” — to keep up with big, strong U.S. military personnel plunging straight down Vail Mountain’s China Bowl, right down the middle of Poppyfields, that fast, groomed, wide-open sweet spot below Dragon’s Teeth, Genghis Kahn and Shangri La, knowing you have all your extremities … and they don’t.
That’s just one memorable moment I took away from my sunny powder day last March with the warriors of the Vail Veterans Program, an all-volunteer effort that focuses on wounded war veterans and their abilities, not their disabilities, allowing each of them, using words from the program’s brochure, “to build self confidence.”
Believe me, once these guys leave the confines of post-op rehab and endless physical therapy sessions at military hospitals, travel to America’s largest ski resort high in the Colorado Rockies and strap on the most state-of-art adaptive equipment available, there’s one thing they don’t appear to lack: self confidence.
“It’s all about momentum,” Army Col. Greg Gladson, 42, tells me, his eyes gleaming when I finally catch up with him back in Earl’s Bowl, nearly submerged in at least a foot of heretofore untracked powder on that wide-open, stump-infested, west-facing slope between Champagne Glade and In the Wuides. “I love the powder. You can play around. It’s nice and soft. You can leave a nice track, too. This is beautiful.”
A Veritable Hero
“The Colonel,” as his “warriors” call him, is relatively new to snow, actually. But with profound athletic ability, a smile you can see a mile away and the respect of dozens of men like him with injuries that would make anyone cringe, he’s a veritable hero — despite his medical status as double-bilateral leg amputee, meaning he lost one leg below the knee, the other above. His right arm also was injured severely.
As with most of the brave warriors in the program, these gruesome, painful, life-altering injuries came from an “IED,” or improvised explosive device, planted and waiting for him and his unit back in both Iraq and Afghanistan.
Shadowing and supporting Gladson this day is big Carl Desrosiers, one of several instructors highly trained in “adaptive” techniques at the Vail Snowsports School. It must be noon by now, and Desrosiers has worked hard to complete his mission: Safely guide this inspirational Army officer as far back into America’s largest ski resort as possible, and back — no minor feat.
“Just remember to breathe and be light on the hands,” Desrosiers tells the colonel, before turning to me. “The outriggers, they’ve got to be light on them. Otherwise, they’ll sink into the powder. All his weight’s really only on one ski. In some ways, it’s just like kayaking.”
"I Love Speed"
Army Sgt. First Class Jake Keesler, 38, tells me he was on a raid at a “safehouse” in June 2006 in the Iraqi desert when the vehicle he was in ran over an IED. Twenty months, later with the medical status as a bilateral leg amputee, he’s another source of inspiration for the men at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington D.C. and out here, in the “real world.”
During his long rehabilitation, he’s developed a second military career, of sorts, working in conjunction with the U.S. surgeon general’s office managing the worldwide Warrior Care in Transition, a program which has offices around the world.
“I love speed. I love going fast, and I know how to do it. I don’t need to do the half-pipe to enjoy myself,” says Keesler, who spent most of this powder day alongside Gladson, accompanied by his own adaptive-trained ski instructor, Josh Perkins. “I like those long, long runs. I just wanna go. I wanna go. Josh will point me in a direction, and when we get on the lift, he critiques me, gives me tips. He’s always there for me.
“The hardest part is the chairlift. It’s uncomfortable. But we have these guys with us, so we don’t worry so much, and the lifties are trained really well to deal with us,” Keesler adds. “We just roll and go. Those long runs? The longer the better. When you can get excited about that, it’s great.”
At lunch back in Vail, at Golden Peak’s posh Larkspur Restaurant, Keesler tells me his second life began “the day I got blown up.” He was a ski instructor himself at Snow Summit, in Southern California, before joining the Army and going on to teach backcountry skiing to fellow soldiers up in Alaska.
“I’ve got a unique perspective, ‘cuz I’ve been through the healing process,” Keesler says. “This is the best program I’ve been on — and I’ve been on a lot of programs. I’ve done marathons, ‘Xtremity Games,’ fly-fishing trips … this is focused on the soldiers and their families. Very personal.
“There’s a lot of love here,” he adds. “And age, or rank, doesn’t matter. It’s all about helping soldiers.”
“We Care”
The Vail Veterans Program was established in February 2004 as an all-volunteer, outdoor recreation-based rehabilitation outlet for wounded American military personnel by Vail resident Cheryl Jensen, its president and chairwoman. Her board of directors includes U.S. Army Maj. David Rozelle, vice chairman of the board of directors of the Vail Veterans Program; Jim Nides of Kingwood, Texas; and Nanci Northway and Ruth Demuth of Vail.
The program’s winter session in March provides skiing, snowboarding and other on-mountain activities at Vail; and in summer, those same soldiers and/or others can return to enjoy summertime activities, such as horseback riding, whitewater rafting and fly fishing.
Jensen’s background and resources in skiing and mountain hospitality go way back, and she worked hard to develop charitable relationships in the local community that translate directly into donations of world-class food and lodging, transportation and other amenities. An extraordinary asset to the program, she says, has been the support of Vail Resorts’ staff and facilities at the Vail Mountain ski resort, for which her husband, Bill, was chief operating officer for ten years.
Vail is home, too, to the Vail Snowsports School, perhaps the largest and finest ski and snowboarding school in the world, with a special unit dedicated to “adaptive” instruction based at Golden Peak.
“For me, it was hearing and reading about these severe injuries and knowing what adaptive skiing can do to help. This was my way of showing we care, and that life goes on,” Jensen tells me about her heartfelt reasons for starting the program. “The minute you see these guys — most of them are just kids — catch a fish, or ski, it just warms the heart.”
"A Mission To Heal"
Upon arrival in Colorado at the Eagle County Regional Airport, these “kids” — often with their families — are whisked off to various luxury hotels in Vail that generously donate rooms and hospitality and treated to a welcome reception and dinner.
This time, the dinner is held at the Sonnenalp Vail Resort & Spa in Vail Village. This is where Rozelle, a recipient of a Bronze Star with Valor and a Purple Heart after losing his lower right leg in Iraq in 2003, speaks with great authority and respect; he is the first amputee/soldier return to active duty (in Iraq) in modern times.
“We realize you’re starting your life all over again,” Rozelle tells them.“This is a great opportunity to experience this world-class resort with one-on-one instruction by the best ski instructors in the world. This is totally for you
.“Just remember to take it easy. We’re all here as warriors of transition, on a mission to heal,” adds Rozelle, who now serves as an administrator to the Amputee Care Center at Walter Reed. “We’re not out here to kill ourselves.”
“It’s All Therapy”
No one involved with the Vail Veterans Programs believes in it more than Army Col. Barbara Springer, who supervises the rehabilitation and reintroduction to post-war life of wounded military personnel as chief of physical therapy at both Walter Reed and the National Naval Medical Center. She says the program is infectious.
“Part of their rehab is just getting them ready for this trip. Community integration, airports, planes, hotels, psychological, spiritual and social interaction — it’s all therapy,” Springer tells me. “It’s good for them. They get to get out and see what it’s like to do ‘normal’ activities, and they spread the work to the other guys (back in the hospital).
“These guys don’t ever expect anything. They don’t complain. They’re great to work with,” Springer adds. “They volunteered, put their lives on the line. But they have great attitude. If given the chance, most of them would want to go back to the war.”
“All Up Here”
The warriors who participate in the Vail Veterans Program — nearly two dozen at a time — are impressive in many ways. This trip to Vail is the first time many of them have been away from the hospital — shock enough considering the last time they saw “the real world” they had all their limbs, and senses.
Now, with surgeons, medications and state-of-the-art prosthetics, these young, strong, talented guys have only to adapt and get on with a life that has changed forever. As if that was easy.
Each of these guys has his own story about the day his life nearly ended, the shock and trauma, the pain, the operations, the rehab, the hard work, the long days, weeks and months in a military hospital, the struggle to accept what happened with dignity, pride and, yes, a sense of humor.
Take Army First Lt. Mark Little, 24, for example, a double-amputee below the knee. An “EFP,” or explosively formed projectile, came right into his Humvee, he says, in September 2007, just six months earlier. His life before that day included 11 winters of skiing and snowboarding.
“It’s still all up here,” Little tells Jensen in the great room at the Golden Peak Lodge, pointing to his head. “For me, it’s great having done both before, so I know how it’s supposed to feel … no pun intended.”
“Love the Speed”
Or there’s Army Sgt. Tim “TJ” Johannsen, 23, of Fort Stewart, Ga., who remembers the date he was injured, June 19, 2007, when an IED ripped both his legs off, one below and one above the knee.
“I did the summer program last year — fishing, whitewater rafting, horseback riding — and now skiing,” he tells me while gearing up, his wife, Jackie, at his side. “These are all things I never did, even before my accident.”
Minutes later, he’s learning how to negotiate Vail Mountain on a “mono-ski” developed especially for people with his newfound disabilities, accompanied by Steve Lambert, another highly trained ski instructor with the Vail Snowsports School.
“I used to love to skateboard, so I figured snowboarding would be easier; here you get the opportunity to do both, if you want to,” says Johanssen.“I love the speed. The hardest part is turning. It’s easier once you get up on the big mountain with Steve, who’s a good guy with a lot of patience.”
Later, on the lift, Lambert tells me working with these warriors since the program began has been one of the most rewarding experiences of his life.
“It’s good to see these guys doing stuff like this,” Lambert says. “Like today, I got TJ up to speed. He really enjoyed that — so much so he asked me, ‘how much does one of these cost?’ You know when they ask that, they’re hooked.”
“We Can Do It, Too”
In addition to much of the program’s lodging, meals and invaluable on-snow instruction, Vail Resorts donates the facilities and staff for an evening at Adventure Ridge, where the soldiers and their families can enjoy tubing and other activities, as well as dinner at Eagle’s Nest.
That’s where I share some time with Army Capt. Scott Quilty, who lost an arm and a leg above the knee in Iraq. This is his second winter session at Vail, having attended the summer session, too. The previous winter, with his being fresh out of the operating room, he tells me, all he could do was watch; so to have healed enough to participate this time around — and to see his fellow soldiers not just sitting and watching but enjoying their time on the mountain — is especially gratifying.
“We’re all up off the magic carpet. That’s awesome. It’s so important to get out and see there’s a big world out here and life’s marching on,” says Quilty alongside his adoring wife, Dora. “This is an opportunity to do something, the first program to take guys like us, right out of the hospital, out skiing, along with our doctors and therapists. We’re all new at this amputee thing, and what ‘not good’ looks like.
“This program set an early benchmark for me, and now I can see where I was before and where I am now. I can look at today’s success and see all the hours in physical therapy and occupational therapy have paid off,” Quilty adds, pointing to Gladson. “What the colonel is doing, on some level, is what we all want to do — show our families we can get out there and do real things.”
“For a Lifetime”
Perhaps it’s the families, faced with caring for their wounded warriors for the rest of their lives, who benefit most from the Vail Veterans Program.
“It’s equally as important to them,” Jensen tells me long after this winter session has ended and her wounded warriors have returned to their new lives hopefully better prepared and feeling better about it all. “I have visions of having these guys bring their kids and grandkids here someday.”
Jensen says she’s working to add an alumni program that will welcome them all back to Vail for years to come, long after the armed conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan are over. And she envisions a similar program for female armed forces personnel wounded in the line of duty.
“We want to be able to share what Vail has to offer. I feel we can give them such a gift, not just for now but for a lifetime,” she tells me. “You just want to be around these people. It makes your troubles seem truly insignificant.”
Editor’s note: Stephen Lloyd Wood, is a freelance writer and a regular contributor to Vail-Beaver Creek Magazine.
