Skiing with Parkinson's

I was never sporty. Keen yes, but pretty hopeless at everything from cricket to tennis to football - “do we have to have him?” the cry went up when teams were picked at school.

But in my mid-twenties I went on a cheap skiing holiday to Andorra and was immediately hooked. Overcoming my initial terror, I was exhilarated to find myself snowploughing all the way down the mountain (ok, down a short green run) by the end of the week.

Ever since, I’ve made it to the mountains most winters, with a year off after a 1998 accident which saw me helicoptered off the mountain with a broken arm. I’ve never really progressed beyond the intermediate level, but can get down most slopes - or at least I could.

My last skiing holiday was in 2018, and in 2019 I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. So when I arrived in Corvara in the Italian Dolomites last Saturday for a holiday with a former BBC colleague Nils Blythe and a group of his friends and neighbours I was feeling a little nervous.

My symptoms are not yet particularly severe - a tremor and weakness on my right side which means I drag my foot. But skiing is all about two things, balance and confidence and I rather feared I would prove deficient in both. Before leaving I had googled '“skiing with Parkinson’s” and found a piece written by someone who appeared to be remarkably similar to me.

“I was never a great skier, but it was something I enjoyed,” Brett Warthen wrote."My right foot has a tendency to drag when walking, and when I analyzed my turns, I eventually noticed a similar drag when turning to the right..”

He went on to analyse several skiing trips, with encouraging experiences followed by gloom as he struggles to get his boots on or spends 20 minutes trying to click back into his skis after a fall. His basic message was that skiing for people with Parkinson’s will prove arduous or frustrating - and his advice was to give it up straight after lunch each day.

Ah, but every Parkinson’s patient is different, so how would it go for me?

(Spoiler alert - the TikTok video I made gives some idea so watch it after reading to the end.)

Day 1

The first challenge is making sure you have everything when you leave for the slopes - wallet, ski pass, phone, sunglasses, sun protection and, in my case, Parkinson’s pills which an app reminds me to take at 7am, 11am, 3pm and 7pm each day.

Then there is a nightmarish task - putting on ski boots. This felt like a black run, certainly in terms of effort, but then the glorious weather and extraordinary landscape of the Dolomites cheered me up.

While the keenest skiers in our group were already up on the mountain, I joined a clutch of less intense folks who were more inclined to take things more slowly.

We chose a chairlift to the top of a gentle slope for our first run. However long you have skied there’s always a bit of trepidation before you set off down the hill but I did….okay. I managed a few turns, noticing that turning right was harder - logically it should have been easier because my better left leg was doing the work as the downhill ski but I began to understand that the weakness on my right made it harder to swing my body through the turn.

We continued through the day with long pit-stops at 11 - chance to take a quick pill - and lunchtime. I skied slowly, without any major incident, but by 3pm was glad to get off the mountain. I had learned that my days of skiing until the lifts closed with a beer at the top of the last slope were over.

Still, the Dolomiti Superski app told me I had covered a respectable 17.6 km using a total of 12 lifts. Not bad..

Day 2

The next day we were a little more adventurous which turned out to be a mistake. Our first lift took us to the top of an icy red run. I managed to get down but felt nervous at every turn and was reminded that skiing is a game played largely in the head - and is much more exhausting if you are scared.

We kept coming to a chairlift which needed either a bit of speed or an uphill push to reach. I found this completely exhausting and was relieved to get off the mountain soon after 3.

Distance covered:14.4 km

Lifts: 9

Day 3

The weather continued to be perfect and we had a much better day, cruising down mostly easy blue runs in the Colfosco bowl..

One of our party, a good but nervous skier, confided in us that the only way she plucked up courage to do anything tricky was by downing a large grappa at the 11 am stop. On the following days I joined her - a grappa with my Parkinson’s pill went down fine though I’m not sure what my doctor would say.

It was a good day but a long final run in mid-afternoon showed my limitations - I was so tired that I could barely turn. 

Distance covered: 20.2 km

Lifts: 12

Day 4

Looking down the Hidden Valley

Our confidence higher, we agreed to join the more adventurous skiers on an expedition to the Hidden Valley, a lovely long unofficial route descending more than 1000 m past a frozen waterfall. I had done the run a couple of times before, most recently in 2009, and remembered it as not particularly challenging.

But emerging from the cable car at 2,742 m I looked down at the top of the run and gulped. It was that nasty combination, steep, narrow and crowded. I set off and got through that first stretch without mishap but then struggled lower down.

When the path narrowed, I found it harder to turn right and so gathered speed, then I would overcompensate on the left turn and end up facing uphill, then sitting down. I did not have the strength to get up again but my kind companions hauled me back to my feet each time.

The 11 km run ends with a long flat stretch, where skiers pay 3 euros to hold on to a rope and be dragged along by horses. It was a calming end to a slightly nerve-wracking experience - I found that I had been concentrating so hard that I hadn’t spotted the frozen waterfall.

It had been a great day out but again I was left wondering whether I was still cut out for skiing.

Distance covered: 19.9 km

Lifts: 9

Day 5

But a very relaxed day when we returned to the gentle runs of the Colfosco bowl cheered me up. While most of our party was racing around the Sella Ronda circuit, we were having a long grappa break, a few more unchallenging blues, then a long lunch.

The skiing was mostly incident free but I still sat down a couple of times after turning too sharply uphill. On one embarrassing occasion I was helped to me feet by a young Dutch man who confessed that it was only his fourth day on skis. I reflected that it was something like my 200th day and I was going backwards.

Distance covered: 17.8 km

Lifts: 12

Day 6 

The Rifugio Santa Croce

On our final day we all came together for an excursion to the Santa Croce refuge high up above the village of La Badia on the fringes of the lift system. I was a little nervous, not so much about the skiing but the final walk up to the refuge on a snowy path with boots on.

But it was much less taxing than I had feared and we were rewarded with stunning views on another exquisite day and a hearty lunch.

On our journey there I had a few more “sitting down” falls, including one where another incompetent skier turned across a steepish slope in sync with me and we embraced in the middle.

The long run down after lunch was a mostly easy blue but I was very tired and didn’t ski it well. As I approached the end, my throbbing left thigh told me how much strain that side of my body was taking when my right side was not pulling its weight.

Rather than ski all the way back to Corvara, my faithful friends from the less adventurous group - please don’t call us slackers - decided to catch a bus back. The relief at taking off my skis and realising I had finished the week relatively unscathed was immense.

Distance covered: 15.5 km

Lifts: 12

Conclusion

The Dream Team having a rare break

I ended the week pretty sure of two things. First, I will never ski again with anything like the competence and confidence I had just a few years ago, and will probably get worse as Parkinson’s continues to make my body slightly more useless. But second, I will try again because I believe skiing is good for both my physical and mental health.

But one conclusion really stands out - the importance of support and encouragement from friends and strangers alike. I cannot thank enough my holiday companions who shepherded me down tricky sections of the slopes, hauled me to my feet, and forced me to stop for a grappa or two.

So this is dedicated to Nils, Bungi, Dolph, Philippa, Ross, James, Beryl and Chris - and in particular to the Dream Team (not the Slackers) Mary, Charlotte, Caroline and Viv. Thanks to you all.