My eyes squinted as I scanned the slope expecting to spot my crew, but I wasn't seeing much and the past two runs had revealed very little. A couple of hefty skiers had me pinned against the snowboarder who had grabbed the inside window seat of the quad chair that was carting us above the Palmer Glacier. His board swung just below mine, his pants were torn, and his reflective lenses were a bit nicked. Peering through the scratches in his mirrored goggles, attempting to make some sort of eye contact, I found myself staring at my own confused face when our conversation began.

"Hey man...do you know where I can find Thayne Mahler, the amputee snowboard coach for High Cascade?"

"That's me," he replied, clearly wondering why I was being so nosy.

During the brief moment of silence that followed, I realized how truly ignorant I was. I'd spent a portion of the morning taking cruiser runs on the salted glacier of Mt. Hood, attempting to find the only amputee snowboard camp on the slopes. I figured they'd be easy to spot, but I was rubbing elbows with the camp coach, who is a below the knee amputee himself, and had no idea. Feeling clueless, I pried for more.

In August of 1996, Thayne was ripping up the backcountry on Mt. Hood when he unexpectedly lost his edge on a patch of hardpack and began sliding out of control. He wasn't able to stop and his line sent him over the lip of a cliff. As it grew dark, Thayne lay at the base of the cliff where his friends were unable to find him. He spent the night out, fighting to keep warm. The following day he was evacuated by helicopter, however, much of the muscle in his right leg had died overnight and after several surgeries, the lower portion of his leg was amputated.

Before Thayne was released from the hospital, he'd already decided that he'd ride another day...and so he did. He currently spends his summers teaching at High Cascade Snowboard Camp and his winters ripping Mt. Bachelor, but don't expect to identify him based on his "disability." His prosthetic leg is hidden by his pants and his skills speak for themselves. When he's strapped in, he's hard to keep up with. When he's walking about, a slight limp is hardly noticeable.

The lift arrived at the top of the slope, where Thayne introduced me to the most technical group of snowboarders I've ever met.

The first hand I shook was that of Lucas Grossi, a 24-year-old below the knee amputee from Red Lodge, Montana. At the 2000 USASA Nationals, Lucas approached Steve Van Doren of Vans who happened to be working the demo tent. The two discussed organizing the first adaptive session at High Cascade Snowboard Camp during the upcoming summer. Van Doren was well aware that most amputees have extensive medical bills and came through in a big way.

Van Doren organized the session so that campers were only responsible for their airfares. The lodging and food was cake and the icing was Thayne, an adaptive snowboarder, dishing out the instructions. Lucas was able to round up a posse of disabled snowboarders, and the five adaptive riders gathered in Government Camp, Oregon, for a week of summer riding and instruction — all on the house.

Jesse Horn, who was born without legs, was the next rider I met. At age 5, Jesse's parents bought him a snowboard for Christmas and through his own creativity, he's found happiness on the slopes for the past 10 years. Jesse's doctor started out by making a plaster mold of his torso, then based on the mold, a Kevlar bucket was machined, which he sits in. The mono pod, molded bucket is mounted to the top of his deck using a large steel plate and several bolts. Jesse straps himself into the bucket and carves by shifting his weight, occasionally using his hands for balance. It took him a few years to learn to carve, but at this point, he spends his winters charging the steeps of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The minute we arrived at the park, he dropped into the pipe and began carving the walls.

After each run through the trench, three of the campers would meet Jesse at the bottom, where the human rope tow was formed. One person would push against his back while the other two would place the handle of a shovel across his chest, pulling on either end, while Jesse gripped the middle of the handle. The four campers would push, pull and grunt until they reached the top of the pipe, where Jesse would drop in yet again.

Later in the day, I found him practicing his rail slides; in fact, the only piece of the park that he didn't hit was the kickers, but for good reason. Riding inside the bucket is much like snowboarding without bending your knees. With zero suspension, his spine absorbs all of the shock.

As the day came to an end, Jesse faced yet another challenge. The camp was situated on the glacier in such a way that the lifts weren't accessible without a bit of hiking. This posed a problem, seeing that his wheelchair never made it up the quad, so Jesse would climb into a wheelbarrow and Thayne would roll him out of the park to the nearest run where he could carve to the lift house and download to the parking lot where his chair was waiting.

While Jesse downloaded, 17-year-old Gerrit Vanbruggen, was still storming the park. Being the quiet type, Gerrit let his riding speak for itself. I didn't have the chance to make his acquaintance before I saw him throwing huge backside 180 tail grabs off a 20-foot tabletop. When he grew tired of hiking the hit, he was boosting several feet out of the pipe and grinding all the paint off the monster tabletop rail situated at the bottom of the park. Back home, if he isn't shredding snow, he's busy skating or charging his motocross bike.

Cliff Cabral joined the group from New Hampshire where he works as a commercial diver off the coast of Maine. At age 11, he lost his leg in a train accident and then nine years later, he was struck by a drunk driver, breaking his femur and destroying the knee in his good leg. Doctors implanted a steel rod and were able to rebuild his knee, allowing him to walk and ride with a prosthesis on his left leg and a bit of hardware in his right.

Despite a Titanium pin, Cliff broke his prosthetic leg on the top of a table during an afternoon session. Upon impact, the pin inside his prosthetic leg cracked in half, rendering it useless, leaving him without a limb, and earning a ride down the hill in a Cat. Luckily, he uses a different leg for riding in order to prevent wear and tear on his walking leg, and he came out charging the next day. His "get off the couch" attitude has earned him sponsorship from Palmer Snowboards which supplies him with decks, but his prosthetics are by far the most expensive piece of equipment.

Each prosthesis attempts to imitate an ankle by absorbing shock and flexing in similar ways, which raises their price upwards of $10,000. Most of the campers were using a pin system prosthetic, much like the standard walking prosthetic, where the pin is mounted to the prosthetic liner which is then attached to the bottom of the limb. A suction sleeve is worn over the outside of the prosthetic, and the plastic foot is laced tightly in your everyday boot.

Adding to the "go big or go home" attitude of the group was Pam Eberly. At age 49, Pam was the oldest of the group and by far the youngest at heart. Riding for Nirve at last year's Nationals, she went down hard and dislocated her shoulder during the snowboardcross race. Instead of calling it a day and waiting for the stretcher, she got back on her feet, popped her shoulder back into place and crossed the finish. "It was the wildest thing I've ever done," she explained. "This was my third dislocation in a year and a half, so I could do it myself that time. It was sore, but it was worth it." Need I say more?

The group included riders of all abilities, most of whom stepped on a snowboard for the first time as amputees. Lucas summed it up best when he said, "The time it takes for a disabled person to learn to ride is no different than an able-bodied person. It all lies in that person's natural ability and desire to shred. The only difference is that adaptive riders experience more equipment failure...like tearing straps and snapping prosthetics in half."

I spent four days following the group with a video camera, inquiring about all aspects of their lives. On the final afternoon, I was politely ordered to put the camera down and drop in myself. I obeyed and we snaked runs through the pipe until the session came to a close. As we were being booted off the mountain, Lucas talked me into one final run. I was tired and so was Gerrit, but the three of us decided it was only proper to rip down the hill one last time. Attempting to videotape our final tracks, I found myself struggling to keep up. Sporting a huge grin, I tucked the video camera under my arm and let it rip...hoping to keep up.

With Mt. Hood looming in the rearview, I drove home with a stern look on my face, contemplating just about everything I had experienced over the past four days. I think Jesse put it best when he said, "Life's short, play hard. Give it your all, because your life can change one day in an instant." Damn straight Jesse.

Riding with these folks opened my eyes, dropped my jaw and sent me home a bit wiser...

Whatever your situation, ride now...it's your only chance.

— Lucas Kane, for MountainZone.com