Sliding down the mountain and away from the group of people who seem to find it hilarious that they can sign the word for “bullsh*t” with two hands, I’m struck with a sense of sheer determination.

It’s defining moments like these that remind me why I got into snowsports in the first place. A burning desire to prove everyone, myself, the doubters, the haters, my parents, my teachers, my friends that they’re wrong. I am strong, and I most certainly can do it.

“It’s moments like these that remind me why I got into snowsports in the first place. A burning desire to prove everyone… wrong.”

Sometimes it seems like the general consensus is people with invisible disabilities such as deafness, sensory loss and mental health issues need to be handled with cotton wool, and a large soft pillow provided for them when they fall. We’re living in a decade where everything suddenly seems to have become über-fragile; an offensive advert might trigger emotional distress in some, and falling and hurting oneself might induce the feelings of failure and inadequacy…

I learnt to ski in Breckenridge when I was 6 years old, and at the time when my hearing was rapidly slipping through my fingers. Although I don’t remember much, I can recall being lumped into the ski school and sitting paralysed with fear, surrounded by a cacophony of confusing voices with numerous different accents. I refused to take my hat off during the introductions and the warm ups, seeking some sort of safety from a strange and alienating world from behind my wooly warm clothes.

It all finally clicked when we hit the slopes and it became a game of watch-and-copy. You don’t need two working ears to mimic someone’s movements and soon I was at the front of my class and moving up levels, much to the delighted surprise of my instructors. The same principle of watch-and-copy applied to when I first picked up a snowboard in my teens.

“You don’t need two working ears to mimic someone’s movements and soon I was at the front of my class and moving up levels”

A lot of people look wistful when I tell them I’m deaf with two hearing aids in my ears. Explaining to them that with my hearing aids in, I can hear (just about) what the average person can hear but all noises are scrambled, unfiltered and unless I’m focusing on the source of where the sound is coming from, it’s quite often just “noise” for me. But without them, I’m as deaf as a post (sorry… it had to be done).

“I would love to be able to just switch off,” people say sighing and leaning forward on their hands, “and enjoy a few minutes, or hours, of just silence.”

I laugh. But the truth is, silence may seem like an attractive prospect for some, it’s very much the opposite for me. And then there’s the internal pitying moment of “Oh Christ, you really have no idea, do you?”

“The truth is, silence may seem like an attractive prospect for some, it’s very much the opposite for…”

Maybe when you’re standing in the middle of a club at 3am and the music and people have long stopped making any sense, I can sympathise that it might be nice to just tune out. But when you’re on the side of the mountain, having all of your senses tuned in are crucial when it comes to avoiding an accident.

And then, last but not the least, there are those who are completely and utterly oblivious. After apologising and explaining to a man in the gondola for saying “Sorry/ what/ pardon?” repeatedly, he suddenly turned deadly serious. Pulling his goggles away from his face he stared at me for a second, before leaning forward and saying “… Does that mean you have night vision?”

Any person with a sensory disability (both on and off the slopes) will tell you that there needs to be more awareness about our presence in the action sports world, and that regardless of our shortfalls, we can keep up. As I stated previously it’s been a fantastic few years for the rising awareness of disabled participants in sports, and with the Olympics and Paralympics 2016 just around the corner, the hashtag #Supercharge (the official supporting hashtag for ParalympicsGB) is picking up momentum by the second.

Numerous disability charities are already campaigning for change. The disability charity Scope brought us their hilarious campaign, #EndTheAwkward; their YouTube series and web pages shone a funny but informative light on the everyday lives of the disabled and the cringe-worthy reactions they get. Just because I can’t hear doesn’t mean that I am not capable of tearing it up in the park, playing cat and mouse on the singletrack, and pushing my body and my mind to its constant limits. When it comes to thinking about what defines a superhuman, I am proud to say that I am part of a community of people who constantly push their own personal limits and turn their disadvantages into advantages.

Get involved:

No time like now to offer a helping hand in the world of snowsports to those who need it.

Disability Snowsport UK are always on the lookout for volunteers and fundraisers, and Scope are regularly hosting fundraising sporting events for those who fancy doing something for a good cause.