Saturdays On The Hill Good Times Prevail When Group Of Developmentally Disabled Skiers Hits The Slopes At Mount Spokane

For seven years, Shalla Wigen has taught developmentally disabled people how to ski.

And for seven years they’ve been teaching her that there really isn’t much difference between so-called “normal people” and those who have disabilities.

Wigen, who with her husband runs a Valley catering business, is one of 33 ski instructors working with a group of developmentally disabled skiers called the Powder Hounds. The group, affiliated with Spokane’s Special Olympics program, boasts 75 skiers from throughout the area, including many from the Spokane Valley.

They’re at the Mount Spokane ski resort every Saturday from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Wigen, 24, was in her last year of school at Central Valley High School when she decided to be a volunteer instructor.

“That first season was hard,” said Wigen. “I sometimes felt real uncomfortable trying to help them.”

Her ski season as an instructor ended, and Wigen had absolutely no intention of volunteering again - until she was asked to do so the following year.

“I felt bad saying no, so I just went back up again,” she said.

It was the reception she got from the students when she returned that kept her coming back to the mountain.

“All the students, everybody, I mean everybody, remembered my name,” Wigen said. “They made me feel so welcome. I felt a part of this whole family. They accepted me because they wanted me to accept them.”

Del Bemis, a 77-year-old Valley resident, tells a similar story.

“I still had a lot of energy after I retired, and I was looking for something to do,” he said. “I saw an ad for volunteer instructors in the paper. Now I’ve been coming up here for 14 years.”

Sherry Rizzuto appreciates the fact that her 19-year-old grandson, Aaron Evans, has access to so many people who are willing to spend time with the autistic young man.

Evans had never been on skis until five years ago. But now, he is a lot more expressive than he used to be, and he’s not a bad skier either, Rizzuto said.

“He was so introverted,” she said. “But I really think this program has helped him open up more and feel like he can express himself.”

Bemis said the skiers also get a chance to socialize.

“It’s a great opportunity for them,” he said. “It’s a chance for them to participate in an outdoor setting, and it’s also a friendship program.”

The Spokane Parks and Recreation Department and Mount Spokane ski resort fund the program. The Powder Hounds have been skiing for 26 years.

In the program, participants are grouped according to the severity of their disability. Some students may immediately take to the slopes, others may spend an entire ski season learning just how to put on their equipment, Bemis said.

“I think they take great pleasure in having the chance to operate on their own,” Bemis said. “I also think sometimes the public has a problem accepting them into the community. Here, everyone is accepted.”

The group’s founder is Dick Doughty, who’s been in charge of adult education at Lakeland Village in Medical Lake for 10 years.

When he started Powder Hounds, he had no idea that he would one day have a common bond with beginning skiers. He was once a well-known competitive skier with a shot at making the U.S. Olympic team but, because of a too-tight cast when he was young, he lost partial use of his foot.

Later, as a result of a fall during a fishing trip, his right foot had to be amputated. He now wears a prosthesis and skies along with the Powder Hounds.

The idea for the group came in 1971 when he took a small group of people to Mount Spokane as part of his job with the state as a recreation specialist.

“I wasn’t even skiing, but a young woman approached me and asked me if I would teach her. I first thought, ‘I can’t do it,”’ Doughty said. “But she was persistent and very genuine, and that’s what made it all go. She wanted to learn so badly.”

In 1972, the Powder Hounds officially started, although the formal name wasn’t adopted until many years later.

Through the volunteer instructors and their pupils, Doughty’s innate competitiveness on the slopes gave way to a camaraderie that helped him appreciate skiing just for the enjoyment of it.

“I tell them, ‘I’m okay, so you’re okay.’ We’re still capable people. Nothings gripes me more than to have others calling us disabled people,” he said. “We are people who have disabilities, but we are people first.”

Said instructor Susie Nees: “I realized a long time ago that they’re probably teaching me more than I’m teaching them.

“For a lot of them, they’re learning to do things that at first they’re afraid of,” she said. “We’re just teaching them to ski, they’re showing us how to live.”

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