Trading gunfire for gliding on snow

By Jonathan Kaupanger

Imagine the thunder of gunfire replaced by the whisper of wind, the weight of a rifle traded for the exhilarating glide of skis. Bryan McCrickerd’s journey is a visceral testament to the human spirit.

Despite the wounds that scarred his active duty past, on the pristine slopes of the Colorado Rockies, he’s redefining his future with unbridled joy and the raw, liberating power of rediscovery.

A single devastating moment in the late 1980s transformed McCrickerd, a seasoned Army combat engineer bridge specialist, when a spinal cord injury abruptly ended his military career.

“My legs didn’t work right after that,” McCrickerd said. “And by 2012, my body said, ‘This is it.’”

But having been active in sports his entire life, he wasn’t going to sit around with nothing to do.

Needing something that wouldn’t hurt his back, McCrickerd started with archery. Next came a bike-riding clinic, and that’s where someone suggested he go skiing.

“Go skiing?” mused McCrickerd. “Me, a fat-ass who can’t stand up, going skiing?”

Despite his protests, he agreed to give it a try.

Even though he had previous skiing experience, McCrickerd was warned that relearning the sport would take time. But he astonished everyone by skiing solo, without tethers, a mere eight days into the process.

This is McCrickerd’s second trip to the National Disabled Veterans Winter Sports Clinic, co-presented by DAV and the Department of Veterans Affairs. He believes adaptive snow skiing is far more than just beneficial for wounded veterans—it's essential for their well-being. He emphasizes the experience of regaining physical power; enjoying the thrill of skiing; and building strong bonds with fellow veterans, encouraging them to overcome their limitations.

He candidly views the sport as a critical factor in survival, not merely a recreational activity.

 “I wish all vets in my condition would try this because it would cut down on suicide,” McCrickerd said.

McCrickerd’s impact extends far beyond his own journey. He recounts numerous encounters with fellow veterans who credit him with saving their lives by introducing them to adaptive sports.

“It’s an escape, a lifeline,” he explained. “For many of us, traditional work is no longer an option. Life can shrink to a TV screen.”

McCrickerd’s message to other injured veterans is clear: “Get out there. Start something.”

At the clinic, McCrickerd’s focused determination is palpable. He’s not just participating; he’s strategizing and refining his skills for the ultimate challenge. With a clear vision of conquering the summit of Vermont’s Mount Snow next year, he’s using every moment on the Colorado slopes to master the nuances of speed and terrain.

For McCrickerd, this clinic is a stepping stone, a crucial phase in his relentless pursuit of pushing his limits and claiming the mountain as his own.