Author: james

At the edge of northern Tanzania, where the plains stretch toward Kenya, Mount Kilimanjaro rises—unyielding, solitary, and powerful. At 19,341 feet, it is the highest free-standing mountain in the world. But for us, Kilimanjaro became more than a peak. It became a testament to grit, resilience, and the unbreakable strength of community. 

Sixteen friends from the US and Canada set out along the Lemosho Route on a nine-day expedition—eleven of us blind and low vision explorers. I, President of New England Ski for Light, made the journey as a low vision explorer and teamed up with the NESFL Vice President, long-time volunteer and beloved sighted guide Joanie Holcombe. What followed was not just a climb, but a shared journey of trust, endurance, and a deepening friendship. By day seven, we reached the summit. In doing so, nine of us, blind and low-vision climbers broke a world record for the most BLV climbers to summit together—proving what is possible with the right support and determination. 

We did not climb alone. Behind us stood a powerful community: 65–70 Tanzanian guides and porters, walking step by step with us and sharing their deep knowledge of this magnificent terrain. Every movement up the mountain was built on trust—through detailed verbal and physical guidance, steady pacing, and a shared belief that no one gets left behind. Our guiding principle was simple: “pole pole”—Swahili for “slowly, slowly”, to ward off altitude sickness. And of course, “Hakuna Matata,” reminding us to stay calm and keep our spirits bright. 

Each day brought more than ten hours of hiking through five distinct climate zones—from lush rainforest filled with colobus monkeys and birdsong, to stark alpine desert, and finally to the unforgiving arctic summit. As we climbed higher, the air thinned and temperatures dropped below freezing. One morning, we woke to snow blanketing our tents. There were no ropes, no technical shortcuts—just rugged terrain, biting wind, and the quiet battle between body and mind. This is where grit lives.

I felt it in the long training days leading up to the climb—preparing at sea level in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with weighted hikes, lunges, and relentless repetition. I felt it in every step I took despite fatigue, altitude challenges, and the unknowns that come with breaking new ground—doing what I had only recently imagined I could do. And still, we kept moving. Together. 

There are moments on a mountain that stay with you forever. For many of us, it was the Barranco Wall—a steep, narrow ascent that demanded hands on rock and absolute trust in our guides. What seemed impossible from below became a triumph at the top, where the landscape suddenly opened wide, revealing the vastness of the world. For Joanie, it was the quiet beauty of camp at night—the glow of tents beneath a sky filled with stars, and the realization that despite every challenge, she was still standing in community “on top of this glorious world.” For me, my defining moment came on our summit day descent. After more than 12 hours of hiking down from the summit—moving from day into night across rugged terrain—snow began to fall. Then, in the darkness, still far from basecamp hiking down cliffs, I saw the glowing lights of Moshi below—a warm, radiant welcome home! At that moment, the journey came full circle. The mountain had tested me, but it had also given something back: connection, culture, and a deep sense of belonging. 

Life on the mountain was simple but powerful: morning tea, shared meals, steady hiking, uproarious laughter, singing, and early nights listening to the wind. Bonds were built in those quiet, ordinary moments. And the journey didn’t end at the summit. We carried our purpose beyond the mountain—visiting local communities in Moshi, including Tuleeni Orphanage, Project Hope, and Mwereni School for the Blind, where 80 children, many with albinism, live and learn. These experiences grounded our expedition in something deeper: giving back, learning, and connecting across cultures. 

Kilimanjaro doesn’t just challenge your body—it reshapes how you see the world. It reminded me that strength is not just physical. It’s found in patience, in perseverance, and in the courage to believe in your own abilities—even when (so many) others project doubt. It showed me that having the right support makes all the difference in overcoming obstacles and clearing a path to success. That no summit is ever reached alone. And that sometimes, the greatest achievements don’t come from individual effort, but from collective resourcefulness and expertise. Summiting with this group proved, beyond doubt, that some seemingly impossible  limitations—with the right support—can be pushed, redefined, and beautifully overcome.

Each year, Ski for Light International selects a team of four to represent them at the world-renowned Ridderrennet—and this year, I had the incredible privilege of being one of them. Held in Beitostølen, Ridderrennet is the largest annual adaptive cross-country ski event in the world, bringing together up to 450 participants from 12 to 15 countries. But calling it just a “race” doesn’t quite capture it. Rooted in tradition and meaning, the name itself reflects a “knight’s race”—a fitting description for an event defined by competition within a supportive and fun adaptive-ski community.

The energy surrounding the Ridderrennet was palpable. Even fellow airplane passengers and Oslo tram riders lit up when I mentioned the event—everyone seemed to know it. “Ah yes, the Ridderrennet!” they would say, often adding that a friend or family member had participated. It quickly became clear that this event is a cherished national tradition.

Upon arrival, our Ski for Light team enjoyed time in Oslo, a vibrant coastal city that reminded me of my beloved Boston with its charm, history, and waterfront beauty. As we acclimated, the excitement only grew. I also began to see just how close-knit the blind and low vision community is in Norway. Many of the Norwegian participants had grown up attending summer camps together and had maintained those friendships into adulthood. Their warmth and connection made me reflect on our own Ski for Light family back home—I missed folks even as I felt deeply welcomed in Norway.

Once in Beitostølen, I was thrilled to be paired with Julie Copens, Ski for Light President and an extraordinary guide. Having Julie as a ski partner meant more than excellent guiding—it meant traveling with someone who radiated joy, welcomed every new person we met, and reminded me how deep and lasting the friendships we make through Ski for Light can be. Each day brought its own adventure, driven by fun, gratitude, and a spirit of athletic challenge. Thank you, Julie, for being the best travel buddy and guide I could have asked for.

One of the most meaningful parts of the trip was connecting with other participants who have albinism, as I do. It was incredible to share stories and experiences with others from around the world who understood not only my visual condition, but also the unique identity that comes with being albino. I was especially inspired by one fierce competitor who shared that she introduced the sport of goalball to Scotland—her passion and leadership left a lasting impression on me.

And then there was dogsledding—what an unforgettable experience. I was lucky to ride with a kind local musher whose beloved team carried us up steep snowy trails, raced down hills with joyful chaos, and soared across a frozen lake under the bluest sky. It felt like something out of a Nordic fairy tale.

One of the most powerful moments came at the finish line on race day. As each skier returned, our group was there—cheering, clapping, and celebrating one another’s accomplishments. I was bursting with pride for all our medal winners—you rock!—and I will never forget the love and encouragement I felt as Julie and I crossed the finish line together. It was a beautiful celebration of community and our shared love of Nordic skiing.

Ridder Week was a gift in so many ways—from deepening friendships to forging new bonds, from exploring Norwegian culture to gliding confidently along the ski trails. I came home with a full heart, a spirit fueled by adventure, and immense gratitude for the opportunity to be part of something so meaningful. Thank you, Ski for Light International for the gift of this unforgettable journey!!!