Our special heroes sweep down the slippery slopes on the way to glory

YAMANOUCHI is a Japanese word that means “middle of the mountains”.

It’s the name of a place of great and challenging beauty, one of the world capitals of skiing. Right in the heart of the middle of the mountains is the ski resort named after Shiga Kogan.

Shiga Kogan is a volcano, with naturally heated springs side by side with tremendous snowfalls and temperatures of minus 12 to 15 degrees at this time of year.

The skiing is accessible by a winding, twisting mountain road, where the buses have to stop half way up so chains can be put on the tyres. And the buses are crowded because Shiga Kogan, at the heart of Yamanouchi, is a mecca for skiers. The slopes are steep, wide and uninterrupted, and the snow is fast. Those who know about these things say it is the fastest snow in the world, especially when it is fresh.

And it is always fresh because it snows every day - some days as much as two feet of snow can build up.

And it was there last week that eight Irish athletes took on the best in the world at their levels. They were there to compete in the Winter Olympics, the pinnacle of their sport. All Alpine skiers, four of them from the Republic and four from Northern Ireland, they made their way to Shiga Kogan, looked up at the daunting slopes, and got on with the job.

Apart from some practice in Austria in the final run-up to the Winter Olympics, many of them had little or no experience of skiing, and especially competitive skiing on real, fast, driving snow.

And that’s before you take account of the difficulties involved in the events themselves. All require an ability to slalom, and to slalom without error. If you miss one gate on these slopes, you simply go to the tail of the competition. There’s no way to catch up.

So a slalom run means 40 seconds of going as hard as you can, downhill with the snow driving into your face, but concentrating totally on the gates and turns. Strength and speed is vital, but so is technique and concentration. Each competition involves two runs, both against the clock. And you mustn’t miss a gate. Miss one and you’re out.

And so the athletes prepared for five days of tough competition, the toughest in their lives. Some had family with them, but the families had to stay separately, seeing their athletes only at the competitions. And a small contingent of incredible Irish volunteers, who were in Nagano to work (at their own expense) on the healthy athlete programme run by Special Olympics, made the long journey to the slopes every day they weren’t working to cheer the Irish team on.

On day one of competition, they faced the downhill runs - more emphasis on speed, fewer and wider gates. Not our favourite competition.

But Ryan Hill from Armagh flew through his race to pick up a bronze. It was to be the first of three medals over the following five days for Ryan, who finished the games with a gold, silver and bronze. Our cheering had hardly died away when Finbarr Hughes, who has lived with his sister in Co Tyrone since his parents died 17 years ago, glided through his division for a second bronze. Two of our athletes had now won medals in the discipline that was their least favourite. Day two was the start of the giant slalom competition, with the finals on day three. Each day, two races against the clock, with aggregate time counting provided no gates were missed. And not one gate was - at least, not by the Irish.

Fiona Bryson from Stillorgan, the tiniest, quietest, and most determined member of the team, won a brilliant bronze. Liam Weir from Dungannon, who had been looking grimly anxious, broke into a giant smile when he flew over the line in his division for gold - and the smile didn’t disappear for the rest of the week. Ryan added silver to his bronze of the first day. And then Lorraine Whelan skied the slalom of her life, pure grace on skis, to cap the day with a wonderful gold medal.

But there was some disappointment among the skiers themselves. Over the days of preparation and competition, this team had bonded in the most incredible way. Partly this was down to coaching. There is no sport in Ireland that has wiser or better coaches than Eddie and Kathleen Sythes, who built this team - but no member of it was going to be happy until every member had skied his or her best.

If it was to happen, it had to happen on day five, the finals of the most difficult competition of the three, the slalom event (more gates and tighter turns than either the downhill or giant slalom).

Cyril Walker from Armagh had a fourth and a fifth in the earlier events, and was a bit down in the dumps. That ended when he put in one of the best performances of his life, in his first Olympics, to take bronze in the novice class.

ALL eyes were on the intermediate slopes now - a high start, a constant and speedy descent, and some of the trickiest gates right at the end.

In his first run, Warren Tate from Stillorgan, Ireland’s leading Manchester United fan, had skied a silver medal time, and just needed to avoid mistakes to make sure of his medal. Avoid mistakes?

He nailed the second run, fast, stylish and flawless, with absolutely perfect discipline, and then led the loudest cheers of the day. But there was worrying news from the start gate. Cormac Maguire from Ballinteer was now the only Irish skier who hadn’t won a medal. He had skied steadily throughout, and was lying in fourth position after his first run in the final. But he wasn’t well. He had thrown up earlier, and was reported to be lying down at the start.

His mother, Kay, who in her own words “had Padre Pio worn out,” was surrounded by all of us at the finish line. This mattered. None of us, and none of his fellow skiers, wanted Cormac to miss out. But if he was to improve on his fourth position, a tummy bug was the last thing he needed.

And then he was at the start gate. And he was flying.

Lorraine Whelan’s dad, Brendan, an experienced skier himself, gasped that Cormac was going too fast - he’d never make all the gates at that speed. But if anything, Cormac seemed to get faster, and he was scything his way through the gates. And then he was over the line, after one of the fastest runs anyone had ever seen.

The fourth was turned to gold, Cormac was crying tears of pure joy (along with more than a few of the rest of us), and Kay announced that Padre Pio could have the rest of the week off.

Eight Irish skiers, every one a winner after a week of intense competition and high drama. Each of them has a giant heart and an incredible personality, and each of them has an intellectual disability.

But they overcame enormous distances. They faced a climate they had never experienced in their lives. They adapted to different food, culture and habits. They raced in conditions normally experienced by world-class international skiers. They became part of a team that was tight and brilliantly coached.

Above all they showed huge reserves of discipline, concentration, skill, grace and courage. They won 12 medals altogether. And in the process they showed that intellectual disability is just one more of life’s hurdles. Nothing that can’t be overcome.