A story about this dumpy building

Achieve Ability Challenge 2026

There’s a dumpy little building by the side of the Alpine Meadows parking lot. Skiers drive by it everyday, their eyes drawn to the charming scene immediately adjacent to the building: it’s a spot where tailgaters set up in the parking lot with lawn chairs and drinks, and there’s an adjoining large flat area of snow where dogs can run off-leash, affectionately known as “dog beach.” Few people even register the dumpy building, as they focus on the drive home at the end of the day, how the traffic will be, what to have for dinner. But in failing to notice, they will have missed something important, through no fault of their own. The only clue to the building’s purpose is the large number of handicapped parking spaces right outside.

Inside this dumpy space, magic is happening every day, and it starts with a group of children and adults who are often relegated to the fringes of our achievement-obsessed society. These people with special needs are all among us, as nothing about the color of your skin or the balance of your bank account protects from ill health or hard events in the course of life. The participants at Achieve Tahoe, which is housed in this dumpy little space, come from literally everywhere - all ages, all races, all social classes, native-born as well as naturalized US citizens and non-citizen immigrants.

Every morning, participants come to Achieve Tahoe in a variety of ways. Some come on a bus, brought by their school’s special ed program, or by their adult day program from the Bay Area or Central Valley. Other participants are brought by dedicated parents, or by grown siblings if their parents are elderly or deceased. All these caretakers come with one purpose: to expand the world for their family members or students, whose ability to do this on their own has been compromised. If you’ve never driven in traffic to a ski hill early in the morning, stood in line to rent ski equipment, then helped someone dress in multiple layers covering their entire body, let me tell you - it is a real chore and a labor of love. Yet these families and caretakers are invariably loving, graceful, and grateful for this opportunity when they arrive at Achieve Tahoe, eagerly awaiting an out-of-the ordinary adventure for their loved one or students. These families and caretakers are the second part of the magic at Achieve Tahoe.

Achieve Tahoe participants vary widely in their abilities. For some, the achievement of the day is clicking their boots into their ski bindings by themselves, or getting off the chairlift without assistance. For others, it is conquering ever higher and more difficult slopes as they refine their technique. Whatever their achievements are, they represent a willingness of the participants to venture far outside their usual comfort zone and persevere in the face of uncertainty, discomfort, and challenge.

These achievements are all celebrated by the dedicated staff and volunteers at Achieve Tahoe, the third group who brings magic to this enterprise. The small group of professionals in our school are paid in cash wages much less than they deserve, but in meaning and fulfillment as much as any person could ever want. They are purpose-driven, and it is a joy to see how excited they get when a new piece of equipment arrives, representing a chance to provide more participants with more liberating experiences. Older retired volunteers come from all over, some commuting from Missouri and Pennsylvania, and committing hundreds of hours to share their love of skiing and to provide new experiences and a possibility for mastery to participants who otherwise could not access this. Other younger volunteers have siblings with special needs; they understand the importance of the mission and devote their free time on the weekends to making it happen.

It is hard to pick a favorite experience from my volunteer time this year, but the one which first comes to mind involves a young Asian man with autism who was brought to Alpine Meadows by his mother and father. The young man, an only child, was verbal, and had learned, with beautiful and heartbreaking precision, how to make conversation with people he didn’t really know, such as his ski instructors. As my fellow instructor and I were sitting on the chairlift with him, he turned and looked me squarely in the face. “Do you have a pet?” he gently inquired. The conversation on the chairlift went on from there, interrupted by runs down intermediate-level ski slopes with occasional tips on technique. We covered a variety of topics - exercise, hobbies, family, many initiated by the young man. A wonderful time was had by all 3 of us. When we brought him back to his parents at the end of the day, I said to them “ You have a wonderful son.” “Yes” they said, “we do”, as they both smiled and their love for him shone in their eyes.

Thank you for listening.

I would be so grateful for your contribution in any amount to this cause which is near and dear to my heart.

Karen Axelsson