Indefatigable athlete adapts to new life with grace and charm

words and photos :: Colin Field

On March 7, 2024, the first-ever Charlie Adams Ski Day took place at Craigleith Ski Club. If you got the invite, it was a relatively cheap day of skiing: $110 for a lift ticket and two beers. But none of that mattered. It was a chance to watch Charlie Adams hit the slopes. And that’s the real reason everyone was there.

For years I’d enviously watched Charlie Adams’ life from afar. If you lived in the Collingwood area long enough, you’d eventually meet Charlie or his wife, Pam Paylor. They were cool people doing cool things. And in 2017 they had it all figured out.

“I retired at 57 [after almost 30 years as a lineman] and we had the place in Golden,” he says. “We chose Kicking Horse because it has fabulous skiing. I always called it the best lift-service, big-mountain skiing in North America. We had great friends to ski with, we got into backcountry skiing and a little bit of ski mountaineering. We were pushing the envelope, but we were really enjoying ourselves.”

They didn’t sell their place in Collingwood and would spend summers here, sailing, mountain biking, waterskiing and enjoying what Ontario has to offer.

Their Instagram reel was seriously FOMOinducing. I wanted to hang out with them. To join their adventures.

“We were living the dream,” he remembers. “It was pretty awesome.”

Then on September 8, 2022, everything went sideways. Charlie’s years as a lineman had taught him a thing or two about trimming trees, so he had a little side hustle working as a tree surgeon. He was working on a tree in Tiny Township. It was the last tree of the day. He was 35 feet up when disaster struck.

“The tree split and broke underneath me,” he recalls. “I rode it to the ground then another piece came down and hit me. So I broke my neck, which wasn’t too serious. I also broke my back, which was the big accident. I had 13 rib fractures, a fractured scapula and a collapsed lung. My partner thought I was dead.”

The tree that landed on him was so large it had to be chainsawed into three pieces before they could move it.

Paramedics rushed Charlie to the Georgian Bay General Hospital in Midland where a helicopter airlifted him to Sunnybrook Hospital. Charlie’s injury included a T8 burst fracture and T7 and T9 fractures. Surgeons installed rods and screws to fuse his T6 through T11 vertebrae.

“I don’t remember any of that other than waking up after the surgery. I had a breathing tube in and my hands were tied down because the natural reaction is to try to take that breathing tube out when you come to. That was kind of the low point. Because I realized I had no feeling in the lower half of my body.”

Charlie was paralyzed from his belly button down.

“I didn’t know what I was going to do. I spent some time reflecting on whether or not to pull the plug. It was a huge, huge change in what I wanted to do and what I wanted to be. But I decided I was going to give it a go. Somehow I got a piece of paper and a pen and just wrote on it that I wanted to live. I’ve always looked ahead from there.”

Charlie’s Instagram changed dramatically. From backcountry skiing, climbing, water skiing and après, it turned to rehab, rehab and more rehab. But the tone of his captions never wavered: They remained positive and hopeful.

Sponsored by John Mealey North Shore Ltd and Head Skis, the Charlie Adams Ski Day was a fundraiser to help Charlie get his own sitski and raise money for Canadian Adaptive Snowsports (CADS).

“I went from a fairly high-level skier to a complete beginner again,” says Charlie. “They told me I was gonna pick it up pretty quick, but I have to learn everything again. It’s humbling for sure.” know that sometimes when the doctors tell people there’s no hope then they have no hope. But without hope, you don’t have anything.”

Charlie Adams

Watching Charlie get ready to ski was daunting; it’s a herculean team effort. It took four people to get him transferred properly from his wheelchair to the sitski. But it was a beautiful sunny day with nothing but laughs and encouragement from friends and family. Multiple CADScertified skiers were part of the process, and Pam was there every step of the way. When it came to getting on the chairlift, it involved more teamwork: one skier on each side of Charlie helped lift the sitski into place (they only fell in the mud once). Up top it was a similar offloading process.

When Charlie dropped in on Little John, it was clear he was still new to it. CADS skier Mike Maher held the reins behind Charlie, ensuring he didn't get out of control.

Despite this frustration, the joy it brings him, and everyone else, was obvious. The gathered crowd cheered as he hesitantly carved down the hill. When we all moved inside for drinks and a silent auction, the mood was celebratory. Charlie made a speech about his accident and his desire to keep moving forward.

All this gear is expensive. Everything is custom. Just after the accident, local ski legend Rob Butler created a GoFundMe account to help pay for jump seats in Charlie’s truck. They were $8,000 each.

His wheelchair is worth $7,000 (because it’s prescribed, the government pays for 75 per cent of that). Charlie and Pam sold their house in Golden and relocated to Orillia, where they renovated a house for their new reality. There’s a lift in the garage to get him into the house, and a friend renovated the bathroom to work for Charlie.

But it was the bike that was the real bigticket item: At $28,000, the Bowhead Cycle is an absolute work of art. Made in Calgary, it’s an e-assist, 12-speed hand cycle with fully articulating suspension. With two wheels in the front and one in the back, it boasts all the latest and greatest hydraulic disc brakes and suspension you’d find on any two-wheeled $10,000 mountain bike. It also came with a special bike rack to get it onto his truck.

Riding with Charlie, Pam and Butler in Copeland Forest, it’s clear this was money well spent. Charlie sings “Folsom Prison Blues” while riding along some double-track with Pam. He rolls over bridges, through rock piles and up and down technical switchbacks. One can’t help but imagine the feeling of freedom it gives him. We all hoot and holler as he rolls over difficult sections. And we help him when he gets stuck.

None of this would be possible without the powerhouse that is Pamela Paylor. Charlie’s wife of 14 years is a relentless bundle of positivity, determination and energy. And Charlie’s fully aware of this.

“She’s an emergency nurse, so the trauma part in the beginning she had down pretty good, but the rest has been a real learning curve. Pam is the captain of my team,” he says. “I would not be able to do a lot of the things I do without her.”

Before the accident, she was always adventuring with Charlie. They skied, biked, water-skied and sailed together all the time. It was part of what made their life look so incredible; they were a couple that played together. That hasn’t changed. Pam is still a part of all their continuing adventures. It’s just different.

”It’s been a big change for her, too. We were living the dream and the dream has changed. In some respects she’s lost more than me,” Charlie says. “I’m very, very grateful for her help and support. She’s number one.”

Rounding out the sport trifecta, we met on August 16, 2024, in Puslinch, Ontario, at a place called Summerski. Charlie told me he was going water skiing. This I had to see.

Spinal Cord Injury Ontario, along with Adaptive Water Ski Canada, set up a water ski day for people with a variety of levels of injury. Participants were welcome to try water skiing for free. There was a quadriplegic guy who tried it out. There was a blind man helping out on the dock. The boat driver was Jake Thomas, a paraplegic who wrote, directed and produced the feature-length documentary film Adaptation Members of the Canadian Adaptive National Water Ski Team were there.

As helpers and volunteers strapped Charlie into the ski, I got the same feeling I always get watching Charlie trying something that was totally normal in his old life. It’s a feeling of gratitude to all these amazing volunteers who work ceaselessly to make these events happen. It’s appreciation to Charlie for letting me tell his story. The adaptive sports community is a powerhouse of possibility.

While I’m at the event, Charlie ends up on the wrong ski and can’t quite get going by himself, but later that day he figures it out. Like he said, he’s a beginner all over again. But the determination, the commitment and the willingness to try are the takeaways.

“The focus now would be trying to get something to ski, so I can ski behind my own boat in Orillia,” he says. “Just trying to get on the boat, get around the boat, get in the water, get out of the water. Everything has to be custom.”

His Instagram is more inspiring than ever. Finding the good in life is what’s important.

“As Pam says, ‘We’re not dying with a spinal cord injury, we’re living with a spinal cord injury.’ I think that’s an important message,” Charlie says. “I know that sometimes when the doctors tell people there’s no hope then they have no hope. But without hope, you don’t have anything.”

A little more than two years after his injury, Charlie can now go to rehab by himself. “Almost every day there’s something I can do that I couldn’t do before,” he says.

And in a way, isn’t that what we should all aspire to? To keep learning a little more each day? To get a little bit better as people every day?

Charlie’s list of people to thank is huge. From doctors and therapists to CADS skiers, friends, family, organizations and even complete strangers.

He’s ready to pass that on.

“Whether you want to volunteer, or you have a disability, anybody that wants to find out more about any of these things, please don’t hesitate to get in touch,” he says.

Personally I’d like to thank Charlie. Thanks for the motivation, man. You make me want to try harder. To do better. And to be more grateful. You’re making us all better humans. Keep kicking ass. We’ll never stop cheering you on.