I just drove past our old place. There are new neighbours across the side street. I think the apartments back there got their rents raised, and the quiet, friendly, working-class Latino family who always waved or nodded or smiled lost out to some real winners right before we moved. They were there a whole weekend before we left and already the dad had parked his truck and trailer on our lawn, the mom had scared off all the birds with her unmuffled Honda Accord, and the son had yelled at passersby and then left his bike in our driveway. The sorta folk who spread their drama all over, regardless of their neighbours' desire for exactly the opposite. I guess moving across town isn't all bad.
I sound like a jerk, and maybe I am. Maybe I should just listen to James McMurtry quoting whomever he quoted. There, but for the grace of God, et cetera.
I like to tell stories, and I have a short attention span. They all interconnect, somehow, maybe just with me performing the function of disinterested and rarely-central nexus. Or maybe it's just that I thought of one thing, and then I thought of another, and I'll vamp until I can connect the dots from A to Q to * to Ň to ~ to B. Sometimes a cigar, y'know, is just a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Something like that.
-
I have been struggling a bit of late to keep up with the world. Keep all the marshmallows from burning. Last fall I tried to rejoin the ski industry and tune some skis locally, like within walking distance. It did not work out. I felt so out of touch with the kids, y'know? Everyone acted simultaneously like time didn't exist and that everything needed to be done early. The bosses, and they were many, definitely hadn't been to Charm School in a while. The first day on the tune finishing bench was one of the worst work days of my life. I am not being dramatic, and I could not point to any one thing. Within three weeks, I was having anxiety, the likes of which I haven't felt in a decade, maybe two, so I quit. Ryan (the Owner) let me have Fridays off in the hopes that I'd mellow out, and in some ways I did. Still, some days I'd rather just dump this whole 20-year "career" of mine and drive a cat at Lost Trail or something.
I've long held that the 88mm ski is the best ski. I still think so, at least when you consider who it's aimed at, which is basically everyone, and who can enjoy it, which is definitely everyone. Many good examples here, like the old Monster and Kästle's MX88. There's a Stöckli, of course, the SR88, and the Fischer Motive 86. The last Bandit XXX from Rossi was 90mm, basically the same thing. The list goes on, and since I sold my first-year Kendo in '016 in order to afford moving out of the shitstorm that The Place Who Shall Not Be Named had become for Amy and me both, I have had a bit of a hole in my soul. I had a 175 Monster 88, the last legit one Head made, the black one with the totems that Euros don't seem to understand is theft, but it was on its third binding/fourth mount--thanks, LB, next time remember the RooClear--which is a Rottefella Cobra R8 tele and my knees don't exactly do that anymore. Something about chondral loss and "post-surgical appearance". Osteo-arthritis, as Lora the Trainer told me back in June. (Sound familiar?) Anyway, those went to CO with my niece. The MX88 I saved from the compactor scratched the itch but didn't cure the rash. Clapped out, tuned out, skied out, all the above. Skis well in soft, not so much on hard. I wanted, no, NEEDED a new 88mm ski. I spent countless coffee times reading reviews, watched all the skiers on the hill even though I'm the best skier on the mountain, tried to find the exact pair that would be the one. I feel like I've said this sort of thing before.
At The Swap last fall, I found first a Fischer 86GT that might have fit the bill, but the $300 tag and the wore out system bindings put me off. I saw a Motive 86, the spiritual grandfather of the GT, for $89, and couldn't hold it in. Weeks later, after my failed tune-shop experiment, I stopped by a different shop with a stone and was about to get em flattened when I realised there were 16 conspicuous pimples on the base. Again, don't forget the melamine, Dr Mechanic Person! And again, back to square one.
Rudi Finžgar founded Elan in 1945, along with "nine other visionaries." They've sponsored a few big names, two of which can be described as the best of their generation. Heck, just about any generation. Ingemar Stenmark would be the 2001 Seattle Mariners of World Cup Alpine if the Mariners had won the Series that year and then continued on to win the Olympics. (I know that's not how it works; that's how good Ingemar was.) Plake is, well, Plake. Not many skiers of the 80s and 90s were good enough--as Plake was and still is--to wave off Scot Schmidt as the guy who hip checks everything, but then, it ain't bragging if it's true.
Along the way, Elan has built some great skis, many of which are long forgotten, simply their version of whatever was on the podium at the races and moguls venues. They claim to be innovators in graphics, too, being the pioneer in screen printing topsheets. Then there was the Quad 1. I don't even know what the story was there, but dag, did I want one. Today 121mm under foot sounds like if that weird anesthesiology doctor who told me he wouldn't kill me like MJ the Creeper's doctor did had forgot to show up to my surgery at all but Beckmann the Knee Mechanic started in with the dremel tool anyway. There was the Spectrum, which, in that forgotten period around 2014, was one of the best, most approachable powder skis out there. It was with me on one of the only truly great Utah runs in two winters in Northern Utah. I think that most folks didn't notice it at all, unfortunately. They--Elan, not the docs at St Luke's--are responsible in part for the shape of skis today. Bode Miller says that the credit is his alone, but that's just part of his myth. They are credited with building the first "hourglass" ski to really take hold, the SCX. Before that, 20 years or so, they were building deeper sidecuts into skis than other brands were. Ingemar skied the Uniline long before Bode race-plated a K2 Four in an amateur race and started building his brand. If I sound like I'm Bode-hating, I'm not. He's just more sure of himself than he deserves to be. Then again, I can't hope to finish a gated run on der Streif, let alone schralp the A net while doing so.
Of late, especially since the SCX, Elan is more known as either that one Euro brand that builds everyone else's skis--it's probly of little coincidence that Hashtag Peak By Bode Miller is made in Begunje--or the cruiser ski company. At most, here in the States, they're the Ripstick brand. Easily accessible, floaty, playful skis for the weekender crowd.
Hidden in amongst the ruckus, or lack thereof, is the Wingman. It's the descendant of the first Amphibio skis, a sort of graduate school version of ideas that have been kicking around for years. Where the Scotty Bob (above) failed, the Elan Amphibio did not, largely because it was executed better, with much more subtlety. I have enjoyed a few Amphibio-equipped skis over the years, though I won't even hesitate to say the actual traits that Elan calls "Amphibio technology" are gimmicky at best. The idea is that the outside of the tips and tails are lifted off the snow by rocker and the inside is not, shortening the outside edge dramatically and allowing for easier release and initiation. If your eyes glazed over and you started thinking about Crispy Creams, then I made my point. Still, and all, the lineage has been a fruitful and enjoyable one. The old Apmhibio 84 is among my favourite all-mountainy frontside skis ever.
The Wingman is a simpler, more classic ski. Wood core, minimal bs, and some metal. They build three versions at the moment that are relevant to this particular fever dream, getting more and more techy as the number behind the Euro sign gets bigger. Last Christmas, give or take, I was doing my rounds of the internet and found a Wingman 86 Ti at Second Tracks Level Nine in SLC. 184, cos I thought I needed the burliest version. Everyone said it's a ski with limits, like Elliot on the Youtube, and I assumed that was cos it was undergunned.
It was not. They are. This is a strong and strong-minded ski. My first day on the ski, after paper-jigging one of my 25 year old 900s Equipes with a satisfying amount of double, treble, and tetruple checking, was maybe not the day the ski was designed for. A handful of new, cold, the sorta day that causes most folks to clutch their pearls and reach for the Big Stix. I had a blast, once I sighted in the radius and the fact that this ski does one turn shape--round AF--real well, and that other turn shapes might not be why you buy this ski. After a full season, I've found this ski to be capable in most conditions, on most terrains, an actual all-mountain ski. As advertised. Where Elliot (and all the others, I just use him as an example cos he's local) is wrong is that one can definitely ski this off-piste if one so chooses. It makes round turns there, just like on the groomers he says are its only playground. At speed, slow, it doesn't really matter.
I haven't been wrong about skis very often, and when I have, it's mostly been my underestimating just how many conditions there are in which they would excel. This blue and green board, with its kinda over-done Euro-style marketing and funky topsheet, is one of the most fun skis I have ever been on. It does do the roundy groomer turns well, just like Elliot says. It also does all the other things. I made a handful of runs in some creamy day-old at Soldier in January, and I didn't wish for any other ski. Obviously, the normal caveats apply. If I'd brought a wider ski, it would have been better in the duff and fluff, but I enjoyed the day without complaint. It jumps off the Cabin Traverse into the Triangle moguls like it should, like all the other good skis out there. And, not coincidentally, I like that I can ski it in conditions that others have adamantly claimed it couldn't even look at, let alone handle with aplomb.
Pertinents:
- 86mm waist, 17 metre radius, 131mm tip--which may account for the better-than-expected float and playfulness.
- Amphibio Not that important. Or at all.
- Last year's model was $600 flat, which is obviously what you should buy. I bet a Pivot would allow even more versatility than my stoic-like-Nordic-me 1999 900s binding. There's a system version, which, even though Jeff from Ski Essentials says is just fine, isn't just fine. System bindings start ruining ski feel about the 80mm mark, maybe even narrower. Screws, man, they're the best. Gotta use that #3 Posi for something or other.
- Minimal tip rocker, and almost no tail rise. Square tail. If you ski backward or are, like, from QC and think a trampoline is a training tool, this isn't for you.
- I mounted it at recommended boot centre, but I bet if you sized down and scooted back, you'd access some more schlarve in the tail. Don't be tempted. Size up and give 'er. Turns are supposed to be round, anyway. Point-and-slash is the ski version of Trix.
- Did I mention it's not super expensive? I like that.
- Stand on it. Centre of mass over base of support. Be involved in the outcome of your day. It's quite enjoyable, really.
-
Title from Kathleen Edwards' not-as-recent-as-it-seems-cos-of-Covid song "Options Open", on her 2020 album Total Freedom. I always feel like brand loyalty is a bad idea, my 5 Soma frame purchases and 3 Subarus and, like, 80 goshdarn 747-lineage bindings aside. Everybody burns you in the end. In point of fact, the only non-prescription thing I can think of where I didn't deviate from brand is the Scarpa Terminator. 3 for 3 in 24 years. For 43 years, I been keepin my options open.
* They use Bafatex, which is some kinda material that used in sails. I think it's a woven combination of unicorn floss and narwhal feathers.