They were so pretty that I stood them up against the wall and gloated over them for a week, not wanting to mar them with bindings.
Somewhere in the middle of last year’s epic La Nina spring, a long thin, relatively light cardboard box arrived from China. I tore open the packaging to reveal my skis.
Black locust sidewalls, maple clouds, and a little mother-of-pearl for the sun. I almost felt a little guilty. In fact, they were so pretty that I stood them up against the wall and gloated over them for a week, not wanting to mar them with bindings. Eventually, I did get them mounted up, though, and was lucky enough to take them for a spin on a helicopter ride in Whistler.
What were they like? Cheating. The extra cost paid out in performance. In about eight inches of new snow all I had to do was think about turning in a particular direction and it happened, the skis steering effortlessly from small direction corrections to big speed-shedding slashes. The float was incredible, and the skis were so light I kept finding myself hopping over rocks and shrubs.
“Wow, those are light,” remarked the guide as he handed them off the pile he’d unloaded from the helicopter’s cargo basket. The whupping of the chopper’s blades now rapidly receding as it rushed away downslope. “How do they ski?”
“As good as they look,” I said.
What if I hadn’t loved them? I’d have spoken up for sure. SkiLogik, like all the other custom outfits, are very small compared to their competitors. Word-of-mouth is critical for them and one bad review can send shock waves through their business. They know that, and so it’d be surprising if they didn’t bend over backwards to make you happy. That assurance alone is worth a few hundred bucks.