Every good pair of skis deserves a dignified retirement.
Not straight into the garage, obviously. That would be a waste. There are a few glorious years first where they’re allowed to completely let themselves go.
They’ve done their time as the good skis. You’ve kept the bases waxed, touched up the edges, winced at every scratch and passive aggressively moved them to the side when someone stood on them in a lift queue. Eventually something newer comes along and the old girls get bumped down the pecking order.
This is where life gets good.
They become rock skis.
What Are Rock Skis?
Rock skis are the battered old pair you save for days when there technically is snow, but you can feel or see “sharks” poking through.
Snowboarders do exactly the same thing. We normally call it a rock board. Same idea, just one larger base to destroy instead of two.
Early season is prime territory. Twenty centimeters falls overnight, everyone loses their minds and by 10am you’re discovering that some of those lovely soft bumps have surprisingly solid centers. Spring can be much the same once the mountain starts melting back to its natural state of grass, dirt and things specifically designed to ruin ski bases.
I’ve said goodbye to plenty of skis over the years and weirdly, this final stage is often my favorite.
There is something incredibly liberating about simply not caring about the bases anymore.
You’re not deliberately trying to hit rocks (unless you’re an absolute madman). I’m not suggesting you point them at the nearest patch of gravel and see what happens. But that horrible scraping noise changes as your skis get older. On a brand-new pair it goes straight through you. On rock skis it barely even registers.
How Bad Is Too Bad?
My attitude to ski and snowboard bases has definitely changed over the years. I used to obsess over scratches. Working with skis and spending enough years on snow eventually beats that out of you because you realize just how much abuse bases can actually take.
A few scratches are nothing. Lots of scratches aren’t necessarily much either. Deeper gouges can be filled with P-Tex, and I’ve seen skis that look absolutely horrendous underneath carry on perfectly happily.
Core shots deserve a bit more respect. If you’ve gone through the base material and exposed what’s underneath, water will pretty quickly work its way into the core. It still doesn’t automatically mean the ski is finished – but some urgent repair work is warranted.
Edges are where I become more picky. A badly cracked or separating edge, serious delamination, damage around the binding mount or anything suggesting the ski itself is structurally failing is different from a base that’s just scratched to hell. If the structural integrity has gone – I can’t recommend riding them, even as rock skis.
Why Rock Skis Are Awesome
This is why I think everyone who skis enough eventually develops a soft spot for their crap old skis. Early-season skiing on a pristine new pair can be terrifying. Is that a shadow? Grass? Rock? Should I go left?
Fuck. Should’ve gone left.
Take out a pair that already has ten years of battle scars and you just go skiing. You still avoid the obvious stuff. You’re not trying to destroy them. You just stop spending the afternoon protecting a sheet of plastic from ever coming into contact with the mountain underneath the snow.
The same goes for a rock board. Jibbing off questionable features or rusty rails is not for the faint-hearted. But on a rock snowboard – who cares!
Don’t Retire the Good Skis Too Early
There is a danger of getting a bit ridiculous with this. Obviously your good skis are there to be skied. Don’t condemn them to a life of gentle groomers because you’re terrified of putting the first scratch in them. But equally, don’t relegate them to rock duties the second they show signs of use.
The rock-ski years come much later, when they’ve already had a good life and something newer has taken their place.
Candide, admittedly, takes this a little further than I do.
That’s when they get the carefree final chapter. Early season. Thin coverage. Questionable little side hits. Spring laps where the route back to the lift gets browner every day.
Eventually there’ll be one hit too many. Another repair. Maybe an edge finally starts looking like it wants to leave the rest of the ski.
The old girl has had enough.
The Final Retirement
Then, finally, she gets to rest.
Except she doesn’t get thrown away, because that would be heartless after everything you’ve been through together. She gets leaned against the back wall of the garage alongside three other pairs you also haven’t quite managed to throw away.
Tell yourself you’re keeping them for spares. Five years later they’ll still be there.
Rest easy, girls. You did good.
