The Blizzard Cochise has been around long enough that it’s become the longest tenured member of the Big Mountain academy. But don’t mistake its age for weakness. Until the Völkl Mantra 102 came along this year, the Cochise had no peer as a balls-to-the-wall crud-buster. It has the turn radius of a blue whale and the construction of a GS race ski. If you’re in its way, I would suggest moving.

So how come the Cochise began life as Ski of the Year for the now defunct Skiing magazine? Because Skiing’s test crew intentionally skewed young, and Snowbird, where the test was then conducted, is home to a tram-load of young bucks who long for a ski as courageous as them. In that context, the original Cochise was ideal, the perfect partner to complete a ménage à trois of mountain, men and machine.

How suitable the Cochise might be as a Ski of the Year that many will want and few will merit is up to debate, but identifying it as a men-among-boys Big Mountain ski is above reproach. Even though Blizzard has marginally modified its aggressive nature by periodically thinning its core profile, it’s hard to get a tiger to change its stripes. The Cochise remains a Power skier’s best friend, one of select few in the Big Mountain genre that caters to skiers who are both physically strong and technically skilled.

The reason the Cochise hasn’t lost its relevance has less to do with how it’s changed than how it hasn’t. No other ski beats it for stability at speed, and we mean in any condition. The dirty little secret that experts know about how to ski chopped-up powder is to step on the gas. The Cochise already knows not to pick a dainty path through the crud but to barrel through it, skimming over what’s still clean and pummeling the rubble. With this kind of power, of course it can ski hard snow, where the Cochise exhibits its prowess as a trench digger. If you have the skills, you can take the Cochise pretty much anywhere and it will dominate.