Head was selling freeride skis before it cooked up the Kore series, but I’ll bet you can’t name one of them as they barely sold a stick in the U.S. The 3-model launch of the Kore series changed all that overnight. The first vintage sold out immediately, so Head quadrupled production. And sold out again. Then along came the Kore 99 to fill the space between the wildly successful 93 and the series sweetspot, the 105, and it sold to the wall, too.
When you’re on a roll it’s hard to pass the dice, so this year Head pushed the boundary of its off-trail collection down to the Kore 87. Considering that initially the focal point of the Kore series was the 105, an 87 is a mighty skinny sibling. (BTW, this phenomenon, once a rarity, is now commonplace.)
But as the Kore concept has proven in its every iteration, when the name of the game is off-trail versatility, Kores come to play. The whole point of this genre is expanding the skier’s playing field, opening up access to the ungroomed mountain where its real magic lies. For off-piste playgrounds like moguls and trees, the Kore 87’s crazy-light construction and narrow silhouette allow it to slither through spaces where bigger boards flounder. Since the Kore 87 is in every way like its elder brothers save for its width, it retains their affinity for irregular terrain.
Two years ago we anointed the Head Kore 93 as our All-Mountain East Ski of the Year, a title it richly deserved. In the Era of Lighter is Better, almost all mainstream brands have sought a variety of ways to strip away any excess fat in their designs. When Head acquired a license to use Graphene in sporting equipment, the Austrian brand possessed a material advantage in the race to make the lightest ski that didn’t suck.
The reason the market hasn’t been awash in lightweight skis since the dawn of time is because mass is part of what makes a ski damp, or able to absorb vibration. Lighter weight formulae have been tried for decades, always with the lamentable downside that they couldn’t hold an edge any better than Florence Foster Jenkins could hold a note. Head spent several years working with Graphene before it applied the superlight material – carbon in a matrix one-atom thick – to its previously woeful collection of fat skis.
And lo and behold, it turned out that Head finally, as it trumpets in its slogan, got light right. Wisely, it didn’t try to make the lightest ski possible with its miracle matrix, or the Kore 93 wouldn’t stand up to the rigors of battering through set-up crud fields. But the Kore 93 is nonetheless noticeably lighter than 80% of its peers, which contributes to its elite Finesse score.
In last year’s review of the Kendo 88 we predicted that it would be Ski of the Year and indeed it was, both for Realskiers and many other pundits. The quality that continues to distinguish the Kendo 88 from a very strong field is that it seems able to raise its game in every circumstance. No matter how or where the skilled pilot asks it to stretch its performance limits – go faster, react quicker, ride quieter, dice up bumps or cruise groomage – the Kendo 88 handles it all in stride.
The single most important quality an all-mountain ski can possess is total indifference to terrain selection. On this score, the Kendo 88 has no peer. It transitions from wind-affected crud to crisp corduroy as if those two conditions were the same. On hard snow, it’s so quick to the edge the skier can’t even tell it’s rockered and it’s so stable in crud you can relax, drop the reins and let the boys run.
The Kendo 88 uses a “3D Radius Sidecut” with a long radius forebody, a tight shape in the midsection and longest radius in the rear. This allows it to behave like a GS cruiser at relatively low edge angles and morph in a moment to a snappy SL when its tilted and pressured. An energetic turn finish isn’t unique to the Kendo 88, but it’s nonetheless a relatively rare commodity in today’s market.
The Blizzard Firebird SRC feels like a GS ski trapped in an SL’s body. The slalom shape dictates a short-radius turn whenever it’s raked on edge, but its serenity at speed and willingness to open up its natural radius make it feel like a GS ski. Jim Schaffner’s staccato commentary reflects the SRC’s dual personality: “SL to GS to SL to GS, etc, etc, etc…” all those et ceteras plus an ellipsis to emphasize a string that never ends. “Best all-rounder SL,” Coach Schaffner concludes.
Two key features that Blizzard added last year to its traditional wood and Titanal construction contribute to the SRC’s Zen-like serenity on edge. Carbon Armor is an extra slab of bi-directional carbon under the binding that amplifies force in the heart of the arc. To keep the ski planted like it had roots in the snow, two vertical carbon struts, called Carbon Spine, tri-sect the laminated wood core. Carbon Spine kicks in at the bottom of the turn, sending the skier off into the next arc as if fired from a crossbow.
Remember those inflatable punching bags made so kids can work out their juvenile aggressions? They had a round, weighted bottom that allowed Mr. Binky to take the most vicious blow and bound right back up, ready to roll with the next haymaker. That’s sort of how it feels to descend on the Blizzard Firebird WRC, a slippery yet solid foundation that seems impossible to fall off of.
The Firebird WRC is a beast of s GS ski that is easily tamed, as long as you meet a couple of prerequisites. First, stop asking it to turn at slow speeds, a total waste of its talents. The WRC solves this problem for you by continuing to accelerate until it feels inspired to take the top off its first turn at around 30mph. Second, keep it on trail. If you take it into soft snow it will burrow into it until it finds the bottom, where it will stay until you get a crane to extract it.
Third, don’t ski it passively. Presumably you’re contemplating a race ski because you already know how to drive one, so get after it, for therein lies the reward.
