Buttery. That’s the best single word for the Sheeva 10 and her plumper big sister, the Sheeva 11 ($820, 140/112/130). Four varieties of lightweight wood and a smidgeon of milled foam are sandwiched between layers of glass embedded with carbon stringers. The major juju that gives the Sheeva 10 her spine, literally and figuratively, is a top plate of Titanal that’s tailored for each size. It’s either a skimpy version of a sidewall-to-sidewall sheet of Titanal or an enlarged mounting plate, take your pick; either way you look at it, it delivers just the right dose of stability without muffling the Sheeva 10’s playful disposition.
Unlike its burly cousin, the Blizzard Cochise 106, the Sheeva 10 doesn’t try to subdue whatever lies ahead, but instead caresses it into submission. The Titanal top sheet is tapered at both ends to allow the tip and tail to twist along the longitudinal axis, so they roll with the punches delivered by set-up snow. The center of the ski remains serene and supportive, imparting the confidence required to increase speed in iffy conditions.
The Völkl Secret 102 does not condescend. If you want to tear through crud as if it were rice paper, this is your ride. The Secret 102 has all the goodies: Titanal Frame coupled with 3D Radius Sidecut creates a ride that secretes power. Listen to the testimony of former US speed-event racer Edie Thys Morgan, a lady who has spent a lot of her skiing life in the upper end of the speedometer.
“The Secret102 may look like a fatty—and it’s definitely got the girth to plow through the powder of your dreams and its skied-out aftermath—but it’s no one trick pony. The ski gets happier as you dial up the intensity, which is also to say, it performs best when you’re the boss.”
Every so often a ski maker screws up and makes a ski that’s considerably better than it needs to be. Salomon removed half the Titanal from its pricier (and wider) Stances to extend the Stance family down to the $499 price point, intending to drop the performance level to fit the target skier’s performance expectations.
Instead, it exceeded them. The Ti-C Frame Single Ti construction delivers a connected, carved turn that won’t wilt on crisp, early morning corduroy even when driven with an open throttle. It’s unlikely that many experts will slum it in the bargain basement where the Stance W 84 dwells, but they’d be gob-smacked it they did. For the intermediate who is its most likely operator, the Stance W 84 provides a performance ceiling that will most likely never be taxed.
When ski makers start from scratch to make a women’s ski, the usual target isn’t the most talented lass, but those less likely to succeed without a little help. All the features that make the Wild Belle DC 84 adapted for women are attuned in particular to ladies who are still ascending the learning curve. It’s cushioned Double Core, two-tiered binding platform and soft, round flex all work to promote better balance and reduced effort on the part of someone still learning the ropes.
The “DC” in the Wild Belle DC 84 stands for Double Core, its tip-to-tail damping technology that inserts a rubber mat between the upper and lower poplar and beech cores. The core makes a ski that’s supple and damp, with a sidecut that promotes early turn entry and a gentle release. Its whole shtick is making a smooth, carved turn on groomed slopes while the pilot operates from a comfortable stance.
It’s not entirely coincidental that the Santa Ana 98 debuted last season along with Terrain Specific Metal, Nordica’s way of doling out just the right amount of metal for each of its five Santa Ana models. The Santa Ana 98 was needed because its predecessor, the Santa Ana 100, used wall-to-wall, end-to-end sheets of Titanal, so they skied like supercharged rockets. Skiers who just wanted a ski to make powder easier were over-served.
So, unlike its sister Santa Anas, the 98 was born on a Ti diet, but just because the Santa Ana 98 doesn’t ski like an Enforcer 100, don’t think for a second that it’s been gutted. Within the Santa Ana clan, the 98 falls on the side of the threesome that are intended to live at least part of their lives on hard snow. It wasn’t created to ski powder at the expense of competence when carving up groomers; it’s meant to live comfortably on the border of both worlds.
Every ski in this genre alleges that it’s like the mythical Super Mom who can manage the boardroom, the boudoir and the household books while learning Mandarin. They can do it all and never break a sweat. But Women’s All-Mountain West skis almost never live right on the 50/50, hard snow/soft snow border.
