New Skis

Hello Everyone,

I can’t tell what I love more: sports gear itself, or what I think my sports gear says about me. And I really love sports gear.

When I was still in university and living in my first post-residence residence, I bought a pair of used cross country skis. I can’t remember what prompted me to do this. I liked skiing and being outdoors, but I didn’t have a history in the sport. I’m not even sure if I had a car to get me to the trails at the time.

I got them from a second-hand sports store. Dave’s Used Sports, I believe. I paid $99. I know that because I left the hand-made price sticker on the tip of the skis until it wore off years later.

I’ve been using them regularly for 25 years now but utterly neglecting any kind of even basic maintenance. And it’s not like they were new, or remotely close to it when I bought them. Given how little I paid for them, how little I’ve done to maintain them, but how much I have used them, there’s probably more value in them, dollar for dollar, than any purchase I’ve ever made.

My lack of maintenance means I’m now literally wearing off the bottom layer of plastic on the skis. The boots have badly rusted eyelets and are barely holding together. Threadbare would be generous as a description. The tip of one of my bamboo poles broke years ago and I just never fixed it. They are decrepit in every sense of the word. And I love using them.

Cross-country skiing is a sport of trails with beautiful natural scenery, and gear with eye-damaging colours. I’m not sure why every brand of modern skis seems to require a Day-Glo palette. Why do I love my old skis? Because they are not that. I’m the weirdo who is not in spandex, Pit Vipers, and colours that do violence. While the performance of my skis is middling at best, they do a great job of saying “this guy is like a modern coureur de bois, not a rave attendee”.

But now, my beloved skis are nearing the end, and I have to replace them. Easy enough from a gear perspective, but it’s existential for my self-regard. Will I have to become one of the crowd? What kind of ski will express my unique individuality?

What complicates matters is that even though I’m no longer a university student sharing a house, I’m still trying to buy my skis used. It’s hard to turn down a seller on Facebook Marketplace because his skis have the wrong “vibe”.

Like hipsters and music, the Platonic ideal would be to find skis from a brand no one’s ever heard of. That way, even if they aren’t my preferred colour, I could at least tell people they come from some little known place like Tajikistan or Denmark or something.

Is it too much to ask of a ski that it communicate “I’m not a follower”, even when I might be literally following someone on the trail? I say no.

Wes