Sokolva
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
My Specs:
Height: 5'3
Weight: 110 -115
Skier Level: Advanced
Conditions Skied: 8 days in Taos NM, late February to early March 2023, variable conditions: soft snow, hard pack, crud, windswept, one weird run where the snow felt like heavy sandbags piled up, ice, and powder. Lots of moguls, tree runs, powder flats, and open steeps.
Ski Specs:
Manufacturer: Moment Ski Company
Handmade in the USA
Model: Sierra 2022/2023
Length: 162
Category & Dimensions: All-Mountain
Ski Feel: Balanced
Ski Shape: Triple Camber with Twin Rocker
Construction: Poplar and Pine Wood Core
Carbon Fiber Hybrid Construction (Custom mix of carbon & triaxial fiberglass)
Rubberized VDS for damping and improved stability.
Weight: 3.04 kg (pair without bindings)
Waist Width: 95mm (Variable based on ski length)
URL:
www.momentskis.com
These skis feel alive.
I purchased these skis sight unseen, untried, after having demoed several other skis at Steamboat this year. I tried the Black Pearl 97s, the Salomon Lumen 98s, the Black Crows Birdie Camox 97s, all within a few days. I was looking to replace a pair of Salomon Stella 106s that I had unwisely purchased several sizes taller than the recommended for my height and weight because they were the last size left on sale, and being reassured that as an advanced skier, I would enjoy the longer length. Instead, by tiny 5'3 sub 110 pound-ass found them unwieldy, heavy, and difficult to ski, tiring me after only a few black runs and making me think I had poor technique and had really lost my touch. I had spent my entire middle school to young adult years on an old pair of nimble and narrow Salomon rental skis my dad had purchased for me, and which had felt like a part of me after so many years, until the edges were completely worn away and the bottoms battered and worn. I thought it was just me, after several years spent not being able to ski during an extended Masters and PhD program in college, but when I took an advanced ski class at Steamboat, several instructors immediately identified the overly long length of my skis to be an issue.
So I began searching for new skis, angry and frustrated with myself for purchasing my first new pair of skis in decades and messing it up so badly. The moment I began trying skis that were the proper height for my size and weight, I felt immediately comfortable, happy, no longer exhausted. But though I liked each for different reasons, none of them felt quite right. There was always something in the feel, the ride, in the experience of how the ski felt underfoot, that was lacking in each.
The Salomon Lumen's were too surfy for my taste. Of all three, they were my least favorite for how I liked the ski, sliding and gliding around just a bit too much without a solid feel of the snow beneath, and without the bite and grip that I craved. When I started to push them and go faster, I felt them vibrating more than I liked, and I trusted them less than the others, turning them in quickly and moving on. The Black Pearls I lingered on. The first carve that I made on them felt almost like returning home, but with a stronger, more resilient, damper, and heavier ski underfoot than even my Salomon Stella's were, yet in a narrower and, more importantly, properly sized package. When I skied them on a powder day, it felt almost great. They floated better than I expected them to. They charged through crud. I could push them as hard and fast as I wanted and go fast. But when I tried to ski switch, the backs were uncooperative, not designed for such maneuvers, and when I went over even small jumps, the impact at the landing felt like a harsh clattering that hurt, with the ski seeming to enjoy carving but not liking going airborne and punishing me on the landings. When I rode chairlifts, it felt like they were weights tied to my ankles, dragging me down. I was willing to carry heavy skis, but the way that they hurt when I jumped on them and the overall ponderous, dead feeling of them on my feet gave me pause. So I tried the Black Crows Camox. These were mounted more progressively than any ski I'd ever skied. I liked it. It was fun, interesting, a cool place to be on a ski. The tails behind me allowed me to make jumps far better, and they didn't hurt. But something was off sometimes when I carved the skis, likely because I wasn't experienced with skiing so progressively, but the tails kept getting in my way that first day at times, with how long they were. Sometimes they caught in the variable snow conditions when I didn't want them to, and the ski had less grip and was less stable when I skied fast than I wanted. They were also still heavy, heavier than I felt they needed to be for a simple wooden ski.
After all days of demoing and compiling my favorites, I almost walked away with the Black Pearls. But before I did, I decided that this time, I would truly do my research as much as I could. I couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice and purchase a pair of skis I didn't absolutely love. I wanted to find my wings again. A pair of wings I could fly anywhere on the mountain with.
I fell down a rabbit hole of research on all these companies, and I found out, to my sorrow, that almost all of the ski companies of my youth that I was still seeing on the slopes, and which I had been demoing, had been purchased by large companies and were often not manufactured where they had once been. The Black Crows were an independent company in France still, but many others had been purchased and devoured by growing monopolies. This didn't make them bad companies, of course. But I had imagined that Salomon and all the other brands were still small brands operating independently and making all of their own skis in the factories, and this was sadly often not the case.
I'm sure many skiers here, reading this review, have long ago fallen down the very same sort of rabbit hole. I ended up researching independent brands, as well as brands that were local to me, still made in the United States out of as many local materials as possible. I looked into each, and out of all of them, Moment caught my eye, and held it.
I wouldn't have a chance to demo any of their skis. I live far away from Reno, Nevada, and I knew that if I was going to make a purchase that I could ski this year from them, I'd have to take the leap, use what I had learned from my past in skiing and the skis I had demoed, and try to figure out which ski in their catalogue would fit me best as a skier.
Luckily, their catalogue isn't big. And as a petite woman skier, I only had 3 choices: the Sierra, the Bella, and the Hot Mess.
When I read the details of each, I found that the Sierra was the parts of each of the skis I had demoed that I was searching for, and other things too. As the woman's "version" of the Deathwish, the Sierra's triple camber intrigued me. I tried to imagine how that would feel underfoot, knowing there was no ski I could try that would approximate it, and no way to know if I would like it until I tried it myself. The slightly narrower waist at my height with 95 waist was also attractive to me, as I knew I would be skiing often at Taos, the closest mountain to me and my new home mountain, which can get quite a lot of powder on good days and be lean and crusty on others, with lots of tree runs, chutes, and moguls. I wanted a ski which could turn and dart, which carved well, which could fly hard and fast when I wanted them to. I wanted a ski which could nudge me into the right positions when I made mistakes, and not punish my ass when I did something ungraceful and sketchy. I wanted a ski I could dare things on, and have adventures on, be playful and fast in equal measures.
There weren't a lot of outside reviews or things written on the Sierra, being a women's ski and therefore considered more niche than the men's lines, which get far more press. But I perused what was there, read the reviews on the website, and thought for a while. I took a chance, despite having burned myself before, but this time with quite a bit more thought and research put into the purchase.
I'm sure you can guess, if you are still here, putting as much time into reading this review as I spent in writing it, that I have absolutely no regrets.
The very first time I stepped into this ski, I was afraid. Not of skiing, not of the slope itself, or of falling, or looking like an idiot, but excited and nervous in equal measures that I made the wrong decision again, despite my best efforts. Even if the ski was better than the Stella, if it wasn't as good as my next favorite option, the Black Pearls I had demoed, I would have played myself again, talking myself out of the solid option right in front of me instead of picking what looked to most people like a wildcard from a small ski company only some of the most passionate skiers had heard of.
I stepped into my Look Pivot 15 bindings--mounted to skis that, despite these hunks of solid metal bindings, were almost shockingly light to me after the skis I had demoed--and too my first sliding steps. Then my first run down the mountain. A few experimental carves, gentle at first, then leaning into them, turning the blades of the skis down into the hard pack snow beneath them. Pushing the skis harder and harder. Turning sharper and sharper, then big and long. The skis danced beneath me. They bounded. They reacted to my weight and movement in a way I've never felt skis move. The first words that came into my mind, and I think I even whispered them as I flew down the slope that second time were, "These skis feel alive!"
Its still the best way I can describe them, for anyone who has yet to ride them. I'm sure those who have ridden the big brother Deathwish skis know the feeling, though from the reviews, I'm wonder if this is truly a trait isolated to Moment skis with this construction, or if it is an aspect of many Moment skis. The skis moved and responded to me. I haven't felt anything like that since riding horses competitively in high school and college. Not since my beloved horse passed have I ridden anything that felt alive again. There is something in the wood within these skis, in the shaping of them and the way they are built.
It took a while to get used to them, of course. But even as I was learning how to properly ski the progressive mounting, with tails longer than even the Black Crows Camox, and how they liked to be turned, how to respond to the spring in them which helped me out of turns, so different than the dead and quiet or skittering, surfy feeling of all the other skis I had tried, I was loving every moment. The skis bite hard and hold the side of the mountain despite their light weight--they love to jump, they love to go airborne, and when you touch down, it is a soft and smooth landing, a joyous impact. These skis charge well through crud, poor snow, windblown conditions.
The very first days I skied them in Taos, there was such an intense windstorm that all the chairlifts were shut down and the mountain was cleared. The snow, when the mountain was open, was harsh and windswept, crunchy and bare underfoot. I did a black mogul run off-piste and there were many rocks and exposed trees I had to navigate. I even skied over one hidden rock on accident and barely damaged the ski bottoms except for a slight scratch. The Sierras helped me charge through the freezing gales and turn sharply down the mountain to avoid obstacles on the snow.
But the truer joy of these skis, as in all Moment skis, I suspect, came on a Taos powder day.
The soft, fluffy Rocky Mountain snow fell all night and all day, and the mountain was almost empty in spite of in, mid-week as it was. I played all day in joy and wonder, feeling my new skis glide effortlessly through the soft snow, allowing me to glide and turn through the drifts, soft moguls, and fields of soft white all day, forgetting the burning in my legs as the day came to a close. I didn't want to leave. The memories of that day, of the feeling of skiing through that soft snow in a mountain with only a few other skiers here and there, will always live on in my memories. I met up with my husband after his second ski lesson ever at the end of the day, and he also had the best ski day he'd ever had. We shared the joy of the powder day together just before the lifts closed, doing several laps through the green chair, where I dove and darted through the trees beside him and raced through the powder about us.
(Sorry about the sideways image, I couldn't get it to post straight).
These skis gave me most magical experiences I've had on skis since losing the beloved old Salomon's I had as a child. I can't wait to take these to even more mountains, to travel the world with my husband as he learns to ski, and to one day race down the mountain beside him on these, side by side, until the blades on these wear away to nothing like my Salomon's did. I am a loyal customer of Moment skis for as long as they make incredible, living, breathing, dancing skis like these, and I hope to grow old with a pair of these skis on my feet.
Height: 5'3
Weight: 110 -115
Skier Level: Advanced
Conditions Skied: 8 days in Taos NM, late February to early March 2023, variable conditions: soft snow, hard pack, crud, windswept, one weird run where the snow felt like heavy sandbags piled up, ice, and powder. Lots of moguls, tree runs, powder flats, and open steeps.
Ski Specs:
Manufacturer: Moment Ski Company
Handmade in the USA
Model: Sierra 2022/2023
Length: 162
Category & Dimensions: All-Mountain
Ski Feel: Balanced
Ski Shape: Triple Camber with Twin Rocker
Construction: Poplar and Pine Wood Core
Carbon Fiber Hybrid Construction (Custom mix of carbon & triaxial fiberglass)
Rubberized VDS for damping and improved stability.
Weight: 3.04 kg (pair without bindings)
Waist Width: 95mm (Variable based on ski length)
URL:
SIERRA
The Sierra has been the workhorse of our women’s line for quite a while now. Over the years its had its fair share of tweaks, adjustments and revamps and if all of your feedback is any indication we’d say things are pretty dialed in. While that never means we’re ready to leave well enough alone...
www.momentskis.com
These skis feel alive.
I purchased these skis sight unseen, untried, after having demoed several other skis at Steamboat this year. I tried the Black Pearl 97s, the Salomon Lumen 98s, the Black Crows Birdie Camox 97s, all within a few days. I was looking to replace a pair of Salomon Stella 106s that I had unwisely purchased several sizes taller than the recommended for my height and weight because they were the last size left on sale, and being reassured that as an advanced skier, I would enjoy the longer length. Instead, by tiny 5'3 sub 110 pound-ass found them unwieldy, heavy, and difficult to ski, tiring me after only a few black runs and making me think I had poor technique and had really lost my touch. I had spent my entire middle school to young adult years on an old pair of nimble and narrow Salomon rental skis my dad had purchased for me, and which had felt like a part of me after so many years, until the edges were completely worn away and the bottoms battered and worn. I thought it was just me, after several years spent not being able to ski during an extended Masters and PhD program in college, but when I took an advanced ski class at Steamboat, several instructors immediately identified the overly long length of my skis to be an issue.
So I began searching for new skis, angry and frustrated with myself for purchasing my first new pair of skis in decades and messing it up so badly. The moment I began trying skis that were the proper height for my size and weight, I felt immediately comfortable, happy, no longer exhausted. But though I liked each for different reasons, none of them felt quite right. There was always something in the feel, the ride, in the experience of how the ski felt underfoot, that was lacking in each.
The Salomon Lumen's were too surfy for my taste. Of all three, they were my least favorite for how I liked the ski, sliding and gliding around just a bit too much without a solid feel of the snow beneath, and without the bite and grip that I craved. When I started to push them and go faster, I felt them vibrating more than I liked, and I trusted them less than the others, turning them in quickly and moving on. The Black Pearls I lingered on. The first carve that I made on them felt almost like returning home, but with a stronger, more resilient, damper, and heavier ski underfoot than even my Salomon Stella's were, yet in a narrower and, more importantly, properly sized package. When I skied them on a powder day, it felt almost great. They floated better than I expected them to. They charged through crud. I could push them as hard and fast as I wanted and go fast. But when I tried to ski switch, the backs were uncooperative, not designed for such maneuvers, and when I went over even small jumps, the impact at the landing felt like a harsh clattering that hurt, with the ski seeming to enjoy carving but not liking going airborne and punishing me on the landings. When I rode chairlifts, it felt like they were weights tied to my ankles, dragging me down. I was willing to carry heavy skis, but the way that they hurt when I jumped on them and the overall ponderous, dead feeling of them on my feet gave me pause. So I tried the Black Crows Camox. These were mounted more progressively than any ski I'd ever skied. I liked it. It was fun, interesting, a cool place to be on a ski. The tails behind me allowed me to make jumps far better, and they didn't hurt. But something was off sometimes when I carved the skis, likely because I wasn't experienced with skiing so progressively, but the tails kept getting in my way that first day at times, with how long they were. Sometimes they caught in the variable snow conditions when I didn't want them to, and the ski had less grip and was less stable when I skied fast than I wanted. They were also still heavy, heavier than I felt they needed to be for a simple wooden ski.
After all days of demoing and compiling my favorites, I almost walked away with the Black Pearls. But before I did, I decided that this time, I would truly do my research as much as I could. I couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice and purchase a pair of skis I didn't absolutely love. I wanted to find my wings again. A pair of wings I could fly anywhere on the mountain with.
I fell down a rabbit hole of research on all these companies, and I found out, to my sorrow, that almost all of the ski companies of my youth that I was still seeing on the slopes, and which I had been demoing, had been purchased by large companies and were often not manufactured where they had once been. The Black Crows were an independent company in France still, but many others had been purchased and devoured by growing monopolies. This didn't make them bad companies, of course. But I had imagined that Salomon and all the other brands were still small brands operating independently and making all of their own skis in the factories, and this was sadly often not the case.
I'm sure many skiers here, reading this review, have long ago fallen down the very same sort of rabbit hole. I ended up researching independent brands, as well as brands that were local to me, still made in the United States out of as many local materials as possible. I looked into each, and out of all of them, Moment caught my eye, and held it.
I wouldn't have a chance to demo any of their skis. I live far away from Reno, Nevada, and I knew that if I was going to make a purchase that I could ski this year from them, I'd have to take the leap, use what I had learned from my past in skiing and the skis I had demoed, and try to figure out which ski in their catalogue would fit me best as a skier.
Luckily, their catalogue isn't big. And as a petite woman skier, I only had 3 choices: the Sierra, the Bella, and the Hot Mess.
When I read the details of each, I found that the Sierra was the parts of each of the skis I had demoed that I was searching for, and other things too. As the woman's "version" of the Deathwish, the Sierra's triple camber intrigued me. I tried to imagine how that would feel underfoot, knowing there was no ski I could try that would approximate it, and no way to know if I would like it until I tried it myself. The slightly narrower waist at my height with 95 waist was also attractive to me, as I knew I would be skiing often at Taos, the closest mountain to me and my new home mountain, which can get quite a lot of powder on good days and be lean and crusty on others, with lots of tree runs, chutes, and moguls. I wanted a ski which could turn and dart, which carved well, which could fly hard and fast when I wanted them to. I wanted a ski which could nudge me into the right positions when I made mistakes, and not punish my ass when I did something ungraceful and sketchy. I wanted a ski I could dare things on, and have adventures on, be playful and fast in equal measures.
There weren't a lot of outside reviews or things written on the Sierra, being a women's ski and therefore considered more niche than the men's lines, which get far more press. But I perused what was there, read the reviews on the website, and thought for a while. I took a chance, despite having burned myself before, but this time with quite a bit more thought and research put into the purchase.
I'm sure you can guess, if you are still here, putting as much time into reading this review as I spent in writing it, that I have absolutely no regrets.
The very first time I stepped into this ski, I was afraid. Not of skiing, not of the slope itself, or of falling, or looking like an idiot, but excited and nervous in equal measures that I made the wrong decision again, despite my best efforts. Even if the ski was better than the Stella, if it wasn't as good as my next favorite option, the Black Pearls I had demoed, I would have played myself again, talking myself out of the solid option right in front of me instead of picking what looked to most people like a wildcard from a small ski company only some of the most passionate skiers had heard of.
I stepped into my Look Pivot 15 bindings--mounted to skis that, despite these hunks of solid metal bindings, were almost shockingly light to me after the skis I had demoed--and too my first sliding steps. Then my first run down the mountain. A few experimental carves, gentle at first, then leaning into them, turning the blades of the skis down into the hard pack snow beneath them. Pushing the skis harder and harder. Turning sharper and sharper, then big and long. The skis danced beneath me. They bounded. They reacted to my weight and movement in a way I've never felt skis move. The first words that came into my mind, and I think I even whispered them as I flew down the slope that second time were, "These skis feel alive!"
Its still the best way I can describe them, for anyone who has yet to ride them. I'm sure those who have ridden the big brother Deathwish skis know the feeling, though from the reviews, I'm wonder if this is truly a trait isolated to Moment skis with this construction, or if it is an aspect of many Moment skis. The skis moved and responded to me. I haven't felt anything like that since riding horses competitively in high school and college. Not since my beloved horse passed have I ridden anything that felt alive again. There is something in the wood within these skis, in the shaping of them and the way they are built.
It took a while to get used to them, of course. But even as I was learning how to properly ski the progressive mounting, with tails longer than even the Black Crows Camox, and how they liked to be turned, how to respond to the spring in them which helped me out of turns, so different than the dead and quiet or skittering, surfy feeling of all the other skis I had tried, I was loving every moment. The skis bite hard and hold the side of the mountain despite their light weight--they love to jump, they love to go airborne, and when you touch down, it is a soft and smooth landing, a joyous impact. These skis charge well through crud, poor snow, windblown conditions.
The very first days I skied them in Taos, there was such an intense windstorm that all the chairlifts were shut down and the mountain was cleared. The snow, when the mountain was open, was harsh and windswept, crunchy and bare underfoot. I did a black mogul run off-piste and there were many rocks and exposed trees I had to navigate. I even skied over one hidden rock on accident and barely damaged the ski bottoms except for a slight scratch. The Sierras helped me charge through the freezing gales and turn sharply down the mountain to avoid obstacles on the snow.
But the truer joy of these skis, as in all Moment skis, I suspect, came on a Taos powder day.
The soft, fluffy Rocky Mountain snow fell all night and all day, and the mountain was almost empty in spite of in, mid-week as it was. I played all day in joy and wonder, feeling my new skis glide effortlessly through the soft snow, allowing me to glide and turn through the drifts, soft moguls, and fields of soft white all day, forgetting the burning in my legs as the day came to a close. I didn't want to leave. The memories of that day, of the feeling of skiing through that soft snow in a mountain with only a few other skiers here and there, will always live on in my memories. I met up with my husband after his second ski lesson ever at the end of the day, and he also had the best ski day he'd ever had. We shared the joy of the powder day together just before the lifts closed, doing several laps through the green chair, where I dove and darted through the trees beside him and raced through the powder about us.
(Sorry about the sideways image, I couldn't get it to post straight).
These skis gave me most magical experiences I've had on skis since losing the beloved old Salomon's I had as a child. I can't wait to take these to even more mountains, to travel the world with my husband as he learns to ski, and to one day race down the mountain beside him on these, side by side, until the blades on these wear away to nothing like my Salomon's did. I am a loyal customer of Moment skis for as long as they make incredible, living, breathing, dancing skis like these, and I hope to grow old with a pair of these skis on my feet.
.
