Sam Morse / GEPA pictures
Back to the Basics of On-Hill Essentials
World Cup speed skier and serviceman Sam Morse shares a difficult race-day situation—and how he rose above it with the right tools and skills.
Each year, the on-snow preparation of the Stifel U.S. Men’s World Cup Speed Team begins in South America. This season, we kicked things off on the slopes of Valle Nevado, overlooking the stunning sunsets of Santiago, Chile. The training was solid but not spectacular—soft conditions made it tough to extract much. So, I made a change, heading over to La Parva for the South American Cup speed series. With better snow on La Parva’s slightly different aspect, it proved to be a wise decision.
Getting the chance to race this early in the year always helps me lock into the racing mindset and remember what it’s all about. I had an awesome downhill day—finished second, scored good FIS points, and felt fired up for the next day’s two Super-G races. My plan was simple: bring one pair of SG race skis and switch edges between runs.
Upon kicking out of the gate, during my second skate motion, I spotted something dark out of the corner of my eye. Already committed to my cadence, I pushed on—but the moment my left ski slid into the skating groove and over the dark patch, I knew I was in trouble. It was a rock. My left ski lurched back under me, and I tried to gather myself in the few turns before the first big jump. It’s amazing how many thoughts flash through your head mid-run. I did a quick check as I cruised through a few glide turns—everything seemed okay.
Then came the thirty-meter jump that lands into a heavy compression left-footer. As soon as I committed to my left ski for the first real test, there was nothing there. I had destroyed the edge. Most of the remaining challenging turns were also left-footers, so I backed off and took it easy to the finish, knowing that without edge grip, speed skiing turns dangerous quickly.
For the second race, I had to find a way to fix my skis—with only what I had in my backpack. I dug around and came up with a loose file (no guide or clamp), a stone, Scotch-Brite, and a gummy stone. That was it. It’s wild to think that, back in the day, servicemen hand-filed everything without guides or machines. So, I took a deep breath and went old school—steady hand, guessing at about an 87-degree side angle.
First, I smoothed out the rock damage with the gummy stone. Then, I hand-filed the side and base with no guide, going slowly and trying to match the original angles. After that, I used the Scotch-Brite pad to smooth out any jagged edges from the file and lingering rock scars. Next came the diamond stone to set the final sharpness. I always start flat along the base edge, with a slight upward angle to match the bevel and touch the edge. Then I switch to the side edge for a few careful passes.
Because the damage was severe, I repeated the process—back to the gummy stone, then filing again—until I had it as normal as possible.
Once satisfied, I marked the skis to remind myself to switch to the undamaged edges for the second race. That meant keeping the bad edge on the pinky-toe side, not the big-toe side. As luck would have it, the second race was canceled, so I never got to test my repair—but I knew it would’ve been good.
That day was a good reminder: the uncertainty of an outdoor sport always keeps you on your toes. Having the right tools and skills matters when things go sideways. Sometimes, it’s okay—and even smart—to go back to the basics with a file, a stone, and a steady hand.
See you on the slopes!
– Moose
About the Author: Sam Morse
