It’s middle-March 2025 and a few unseasonably-sunny 60-degree days (a.k.a. false spring) have brought our winter to an abrupt, though not unwelcome, end. This was one of the best snow seasons we’ve had in years. I managed to ride my snowboard more days in the last three months than I have in the last three years combined. And part of what got me out there so much was my new board — the Café Racer by Korua Shapes.

Yearning for Turning — My Snowboard Journey

The first board I bought back in the late-90s was a K2 Ginsu – a stiff, thin, directional carving board designed for intermediate to advanced riders. In those early days of my riding, I didn’t know much about board shapes and dynamics. I bought the thing because it was on sale and looked cool. I didn’t realize this was a true carving machine, and definitely a more stiff, precise and sophisticated board than I could handle as a brand new rider. Yet I stuck with it and grew into it. I came to realize what the board was — a turning machine — and I fell in love with carving.

What’s carving? It’s the art of turning on a snowboard. It involves tilting the board on its edge and engaging the sidecut to pull you through the turn. Rather than skidding down the slope, carving engages the edges of your board to make turns that leave a clean, pencil-thin line in the snow. Turns are more efficient and controlled, especially at higher speeds. And you can control your speed by adjust the arc of the turns rather than dragging the tail. Carve makes any slope fun in most conditions, and this was the kind of riding I gravitated toward.

Yet I was alone, or at least it felt that way in the early 2000s. These were the prime years for the X-Games and Shawn White’s insane freestyle riding in the Olympic halfpipe was all the rage. The whole world was enamored with big air and freestyle (and it is awesome to behold). So the industry catered to the park and pipe boards most people wanted — the exact opposite of the riding I was leaning towards. It seemed like no one was really just enjoying turning on their boards, especially in a soft boot set up. The only people talking about carving were a tiny segment of hard shell boot riders on alpine boards (which is an awesome riding style, but more race and slalom oriented…and the cost of entry into this segment is steep).

I also happened to live in the Midwest — 5 or 6 hours from any rideable terrain — so I was without a local community with deeper knowledge to plug into. Websites with clear direction were few; what you could find was mostly information about hard shell boots and alpine boards (and I recall it was always confusing). Youtube was in its adolescence, so you couldn’t find the robust online education like you can today. So, finding any reliable information about carving technique or equipment was virtually impossible where I lived. Plus, I worked full time, got married; my busy adult life took me away from snowboarding. A decade passed without riding once.

Fast forward to 2019, I’m living in New England where decent, ridable mountains are readily accessible (yeah yeah, it’s not the Rockies, but we have stuff you can ride — and snowboarding was born out here). My love for the sport was rekindled. After such a long hiatus I was delighted to find that an entire sub-genre devoted to carving had blossomed — specifically soft boot carving. Not only are people out there experiencing the joy of turning on the edge of their snowboards, but YouTube is full of content creators teaching others how to do it. James Cherry, Larz Horstmann (aka justaride), and Ryan Knapton, to name a few. And, snowboard makers began producing boards tailor made for turning. Twenty years ago, a snowboard maker might have one board in the line-up for carving, now entire brands are devoted to it, providing multiple shapes, widths, and stiffnesses to accommodate the different styles of carving and terrain.

Time for a new board. And that brings me to Korua Shapes.

Finding the Perfect Shape

As I assessed the array of carving boards out there from Stranda, Bataleon, United Shapes, Jones, Donek. But there was one brand that called to me through the noise. Korua. Korua. Korua. This brand’s entire line-up is designed around turning. Whether it’s intended for powder, all mountain, big mountain, feeriding, etc. Every board in the line-up has a soul for turning. And, every board features a white top sheet. Plain, clean, and white—with a bright red base. They don’t deviate from this aesthetic except for their high-end “plus” models which employ equally-staid flat black top sheets and bases.

The Korua Shapes Line up. Image borrowed from KoruaShapes.com

On every board, you’ll find the following:

This brand is devoted to minimalism and simplicity — a welcome respite from the plethora of ugly boards churned out by so many the other brands. Granted, I do think board graphics in general look much better than they have in years (check out some of the lovely top sheets from from Arbor, Union, Bataleon, and Stranda), but none display as much restraint and devotion to minimalism across the entire line-up as Korua. Even their photography and videography are entirely black and white. The minimalist, Scandinavian-aesthetic-obsessed graphic designer in me couldn’t resist. I had to have one.

So, here’s my Korua, the Café Racer. They describe it as a resort carver — designed for laying down big turns on wide open groomers. It floats wonderfully in powder, but it’s primarily a turning machine bred for corduroy. I’ve dreamt of a board that would help me get on edge and extend over the snow — a eurocarve — for 20 years. This season I finally achieved it, leaving pencil-thin trenches through the snow behind me. Finally, my circumstances, skill and equipment were aligned, giving me the best season ever.

Korua has an entire series of snowboard videos on the @KoruaShapes YouTube channel that are absolutely spectacular. Check out the Yearning For Turning series or the film Eleven by Eleven — the videography and visual aesthetic are inspiring. They carry the brand’s strict black and white aesthetic throughout the production, making their videos stand apart from most of what else is out there. And I am mesmerized by the skill, quirky style, and playful creativity of their pro riders. Leaping form turn to turn, carving the side walls of half pipes. I can watch them all day.

This year also marks Korua’s 10th anniversary. To commemorate it, they released a stunning volume of snowboard photography, “Ten Years of Turning.” The book features their signature black and white photography, plus a few glossy full-color photo pages in the center. The design is clean, with a lovely black foil-stamped arc on the cover. The photography is spectacular, with stopped down images that make sunny slopes look like alien landscapes. And the graphic design is on brand — minimal and restrained throughout.

TEN YEARS OF TURNING photo book by Korua Shapes. Image from from Korua Shapes

An Ode to Mohawk

I’d like to end this post with a few pictures from my local slope: Mohawk Mountain in West Cornwall, CT. This is not a big place, but it’s big enough. The hill has 27 long, mellow runs. They’re well groomed and wide open. And it’s close. I can leave my home and be on the slopes in an hour. The place is a ghost town on a weekday afternoon; I might be sharing a lift with a dozen or so people. I can get out there and lay down wide, sweeping carves all day and hardly worry about running into other riders or kids. The charming lodge has a vintage 70s-mod look that’s straight out of a Wes Anderson flick. I love this place and hope to God that some conglomerate doesn’t buy it and jack up the prices.

Enjoy the pics and thanks for reading.

Still reading? Thank you.

Snowboarding is my meditation. I can think about everything and nothing all at once when I’m out there on the slopes — where mind, body and heart align as one. And where God’s gift of snow and mountains intersect with human ingenuity and technical craftsmanship. This is my happy place.

But spring is now here, and I’m feeling the tug to ride the mountains on a different kind of machine, my road bike (pedaling up the mountain rather than carving down it). I’ll be writing more on my passion for cycling in the months ahead. Even so, I’m already anxious for the winter 2025/26 when I can get out there and ride my Korua again.