Published May 8, 2026 09:01AM
“What’s the turn radius on those things?” That’s the question my buddy Anthony used to ask incessantly in the Collins lift line when we waited tables together at Alta. There’s something about young men in their first season as a ski bum—they can become obsessed with the details and figures of equipment that can obfuscate the experience of… actually going skiing. That’s why it was so refreshing when Fischer’s new flagship powder ski came with exactly zero specs.
Fischer announced the Nothing early this winter with a video teasing the skis as a freeride powder platform (think butter 3s and hand drags off natural features). When I asked the company for more details, Fischer refused to elaborate, telling me: “We have nothing more to say at this time.”
Why Did Fischer Launch a Ski Without Specs?
The Nothing showed up on my doorstep in mid-February for testing. Fischer explained that the intent of shipping the ski specless was to deliver a freeride ski that doesn’t tell you how it should be skied. With no preconceived notions, a skier can take it wherever they want and ski it any way they like.
The Nothing clearly has a forked sheet of metal that extends from under the bindings into the forebody of the ski, and a flat tail block that can take skins. Put two and two together, and you get the gist that the Nothing is a freeride ski that is supposed to handle the demands of inbounds and out-of-bounds skiing.
So What Is the Fischer Nothing, Actually?
The promise of a spec-free ski was a little overstated. Fischer had a full spec sheet printed on the topsheet, lightly scratched out but still legible. I was able to confirm that the Nothing is, at 112mm underfoot, very much a powder ski. The shovels are quite wide, the tips are very soft, and the radius is decently long at 22 meters.
That said, this isn’t just a Ranger that slots neatly between Fischer’s beloved 108 and 116 Ranger powder skis. The Nothing is interestingly both a little more game-on and a little more playful than those skis. Keeping the same weight as the Ranger 116 with a narrower waist makes the Nothing feel a little more planted, while its longer radius and slightly stiffer tails keep it more stable at speed and more supportive when landing big drops. Torsionally, I found the Nothing a little softer than its Ranger brethren, which, combined with the longer radius, lends itself to slashier, slarvier turns.
2027 Fischer Nothing Ski
How Does the Fischer Nothing Ski on Snow?
The Nothing arrived right after an unimaginable storm cycle ripped through Tahoe and delivered seven feet of snow—which was then washed away by what felt like seven feet of rain. March turned into the worst month of snow loss the state had ever seen. When I realized just how wide the skis were, I worried they’d be relegated to playful slush duty while the California snowpack melted away to, well, nothing.
I took the Nothing to Mammoth on a sunny March weekend to test it in deep slush, often a worthy analog for deep, heavy California powder. What surprised me most was how the Nothing performed on piste: its Titanal layer underfoot felt stable and snappy in the morning before the groomers softened into corn. I was able to rail turns confidently and really push the ski into poppy transitions that sprung me between turns. Don’t get me wrong—this is a 112mm-underfoot powder ski. I’m not going to claim the shovels pulled me into turns, but I could see the Nothing as a viable daily driver for Mountain West skiers who like soft groomers in between dips and dives off piste.
As the snow loosened up in the afternoon, the Nothing’s swervier side revealed itself. The ski was a blast to throw sideways in steep terrain and gap between moguls. It felt ready for whatever spring tomfoolery I threw at it. Even mounted 8.5 centimeters back from true center (a perfect compromise between directional and playful that my friends and I lovingly call “God’s Mount”), the Nothing felt balanced in the air and carved switch without batting an eye.
I figured that was the test. Then April arrived with a bang. I rushed to Kirkwood to take the Nothing into its natural habitat: white on white.
Testing a Powder Ski in Actual Powder
It’s an understatement to say the Nothing came alive in the 30 inches of cold snow that blanketed Kirkwood on April 9. I spent most of the morning lapping Chair 6 and sneaking off to hidden shots above Timber Creek. While the Wall was getting slammed by beginners who couldn’t drop in, Cornice Express offered endless steep terrain in both directions, and the Nothing absolutely thrived there—swerving between trees, blowing up untouched pockets of snow, and slashing through soft wind drifts with ease.
My favorite lap of the day was spent in Saddle Chute, dropping from the top of the cornice and slashing through untracked piles of winddrifted snow and launching off smaller volcanic pillows that dotted the chute. The tails provided perfect support, even if I got a little off-centered in the air. The tips and tails were just soft enough torsionally that they would release with a flick of the ankles, but the longitudinal flex was perfectly dialed for blasting through softer piles of chop.
My favorite lap of the day was through Saddle Chute, dropping off the cornice into untracked piles of wind-buffed snow and launching off the smaller volcanic pillows scattered throughout the chute. The tails provided excellent support, even when I got a little off-centered in the air. The tips and tails were just soft enough torsionally to release with a flick of the ankles, while the longitudinal flex stayed composed blasting through softer chop.
Where the Nothing Starts to Show Its Limits
Once the sun hit the chopped-up snow in the afternoon, I began to find the Nothing’s speed limit. The flex encouraged a more athletic style, popping and turning between bumps and piles instead of just leaning on the shovels like a freight train. With the weight of the ski, I that athletic style began to wane after many, many Cornice Express laps.
The Nothing isn’t a directional charger, nor is it a swervy noodle. Its weight and flex make it a pretty powerful powder ski, but in less-than-perfect snow, those factors force you to lean off the gas just a bit.
The Nothing isn’t a directional charger, nor is it a loose, swervy noodle. Its weight and flex make it a fairly powerful powder ski, but in less-than-perfect conditions, those same traits ask you to let off the gas a touch.
Who Is the Nothing For?
I think the Nothing is a phenomenal powder ski for a realistic West Coast storm day: one where you score a few untracked laps before spending the rest of the day skiing chopped-up leftovers.
If you’d rather pop, slash, and swivel around soft piles of snow rather than simply lean on the front of your boots and blow through everything, the Nothing is a compelling option.
Thanks to the tail notches, the Nothing could also make for a worthy hybrid setup for skiers who frequent lift-served backcountry terrain and shorter tours. It’s heavy, but the flex pattern feels particularly well suited to the wind-affected powder you often find in Western sidecountry zones.
The lack of specs and information shipped with the Nothing feels a little gimmicky, but after skiing it in proper testing conditions, I came away understanding Fischer’s point. The Nothing never felt overly prescriptive about how it wanted to be skied. Most ski brands these days come with a clear identity that tends to shape how you end up skiing their gear. The Fischer Nothing feels refreshingly open-ended in comparison, letting you settle into your own style.
