Wednesday night, in antcipation of Boston’s first snowstorm of the year, I put the 700 x 40C tires on my old hybrid. It was still clear when I rode in Thursday morning, but the blizzard came on very quickly while I and my coworkers were out for lunch.

Even as early as 2pm, Boston’s roads were a complete logjam. No one was moving, anywhere in the city. Later, it wouldn’t be uncommon to hear how it took drivers five or six hours to drive as many miles, or that schoolchildren who were let out at 2pm were stuck on busses until 11pm.

By 5pm there was a good six or seven inches of snow on the ground, and although it was light, dry, powdery stuff, that’s the point at which biking in the snow goes from “fun” to “hard work” and “treacherous”. So I let all but 20 pounds of air out of my tires (for better traction) and made my way outside at the height of the storm.

Just getting from the office door to Canal Street was difficult, as no one had cleared the sidewalks. But once out in the street, I was fine. I followed a snowplow toward Causeway Street, moving well and enjoying the packed snow crunching beneath my tires.

Causeway and Nashua Streets were another story. They really hadn’t been plowed, which left half a foot of fluffy powder to wade through. However, they’re main arteries, and passing vehicles had packed some of the snow down in very slippery ruts. The combination is really hard for a bike to navigate through, but I managed to keep upright to Leverett Circle.

At Leverett Circle I hopped onto the Esplanade’s Paul Dudley White bike path, passing a father pulling his son around in a sled. The path was perfect: it had been plowed once at maybe 4pm, but now had maybe two inches of fresh powder that was an absolute pleasure to ride through. At 13 mph, I was making better time than the traffic on Storrow Drive, and the only discomfort I had was some cold snow falling and accumulating inside my balaklava. Even the couple small snowbanks left behind by the plows were easy to burst through at speed.

When I got to the footbridge to cross over Storrow to Dartmouth Street, I hit my only real roadblock. While the DCR had plowed the bike path, they understandably hadn’t cleared the footbridge, and I just couldn’t make it up a ramp clogged with seven inches of new snow, so I walked the bike to the top of the ramp, them rode across and down and over to Beacon Street, smirking at the six lanes of stopped traffic on Storrow.

Beacon Street was more of the same: three lanes of traffic, not moving an inch. Although the road was a bit slick, I managed to navigate between cars and trucks and busses the one block from Dartmouth to Exeter, passing maybe three dozen gridlocked vehicles along the way.

Both Exeter and Comm Ave were fairly well cleared, and easy to ride.

In the end, my two-mile commute, which usually takes 15 minutes, might have taken 20. I had fun, got some exercise, made it home very quickly and without stress, and got out to enjoy the fresh air and one of the most beautiful scenes of the year: the first snowfall.

Yet the people who think it’s preferable to sit trapped in a little metal box spewing carbon monoxide for seven hours on a five-mile commute call me “crazy” for biking home in a snowstorm.

Can I call for a sanity check, please?

Friday was an interesting day. Aside from a little October 29th flurry, it was our first real snow of the year. The forecast indicated some snow in the morning, possibly turning to rain, then back to snow by evening, with a total accumulation of 6-10 inches.

It was, of course, my first chance to freak out my coworkers by biking in to work through a storm. When I woke up, there were a couple inches of snow, but I had planned to get up and out before it got too bad. The roads looked passable, so I went for it. The ride in was complicated by the snow standing in the road margins where I usually ride, but for the most part it was completely navigable. I got in well before anyone else arrived at work, secretly pleased with myself.

When we went out at noontime, as promised it was raining heavily, mixing with sleety ice pellets. The streets were a wet, slushy mess. However, as the afternoon wore on, it turned back to snow. Really heavy snow. So heavy that you couldn’t see the ground from my eighth floor office. Just outside the city there were reports of snowfall at a rate of five inches per hour. Falling sideways because of the wind. Howling wind that exceeded fifty miles per hour. With lightning. It was very impressive.

By 5pm, the storm had entirely passed by, and the skies were clear. Of course, there were still eight inches of snow on the ground, and havoc on the streets. City public works hadn’t bothered plowing, and the snow on top of ice on top of snow had been packed into an inch-thick sheet as slippery as any skating rink. Drivers typically forgot everything they’d ever learned about driving in snow, and the result was city-wide gridlock.

I left work at 5:30, taking an extra moment to deflate my tires a bit to get extra traction. At first, Edwin Land Boulevard was a slog, because no one had driven in the right hand lane, leaving it a pile of impassable snow. However, once I turned onto Binney and all the way up Vassar I was on top of hard-packed ice. I could make great progress on that hard surface, so long as I didn’t try to stop or turn.

The only problem was that the same was true of the cars around me. It was kind of like a game of dodging dumpsters flying around at random in the dark of a winter night. Fortunately, I got safely to Mass Ave, which was solid gridlock.

The entire way from Vassar Street, across the Harvard Bridge, and up to Comm Ave was a riot. Mass Ave has two lanes in each direction, and it was packed solid with parked cars. Under normal circumstances, I’d ride up the right-hand margin—the breakdown lane—but it was full of unnavigable snow and the cars were blocking it. Instead, I went right up the middle, between the two lanes of stopped southbound traffic. My best estimate has me passing at least 250 cars in less than a mile. I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through drivers’ heads when they saw me ride by after they’d sat for hours without moving!

After that, Comm Ave was pretty easy, since it was mostly cleared. I count it an extremely successful ride: fun, safe, healthy, something that’ll awe my coworkers, and a source of endless amusement at the expense of stupid people who drive cars in the city.

If you haven’t biked in the snow, you’re really missing out on something special. You don’t have to head to the roads; many of Boston’s bike paths are plowed in the winter (the notable exception being the Minuteman). Although you’ll get lots of mystified looks, honestly it’s no colder than nordic skiing, and the experience is very similar. For more info, there’s a Boston bike path conditions report, a winter biking page on Massbike, and also the classic Icebike site.

I will say, however, that the expanse of ice on Binney and Vassar has me thinking about buying some Nokians

Whoops! Biking in to work the day after a wet snowfall, I took a hard dump on some black ice. I wound up with a livid 5 inch bruise on my hip, but was fortunate in not receiving something worse. This isn't what spring's supposed to be like!

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