Diary of a Winter Commuter: The Big Snow

Diary of a Winter Commuter is a detailed account of riding in Wisconsin during one of the harshest winters in the past 25 years (2014). Rich Sweet recently turned his journal entries into a 3-part story featuring anecdotes, advice and other random thoughts of a die-hard cold-weather bicycle commuter.

Photo: Jeffrey Stern

Photo: Jeffrey Stern


Last week’s bitter cold spell finally subsided after what seemed like an eternity, even if it was only 5 days. When it’s that cold, riding or even just going outside is a jarring experience. Now that the temperature has moderated a bit, it’s time for some serious snow commuting! The weather guy on Channel 9 initially said 3-5 inches of snow was expected.

It was coming down pretty hard as I left for work at my customary 6:55 am and while I arrived just a little late, I got there safely. The volume of snow and the temperature made the roads incredibly greasy and traction was an iffy thing. We’d gotten a lot of snow when it was considerably warmer and now with the temperature dropping again, cars that had driven through the snow had erected frozen 4-6 inch deep ruts; completely immovable and hard as rock. Even with the studded tires I keep on the Barracuda and the lower tire pressure I was running, I really had to work hard to remain upright and moving forward.

While at work, I couldn’t help but catch frequent glimpses of the snow billowing down in huge flakes. The wind was really whipping too, a good 15-20 mph out of the west, the exact direction I’d be riding into on my way home. Later in the afternoon I pulled up Weather.com and saw that the expected accumulation had been updated to 7-10 inches.

Normally I work 7:30-5:00 but on this day I wanted to leave while it was still light out so I snuck out around 4:00. Overall, it was a good call. The only bad move I made was being ignorant enough to believe I could get through on the trail that connects the city with the business park area I worked in. It was under a good 2-3 feet of snow but since I was already there, I dragged/carried my bike the 1/2 mile or so until I could once again find pavement again.

Even when I was riding on the road, the riding was taxing and it was apparent that a plow had not come through for quite a while. I was also now traveling directly into the wind and the snow was stinging my eyes. You start setting little goals for yourself – just pedal until you’re in line with that telephone pole and then you can roll for a few seconds. Pedal hard for another 50 yards and then you get to slow down for an intersection.

I came out the frontage road that runs out of the business park and onto Patch Street which runs mostly parallel to the Canadian National railyard. The bike trail was covered in not only the snow that had fallen but also that which had been plowed up and off of the road. I would have to bike in the road at a pretty busy time of day in a near white out.

Patch Street thankfully also has a bike line on each side but much of it was unplowed or not plowed recently. I’d hump it along as far right in the bike lane as much as I could so traffic could get past me. When there would be a break in that traffic, I’d scoot out into the road and ride as far and as hard as I could before the inevitable headlights would again appear over my shoulder and I’d have to slide back over.

Everyone was really taking it easy and moving pretty slowly even after they’d safely passed me; no one was taking many chances which I was grateful for. In about another 50 yards I’d be turning off of Patch onto Michigan Avenue which starts with a descent and ends with a challenging climb. I noticed that I was starting to feel that empty sensation; the one you get when you’re running out of fuel to burn. I kept pedaling, made the hill and managed to get over into the left lane to make my next turn off without incident. While I was really getting hungry and still had a ways to go, at least I was out of the busier traffic. Just keep breaking the ride down into smaller pieces; next telephone pole, three more driveways, next intersection…

I was totally gassed when I pulled onto my street, almost an hour after I’d left work. When I saw my driveway, I couldn’t help but admire the perfect prank Moms Nature had played on all of Wisconsin but at that moment, mostly me. The driveway was buried with the kind of depth and hardened texture that would require not just shoveling (no snow blower here) but also a good amount of chopping. The end of the driveway was under the better part of 3 feet of snow and plowed ice/salt. After that fish-tailing, wind whipping, gut heaving ride, it was time to get to work.

The sweat was just now starting to cool on my back so after some water, a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a change of base layers, I got busy shoveling out the driveway and sidewalk just as the worst of the snow was subsiding. Clearing them took about an hour and twenty minutes. Between the ride home and the snow removal, I bet I burned at least 2000 calories. It was easily one of my three most harrowing episodes of winter commuting since I’ve been doing it. I was asleep a minute after my head hit the pillow that night and when the alarm went off the next morning, Mrs. Blakmor had to nudge me to make the awful noise stop.

What’s your best snow commute story? Tell us in the comments or email web@bicycletimesmag.com. We may even publish some of our favorites. 



Diary of a Winter Commuter: Just Keep Pedaling

Diary of a Winter Commuter is a detailed account of riding in Wisconsin during one of the harshest winters in the past 25 years (2014). Rich Sweet recently turned his journal entries into a 3-part story featuring anecdotes, advice and other random thoughts of a die-hard cold-weather bicycle commuter. If you missed Part 1, check it out here

Photo: Andy Carlson

Photo: Andy Carlson

The person who got me into not only biking, but biking all season was my best friend since the age of seven, Billy Roberts. Billy and I rode a lot growing up together in southern Wisconsin. We also practically lived at each other’s houses for a lot of those years. We were thick-as-thieves and like brothers in every sense of the word. He was always a little different than anyone else I remember from a young age. My dad politely referred to him as “off.”

As we got older (not grown up) I’d run into a lot of trouble behind the wheel of a car and sometime in 1989, I just sort of dropped out of the driving world and walked or took the bus wherever I needed to go. In spring of ’93, while we were both living in Madison, Bill convinced me that instead of taking the bus to work, I should be riding my bike.

I had just bought an entry level Specialized Hard Rock so I took his challenge and rode back-and-forth to work every day. It was a beautiful ride that took me through Madison’s Arboretum and the surrounding neighborhood to the veterinary clinic I worked at. When fall came, I naturally figured that I’d better get the bike put away and pick up a Madison Metro bus schedule. Bill was Bill which meant blunt and to the point. His exact words were “only little kids and old people have an excuse for not riding, even in the winter.” He went on to describe his commutes to work while he lived in Alaska–death rides involving sub-arctic temperatures and spine disintegrating terrain. “You could do it,” he reminded, “Even with that shit bike of yours.” That was just the kick to the pride I needed and my first season of winter commuting was underway.

I learned about the winter riding gig as I went. Despite Billys direction that I should be riding in winter, he had precious little practical advice on things to do or avoid when actually doing it. “You just gotta get out and ride,” was his most common response when I asked him for any tips he might have. I knew this about it–the rides could sometimes be beautiful in the snowy early-winter evenings.

Commuting in winter was pretty rare then (it still kind of is I guess) and I did whatever seemed to make sense at the time. For a couple of winters, I misguidedly applied 10-30 motor oil to my drive train because it seemed like everything else I used washed off right away. While the oil was resistant to moisture, it clearly wasn’t meant for bicycles and I ended up seeking a new winter bike sooner than anticipated. I did however learn to make relatively effective fender extensions out of empty pancake syrup bottles. Again, the stuff you can now find in any bike shop for wet/cold conditions just wasn’t around.

I learned how to ride in the winter by riding in the winter, so Billy’s non-advice was accurate if not totally helpful. I guess it’s a little bit like anything else for which there’s no blueprint, no definitive way to do it. When the snow is heavy or you expect to be riding on ice, let a little air out of your tires to help with traction or better yet, buy studded tires. If you start to fish tail on ice or snow, don’t freak out and try to over correct; just keep your legs turning, your handlebars straight and more often than not, you’ll be ok. As always, be sure to have eaten a recent high protein meal before hitting the road. A ride even in which weather is a non-factor burns a surprisingly high number of calories. Having to work harder to push through the elements burns fuel at a much higher rate and there are few things more unpleasant than running out of that fuel, particularly in the winter.

I learned a lot about balance (mine sucks), basic body geometry (I’m much more comfortable turning left than right on hard-packed snow and ice) and the power of the human will. I also learned that failure to cover exposed skin in frigid temperatures will kill it. Prepping all the stuff I have to haul to work (dry clothes, multiple full meals, drinks and snacks,etc) as well as layering for the ride can be pretty time-consuming but every bit of it serves an important purpose.

I work in a corporate environment and I’m constantly being offered rides to or from work, particularly when the weather is bad. No one understands what the hell I’m doing out there and can’t figure out exactly what’s wrong with me. They’re nice folks with the best of intentions. Sometimes I sneak out and leave before they can offer their passenger seat to me and the bed of their SUV for my bike.

Others look at me like I’m the village idiot when they see me completing my preparation for the ride home. When asked why I insist on doing it, I mostly now just answer with “Because I can do it and it reminds me I’m alive.”

If I can get where I’m going in this kind of weather we’re having this year, I take a certain pride in knowing that I refuse to be beaten. I am also humbled by the knowledge that had nature been just a bit more severe, she could have struck me down for good if she’d wanted.

Just as I love watching someone melt down because they can’t get their personal technology to work, I also take some snarky pleasure when weather decides to get the last word in. Human beings so often seem to think that they make up all of the rules in life or that their money or other possessions will always pull them through in uncertain times. Mother Nature doesn’t care who you are or what you have. She has the last word, yet everyone seems to kind of forget that.

I could have stayed a bus rider indefinitely. I’m not ripping it; I did it for a couple of years and I firmly believe that the bus is usually a fine way to get around for most people. I eventually became more determined than ever to keep riding just because I kept telling myself that I could.

But there are so many things that I can’t do. I can’t build or fix things. I was described as having a “spatial relationship disorder” by the hippie veterinarian I used to work for. I also have an attention span which tends to wane if I have to sit and listen to someone speak for more than about 10 minutes. I can ride my bike all year around however and depending on which study you read, it can save anywhere from 8-10 thousand dollars per year, not counting health benefits, etc. I believe it.

When I get quizzed on it, I tell people that physically, anyone can do it. The barrier is almost entirely mental. It’s not at all impossible but it isn’t easy. The appeal for me is that almost no one even considers the idea of doing it. The very idea is laughed at and dismissed out-of-hand.

I washed dishes in restaurants for 10 years and I’m still proud of it. Why? It prepared me for a lot of relatively unpleasant things that I’d take on at various points during my professional life. It established and permanently set the bar for me. If you can handle the exertion and filth of dishwashing, nothing you do later will be beneath you. There’s a satisfaction in doing an expert job at something most people wouldn’t even consider. Winter riding is kind of the same.

A girl I work with calls me “crazy” for riding in the winter but goes outside 8-10 times each work day to willingly inhale tars and carbon monoxide so who’s the crazy one? It’s punk rock philosophy plain and simple–I can do this myself and on my own terms. I’m independent and want to keep it that way. I’m fine. You may be the one who has the problem(s) and you don’t even know it.

Naturally, it’s not always easy and not always enjoyable. A lot of winter mornings aren’t particularly beautiful nor is each and every commute revelatory or insightful. From late fall until well after the winter solstice, I’m riding both to and from work in the dark. That’s pretty gloomy and these days there’s an added feeling of vulnerability no matter how well I’m lit up.

Occasionally, some road warrior will buzz me (passing at an unsafe distance) and I can’t properly describe the rage I go into when that happens. I’ve tried following some of them, hoping to catch up at a stop light or store. I’m a person that avoids conflict like the plague, but there is something about being strafed like that which turns me into someone/something else entirely; pure righteous rage.

Thankfully, being buzzed by car drivers has become a less frequent experience particularly in the winter months. If anything, it seems to happen more often when I’m riding in the summer. People in cars actually seem to be more tolerant of me in the winter than they ever have before. Maybe they figure that anyone who rides in the winter is crazy and unstable people have enough problems as it is. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.

The winter rides that are memorable somehow make it all worthwhile. There are a lot of exquisite sights and poignant (at least at the time) moments. It’s usually simple things–the aforementioned sunrises, elaborate graffiti on trains, a hologram from the frozen icicle forming on my eyelashes.

I know I probably won’t be able to do this forever, at least not during the worst of weather conditions. I’ve noticed that it seems just a little bit darker each winter and that I now feel slightly bit more vulnerable when I’m riding in traffic under challenging winter conditions. After going for a long time without a helmet, I began wearing one faithfully about seven or eight years ago and turn my bike lights on anytime it’s even a little bit dim outside.

With this new appreciation of my mortality in mind, I try to value each day that I continue to ride, particularly in the winter. No matter what else happens, I have succeeded in getting myself to work and back independently and while that doesn’t send me into waves of giddy euphoria anymore, I still take a quiet satisfaction in it. It might after all be the highlight of my work day.

More than anything however, I wish winter was over and I could make the ride without all of the preparation, planning and darkness. That time isn’t here however and for now, it’s important to be happy with small things–the next telephone pole, making it three more driveways and finally, rolling safely into my own.

Do you bicycle commute? Why or why not? We’d love to hear your stories. Tell us in the comments or email web@bicycletimesmag.com with a story about why you started bike commuting and we’ll publish our favorites.



Diary of a Winter Commuter: The Polar Vortex

Diary of a Winter Commuter is a detailed account of riding in Wisconsin during one of the harshest winters in the past 25 years (2014). Rich Sweet recently turned his journal entries into a 3-part story featuring anecdotes, advice and other random thoughts of a die-hard cold-weather bicycle commuter. 



Right now you can’t turn on the radio or TV without hearing about the winter weather phenomenon known as the Polar Vortex heading towards the midwest. The Polar Vortex is an incredibly impressive sounding name; it sort of implies that we may all get swept up and spit out into a frozen cyclone of sorts.

Anyway, they’re calling for a high on Monday of -15 and a low of -25 with wind chills as low as -55. Because I commute back and forth to work by bicycle year round, I’ll most assuredly be taking some additional precautions to super-special-game-plan my clothing for the 6-mile ride each way. On a normal morning, the ride may take as little as 20 minutes but the upcoming weather will change that significantly. There’s a big freezer-burned iron fist coming and the commute may now take twice that long, maybe longer.

Preparation for riding in this kind of weather is of paramount importance. I dress in layers beginning with base layers on both my upper and lower body. I’ve ridden all year round for a long time now; in fact this is my 20th year. I don’t know how I made it as long as I did without Craft base layers; they’re warm, comfortable against my skin and most importantly, they wick perspiration which prevents the wearer from becoming chilled, thus retaining the highest possible level of warmth. They are truly a modern miracle. I wear a secondary base layer over the Craft and over it, a nice heavy fleece. Rounding out my upper body protection is a Camp-Mor rain jacket which is pretty wind and waterproof. It doesn’t breathe much but you just gotta block that windchill out somehow.

I also wear a wide assortment of headgear to ensure that every part of my face is covered. All that remains exposed are my eyes and I take extra precautions with them by applying Vaseline to the area immediately around them. My feet get the double sock treatment and hiking shoes. On my hands, I wear Outdoor Research mittens complete with double layer wool liners. On the coldest days, I also microwave the palm-sized rice bags my wife made me and insert those into my mittens for extra warmth. And that’s it. This gear is what will protect me against the death grip of the Polar Vortex on my commute to and from work.

Even the bike I ride in the winter (1995 Barracuda 26er) handles oddly in this chill and it feels like it’s fighting me a little bit. The tires move differently on the pavement, like the outer tread is folding inwards and the resulting sensation feels alien to everything I’ve come to experience on two wheels. This is the kind of weather that the Norwegian Black Metal bands are always shrieking about. Old Man Winter is reaching for you and you’re reminded just how mortal you really are. This kind of cold kills everything that isn’t wrapped up and tucked away, or at the very least, working hard to generate some life-sustaining heat.

I’m not typically listening to Black Metal or much music at all when I’m riding in the winter. It wasn’t that many years ago that I almost always rode with ‘80’s hardcore punk or thrash metal on my iPod. I still listen to that or some contemporary sludge-core (think Bongzilla or Cavity) once in a while, but on these days it seems like my ride is intense enough without additionally manic music as part of its soundtrack. There’s a space and time for almost everything for me but listening to Bolt Thrower on the commute in either direction is usually too much for my senses in the winter; I know what I’m up against and don’t need the aural encouragement. These days NPR and episodes of the old-time Jack Benny radio program are my companions for the ride.

Naturally, I try and choose the least traveled and most direct way to work, especially when it’s this cold. I ride southwesterly for about 2 miles until I hit the road which runs parallel to the Canadian National railroad yard/track system that bisects the city. I’m afforded a nice paved trail to ride on (when it’s been plowed). A couple of miles later and I enter the business park via another trail that runs under the freeway overpass. About a mile later, I arrive at work.

Despite the bitter cold, the moment I stop pedaling, I begin dripping with perspiration. I park my bike, unload it, flash through security with my ID badge and take the stairs two at a time until I reach the 4th floor. Taking the stairs like that after a hard ride is the ultimate little punctuation to an already taxing aerobic challenge. By now, the endorphins are going crazy. Once punched in, I shed most of my outer layers under the blinding fluorescent lighting above my cube and start to unpack. I bungee a roll-up canvas bag to my rear bike rack which carries my two meals, clean clothes, phone, and glasses. I can also throw in a fortnight’s supply of protein bars and cans of mixed nuts when I begin getting low on either. In winter, it’s also kind of nice to have some extra weight on the back to keep me upright and moving forward so carrying a lot of stuff back there doesn’t bother me.

It’s so tempting to try and take pictures of what you see when the cold becomes this oppressive. Everything has that harsh, ready-to-shatter look to it and I’ve seen a lot of things that actually do just that. While I’m riding, I’ve seen deep freezes snap tree limbs, bust open water mains and peel paint off of houses. That’s why you really don’t really dare stop pedaling because once you do, you’re on nature’s clock. Better to keep moving until you get where you’re going.

Or at least I don’t dare try to take pictures. I have a weird condition called Reynaud’s Syndrome which results in my hands being ultra-sensitive to even moderate cold. This manifests itself as a frozen numbness in my hands and fingers and they often turn an alarming, corpse-like white. It’s really painful sometimes and I could never consider exposing my hands for even a moment, much less the time it would take to fish my phone out of some pocket and take a shot. It’s too bad because with the bitter cold, there’s usually very little or no cloud cover at all and the resulting sunrises are frequently spectacular.


It’s Thursday and the Polar Vortex is back for a return engagement in central Wisconsin. This is the 3rd straight day with morning temps of at least 5 below not including wind chill. Tomorrow promises to hit the mid-20’s but with some snow accumulation and then we’re back to the PV with high temps in single digits. Unless we have some crazy-early kind of spring, this winter just seems poised to be one for the ages.

At this point, I don’t even dare begin to think of warmer times. Every winter, a year older and still living in Wisconsin, I ask myself what we’re doing living in this kind of frozen hell. I often fantasize about life in the southwest, riding my bike shirtless in the dry heat year-round while the Midwest is getting hammered, its residents staying indoors for days at a time.


It’s been an exceedingly short weekend as have the last three. I’ve been getting double (and sometimes even triple) O.T. backing up our company’s call center. Some things I can’t handle without transferring but they mostly just need people answering the phones and I can’t refuse that kind of money. I can be helpful for $40 -$60 an hour.

But now I have the Sunday Night Dread in a profound and resentful way, the aforementioned extra money a pittance not worth the precious lost time. The weekend was over before it started and tomorrow is supposed to bring a low of -26 with wind chills in the area of -50. The high is scheduled to be 7 below.

The combination of just being that it’s Monday and those kinds of temperatures isn’t fair at all. I really don’t want to think about it and certainly can’t bring myself to look at the 10-day forecast right now.

I long for summer, those long, shirtless rides and the warmth of the sun on my skin. Best not to even think about that though because there’s a long, long way to go. Not just today, but for the rest of this interminably brutal winter. So in the meantime, I just keep pedaling.

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