The good stuff

I've been grumpy on here lately so allow me to sing the praises of the first snow. 

This past week, the snow came down to (more or less) stay. My studded tires went on Wednesday night, on an evening I suddenly had free from judo class because the storm was too bad. Thursday, I went out for groceries in steadily falling small icy snow. Studded tires are the absolute greatest. My car's winter tires weren't on yet (because I keep forgetting about my car) so there was something very freeing about riding along unconcerned, sure of the footing of my bike. 

Saturday night I was at a friend's until really late. It was snowing when I set out for his place at something like 6:30 pm, and already dark, of course. But the fresh snow was very sharp, icy, and sparkly in the light from my headlamp. It was a very pretty ride. And I knew several more centimetres were due down that night. 

Somewhere between 1:30 and 2:00 am, I left. The driveway was 10 centimeters deep or so. My friend said if the roads were really bad I could always crash in his spare room, but I figured it was only a matter of about seven kilometres home and I'd be fine. 

I was only really bothered by the suburban street immediately outside his place, as it turned out. When cars have been through even a few centimetres of snow, it compacts it in weird, unpredictable ways that twist your front tire and mess up your steering. I was getting a little annoyed with it after a block, but then I turned off the street to join the network of asphalt pedestrian paths that run through his neighbourhood. And for a bit at least, they'd even been plowed within the last couple of hours. I left happy, zoomy tire tracks in a thin layer of fluffy snow while more flakes fell around me. 

Stepping out of my friend's place, the whole neighbourhood had seemed lit up. Almost twilight. I guess the falling snow, and the snow on the ground, were just bouncing the available light around. It was nearly two in the morning and felt like day. 

A little further on, the path looked like it hadn't been plowed in a while, and it was a good thing I'm very familiar with it and knew where all the turns were. The snow was several centimetres deep, but fluffy, so although it was a little harder to pedal than usual, it didn't cause any steering problems. I just left deeper tracks behind me in the snow. 

Turning onto the cycletrack along Conroy Road, the plow had returned within the last couple of hours, and here I really zoomed. Everything was quiet. There were only a few cars on Conroy, which is a four-lane arterial, and the ones there were had been muted by the snow. I could see really well in the bright, weirdly lit up night, I felt visible with my lights and my dark jacket against the white snow, and my tires were muffled by the thin layer of snow on the path. 

This is what I love about that first snowfall. Especially at night. In November it's cold and very dark and often rainy, and the cars have winter tires on so they make more noise, and it's honestly not that much fun. But then that first snow happens, and you're bombing along through the snowflakes on quiet paths, and the cars are silenced, and the nights are bright, and the chill in the air wakes your cheeks up.

People will say you're "brave" for riding in the winter. I suppose I should tell them how nice it can be. 

The Door Into Summer

 

This dumb, dumb city. 

Designing and planning absolutely everything as though it is always a 23-degree day in June around here. 

Source: Crafting Ottawa's new O-Train Stations: Building Tomorrow

Building intersections that are a pain in the ass to maintain in winter: I highlighted here all the curbs waiting to be smashed into by a plow blade and piled over with snow, including two pointless little concrete pads that are, I guess, supposed to act as "separation" for the cycle track? 

Bronson and Sunnyside at Carleton U

And last week, the William Commanda Bridge over the Ottawa River was barricaded for the winter. This week, they blocked off the Rideau River pedestrian bridge at Carleton U. I am not surprised, by this, mind you, nor am I disappointed: I expected it. I'm just kind of dully angry about it. 

In Ottawa, the snow usually falls to stay around the beginning of December. It melts, generally, toward the end of March. A third of the year, it's snowy here. 

We do not adequately fund snow clearing for the streets. We blow through the budget constantly. 

We do not maintain pedestrian paths, bridges, stairs, or bike lanes. (Oh, sorry: there are 980+ kilometres of bike infrastructure; 60 of them are cleared of snow.)

We have a train system that breaks down when it's cold, icy, or snowy. Sensor switches on the tracks shut the system down because they mistook snow on the tracks for a person in the first winter. 

Streets get cleared well before sidewalks, prioritizing cars and forcing people to walk or roll in the road.

The bus stations have heaters - nominally. When pushing the button does anything, it turns on a glowing electric coil that is mounted up on the glass ceiling, for 15 minutes. 

The LRT stations, famously, caused slips and falls in their first year because they were open to the weather, and the tiles used on the floors were slippery when wet. 

The water fountains in the LRT stations froze and overflowed. 

We close the pathways and stairs around Parliament Hill, probably the most iconic location in the city, for "health and safety reasons." 

Time and time again I look at the design drawings when the City proposes some new feature, and it's a drawing of green grass and blue skies and people sitting on big concrete blocks and steps, sipping their ice coffee, and strolling along the wide pavement. Ottawa, it seems, is constantly looking for the door into summer. And at the same time we get all the people who comment on every design yelling "it's winter eight months out of the year here! Why are we building this bike lane?" 

It's winter for about four months of the year, to be honest, but still, that's four months of the year that are left out of our plans, left out of our budget, and left out of our networks. Come that first snowfall, it's like the City of Ottawa says, "Well, that's it, wasn't that a nice run, everyone inside now. Get inside. Get in your cars. Public spaces are closed now; we will reopen in April."

I mean, come on. Ottawa is a winter city. It's the seventh coldest national capital in the world, behind places like Talinn and Helsinki and Ulaanbataar. It's a place where, theoretically, we celebrate winter. We have Winterlude! We have the Skateway! We have the Rink of Dreams outside City Hall! There are pop-up skating ovals in all the city parks! We are Canadians and we love the winter! Right? 

Apparently not. We close major, beloved pedestrian bridges because of concerns about salt and safety. The Commanda Bridge was "not designed for winter use." Well, why the fuck not? This is a winter city, after all. So, can we groom it for skiing? It connects right up with the Kichi Sibi Winter Trail (a really great amenity that only exists because of grassroots volunteers). . . but nah, the City's not going to do that either.

An actual winter city would recognize that, for one thing, people might visit in the winter for the experience - maybe even for Winterlude? - and, for another, the people that live here need to continue to live our lives, even if it snows. That people need sidewalks and bike paths and cool places to congregate and enjoy the winter. Imagine strolling across the river on the Commanda Bridge with a hot chocolate, enjoying the views of the islands and Parliament Hill up on its escarpment. Imagine a student spending their first winter at Carleton walking across the bridge to go sledding in Vincent Massey Park. Imagine people walking along the canal pathways to the Beaver Tail stand at Dows Lake and then going skating. Imagine people being able to bike to work or school all year - because I can tell you, riding a bike in the snow can be really fun and connect you to your neighbourhood and environment. Imagine an urban ski and snowshoe network that really celebrates that snowy Canadian self-image.

But what we get is this.