Cover photo courtesy Justin Short
By Justin Short
I lived on the west side for 13 years—and by “west side,” I mean the green and rainy side of the Cascades—and was well accustomed to a long, dreary, rainy season that could almost outlast my rosy disposition. When I moved to the Inland Northwest 12 years ago, I was assured that winter here would be socked in with clouds and fog blotting out the sun at least as long as the most depressing Portland winter. “But,” I would always retort, “if there’s snow on the ground and falling from the sky, it’s a winter wonderland.” I know I’m preaching to the choir here with the OTO readership, but seasonal affective disorder has a hard time doing its thing when there’s snow to play in.
The first snow is always the best for any kind of fat biking, but especially urban fat biking. Snow hasn’t been plowed into the bike lanes yet (because that’s where they plow the snow here. I mean, who would ride bikes in the winter here, anyway? Fill that bike lane with snow!) Given the inconsistency of our climatic weather patterns these days, we might get several first snows during the course of the winter. It’s snow that doesn’t have ice underneath it waiting to take you out. If you don’t own a fat bike, this is the time to hit the streets on your mountain bike, or pretty much any bike if the snow is only two or three inches deep. Beyond that, you kind of need a fat bike. The colder the snow, the better the traction you’ll find underneath.
When the snow is right, where should you go? It might take a day or two for Frank Benish to groom the miles and miles of trails in Riverside State Park, and that really is some of the finest urban winter fat biking to be found, but there’s something infective and charming about seeing cross country skiers hit the snowy streets that always makes me want to follow suit. For me, it’s the allure of the high alpine region of that which we call the South Hill.
One of my first urban fat bike excursions that I fondly recall involved stopping for coffee at one of our fine local roasters on Monroe with former EDC columnist Justin Skay. Afterward, we climbed up from the lowlands of downtown Spokane to . . . I don’t know exactly where we were, because everything looked different in the snow. We turned left and right at random, eventually finding ourselves on a corner where every porch, sidewalk, and yard had a multitude of snow bunnies. They ranged in size from a couple of feet tall to darn near the size of a full-grown snowman. The snow was deeper up there (it always is) and the porches were very charming—the turkeys definitely thought so, because every porch had a turkey or three, none of them made of snow.
Last winter, a snow storm was coming in one evening, with rain in forecast the next morning. I think its the bane of every snow sports enthusiast here that a good snowfall is so frequently followed by rain the next morning that ruins everything. In such circumstances, there is no time to drive anywhere, all you can do is hop on the bike and go for a good urban slog. Good fortune is smiling upon you if you happen to have a partner in crime close by who is typically ready to roll at the drop of a wool cycling cap. I texted Anthony, or maybe he texted me, and a last-minute plan was hatched to go see some Christmas lights.
We met at Uprise Brewing for a quick pre-ride snack. By the time we left, our beloved snow was tapering into rain. I don’t have fenders on my fat bike, so my tactic was to ride slowly so as to avoid the “wet diaper effect.” When riding in the rain, the average fat bike tire is instantly transformed into a Mississippi Queen riverboat paddle wheel, propelling unfathomable amounts of water from the street onto your back, which then seeps down into your nether regions. I don’t care how much Gore-Tex you’re wearing, that is your fate when riding in the rain without fenders. It wasn’t hard to stay dry, because we were soon climbing the South Hill to our first destination, the light display at Cowley Park below Providence Sacred Heart hospital. It’s quite magical to ride around through their holiday light show.
The hill gets rather steep from there, and the secondary tactic to stay dry is to unzip jackets and pedal gently so as not to arrive at the top of a climb wearing 80 pounds of sweat-soaked clothes. The rain turned back into snow before we reached the top of the climb, and we meandered our way towards our second destination, the light show at Manito Park. I think every city has that drive-or-walk-through holiday light show that draws carloads of families by the thousands. This year there is no Manito light show car option due to traffic issues in the past, just a walking route. BUT, you can ride your bike around much of the park and right through another stunning light show. Such is the life of an urban fat biker.
Justin Short will be out there turning pedals in the rain, hail, sleet, and snow all winter long, hopeful that he will once again dodge the invite to go winter bikepacking with the Idaho Bikepacking crew. This, however, may be the year his luck runs out.
