These days, many Berlin cycle paths are buried under snow and ice. There a mirror-smooth spot is reminiscent of a frozen lake, there of a cross-country ski trail because there is only a tire-thick trace of asphalt left, and there, be careful! A pile of snow. Cars and trucks often speed past the lurching cyclists by just a few centimeters.
So it’s not surprising that, with a few exceptions, there are hardly any cyclists on the road anymore. You can call them brave or crazy. Anyway: I am one of them. But why am I doing this?
© Niklas Bessenbach
In January I rode my bike. Every day. Mostly up Schönhauser Allee to the Pankow town hall, where my office is, and back down to Helmholtzkiez, sometimes down to Mitte.
I ride a 15 year old trekking bike. The tires are quite wide and not inflated, which gives me stability on the ice.
The group of cyclists has shrunk to delivery drivers with their sometimes ultra-fat tires and gloves attached to the steering wheel. In between I only see two categories of cyclists: high performers with cuffs, snowshoes, functional jacket – onion principle of course, everything reflects and flashes. And a few neglected people: without helmets, untied shoelaces, preferably a pair of Euro retro racing bikes from the flea market. I would place myself somewhere in the middle.
A look at Scandinavia shows that things are completely different: in Copenhagen, for example, the principle applies that cycle paths are first cleared of snow, then the streets. And in Oulu in northern Finland, where people have to deal with snow for months, most bike paths are meters away from the road. Hardly anyone there has to go without a bike in winter. The snow is removed or sprinkled from the cycle paths down to a thin layer, creating a non-slip surface.
Since Friday, the Berlin Senate has temporarily allowed the use of de-icing salt on sidewalks. After all, it is the duty of the state to enable people to get through safely, writes Kai Wegner (CDU) on X.
When I was a child, during the first snowfall of the year, my father tied my blue steering sled to his motocross and raced with me across the fields. I screamed with joy. Even earlier, I skied between my mother’s legs. So I learned to be fearless about speed on snow. More than that: joy in adventure.
Alpine atmosphere in Berlin
My bike rides certainly don’t look like I’m feeling adventurous at the moment. I always keep a close eye on the next ten meters of my route so that I don’t have to brake suddenly. Otherwise I’m one of those people who pedal hard. The throttling now feels a bit like switching from a jet to an old fishing boat. I sneak.
When a patch of ice looks particularly slippery, especially in curves, I stretch my legs out like an insect so that I can catch myself if I slip away. In the bitter cold, I notice the smell of gasoline from the cars much more clearly. But with the snow-covered trees and meadows, the blue sky, the bright sun, it reminds me of skiing. When a caterpillar passed by, it smelled the same, that’s the winter Alpine atmosphere. In the middle of Berlin.
It’s extremely difficult for me to give up my bike. I can’t stand the sniffling and coughing on public transport very well, the crowds. The waiting. I don’t want to look for a parking space or get stuck in a traffic jam. But: Do something good for your body for two hours every week. And above all, I like that you can drive so fast that you can see a lot of the city, and at the same time drive so slowly that you can see a lot.
Here and there on my bike I notice astonished looks. A colleague in the office who avoids cycling when there is ice cream said: “It’s life-threatening.” Unlike them, I don’t have any children, which probably makes me a little more frivolous.
My wife has now given up trying to stop me from cycling. At first she asked me to leave the bike. Somehow it didn’t work – until a few days ago.
I read a report in the newspaper. A spokeswoman for the accident hospital in Berlin appealed to citizens’ common sense. The surgeons would work through the night, so many were seriously injured. That made me rethink. I imagined myself with a shattered shoulder. The desire for adventure isn’t that great.
