New Jersey Snow Totals Top 30 Inches — Is This a Storm for the History Books?

The sidewalks had already been engulfed by snow by the time the plows arrived in Lyndhurst. When the final numbers were counted, some areas of New Jersey had recorded more than 30 inches. Measuring sticks sank deep into drifts that brushed past two feet. The recent nor’easter brought about a forced pause for a state that takes pride in its grit and impatience.

With 30.7 inches, Lyndhurst topped the charts, according to the National Weather Service. Newark Airport officially recorded more than 27 inches, while Bogota trailed closely behind with 29.5 inches. Totals in Strathmore and Freehold Township were close to 25 inches, turning suburban cul-de-sacs into white hallways. While meteorologists insist on precise measurement, it’s possible that wind-blown drifts made some backyards appear even deeper.

The following morning, as I drove along the Garden State Parkway, I couldn’t help but notice how different the snowfall felt in different counties. Snowbanks leaned heavily against parked cars in Essex and Bergen. In areas of Sussex County further to the west, totals were nearer 10 inches. This was clearly a coastal storm, punishing heavily populated towns and favoring eastern corridors.

An iconic representation of the storm’s magnitude was Newark Liberty International Airport. Aircraft were grounded. Runways vanished under snow-blowing plumes. It felt choreographed, necessary, purposeful, and exhausting to watch airport workers clearing tarmac inch by inch while working under revolving amber lights. Although officials have already alluded to increased volatility, it is still unclear if future winters will require this level of preparedness more frequently.

The story is never fully revealed by snow totals alone.

Following reports of 17 inches, Woodbridge schools were closed for a second day in a row. 23 inches was recorded by Fords. Iselin became twenty-two. Edison was almost eighteen. The heavy, dense snow that clings to shovel blades and strains old backs was referred to by locals as “heart attack snow.” Doctors in New Jersey are familiar with the trend of emergency rooms silently bracing for an increase in strain-related injuries.

Immediately, analogies to previous storms were made. In some areas of Essex County, the 1996 Blizzard dropped almost 30 inches. Somerset County was buried beneath 30 inches by a storm in January 2016. In December 1947, Bergen County recalls a snowfall of almost 29 inches. This place has a certain cultural memory, with heights marked against garage doors and storms recounted at dinner tables.

Despite the need for careful calibration of official historical comparisons, this most recent event seems to rank among the state’s most significant snowfalls in decades. Measurement is made more difficult by wind. Totals are skewed by drifting. Meteorologists avoid the temptation to exaggerate and prefer controlled readings and flat boards. Even locals are skeptical about which statistics accurately depict the extent of the storm.

But the disruption is what seems indisputable.

Some services were temporarily suspended by NJ Transit. Roads slowed to a halt. As heavy snow broke tree limbs already weakened by past storms, hundreds of people in parts of Bergen County lost power. The sound of boots crunching on packed ice blended with the hum of a backup generator outside a Fairview corner deli. The image of a community changing in real time seemed both commonplace and fantastical.

In terms of economics, snow totals result in expenses. Overtime compensation for plow drivers and salt purchases puts a strain on municipal budgets. Foot traffic is lost by small businesses. Hardware stores experience strong sales of shovels and ice melt at the same time, which causes their shelves to thin out over night. Extreme snowfall events may be turning into a financial burden as well as, ironically, a temporary stimulus for some industries.

Additionally, there is the lingering question of climate change.

Scientists have observed that warming oceans can exacerbate coastal systems, feeding them moisture and producing heavier snowfall under the right temperature conditions, even though a single storm does not prove a larger trend. It seems as though New Jersey is situated on a meteorological fault line, making it susceptible to both blizzards and unusually warm winters.

For their part, locals appear to be torn between amazement and exhaustion. Youngsters constructed imposing snow forts. At dawn, adults struggled with frozen car doors. Every picture of a ruler in the snow on social media is a badge of endurance. A silent question, however, lies beneath the novelty: how many more storms of this kind can infrastructure withstand?

Officials advise caution as predictions point to the approach of another possible system. Even though snow totals make the news, recovery takes longer than accumulation. Roads need to be made clear. Roofs are examined. The temperature dropped.

The numbers serve as a record and a reminder for the time being. In some towns, more than 30 inches. In many others, more than two feet. Sufficient to temporarily redraw the state in white.

And it’s difficult to avoid experiencing that odd blend of awe and apprehension when you’re standing in the silence that follows a blizzard, when even the highways seem muted and traffic noise fades. Depth is measured by snow totals. Impact is not precisely measured by them.