A Bacon’s Rebellion reader in Arlington
posed an interesting question a few weeks back: “How
many miles of public dirt roads exist in Virginia? No
macadam crumbles allowed. No concrete broken panels. Just
dirt and gravel of the usual sort.”
That query led to an intriguing quest which unearthed
the Virginia Department of Transportation’s 49-page
booklet A
History of Roads in Virginia; a Dirt Road Supporters
listserv (a nationwide network of dirt and gravel road
aficionados who exchange strategies for keeping roads
unpaved), and – yes – something called the
Center for Dirt and Gravel Road Studies at Pennsylvania
State University. Apparently, there’s a national
groundswell of support for keeping roads unpaved. I had
no idea this question would provide such rich soil for
exploration!
Before I reveal how many miles of public dirt and gravel
roads there are in Virginia, let me give you a little
context on the road issue.
The Virginia House of Burgesses passed the first highway
legislation in American history in 1632. Basically, it
gave the colonial governor and other officials the right
to build roads “in such convenient places as are
requisite ...” (usually to courts and churches).
The act also required each man in the colony to dedicate
a certain number of days each year to road construction
and maintenance, a custom dating from medieval times.
That labor law remained on the books for 250 years, providing
a ready supply of workers for road and bridge construction.
Since the 17th century, the historical record of road
maintenance in Virginia has been somewhat checkered. In
the 1700s and early 1800s, private companies established
well-maintained turnpikes, funded through tolls. By the
mid-19th century, the railroad handled most long-distance
travel for people and freight; roads fell into disrepair
and were further damaged during the Civil War. Twenty-five
years after the war ended, Virginia roads were in worse
shape than when the hostilities began.
The situation changed drastically in the final years of
the 19th century when excitement over the newly invented
automobile spawned the nationwide “good road”
movement. In 1894, the Young Business Men’s League
of Roanoke formed the Virginia Good Road Association.
Twelve years later, growing automobile use spurred the
Virginia General Assembly to establish the first State
Highway Commission. Laws requiring registration and licensing
followed soon after, with legislators earmarking the revenue
from fees for road maintenance by 1916. By 1918, there
were 306 miles of hard-surface roads in Virginia; by 1925
the number had jumped to 3,600.
But what about dirt and gravel roads?
Fifty years ago, there were 22,095 miles of untreated
roads and 2,749 miles of roads that were unsurfaced. Two
decades ago, the number of untreated roads had been reduced
to 12,283 and unsurfaced to 230. At the end of 2002 Virginia
had 47,582 miles of secondary roads, of which 9,474 were
untreated and 138 were unsurfaced. According to our VDOT
source, the agency no longer accepts maintenance responsibility
for additional miles of unpaved roads, except those that
are planned for immediate hard surfacing under a special
rural addition program.
It’s ironic that after the Commonwealth’s
massive efforts to reduce the number of dirt and gravel
roads, there are those who would like to preserve them.
A Rappahannock County contributor to the Dirt Road Supporters
listserv is researching whether retaining dirt roads might
actually increase property values, since people moving
south from the D.C. area are looking for truly rural locales.
In other rural communities throughout the U.S., dirt roads
are becoming a weekender vs. old-timer issue, with newcomers
opposed to paving; Penn State’s Center for Dirt
and Gravel Road Studies wants to help develop road maintenance
techniques that are “sensitive to the environment.”
Yes, the Dirt Road issue looks like it’s shaping
up to become a real turf war, and you can be sure there’ll
be some mud-slinging on both sides. Outside the fray,
however, there are people -- like Roanoke.com columnist
Todd Jennings -- who enjoy residing on roads less traveled.
“I like living on a gravel road,” Jennings
wrote in November 2002. “Somehow pavement makes
me feel too accessible. If you are going to brave the
gravel then you really must want to see me.”
Up Next: Norton, VA is the smallest city in the Commonwealth,
but it has the biggest reach: it's closer to seven other
state capitols than is Richmond. Who cares? Should you?
Join me next time when "Nice & Curious Questions"
examines Western Virginia in terms of its supposed isolation
from the rest of the state.
January 5, 2004
If you have a Nice & Curious question, e-mail
me at Edwin.Clay@fairfaxcounty.gov.
Nice & Curious
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