#72 From My House to Yours as the Crow Flies

Walking the back trails between the two houses of friends who live in Charlottesville is a fine way to really see the stories in the land as well as clues to the changes to come.

 
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This show originally aired on January 10, 2008 on “The Rivanna Rambler,” a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net.

One of my New Years resolutions is to daily substitute a trip I would have made by car, with one by foot, bicycle, bus, or carpool. Or even – radical thought! – not make the trip at all! I started on New Years Day with a trip by foot to visit some friends who’ve recently moved to Jamestown Road next to Greenbrier Park. If I were to travel by car or bike from where I live on Oxford Road, it would be about a mile travel by road, punctuated by stops and right-angled turns all along the way.

We strike out from Oxford Road in the early afternoon, hoping to walk as directly as possible and minimize our time on asphalt. Crossing under the By-Pass and along the backside of the ball fields in McIntire Park, we reach a steep valley at the far end, cut by the unnamed tributary of Meadowcreek between the park and Charlottesville High. To our left is the swath of land that may someday become the new YMCA. I’ve not been back here for a couple of years and am grateful to find the concrete rounds to step me across the creek.

Using Melbourne Road to cross the railroad tracks, we look for a way to maintain our northerly direction – and knowing that where there is a fence, there is likely to be a path on at least one side – sure enough we find a well-worn trail that cuts behind the soccer field. At the far end, a lone, majestic white pine marks the top of another trail that zigs down the slope to a wooden bridge that crossing another creek where we are faced with a choice: to the right, we’ll end up on the main RTF trail, but there’s a footpath to the left that leads alluringly up the hill into a stand of cedar and pine and more in the direction we want.

So we take it, up through a forest whose quiet is all the more magical by its proximity to houses and roads. Our steps are muffled by the soft needles on the path, but we see strips of pink surveyor tape that seem to shout out the alarm: something’s going to happen here soon. We wonder what it is.

As we emerge from the trees, we see a long straight rise that tends in the direction we’re heading. Scrambling up the tangled bank, we brave a thicket of briars to the flat topped roadway where stone ballast emerges from pockets in the earth confirms that it is an old railway bed. We follow the track until it intersects Meadowcreek where it emerges through a large box culvert under the newer rail line. Back on the official RTF trail, we walk through the opening into the echoing darkness under the tracks, balancing on the 24 inch sewer line that keeps our toes dry from the scant flow of the creek. I put my right hand on the cool concrete wall to steady myself when I can no longer see my feet in the dizzying half-light, half-reflection at the center of the culvert. We emerge on the other side into Greenbrier Park, and it’s a known and easy walk to our friends’ house from here.

I’d hesitate to say that this was the shortest route between two points, but we all know that “as the crow flies” does not account for the diversions a curious bird is known to take along the way. We figure it was also about a mile, including the switchbacks and the places where we investigated the signs in the land. And, except where we encountered asphalt, there were few right-angled turns, only the curves and arcs made by trails through the woods. If every trip substitution I make this coming year is like today’s, I will come out way ahead: cheeks flushed, curiosity excited, and spirit nourished in only the way that the cover of trees and the feel of earth below my feet can do.

2008 Copyright by Leslie B. Middleton

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