Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, June 6, 1993 TAG: 9306040027
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: STEVE KARK
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Laid in the criss-cross pattern common to such fences, the wooden rails had that light gray color that suggested the fence had been there for quite some time.
The road was gravel then, and trees hung in close on the sides. On the hottest summer days, parts of the road were shaded by a canopy of leaves.
I liked driving that way not only for the shade it offered, but also for the peaceful feeling I got whenever I saw that scenic old fence.
I suppose it was simply because the fence was there at all. While the rest of the world changed around it, that old wooden fence, tucked away on this quiet secondary road, still held its own against the winds of change.
But, as I've already suggested, it didn't hold out forever. When the highway department widened the road, it was taken down and stacked, tepee fashion, on the hillside above the road and replaced with a new wire fence.
Oh, I'm not complaining. I know we needed the new road. I still drive that way, only now for different reasons. It's much faster and the road's a lot less bumpy.
And, cutting back some of those trees has opened up the view. It's easier to see the wildflowers blooming in the fields below the road and the ridge lines that parallel its course up the valley.
Still, I couldn't help feeling a sense of loss when they took down the fence.
You can imagine how pleased I was when later, at one of the government meetings I cover for this paper, I met the old couple who own that piece of land and the fence that used to border it. They lived there all their lives and remember when things were a lot different.
I learned the fence was made of chestnut, a tree that used to be fairly common in the New River Valley but was virtually wiped out by blight years ago.
Both the land and the house built upon it have been in the family for several generations. They told me his grandfather cut and split the wood for the fence many years ago.
And later, after they'd invited me to their home, they told me what the valley had been like while the fence still was new.
All the roads were dirt then. Imagine what it was like, they said, driving up past the fence in a Model-T Ford, beneath the limbs of trees heavy with chestnuts.
The roads weren't as bad as you might expect, because they kept a shovel in the Model-T and did their own road work.
Eggleston was different too. The train used to stop there so people could disembark for the next leg of the trip to Mountain Lake. Often they spent the night in town at a hotel before going up to the resort the next day.
A lot of folks settled in the valley back then, they said, what with Mountain Lake up the road and the rock-crushing factory over near Pembroke. Buses from the factory picked up workers from all over the county and some from as far away as West Virginia.
There was more prosperity then, they told me, but today things are different and they're changing faster every day. The town is quiet now, and the trains - laden with coal these days and not tourists - rarely stop.
Should you go looking, a wider asphalt road marks the path where a young man used to drive his Model-T through a grove of chestnut trees, passing the split-rail fence built by his grandfather.
Few would deny that the new road's an improvement. It raises less dust. It's faster, it's better. Right?
Besides, who carries a shovel around in the car anymore?
Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for the Roanoke Times & World-News. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.
by CNB