Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, May 6, 1994 TAG: 9405110067
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-14 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE:
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
For about 10 years, the mountain counties of western North Carolina have been covered by the law, which gave those counties three options: Pass your own ordinance to regulate construction of buildings 40 feet or higher on any ridge above 3,000 feet and more than 500 feet above the valley floor; do nothing, in which case a state prohibition against tall buildings on protected ridges would go into effect; or put the issue to a referendum and let county residents decide whether to adopt the state prohibition or reject any regulation.
A few counties passed their own ordinances, but most chose to let the state ban cover them. Only one county put the matter to a referendum, and residents there voted 2-1 for the state prohibition. What happened to create such unanimity for regulation in a region where, 10 years earlier, resounding opposition to a proposed Mountain Area Management Act led to its defeat in the North Carolina legislature?
What happened was Little Sugar Mountain.
Atop the crest of Little Sugar Mountain, a private ski resort in a county with no regulations on how, where or whether a developer could build, the Sugar Top condominium complex went up. It was expected to be three or four stories high, but it just kept going up, higher and higher, until at last a 10-story complex loomed atop the 5,000-foot mountain - directly across from Grandfather Mountain, a favorite tourist attraction. Residents in neighboring counties have an excellent view of the condos even today.
As the buildings rose, so did the ire of local officials and residents. People who had steadfastly opposed any land-use regulation suddenly saw the need, and petitioned North Carolina's legislature to pass restrictions to prevent any more such unsightly development.
High-rise housing, which can scar ridgetops, depress neighboring property values and deter tourists, hasn't marred mountain vistas around Roanoke - yet. We've been lucky. The Fishburns bought and preserved Mill Mountain. National forestlands have protected us. So has the Blue Ridge Parkway.
But our luck is running out. Development already is encroaching on pastoral lands that make the parkway the nation's favorite pleasure drive. Pricey housing has uglified the top of at least one Roanoke County ridge. If more growth comes to the region, as it must, it will come at a price. The lesson of Little Sugar Mountain is that action must be taken to prevent the price from being too high - before serious damage is done.
North Carolina reacted after damage was done, and still has no control over buildings less than 40 feet (three or four stories) tall. Consequently, mountains are dotted by developments that, while not as tall as they might have been, still detract from the natural beauty.
Virginia legislators should give the western part of this state at least the ridgetop protection that North Carolina found, too late, it needed. But height limitations on buildings are only a piece of what both states must have to preserve the beauty that is a precious natural resource, as essential to careful economic development as any mineral resource or industrial park.
Does that mean there should be no development wherever the scenery is pretty? No. But below-ridgetop homes designed to fit well into their surroundings, and at a distance from such scenic routes as the Blue Ridge Parkway, can satisfy development needs without destroying a precious regional asset.
by CNB