Just Like Nothing (else) on Earth: Trappe Road 

By Tim Jon

There’s more sky out there, distance takes on a new meaning, and even time seems to last longer. You may think this is a reference to a trailer for an upcoming science fiction thriller, but no—it’s just another fascinating feature I’ve come to enjoy about Loudoun County, Virginia—a locality of physical, intellectual and spiritual contradictions. 

Even a day of overcast and fog can bring feelings of exhilaration and inspiration (at least for me) along the eastern shoulder of the Blue Ridge Mountains on County Road 619, Trappe Road, down in the valley: on those days, you’re literally driving in the clouds, which can be an eerie, sensory-depriving experience— always putting my other receptors on high alert for any bearings. 

The morning of my last visit, the conditions were of sparkling clarity, as if someone had lifted the lid on the heavens and let in a limitless view of blue sky; I had to stop and just look several times. Or maybe it was all the same time, because a property of those huge spaces seems to throw the relativity scale out of proportion, and I find my usual chronological meters all tilted to the slow end. 

I believe those slide-rule boys came up with a proof that the speed of time decreases the faster one moves; I sometimes wonder if the same phenomenon holds true as one becomes more alive. I’ve noticed a sense of spiritual, physical and intellectual stirrings and tuning and sharpening under conditions such as I’ve experienced in places like the vicinity of the heights along that north-south corridor known as Trappe Road. Or, maybe it’s just a strong imagination, or I’m too sensitive—both of which I’ve been accused of being in possession of. To me, it’s the same thing. 

Now, for the under-initiated, this rural lane features some truly impressive horse and cattle country: some estates include vast eight-or-nine-bedroom manor houses in the two-hundred-year-plus age range, with multiple polo fields, on over a thousand acres. And there are a number of these. 

Yeah, it’s a different world out there. Maybe this is a trailer for an upcoming science fiction thriller: “Loudoun County—Equine Universe!” 

Well, back on planet earth, one really doesn’t see much from a mere passing-by: the driveways on some of these properties approach a mile in length. And, we were speaking earlier of relativity: my townhome in Leesburg (a very cozy, comfortable home I love) has no driveway. I haven’t noticed any polo fields in my backyard, but I maintain a vast garden plot of some four by 16 feet. Talk about impressive. 

But maybe I’m onto something here. You adapt to your environment, and then immerse yourself in a diametrically opposite situation, which brings all your senses on high alert (similar, I would guess, to jumping into a frigid body of water after emerging from a sauna—those crazy northerners). 

So, while I don’t possess the deed to any of the expansive (and expensive) horse farms in western Loudoun County, I can hereby lay claim to some of their benefits—without having to shell out for any of their taxes, or mow any of their lawns, feed the animals or pay the staff. And I wouldn’t be any good at polo, so there’s no problem there. 

I can take what I enjoy: the stone fence-lined (and usually deserted) country road, with views of the tree-covered hills leading up to the summit of the Blue Ridge Mountains, open fields (some partially occupied by herds of black Angus cattle), the tantalizingly-close-but-so-far-away Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center (talk about a sci-fi thriller—no, wait—we can’t talk about that) looming up on the heights, the simple enjoyment of relative silence and complete stillness (extremely rare qualities in Northern Virginia!), and the appreciation (on my part, anyway) of at least the semblance of timelessness. 

The knowledge and general assuredness that on a return trip we can plan on finding the same physical features of rocks, trees, grasses, animals and more sky than one who lives in a relatively small townhome in Leesburg, Virginia would believe. 

I want to return to find a similar expansion of time, and something approaching the suspension of gravity itself. There we go traveling again … yes, that’s me—the one you don’t see.