Just like nothing (else) on earth: Aldie Dam

By Tim Jon                   

Proof of Loudoun County’s identity as a conundrum – or a vortex of mysterious forces – rears its head again as I approach this story of one writer’s search for the Holy Grail of the day, only to utterly fail in the attempt to find the physical manifestation at hand – in this case being a simple plot of land in a familiar, historic little community. 

No – it wasn’t a harrowing search for the true sources of the late ‘90’s horror flick, The Blair Witch Project (shot just across the Potomac in Burkesville, Maryland) or a one-man invasion of the secretive complex on top of Mount Weather, to find out just what in the heck goes on up there – or a hair-raising attempt at some shots of the historic toll house just off the Route Seven interchange with Route 28 in Sterling. 

I was just looking for a place called Aldie Park. Now, we’re all familiar with the popular tourist destination in this Village, the Aldie Mill, protected, promoted and preserved for our examination. In fact, we visited this spot several years back for this series, and I also covered events associated with the Mill back in my days as Radio News Director on AM 1200 in Leesburg. So, while I claim no expertise in local geography, I can at least find my way around well enough to get myself safely home. 

Not this time. I mean, I got home OK, but the pursuit failed to turn up the elusive subject, and I had to settle for a slight change of plans. Having driven up and down the gravel surface of Route 632 – the Aldie Dam Road (and being tempted to insert another descriptive, yet sacrilegious term in there) far enough to notice the signs indicating an oncoming dead-end, I reversed course and headed back to the road’s namesake, an ancient-looking structure lying along the Little River, just few feet from the ever-busy Route 50 as it passes through the community. 

Now, if the Aldie Dam actually comprises part of the ghostly Aldie Park under question, I saw no evidence in the way of signs, official parking areas, or other facilities we normally associate with a public park. 

Having said all this, my stop at the historic Dam was very interesting. Any time I find moving water flowing through a series of outdated, man-made contraptions, out of the way of motor vehicle or foot traffic, count me in. It was as if my search for the “Park” had never taken place; as far as I was concerned, the barely-a-trickle of water running over the spillway at the elbow of the River – at least the day I visited, I would have called it a Creek, or Run, or similar terms indicating a narrow channel and sleepy current. 

After getting a general lay of the land and liquid, I followed my instincts and negotiated my way right down to the water – the ‘tail’ section bubbled and percolated over and through a rocky stream bed that invited closer inspection; I obeyed a personal rule when under these circumstances: stop, look and listen. 

I’m nearly always rewarded – when in a secluded spot for the first time – if I just stand and breathe, and let Nature do the thinking as well as the talking. The traffic on Route 50 could have been miles away as long as I let the spell of the moving water simply run its course. 

And that could have served as the day’s entire lesson; most of us – judging from personal experience – have been taught since the age of self-awareness that we always need to be doing something – preferably something constructive – specifically in the way of monetary value. 

Now there’s nothing wrong with industriousness – in developing skills and earning a living – I’ve pretty much followed a strict work regimen throughout my life; I find it just as rewarding and perhaps critically important in maintaining physical, mental and spiritual health – to find – and learn to savor those morsels of time in which we do absolutely nothing – we simply are. To my finding, until I’m acceptable (to myself and the universe) at this level, the rest of my so-called accomplishments carry little value. 

So, I stood; the River flowed. And it was good. I got in touch with my breathing and heartbeat, took as many photos as I desired, then decided I needed a closer look at the ramshackle-looking dam just a few feet upstream. And, as you remember, we did just that.