Just Like Nothing (else) on Earth: Oatlands Road

By Tim Jon

Mostly, I remember the diffuse quality of the sunlight coming in at strange, surprising angles; the early morning and quick changes in elevation can do that to you: am I going up or down, or are we ‘on the level’ here?

Yet another not-for-the-faint-of-heart country roads in Loudoun County; you’d think by now I’d have covered just about all of them – but, no – here I was again in uncharted territory – facing a disturbingly-narrow paved corridor – combined with the dawn light’s playing tricks on my windshield – all while trying (in theory, anyway) to capture some arresting images on camera and etch down their memories somewhere in the spare room between the ears.

I would have expected a much more relaxed, ethereal experience from my first drive along Oatlands Road in the south-central part of the County. Some of these quiet mornings in primitive, lonely country can provide a meditative, mystical, dream-like ride through Loudoun’s farmland, history and the day’s emerging moments.

Well, yes, some of those qualities entered into the mix as I meandered up and down, round the bends, in and out of the full glare of our nearest star; for the most part, though, I felt I needed to keep to the task at hand – which consisted of keeping my vehicle ‘between the ditches’ while trying to anticipate my alternatives upon encountering any oncoming traffic. And if you find the preceding descriptions in the least confusing, imagine the writer’s feelings – at the time as well as in the attempted re-visitation.

I’m still taking deep breaths in thinking of the chances of running a tire off the pavement, or striking the nearly-ubiquitous stone fences accompanying the road, or bumping into one of the members of a forest of giant trees lining the route, or encountering some other insurmountable obstacle in that morning’s path.

But, we made the entire length of Oatlands Road (Rt. 650) from its southern terminus off Snickersville Turnpike in Aldie, up to the junction at Rt. 15 – closer to the historic plantation and mansion of the same name. And yes, fortune allowed me to pause at some of the right places along the way to collect what I felt might represent just a bit of the spirit of this country lane. And I was able to recall a general sense of my impressions from the morning, as well as a few of the particulars along the way.

My strongest memory – referred to at the top – remains the dawn light creating bursts of blinding glare on windshield, spectacles and camera lens; combine this with sections of the road narrow enough to crowd a small family of rabbits, and I wonder how I remember much else of the trip. I still ponder the driving possibilities for the daily local residents – should they come upon each other at an unexpected blind curve; I shudder to think of an early-morning or late-afternoon school bus trying to simply negotiate the turns, much less avoid any other vehicles (or tree limbs, animals, bicycles or other obstacles). Those stands of mature trees I mentioned made their way into the picture catalog – both in the mind and camera – many joining in the morning sun’s playful lighting effects.

There’s a feeling I sense in and among old growth timber that always reminds me of a house of worship; perhaps it’s the power and protection coming down through the ages – or at least my imagination of that phenomenon.

Breaking through the edge of the forest, I negotiated my vehicle downhill toward more open cattle country; the early hour offered at least partial covering of the oncoming valley with a smoky blanket of fog, giving the scattered bovine herds an even more romantic quality. Some of the cows seemed to appreciate the early-morning visit, coming right in for a close-up as I got out to stretch the legs at one of the few turn-off areas. And, as I approached the end of the journey near Route 15, I was rewarded with an uncommon sight in this region – at least for me. Now, whether they were actual ‘long-horn’ cattle or simply cows with quite impressive headgear, I was instantly transported much further south – say, to the Lone Star State – as I stood along the fence and shared a bit of time and space with these formidable-looking creatures. Appropriate gate-keepers to Oatlands Road, I thought, getting back on the highway and onto more familiar grounds to face the rest of my day. So – my advice is: stay home, read the story and peruse the photos; I think I’ll heed my own advice when it comes to another dawn’s drive along Route 650.