Just Like Nothing (else) on Earth: Vestal’s Gap Road and Lanesville Historic District

By Tim Jon

I guess I’ll never really know which was more invigorating—the biting cold or the close brush with celebrity; my walk that morning along a narrow, primitive dirt road in Eastern Loudoun County included hefty doses of these two sensations, and lots more to offer in the way of memorable moments for the mind, body and soul. 

I had no sooner stepped from my parked car than the un-Virginia-like temperature and tundra-esque wind chills forced a hurried close covering of any remaining exposed skin, more than gently encouraged by the gusty blasts emanating—I was quite sure—from no civilized place in the known world. 

But, a Minnesota native (with German Lutheran upbringing) knows no conditions too harsh for completion of one’s mission, so I battled the combination of Mother Nature and chronic vertigo to not only remain on my feet, but successfully traverse the entire length of the preserved portion of Vestals Gap Road. 

And this little corridor—unbeknownst to most outside our locality—is where we (yes, you’re in on this, too at this point) encountered the Father of our Country; you see, in addition to this connecting path representing the long-ago stomping grounds of George Washington, here we (yes, us again) were—taking a casual—if somewhat frigid stroll along his very footsteps, on Presidents Day 2025. 

Now, one with a somewhat more linear mind than I might presume that I had been aware—from the outset—of this intersection of history and geography; no—not this sometimes-vacant-minded storyteller! 

Only at the point at which my brain (or perhaps a more southerly region of my body) became sufficiently frozen, did I become conscious of the situation: here I was, on this day of all days on the calendar, walking with George Washington himself! And I found it quite the humbling experience, to say the least. 

You may recall my sharing space with Honest Abe one warm, sunny morning at his national memorial. On that occasion, I remember feeling—as a moral representative of our species— distinctly inadequate. 

But, back to our first President. I must say, in all honesty (here the shadow of the cherry tree looms), I was treated with as much respect as any dignitary—foreign or domestic—and I sensed in my ethereal companion the hallmark qualities of leadership capability, moral strength, humility and courage—all of which I’d learned about from my primary education. In fact, we got along just fine, the President and I, especially surprising, with my identity as one of those media types. 

And, you know? I took a lesson from this experience: true greatness (compared with some contemporary pretenders) has nothing to fear from exposure to the public; on the contrary, both sides can benefit from these revelations. The truth hurts no one. 

So after we’d walked the mostly tree-lined length of Vestals Gap Road and back to my car—with pauses at the historic little village of Lanesboro and a delightful detour at its quaint, one-room on each floor, anyway schoolhouse, and a brief photo session with some curious whitetail deer, we made our formal—and informal—since we’re just a couple of regular, down-to-earth guys farewells.

However—if memory serves correctly—a future engagement was set for another stroll down memory lane along the little Vestals Gap Road, at perhaps a more meteorologically friendly morning: now, you understand: ol’ GW may no longer appear to us in the flesh, but this irreplaceable statesman from the past made it quite clear, at least to me, that he and his associates like the aforementioned lawyer from Illinois still keep an eye on things, which should encourage our current (and future) leaders to treat this country and its citizens in a manner befitting their deserts. 

In addition, we must also recognize the generosity and forethought of one of our local heroes in this story—the late Claude Moore, in leaving the acreage in today’s adventure for the use and benefits of the public, whom he would never know or see. His philanthropy left us not only the vast County Park in Sterling, but the nearly-untouched Banshee Reeks Nature Preserve in Ashburn. 

Humanity still has its good points. History can always teach us. And, we, some of us, anyway- the ones who don’t yet know everything, can always learn.