Here’s a story I’d partly forgotten, until I started rereading what I’d written about the Blue Ridge Parkway for this magazine—and one that bears repeating. From just south of Doughton Park to the North Carolina/Virginia state line, 31,000 linear feet of dry masonry guard walls were built, from the rock blasted from the mountains to make room for the roadway.
By the time that they ceased to function very well as a barrier to prevent vehicles leaving the roadway from tumbling down the mountainside—at least in the Federal Highway Administration’s opinion—they were part of the parkway’s “historic fabric,” and parkway landscape architects fought a long battle to retain them. A compromise was eventually reached; the walls were taken down, and, where needed, footers were poured, the walls strengthened in various ways, and small reflectors attached to help drivers see them at night and in foggy weather.
This work is now complete, as it wasn’t in 2010, when I wrote my article (May/June 2010; see link in adjoining sidebar). Driving the parkway now, those walls look as though they were never taken apart and reassembled. Grapevines, virgin’s bower and Virginia creeper are extending their reach across them. But here’s the irony I’d forgotten: Far from being part of the vision of orginal parkway landscape architect Stan Abbott, they were something he vigorously opposed, on grounds that they reduced shoulder width, cost more than the guardrails he favored, and introduced an inappropriate design element. That may be, but I, for one, always look forward to seeing them. I think they’re beautiful.
