A Bacon’s Rebellion reader in Arlington posed an interesting question a few weeks back: “How many miles of public dirt roads exist in Virginia? No macadam crumbles allowed. No concrete broken panels. Just dirt and gravel of the usual sort.”

That query led to an intriguing quest which unearthed the Virginia Department of Transportation’s 49-page booklet A History of Roads in Virginia; a Dirt Road Supporters listserv (a nationwide network of dirt and gravel road aficionados who exchange strategies for keeping roads unpaved), and – yes – something called the Center for Dirt and Gravel Road Studies at Pennsylvania State University. Apparently, there’s a national groundswell of support for keeping roads unpaved. I had no idea this question would provide such rich soil for exploration!

Before I reveal how many miles of public dirt and gravel roads there are in Virginia, let me give you a little context on the road issue.

The Virginia House of Burgesses passed the first highway legislation in American history in 1632. Basically, it gave the colonial governor and other officials the right to build roads “in such convenient places as are requisite ...” (usually to courts and churches). The act also required each man in the colony to dedicate a certain number of days each year to road construction and maintenance, a custom dating from medieval times. That labor law remained on the books for 250 years, providing a ready supply of workers for road and bridge construction.

Since the 17^th century, the historical record of road maintenance in Virginia has been somewhat checkered. In the 1700s and early 1800s, private companies established well-maintained turnpikes, funded through tolls. By the mid-19^th century, the railroad handled most long-distance travel for people and freight; roads fell into disrepair and were further damaged during the Civil War. Twenty-five years after the war ended, Virginia roads were in worse shape than when the hostilities began.

The situation changed drastically in the final years of the 19^th century when excitement over the newly invented automobile spawned the nationwide “good road” movement. In 1894, the Young Business Men’s League of Roanoke formed the Virginia Good Road Association. Twelve years later, growing automobile use spurred the Virginia General Assembly to establish the first State Highway Commission. Laws requiring registration and licensing followed soon after, with legislators earmarking the revenue from fees for road maintenance by 1916. By 1918, there were 306 miles of hard-surface roads in Virginia; by 1925 the number had jumped to 3,600.

But what about dirt and gravel roads?

Fifty years ago, there were 22,095 miles of untreated roads and 2,749 miles of roads that were unsurfaced. Two decades ago, the number of untreated roads had been reduced to 12,283 and unsurfaced to 230. At the end of 2002 Virginia had 47,582 miles of secondary roads, of which 9,474 were untreated and 138 were unsurfaced. According to our VDOT source, the agency no longer accepts maintenance responsibility for additional miles of unpaved roads, except those that are planned for immediate hard surfacing under a special rural addition program.

It’s ironic that after the Commonwealth’s massive efforts to reduce the number of dirt and gravel roads, there are those who would like to preserve them. A Rappahannock County contributor to the Dirt Road Supporters listserv is researching whether retaining dirt roads might actually increase property values, since people moving south from the D.C. area are looking for truly rural locales.

In other rural communities throughout the U.S., dirt roads are becoming a weekender vs. old-timer issue, with newcomers opposed to paving; Penn State’s Center for Dirt and Gravel Road Studies wants to help develop road maintenance techniques that are “sensitive to the environment.” Yes, the Dirt Road issue looks like it’s shaping up to become a real turf war, and you can be sure there’ll be some mud-slinging on both sides. Outside the fray, however, there are people -- like Roanoke.com columnist Todd Jennings -- who enjoy residing on roads less traveled. “I like living on a gravel road,” Jennings wrote in November 2002. “Somehow pavement makes me feel too accessible. If you are going to brave the gravel then you really must want to see me.”

Up Next: Norton, VA is the smallest city in the Commonwealth, but it has the biggest reach: it's closer to seven other state capitols than is Richmond. Who cares? Should you? Join me next time when "Nice & Curious Questions" examines Western Virginia in terms of its supposed isolation from the rest of the state.

If you have a Nice & Curious question, e-mail me at Edwin.Clay@fairfaxcounty.gov.