For these young adults who
come annually for family reunions,
Southwest Virginia’s 34-mile Virginia
Creeper Trail (VCT) is timeless. It’s a
place, they’ve discovered, where cell
phones serve no purpose and where
horses share the path. A place where
the loudest sound you’ll hear for
miles is the thud-thud of your bike
tires across the planks of towering
wooden trestles.
Though it may feel antique to the fami-
lies who return year after year, the VCT is
a fairly recent development—and one that
almost didn’t happen. The trail is a beloved
regional asset and economic boon that
once ignited fierce opposition from neigh-
boring landowners. A relic of the railroad
age, it came within a pen stroke of simply
vanishing into the forest. The story of the
Virginia Creeper Trail is the tale of an idea
that gripped two small-town doctors and a
local lawmaker—and then simply wouldn’t
let go.
Campaign for the Creeper
The rail line that was once the highest-
elevation passenger service train east of
the Rockies made its last run in 1977. The
Norfolk &Western Railway’s Abingdon
line, dating back to the late 1800s, trans-
ported timber from the old-growth forest
on Whitetop Mountain to a Damascus,
Va., lumber mill. The line became known
as “The Virginia Creeper” because of the
train’s creeping pace up and down steep
mountain grades. In the late 1920s, the
local lumber industry shut down. Yet the
Creeper chugged along another 50 years,
transporting passengers and assorted dry
goods—and serving as a vital line of con-
nection in the region.
Dr. French Moore Jr., an Abingdon,
Va., dentist who chaired Washington
County’s planning commission in the late
1970
s, remembers the first time he heard
the idea of converting the old rail line to a
trail. A
Washington Post
story of a defunct
Wisconsin rail line turned into a hik-
ing trail had sparked the imagination of
Moore’s planning commission colleague,
Dr. Dave Brillhart, an Abingdon physician
who shared the story with Moore. The idea
took root. “I just couldn’t let it go,” Moore
recalls. “I knew we’d only have the oppor-
tunity…for a moment in time.”
The U.S. Forest
Service (USFS)
jumped on the
chance to purchase
the right-of-way for
the 19-mile stretch
of rail line running
through the Mount
Rogers National
Recreation Area, from
Damascus to the
North Carolina state
line. Meanwhile, in a
separate, local effort,
Moore and Brillhart
began a tireless cam-
paign to develop the
full 34-mile trail that would last most of
the next decade. The task was daunting:
Trail advocates would have to purchase
the remaining 15 miles of right-of-way
between Damascus and Abingdon, acquire
and save 47 trestles that had already been
sold to a salvage company, build and make
the trail safe for visitors, and figure out
matters of local oversight and upkeep.
Allies and Adversaries in Abingdon
The two activists knew they’d need a pub-
lic advocate for their cause. They found
that in their state senator, Rick Boucher,
whom they approached early in the cam-
paign for help in negotiating with the
railroad. Boucher, who practiced law in
“
I just kept
going. I
always
believed the
trail would be
a success—
something no
one can ever
take away
from us.”
—
Dr. French Moore Jr.,
trail co-founder
Tyler Evert/AP Images (3)
Matt Titus and Matt
Boone bike past
Whitetop Station on the
Virginia Creeper Trail.
Alex Jones, a worker at
In The Country, hands
Emma Cree, visiting from
South Carolina, a scoop
of mint chocolate chip.
James Lautzenheizer
and Elaine Masure take
a break at the Green
Cove Station.
rails
to
trails
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