DEL.ICIO.USFROM ATLANTA TO ... DAMASCUS, VA.
Virginia mountain town a biking haven
Rail bed converted to natural bike path that can be coasted down
For the Journal-Constitution
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Damascus, Va. – In the early 1900s, steam locomotives chugged their way up steep inclines in the southwestern Virginia mountains at a pace so slow that locals called the trains the Virginia Creepers.
Today, the locomotives no longer grind their way along the tracks, long since removed.
JACK HORAN/Special
Bicyclists cross more than 30 trestles and bridges on the 17-mile-long Whitetop Station-to-Damascus section of the Virginia Creeper Trail, the remnant of a train line.
JACK HORAN/Special
At Green Cove Station, visitors can check out old railway tools in the freight room or buy drinks and T-shirts in the general store. Outside are picnic tables and restrooms.
JACK HORAN/Special
The trail draws up to 3,000 riders on peak weekends during fall color season. Many take a shuttle to Whitetop Station and bike back to their cars in Damascus.
- For information about the trail, including bicycle outfitters, see www.vacreepertrail.com and www.vacreepertrail.us. During the fall color weekends, outfitters run extra shuttle trips to accommodate the increased number of riders.
- Trail riders can rent a mountain bike and hire a shuttle or bring their own bikes and pay for a shuttle only. Typical charges are $24 for a four-hour bike rental and shuttle and $13 for a shuttle only.
- Bike owners who don't want to take the shuttle can start at numerous public access points along the trail. Parking areas and restrooms can be found at Whitetop Station, Green Cove Station, Creek Junction, Straight Branch and Damascus. There is no charge to the ride the trail.
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Instead, clanking train cars have been replaced by whirring mountain bikes, and greasy overalls have given way to colorful Spandex shirts and shorts. The former rail bed has been transformed into the Virginia Creeper Trail, a 33-mile-long gravel path from the North Carolina-Virginia line west to Abingdon, Va.
The trail ranks as one of the most popular in the Southeast, drawing an estimated 200,000 bicyclists, hikers and horse riders a year, says Link Elmore, president of the nonprofit Virginia Creeper Trail Club. That’s four times as many as a decade ago.
Ride the upper trail and you’ll quickly discover why droves of men, women and children descend on tiny Damascus on warm-weather weekends. They rent a bicycle, hop in a van for a 35-minute shuttle to Whitetop Station, elevation 3,576 feet, mount their machines, crank the pedals five or six times and begin to coast, yes, coast, much of the 17 miles back to Damascus.
No cars to dodge
As they ride, fingers squeezing handlebar brakes, cyclists pass through tunnels of trees, rumble over 30-some wooden trestles and bridges, glide past tumbling trout streams bordered by cool glades and periodically emerge into sun-drenched valleys with pastures, barns and farmhouses.
Cyclists don’t have to dodge cars. The trail crosses only a few rural roads in the pockets of private land surrounded by the Jefferson National Forest. It’s a little Blue Ridge Parkway for bicycle riders.
Just 1.1 miles from the state line, Whitetop Station in the 1920s served a bustling community of 500 people, with a hotel, stores, four passenger trains and two freights a day. The original station was torn down. But a replica stands as a visitors center, themed with historic photos and personal remembrances of the trains.
I made my 10th ride in 10 years in early October, getting a shuttle to Whitetop Station with my own mountain bike. Rolling downhill, it’s easy to hit 25 mph in the 3-mile stretch to Green Cove Station. My fingers continually tapped the brake levers. Hemlocks, maples and rhododendron rushed past. The pops and crackles of knobby tires crunching gravel and leaves broke the silence of the surrounding forest. The tires drummed rhythmically as they rolled across the deck of a 283-foot-long trestle.
A break at Gren Cove Station
At Green Cove Station, built in 1914, visitors can wander by old kegs and railway tools in the musty freight room or buy soft drinks, books and T-shirts in the former waiting room and general store. Outside are picnic tables and restrooms. As I ate a sandwich, a Great Pyrenees sheepdog led a flock of 15 sheep along a hillside pasture, giving a few barks to let everyone know who’s boss.
Back into the tree tunnel. The grade begins to moderate and, nine miles below Green Cove Station, the Appalachian Trail enters from the right. The AT overlays the Creeper Trail twice before veering off. The two trails converge in Damascus, which calls itself “Trail Town USA,” a rest and resupply destination that’s as important to long-distance hikers as Atlanta is to I-85 travelers.
Whitetop Laurel Creek parallels the Creeper Trail for much of the rest of the way to Damascus. Fly anglers work its pools shimmering with muted, Monet-like hues. While standing on a bridge several years ago watching trout wiggle against the current, I spotted a rarely seen hellbender, a 16-inch-long salamander. It poked among the rocks, looking for its favorite food, crawfish.
Calorie-burning ahead
Out of the forest, passing by a group of rental cabins and through a weighted cattle gate at a pasture, cyclists come into the Taylors Valley community. Those who want a midride treat at the Creeper Trail Cafe should turn left at the bridge. Caution: Calories are about to burn. From here, it’s 10 miles to Damascus on mostly level terrain.
The ride to Damascus takes about three hours, depending on the time spent sightseeing.
Lucky bicyclists may encounter the “Legend of the Virginia Creeper Trail” in the form of Lawrence Dye, 76. He rides the trail five days a week, except in bad weather, from Abingdon to Whitetop Station and back, a 66-mile round trip of seven hours.
The retired auditor started biking the Creeper in 1990. Since then, he’s racked up 135,000 miles (as of Oct. 7) in 1,490 round trips.
Why does he do it? “Just loving the trail and meeting people,” said Dye, who wears out two sets of tires a year. “Once you get into it, it’s something you love to do.”
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