I found an old tollhouse

When I was last out rambling with the bike, near Route 7 in Ashburn, I followed a road posted as a dead end. I rode past a cluttered property with a crude sign about police dogs and trespassing, slowed when the road became gravel and turned parallel to the elevated highway. On the right, as I start downhill, this sprawl of a yellow house, and then a half-hung gate and a stone wall with a little house up against it. Beyond that, the bridge that had spanned Broad Run was demolished and unnavigable, three huge heaps of stone. Above it, on the elevated highway, cars zipped east at 60 miles an hour, some peeling off on the Route 28 ramp just beyond Broad Run. I was completely invisible to them, and they to me; they existed as noise for me.

The little stone house attracted me, although it was quite run down and not very photogenic. Still, it had a certain...attitude. I peered in windows. I found a tiny square swimming pool tucked against its walls in back. I strolled around the property, spring green bottomland spotted with dandelions. The creek was deep and brown and fast. The back of the yellow hacienda I'd passed overlooked a little pond with a filtration island on which two Canada geese were perched. They paid me no attention.

I established that there was no means of crossing the creek. The water was deep, the run as broad as its name. Further, there was no way to pass under the Route 7 bridge to the northern side, where I thought I might find my way to Algonkian Parkway. Indeed, I had to return whence I came, although ironically I would cross the stream just the other side of the Route 7 bridge an hour later.

Photo: Muriel Spetzman, 1953

I was curious, so I looked up the property. It turned out to have been the Broad Run Tollhouse, which not only collected tolls [until 1924] but sold moonshine for $2 a pint and $8 to $9 a gallon during Prohibition. Bridges had been  built there and washed away since colonial times. In 1809, a $41,450 state appropriation to build the twenty mile Leesburg Turnpike from Leesburg to Dranesville included the bridge and tollhouse. This sum, incidentally, was the largest state road appropriation to date. The stone bridge was constructed around 1820 out of huge stones from quarries in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and was was destroyed in 1972 by floodwaters from Hurricane Agnes.

1. Crystal Owens, "Activists look to save historic tollhouse", Loudoun Times, May 26, 2009.

2. Eugene Scheel (Waterford historian), "Mountains Full of Moonshiners", The History of Loudoun County

3. "The Broad Run Bridge", Broad Run Farms History, 06 November 2005

Rambler Report: Lovettsville Loop

I'd lost the morning by the time business was taken care of, so I drove to the W&OD at Hamilton Station Road, near the portajohn, which was clean. An easy three mile spin into Purcellville on the W&OD Trail. This time of year, you get your first view of the mountains as you swing onto Hatcher Avenue. I was surprised to see a new roundabout at the intersection of Allder School Road and Hillsboro Road. The latter was a dream today: light traffic and a tailwind kept me spinning more than 20 mph on the gentle rollers.

I stopped to photograph a draft horse. This was the closest I'd ever been to one. I was eye level with his neck. His feet were quite literally as large as dinner plates. How strange to look up to a beast. I'm going to have to start carrying carrots on these ramblers, because this guy, too, like the ones yesterday, came up to the fence to visit.

I never noticed that I pass two cemeteries in Hillsboro: on the right on route 9 just before you turn on Mountain Road, and then just after the turn, by a church on the right. I'll have to check them out sometime. But I was enjoy the roll, and I always love Mountain Road. It's parallel to Harpers Ferry Road in West Virginia, just a mile away on the other side of the mountain. I was fast through this section again, rounding Irish Corner and headed toward Lovettsville in no time. I stopped at Lovettsville Pizza and Subs and ordered a caesar salad for lunch, eating it at the picnic table out front. Note to self: two pinball machines, NASCAR and Indiana Jones, look in pretty fair condition, fifty cents to play. Took the requisite bike shot du jour, chuckling to remember that Alyda is collecting these.

After Lovettsville, the ride got some hills. I took the Milltown Road option to Waterford. I'd forgotten that it offers steep rollers, two at 14%, and some fairly long ones, for this area. I think it crosses four streams. This was a long slow lap, and I was glad I was not trying to keep up with stronger riders. I only stopped once, to see what some buzzards were up to. They were nibbling on a deer carcass that looked like one of my friend Tony's écorché collages.

I stopped when I saw the Waterford Market was open; it's always closed on weekends, when I usually ride through this wonderful Quaker town. I felt immediately at home inside. The owner keeps sheep out back, which I've photographed before. And, in addition to general merchandise, the general store displayed sheepskins and wool socks. There was a spinning wheel, and two little runt lambs wearing diapers, which I failed to photograph successfully. I took a 6-ounce Coca Cola from an old cooler and drank it on the spot; it seemed appropriate.

Refreshed, I headed up hill from the Potomac valley, toward Paeonian Springs. The climb was not difficult, but the wind was blustery, and blew hard and cruel during the last mile to route 9, as if it were trying to knock me off course, even off the road. That had to be 25 mph or more. But in Paeonian Springs, I caught the W&OD for the short spin back to Hamilton, somewhat protected from the worst gusts.

And that was the loop, about 30 miles, on a bizarre afternoon in early April when the temperature climbed above 80 and the wind kept me cool.

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• My new dream home