The backbreaking construction of this masterwork began in 1850. Designed by the exceptional Claudius Crozet, it was one of four tunnels in his brilliant scheme to get trains across the Blue Ridge Mountains to the Ohio River Valley. And there it now stands, a gothic monolith hiding among forest oaks, hemlocks and snowy briars, looking like it’s holding up the mountain—a tribute not only to Crozet’s intelligence, but to the tenacious Irish immigrant workers and slaves who made it happen according to the build-for-eternity ethic of the day.

My husband has a "morning workout" friend who had hiked to the tunnel, so on a January Saturday when I asked, “Where do you want to hike today?” he answered with gusto, “Let’s find the Blue Ridge Tunnel.” And with the help of an online blog or two and a carload of gracious UVA students, we did it without wasting any time getting lost. West of Crozet (named for the illustrious engineer), we headed to the hamlet of Afton and started walking west on a trail running alongside the present CSX rail line. Only in the mountains of Virginia would one find, even in the dead of winter, a storybook grassy path leading to an industrial ruin. It’s not far, just round a bend—the eastern entrance to the Blue Ridge Tunnel, looking like a gaping granite yawn, just as it did when it opened in 1858, minus the rails. Water falls across the left side of the entrance as if the whole mountainside were weeping across a huge open mouth, making the path an over-the-shoe rivulet, and the tunnel floor a lake. I understand from accounts that the water level further inside is waist-deep. Crozet deliberately sloped the tunnel 56 feet to the east so water would drain toward the lower Afton side while smoke from the steam trains would waft to the west, out the Waynesboro side. Faced with serious seepage during tunnel construction, Crozet devised a cast iron pipe siphon, almost 2,000 feet long, purported to be the longest in the world at the time.

For now, all of this is in the rails-to-trails project phase as reported on the Mid-Atlantic Rails-to-Trails Conservancy website, meaning that one day, I can walk/bike from Afton through the tunnel to Waynesboro and on up to connect with the Shenandoah National Park, the Blue Ridge Parkway or the Appalachian Trail.

My husband and I hiked back to the truck, then drove over Rockfish Gap to the western side and parked along Route 250, where we met a small group of UVA students also in search of the tunnel. They led us up the backside of the mountain along a wooded trail through patches of snow and briars, up atop the former rail bed, then down into a steep gulch that narrowed to the cut block-faced western entrance of the Blue Ridge Tunnel, an egg-shaped Gothic arch. At the opening to the shimmering, brick-lined interior, water drips and forms a nest of ice stalagmites, adding a touch of drama to this cavernous vault, a much more theatrical space than the eastern opening. The tunnel’s vast interior acts like a cave, making it much warmer than the portals and providing a cozy home for bats. When renovation is complete, visitors will be able to walk almost a mile through this tunnel void of daylight, just like Stonewall Jackson did in 1862 as he played cat and mouse with the Union during the Valley Campaign.

It will take serious funds to make this rail-to-trail conversion possible. Nelson County obtained the tunnel from CSX in 2001 and last year submitted a project request asking U.S. Representative Tom Perriello to seek $4.36 million earmarked for the Tunnel Project from the House Appropriations Committee for fiscal year 2010. He did so last April. Unfortunately, the proposal was denied, but Congressman Perriello’s office says that the County can make a request again this year.

I hope they’re successful, because this effort could afford a big tourist boon for Nelson as well as Augusta and Albemarle counties. What took eight years to complete by hand in the 19th century, however, may take twice as long to renovate in the 21st.

Standing inside the western entrance, one gawks in amazement at Crozet’s genius. Using his calculations, workers tunneled from opposite sides of the mountain by hand, using picks, drills and chisels and blasting with black powder (no dynamite invented yet). Setbacks included encroaching water, cholera, slides, feuds and accidents, but on Christmas Day in 1856, more than six years after breaking ground, workers broke through from opposite sides. The holes were said to have been less than an inch apart. This tunnel was in use until 1944, when a larger adjacent tunnel was completed to accommodate taller freight cars.

Crozet was born in France, fought for Napoleon, taught at West Point and moved to Virginia to teach at the University of Virginia, but it wasn’t completed, so he was offered the position of chief engineer of the Virginia Board of Public Works. Crozet is remembered not only as a sheer genius, but also as an educator and scholar. He is buried at the Virginia Military Institute, where he served as chairman of the First Board of Visitors. It’s clear that the revitalized tunnel and trail will be a celebration of the man Jefferson called "by far the best mathematician in the United States," as well as a lasting monument to Virginia’s glorious rail engineering past. The state is definitely more than just the "Birthplace of Presidents."

Links of interest:

Multimedia presentation

Restoration of the Blue Ridge Tunnel & Proposed Regional Greenway for Nelson, Albemarle, and Augusta Counties by Whitesell Group Landscape Architects & Land Planners (PDF link)

2/3/10 7:42 AM