Where We Live
Where Rules Are Few and Water Views Are Many
Wesley Dove, left, Raymond Hodges and Brooke Dove frolic in the water at Gunston Manor's beach. Volunteers using salvaged pilings built a 165-foot pier that stretches into the Potomac.
(By Ann Cameron Siegal For The Washington Post)
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Saturday, June 30, 2007
Gunston Manor was once a rustic community with "no trespassing, firearms in use" signs. Today, as Peter Weyland, a 31-year resident, entertains neighbors on his multilevel deck overlooking the Potomac River, he describes Gunston Manor as "the jewel of Fairfax."
It's an unpolished jewel, though, which is part of Gunston Manor's charm.
The strong independent streak that permeates the Mason Neck community is reflected in the homeowners association, which has minimal rules and takes a hands-off approach to management. Individual personalities and priorities are evident all around.
Few squawk if there is an RV, motorboat or school bus in a neighbor's yard. Seventy-five-year-old cottages and the occasional new 10,000-square-foot brick house share quiet streets named after native plants. Some of those cottages barely cover 1,000 square feet but have million-dollar waterfront views.
"In a townhouse development, what someone next door does affects you, but here, tucked away, it doesn't," said Pam Cressey, archeologist for the city of Alexandria and a Gunston Manor resident.
Seven years ago, when Cressey took her teenage son to see what she described as the "funky, real community" she had discovered, he was captivated by a cedar-shingle house under mature trees.
"It's just like a cabin in the woods," he said. Halfway through dismissing his comment with "That's a place you get when you're retired," Cressey thought, "Why wait?"
Her cabinlike house was hand-built from a Sears, Roebuck kit by the previous owners in 1978. "People here may do other things in real life, but they have their own backhoes, tractors and chain saws," she said. "If we were cut off from the rest of the country, we could exist because of all the skills here."
Fallen trees, frequent power failures and the occasional ice storm rarely disrupt life. When a tree toppled on one house during a storm, residents with saws and ladders started cleaning up the mess even before the skies had cleared.
Volunteers built a 165-foot pier stretching into the Potomac at the neighborhood beach, using pilings salvaged from the river, saving the community almost $30,000 in construction costs.
Last Thanksgiving, Cressey's dozen dinner guests barely missed a beat in the flow of conversation even though the power went out. "Most of us have wood-burning stoves and keep oil lamps at the ready," she said.
Gunston Manor has been home to some families for three and four generations, but when Harry DaCosta moved in four years ago, he found the community welcoming to newcomers. "If you need something, they'll help -- they don't ask how long you've been here," he said.
