On the far side of the Rappahannock River, the Northern Neck shimmers on the horizon in aloof solitude, as if the landscape itself is proud of its isolation.

Travelers approaching the region from the south on state Route 3 experience the Northern Neck and Middle Peninsula's most dramatic view as they cross the Robert Opie Norris Jr. Bridge.

In a region full of tranquil fields and soothing views of broad saltwater, a drive across the bridge, by contrast, is almost guaranteed to quicken the pulse.

For one thing, it is frightfully narrow and almost 2 miles long. It carries traffic a dizzying 110 feet above the sparkling river. For, another, it is welcomed as a portal into another land.

It's the later reaction that gets to Camille Wells, a historian of Colonial America who lives in Richmond and teaches at the College of William and Mary.

On her first trip across the bridge in 1988 to do research on an old Lancaster County home, Wells remembers thinking, "Where am I going?"

For New Yorker Mary Randolph Carter, the answer is simple: Home.

On her periodic visits to her family's Mosquito Point property near White Stone, she anticipates the bridge as a gateway. It delivers her into the nostalgia of childhood and sandy dirt lanes that end at the water.

"The minute I can catch that glimpse of the river and stare off to the right where Mosquito Point is my husband always asks, 'Is your heart beating?"" Carter said.

Don Wagner, who was resident engineer for the Virginia Department of Transportation's Saluda office until he retired in 1996, said he can recall at least two times when drivers couldn't complete the long, high crossing for fear of panicking.

"Someone from law enforcement had to drive them off the bridge," he said. But the scene from the span "is one of my favorites," he said. The view more than compensates for any misgivings even he occasionally feels about the ride. "It's up high enough that you're really getting a good view of what you're seeing."

The bridge ties the Northern Neck and Middle Peninsula together into a 10-county region of rural communities, small towns and a patchwork of farms and forests.

The scenery is lush in the humidity of summer and austere in winter. It resonates with Carter, who is a senior vice president of Polo Ralph Lauren. She has used the Northern Neck as a locale for fashion shoots at least a half a dozen times. She displayed glimpses of her old Lancaster County stomping grounds in her first book, "American Family Style."

"I would say the Northern Neck has been a strong magnet to me as an artist," she said. "Whether it's a shot of a family in front of an old pickup truck or a front porch with an old piano or hammock, or children climbing a tree, or just a beautiful sandy lane with trees hanging over it, there have always been a multitude of opportunities to create images that are kind of timeless."

"Visually and historically, it just pulls at my heartstrings. Obviously, you hope everyone's home can have that kind of inspiration, but that's not always the case."

The Neck, though, has never let her down.

"I just love the architecture of the region. You can find wonderful old brick residences, and I love the vernacular farmhouses with tin roofs that sometimes have been painted green. I love driving down country roads and seeing an old gas station that looks like it's been there forever."

Wells savors the social stability of the region. "You still find the McCarthys where the McCarthys were in Colonial times, you can still find the Thomases where the Thomases were and you can still find the Tayloes where the Tayloes were," she said. "Totuskey Creek [in Richmond County], for example, is still dotted with people who owned land there in the 17th century."

The region's "rootedness," as Wells calls it, is in surprising contradiction to the region's geography of sandy coastal land that was formed by marine deposits when it was submerged beneath a coastal embayment in prehistoric times.

"Putting down roots [in the Northern Neck or Middle Peninsula] is like putting down roots in shifting sand -- and yet, it has endured."

If the region's back roads beckon, take a map, Wagner recommended.

Like many a sightseer, he has found himself lost in King and Queen County's network of dirt roads that seem only to link to other dirt roads in a landscape of cutover timber and beaver swamps. "I have ridden forever on some of those back roads," he said.

Wagner spent his highway department career in the business of getting people and their vehicles from point A to point B in the most efficient manner. Now he laments that few people take the time to slow down and enjoy the ride.

"Everybody's so busy now," he said. "You need to ride out and take a look at what's really there."
Contact Lawrence Latané III at (804) 333-3461 or llatane@timesdispatch.com.