Inside the Secret Forest

The night before I entered the old-growth forest I dreamed of fallen trees the size of tractor-trailers. I remembered the dream later in the day while I shimmied over huge boulders wedged into the side of an inhospitable ravine.

Members of the New York Old Growth Forest Association (NYOGFA) were on a mission to date ancient hardwoods in the Palmaghatt Kill Ravine in Minnewaska State Park and I tagged along to observe. Fred Breglia, president of the Association and team leader, has penetrated this difficult terrain many times during the last three years on excursions to date the forest. Many hemlocks are over 400 years old, and Breglia once pulled a core out of a dead hemlock that had grown for 517 years. The oldest documented red maple in the state (338 years) was also found here. These findings have stimulated interest in the forest by a variety of organizations such as Save the Ridge and the Tree Ring Lab at Columbia University, which verifies the oldest tree for each species in the Northeast.

Our team consisted of the passionate and the curious and was as varied as the forest we investigated. Inventor Daniel Karpen hiked in large wooden clogs with pointed toes. He wore a vest bulging in the rear with grapes, papayas, bananas, and oranges. A Canadian biologist living in upstate New York, Dr. Dean Fitzgerald sports a tattoo of a maple leaf over his heart and one of a perch on his bicep - in honor of his fish-related doctoral studies. Fitzgerald's girlfriend, Carmella Smith, and their friend, Scott Tucker, had volunteered to record statistics. The Association's photographer, David Yarrow, showed me an aerial infrared photograph of the ravine which resembled a magnified liver. Marcine Quenzer, an artist inspired by Native American traditions, also volunteered for the day. Lou Sebesta, an urban/community forester, extracted samples with the NYOGFA's president, Fred Breglia. I followed, trying not to fall into holes while scribbling in my notebook.

It's no wonder Minnewaska State Park officials keep the ravine off-limits to the public. Hikers and bicyclists on the cliffs above never guess that just below them is something special. To most it wouldn't be. But to scientists, biologists, and arborists this is a unique and magical place. Because of the harsh conditions it has never been logged, and it is almost never visited. Left alone, it is a precious ecosystem, full of answers biologists and foresters ask themselves like, "How long can a red maple live, anyway?"

Walking to the access point, descending the steep and rocky cliffs into the ravine, and hiking to our destination to find the trees Breglia had scouted on previous trips took 10 hours. We skidded down through the upper forest and arrived at a hole between rock outcroppings through which a 12-foot drop led through the cliff to a steep slope below. Rough and unmanicured, each step was hazardous. Scrambling over boulders, branches, and moss was equally perilous to the rare plant species beneath us. Stretches of forest flattened by wind and ice storms had created a fortress of fallen logs to be navigated. The forest floor - thick with decomposing debris - often gave out to knee-deep holes. By the end of the day we were dented, bruised, bumped, and bleeding. But we had found one tree that excited Breglia.