Minnewaska First Survey Visit Palmaghatt Kill Ravine caught us by surprise. None of the Eastern New York Survey Team was prepared for the awesome experience and astonishing discovery that awaited us on a day that promised bad weather and rugged terrain.
Bruce Kershner, leader of the Western New York Survey Team, had previously scouted the Palmaghatt Kill ravine, and was awestruck by what he discovered. But his scouting was done at dusk, and the deepening dark made it hard to collect detailed data needed. So, Bruce urged the Eastern New York Survey Team to do a full scale investigation of hemlocks and hardwoods on talus slopes under east-facing cliffs, and supplied us vague directions. Bruce warned us to be ready for hard core hiking, and to avoid the depths of the ravine where lurked an impassable, tangled thicket of laurel bushes.
But Mary Byrd Davis, in her 1993 Eastern Old Growth: A Survey, made no mention of hemlocks at Minnewaska State Park, just stunted pitch pine and scrub oak. Team Leader Fred Breglia negotiated with the Park Manager Tom Cobb for permission for our survey team to go off-trail to survey the forest in the ravine, and take a tree ring core or two. The hike seemed like a serious hiking challenge: rocky talus slopes with large boulders, a steep descent 400+ feet into a deep, narrow ravine with cliffs on both sides, no trails in or out, and no map details or other markers to guide us.
Saturday, April 13, the Eastern New York Survey Team gathered at the park at 9:30am on a dim, overcast, foggy, cool day. Ten folks arrived willing to brave a weather forecast of "steady rain, heavy at times" in a quest for ancient forest. The Shawangunk Ridge's eastern cliffs were lost in thick fog, but on the west side, for an hour, fog lifted, clouds parted, sky cleared, and sun shone warmly. But the rest of the day was gradually more overcast, dim and damp. From the far end of the upper parking lot, we hiked a carriage trail south to the tip of Lake Minnewaska through stunted pitch pine and oak, with a few other rugged species. From the lake's end, we hiked southeast on another carriage trail, surrounded by an unremarkable, seemingly young forest dominated by stunted pitch pine and oak. A 40-foot tall tree is a giant here. About 1.5 miles from the parking lot, we came to Echo Trail, which runs to Castle Point along the north rim above Palmaghatt ravine. Palmaghatt Kill begins as a shallow dip beside Echo Trail, but within a hundred yards, rapidly drops 50 feet into a deepening, cliff-lined gorge. Reportedly, the only access into the ravine was from its headwaters, so we left Echo Trail to enter the ravine at its uppermost end and begin our descent.
Very soon we were hopping huge boulders, leaping logs, squeezing under deadfalls, slipping on moist moss thick grown on a jumble of tumbled boulders. There were no signs any creatures traveled much here—not even deer tracks. Certainly, very few humans ever intruded into this secluded haven, and we tried to minimize the disturbance of our passage through this pristine scene. Clouds descended as a heavy mist to obscure views beyond 200 feet, and wrapped us in a primeval atmosphere of isolation and silence like a wilderness. We remained folded into this timeless mood for four hours. Vegetation quickly changed from pitch pine to hemlock and yellow birch. Sheltered in this leeward ravine, with a steady moisture, trees more than doubled in height. The stream wasn't visible in the bottom of the gorge, buried under boulders, but was heard trickling and tumbling over the disorder of large rocks broken off the cliffs. Within a few hundred feet, we realized this is an ancient forest, and far older and more starkly beautiful than any we had surveyed yet. Tree diameters swelled to more than three feet, and heights exceeded 100 feet. From any point, a scan could identify a dozen trees in this size class. A standing dead hemlock was cored with an increment borer, and yielded dates in excess of 300 years—the first of many improbable surprises.
Soil was negligible, but probably accumulating under boulders, washed there by rains. Thick carpets of mosses covered boulders and logs, and crept up tree trunks—the richest collection I've seen anywhere in NY. The moss species were very varied—some quite elaborate and ornamental—and shone with a nearly luminscent yellow green. Together with a thick veneer of lichens, these simplest of plants were digesting rigid rock to transform minerals into protoplasm, and stone into soil. In crevices and bowls between giant boulders, snow and ice still persisted, refusing to melt, refrigerating water and atmosphere, increasing the mist density.
Other surprises included nice specimens of American chestnut and sassafras, and a few notable woodland herbs such as cohosh. However, the understory diversity seems restricted by the rocky, soil-less root medium. I saw ample evidence of extensive fungal networks feeding on the rotting, decaying trees. Most exquisite were the dusky burgundy shelf fungi sprouting from a log rotting across the ravine. Quite a few hemlocks were dead or dying. Many, while not of immense size, were apparently of advanced age, suggesting trees were as much as 500 years old. This seemed unlikely, and unlike any other site we had surveyed, so Fred Breglia bored a core from a dead 40 inch dbh hemlock. The team counted 220 rings on 12" core, which extrapolated to a tree age of 517 years. By far, this was the oldest forest we had encountered yet in our first year of surveys.
One large area of big hemlocks had blown down, perhaps felled by a short-lived mini-tornado spawned when strong winds whipped over the deep ravine. The pattern of the trees' tumbling suggested a localized wind burst. Tree rings counted by Daniel Karpen on largest trunk yielded over 350 years—more evidence this was an ancient forest. Certainly the appearance of the landscape—bare blocky boulders cloaked in moss, shrouded in mist punctured by soaring trunks of very large trees—evoked a definite "primeval" atmosphere. A mood of reverence and respect deepened our sense of excitement over discovering this lost woodland treasure. This magnificent forest already exceeded our imaginations, and from reviewing the aerial photos, I knew better lay ahead. The largest hemlocks were in a grove west of what seemed a small pond in the lower ravine. A limited variety of other hardwoods grow among the dominant hemlock and yellow birch—mostly red maple, black cherry and black birch. Daniel Karpen became excited by one modest size yellow birch, insisting its features indicated a very old tree, perhaps 500 years. Fred Breglia cored the trunk, and a tree ring count produced an age of 480 years.
Tree sizes reached and exceeded our previous maximums as we dropped deeper into the ravine. Hemlocks routinely exceeded 36 inch dbh, and often surpassed 42 inches; one measured 45 inches. However, their height was more restrained, seldom exceeding 100 feet. While the trees were undeniably ancient, the lack of soil reduced their growth rates and overall size/age ratio. Numerous snags. Most were standing dead hemlocks. Overhead, a pair of turkey vultures swooped and circled low above the canopy. Their behavior hinted their nest was nearby in a hemlock treetop, and the pair was annoyed we were disturbing their nursery. One of our team found an 8 inch feather from one of the these great birds.
We examined the hemlocks carefully, and found evidence of infestation by Hemlock Wooly Adelgid, an alien parasitic insect creeping up the Hudson Valley, decimating all the hemlocks. Adelgid infestation here was moderate to severe, and the trees were weakeing. We considered in five, perhaps 10 years, all these hemlocks would be dead. More than sad, we were shocked that the ancient forest we just discovered was about to vanish forever.
Team members Gerald Davison of nearby New Paltz, and Lou Sebesta from Fishkill, knew a lot about the adelgid. Scientists have had success introducing a non-indigenous beetle to feed on the adelgid, and insectaries in Connecticut and New Jersey were breeding enough to release half a dozen swarms each year. Gerald proposed that we encourage the park manager and the insect lab to target this ravine for a beetle release this year. Facing the immanent extinction of this emerald jewel of ancient forest which had endured five centuries secluded safely in this ravine, we gave our endorsement to the strategy. Hopping, scrambling and halting, the team continued southeast until encountering a bog in a wide opening in the forest. From aerial photos, this seemed about two-thirds down the ravine. The extent of old growth probably ends near the power line. Measurements and calculations from the aerial photo suggests total old growth could surpass 1000 acres. To determine the boundaries and area of old growth, future surveys will need to explore the ravine below the bog, and compare east with western sides of the Palmaghatt Kill. We were surprised to see bicyclists whizzing through the trees above us, which led to the discovery Echo Trail actually allows access to this lower level of the Palmaghatt Kill ravine. Hiking out was far easier than our scrambling descent in. Back at the parking lot, George Gomes, head park ranger, was parked by my minivan, so we began a lengthy and lively conversation about our magical trip into an ancient forest. George Gomes explained the park was a high priority to receive a swarm of adelgid-eating beetles, but they were prioritized for release around Stony Kill waterfall.
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