'There is an Intensity of Life...'

Peter Borgemeister has a youthful intensity uncommon to men of his age.  He is 90 years old, but has more energy than some of my peers.  Case in point: He’s a member of an unofficial hiking club that meets each Wednesday, and he can often be found cruising around the trails surrounding the in Branford.  When I called to ask him if he was interested in talking with me about his interest in hiking, I suggested that we meet in a coffee shop.  He suggested that we take a hike.

As will happen, I found out that hiking is just the tip of the iceberg– a byproduct, really, of a passion that takes root in something much grander. 

“I’m a marsh freak,” he tells me plainly, assuring me that it’s a proper term.  “I was born on Staten Island; it’s a great place for ‘birding.’  I’ve always been a birder.”  As if to clarify the term, he points to a pair of birds who just crossed a trail and slipped into the pond and tells me that they are Canadian Geese.

They must be lost, I thought.

“There is an intensity of life in a marsh that isn’t exceeded in many other natural places,” he continued, and then painted a rudimentary version of the ecological system that is a marsh.  I’ll make it even simpler: The grasses that grow in a marsh are unique and when they rot they are fed upon by bugs, which are preyed upon by crayfish, which are eaten by other fish, which provide food for ospreys.

Peter has a deep-seeded interest in the natural world, specifically in birds.  His involvement goes back to 1967, when he co-founded the Madison Land Trust.  As a member, he helped create The Marsh Act: a law that protected tidal marshes from being developed on.  Tidal marshes are the breeding ground for many of the fish in the Long Island Sound, so their fate dictates the fate of many forms of life… including Peter’s birds.

This is where his story got deep.

Those of you who enjoy your Sunday morning with a stroll through the Branford Supply Ponds Preserve take note: The ground you walk so leisurely upon is actually a battlefield.  It is land that has been fought and struggled over so that people like you and I can enjoy its splendor without ever knowing the toils undergone to keep it that way.  Peter was one of the first to protectively take up arms as a “soldier” in its defense.

The Marsh Act began with a small parcel of marshy land in Madison called “Fence Creek” where the founders of the Madison Land Trust– the first Land Trust in the state of Connecticut– managed to stop a developing agency from filling the land and building on it. Peter assured me that they had built quite a team back in the late 60s, a group of educated professionals with the skills required to enforce a law to protect the marshes.

The act led to the preservation of tidal marshes statewide, and Land Trusts began to form all over Connecticut. Branford has one: they keep the Branford Supply Ponds and the … well, preserved.  Peter provided the map here (see PDF), which illustrates the land preserved by the Branford Land Trust.  He explained the process by which most of the land was acquired, mostly through “easements” arranged between the Land Trust and donors who share interests with men like Peter.  The highlighted green areas haven’t always looked like this, he reminds me.

“It’s a battle. It is a battle,”  he reflects.

We hiked along a trail that runs parallel to Queach Brook.  Every now and then he stopped to point out the ruined foundations of buildings that have long since crumbled to stones. Using his imagination he rebuilds them vocally: “This was probably a stable, or a sleeping quarters…” 

As we hike he tells me things I’ve never known before about trees and birds, and it’s no surprise to me that he’s an historian.  Peter talks about the Van Wie and Brooks R. Kelley Preserves, and how those properties were deeded to the town by personal acquaintances of his.

The pink granite stones, which make up most of Stony Creek, originally came from a quarry that the town bought in the 1970s, just to the west of these places. He also informs me that a few years back Yale University built a “fish ladder” which enables fish to spawn in the fresh waters of the supply ponds, and then “climb” the ladder and return to the Long Island sound.  The first year roughly 3,000 fish were counted and the last recording showed that that number has grown to about 30,000.  Peter smiles as he describes this incredible proliferation.

When I ask him where he learned all these things he simply laughs, as if it were possible for someone who’s been walking as long as he has to not know things.

The history lesson becomes a philosophical one as we approach Queach Pond.  Peter explains how a preserve such as the Supply Ponds comes to be.

“You have to string parcels of land together, one at a time.  It’s a slow process, but eventually you get 150 acres here, 75 there, and another 75 to connect them.  You have to get them together though: nature loves continuity.  It can’t be broken up.”

“Do you have any kids?” I asked him.

“Sure, I have children; Children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.”

He speaks proudly of them, and it is evident that his love for life– or, to use his own words, “nature’s continuity”– has taken root in his own family tree.

And like a man who has wandered deep into the winding woods, Peter’s narrative brings us back to the starting point with an answer to my question regarding his passion for hiking.

“When you’re involved in [Branford Land Trust] you do a lot of walking through the woods...  That’s how I got started hiking.  You have to walk and become familiar with the land.  And I like to be active.”

There's the answer to my question: What compels a 90 year old man to meet up with co-hikers on Wednesdays and put miles beneath his feet?  His longstanding passion for life.  His explanation seems to imply that to love life is to love hiking, because life will require that you spend a good chunk of it wandering through the woods.

There are a thousand reasons to take a walk through the woods this season, having an intensity for life is just one of them– albeit a darn good one.  What's your reason?

Peter Borgemeister's Hiking Tips

For local trail-blazers, Peter recommends the Supply Ponds Preserve, as well as the Queach Preserve just north of the ponds.  He is also a big fan of Chatfield Hollow in Killingworth, Hammonassett State Park in Madison.  He notes and as good places to acquire footwear and other gear.