First Steps
On October 8, 2021, peatland research biologist Steve Langdon steps from a dirt path onto a sponge of sphagnum moss, quickly sinking up to his shins. As he treads across the sphagnum moss, I study each step he takes, noting the texture and appearance of the patches he avoids. I take my first step, sinking to my knee and promptly topping my boot. Water squishes between my toes, and the moss hisses as I displace the subsurface water table. My next step is met with firmer footing, and I find myself suspended upon a floating island of peat.
I can’t stop grinning as I make my way towards Steve, who looks back at me from the shade of a gnarled black spruce.
Steve looks the part. A once-reflective orange vest drapes over his faded blue-and-gray flannel. He wears a brown ball cap pulled low over his eyes, and his red beard is peppered with gray. He carries a smile in his eyes, and his barking laugh is always close at hand.
He holds a set of four-foot-long, canary-yellow, fiberglass rods that thread together into one long pole. They are chimney-sweep tools, and occasionally he stops to push them into the sphagnum, threading sections together until he hits the bottom of the peat. In some places, he attaches all four of the segments before finding the bottom. This is just one of the many tools he uses to study peatlands in his quest to understand how they are changing over time.
Our steps squelch as water rushes into the small depressions we leave behind, slowly inflating again as we trudge across a sea of sphagnum.
Peatland researcher Steve Langdon poses for a portrait with photographer Dustin Angell and Exhibit Developer Stephanie Hanson. Dustin’s photographs of Steve are featured in Climate Solutions, a permanent exhibit at The Wild Center in Tupper Lake, New York, alongside Steve’s work studying these ecosystems.
Brushing the surface
We take different paths, not wanting to tread on the same plants twice. I’m filled with a sense of awe for this ecosystem that is at once both resilient and fragile. Everything living here can survive extreme acidity, sun exposure, and brutally harsh winters, but repeated compression will spell out their demise. Researchers like Steve have special permission to tread lightly in pursuit of their research.
Walking with Steve and learning about this place that he has spent a lifetime exploring and studying, I’m struck by how little I know about peatlands. As a biologist and photojournalist who has covered the subject of wetlands frequently––but never studied it deeply––I realize my knowledge is like the living sphagnum layer floating on top of the dense peat. An entire world lives beneath the surface, and my knowledge gives way each time it is tested.
As we walk deeper into the peat flats, each mystery draws me closer and feeds my curiosity and sense of awe.
One visit is not enough. This first pilgrimage started what has grown into a multi-year project capturing this bizarre and entrancing landscape. In two years, I am just beginning to brush the surface.
Steve Langdon tests the depth of the floating mat of decaying plant material–peat–using a repurposed chimney sweep tool. Steve threads four-foot-long sections together as he plumbs the depths. Here, it took three sections––12 feet––to find the bottom. Photograph by Dustin Angell.
When I think about my first visit to a fully-intact, northern peatland with researcher Steve Langdon, I remember feeling like I was being inducted into a secret society. While this landscape rivals the visual drama and ecological prowess of Grand Prasmatic Spring in Yellowstone National Park, or the monarch migration in the high elevation oyamel fir forests of Michoacán, Mexico, it does not receive the same accolades or level of celebration. Their veneration is limited to small circles of loyal and dedicated peat-loving enthusiasts who know and understand the beauty of peatlands, as well as their ecological importance.
Perhaps it is the droves of black flies and mosquitoes that keep people at bay. Or perhaps it is the sheer inaccessibility of many of these habitats. But one thing is certain–if we don’t grow a fan-base for our global peatlands, these ecosystems and the biodiversity that they nourish may not persist in a changing climate. It is going to take action on all levels to restore and protect these ecosystems, and to ensure that these wild places continue to provide the astounding array of ecosystem services we depend upon to survive.
And so, I invite you to join the secret society of peatland enthusiasts. Swat away the black flies, watch your step, and get to know this wild and bizarre ecosystem. We’ve brushed the surface in these first few chapters of The Northern Peatland Project, but there is so much more to uncover. Soon you will meet the cast of characters who call this place home. You’ll hear the squelch of feet walking across spongy peat. And you’ll start to scratch your head, wondering why more people aren’t talking about these outlandish ecosystems.
Share this story with your friends. Invite them to sign up for Northern Peatlands, a digital publication delivering peat to your inbox each month. And without further ado, welcome to the secret society of peatland enthusiasts.
About Steve Langdon
Steve is the director of Shingle Shanty Preserve, and has studied peatlands for over two decades. His work explores biodiversity and the impacts of human activity. Through his research, we will be able to track how peatlands are responding to change over time.
Stay tuned for a more in-depth look at Steve’s research as we dive deeper into The Northern Peatlands Project…
