His private reserve
The property didn't come with natural splendor, so a Malibu man imported it.
By Janet Eastman
Thursday, October 11, 2007
CREATING paradise is not easy. Ask Bob Haggstrom, who turned 9 acres of parched terrain into a lush Malibu forest, its 500-foot-long artificial stream emptying into a lake with frogs, turtles and trout for fishing. It's the ultimate sportsman's folly, a 600,000-gallon extravaganza that made contractors shake their heads, not that Haggstrom cared.
"When I'm sad, I spend hours here and feel better," he says, sitting on the dock next to his fake lake, which is larger than the average suburban lot. Gliding across the surface are swans -- Ginger, Mary Ann and Lovey, all named after characters from "Gilligan's Island" -- fitting companions for a single man who made his own lost world.
Around the water's free-form edge are thick bunches of moss and fescue -- swan food -- and rooted into underwater ledges are cattails, lilies and lotus. Yellow orioles and blue herons swoop in to dine from a self-sustaining ecosystem where plants and natural bacteria, not chemicals, keep the water clean and break down debris.
Two thousand tons of rock were quarried nearby and set in place, following the land's natural contours to outline the stream, form walls and shape one of the bridges. Nothing is fussy or manicured.
"I don't pretend to be a landscaper or pond builder or home builder," Haggstrom says. "I just know what I like, and that's to avoid making my home look like Disneyland. I hope I've succeeded. I want to make it natural, comfortable."
Three years ago, Haggstrom had sold half of his mortgage company to Warren E. Buffett's Berkshire Hathaway Inc. and decided he wanted a larger place, something close to the Malibu home he owned. He heard that these acres overlooking Point Dume and Zuma Beach were quietly for sale and Ringo Starr was rumored to be one of the prospective buyers, he says.
The catch: An addiction treatment center held a yearlong lease. Haggstrom purchased the property anyway and immediately went to work transforming the raw land. The first plants he brought in were 2,500 pinot noir and 500 chardonnay grapevines to grow where a horse corral once stood.
"I think how hard it must have been for recovering addicts to watch a vineyard going in," Haggstrom says, still clearly amused by the idea.
Today, first-time visitors standing at the front gate wouldn't have a clue of what lies beyond -- the grapevines, the remodeled house that Haggstrom moved back into this week, the garden path that meanders past three waterfalls. Niches built into the garden walls hold sculptures, and ancient fossils are embedded in stone. Mature sycamores, weeping willows and pepper trees provide instant shade.
"I only have so many great years in life left, and I didn't want to buy small trees and wait 10 years for them to grow," says Haggstrom, 57. "I really agonized where to put them."
Benches are tucked near the thick trunks. Reach down and fingers brush against pennyroyal, lavender and rosemary.
"It's easy to meditate here," says Haggstrom, who seems to know the name of every herb, flower and shrub. He worked with Malibu landscape contractor Margaret Cole to select indigenous plants found near stream beds.
"You won't see an imported palm tree here," he says. "This is not a tropical zone."
Cole says she likes Haggstrom's approach to letting plants grow and allowing the landscape to take a wilder form.
"Lots of gardens are overmanicured, so there is no place for a bird to make a nest, but Bob has plenty of flying creatures here," Cole says.
Dragonflies, hummingbirds and egrets have come on their own, but Haggstrom brought the swans. He ordered the two white waterfowl, Ginger and Mary Ann, from Canada over the Internet and was instructed to pick them up at the airport. Not knowing how large their containers would be, he rented a moving truck. Instead, the swans came in containers that he could have put in his back seat.
"They were so happy to be let free," he says. "They went instantly into the lake."
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VINEYARD consultant Corky Roche says Haggstrom's hands-on devotion to his retreat is reflected in the grapevines. It's tricky growing pinot noir grapes in Malibu, where the winters can be too warm.
"These grapes have a chilling requirement of 45 degrees," Roche says, and fog and drizzle in the spring may cause rot. But unlike some of his other hobbyist clients, Roche says, "Bob is dedicated to having things done right. He understands when there's a sense of urgency, and there is always adequate manpower to get the job done quickly and right."
For Haggstrom, there's no point in doing anything halfheartedly, a philosophy he adopted 10 years ago, after he broke his neck bodysurfing. At one point, he stopped breathing.
"I was dead, then brought back to life," he says. In the months that followed, he walked around with screws in his head, like Frankenstein's monster.
"I realized then that every day is a bonus and there are more important things than being 1,000% engaged in business," he says.
Haggstrom still walks stiffly, but there's not an inch of his property on which he hasn't stood and wondered: Polo grounds? Clay tennis court? It all may seem like excess to some, but from Haggstrom's point of view, who wouldn't want to surround themselves with such beauty?
"I've created a nature preserve," he says, pointing to some winged visitors dipping their beaks into the water. "This is now a flyway for migrating ducks, and one day, there were eight chicks in the water. Raccoons come here to drink."
Steve Sandalis of Mystic Water Gardens in Encino installed $500,000 in water features to make Haggstrom's dream complete.
"A lot of people have grand ideas," he says, "but Bob had the resources to create what he envisioned."
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HAGGSTROM has opened his garden to Phi Delta Theta, his former fraternity at USC, as well as to a Malibu garden club that held a fundraiser for local landscape students.
"You can't build something like this for yourself," he says. "You want other people to enjoy the different feelings you get throughout the day. In the morning, you think, 'It's good to be alive.' In the late afternoon, it's glorious as the shadows come through the trees. And at night, it's just enchanting, magical."
He walks toward his favorite hangout, a rustic one-room boathouse made of reclaimed wood. Inside, there's everything a sportsman needs: a couch, fireplace, refrigerator, fly-fishing poles and a view of the lake.
"I love hanging out here with my friends, drinking a nice bottle of wine," says Haggstrom, who is a member of several men's horse-riding groups that spend days traversing Santa Catalina, the Malibu canyons and other scenic locales.
He recently invited some guys to the boathouse, and one friend accidentally stumbled over a fondue pot, splattering oil on the ash floor. The next morning, Haggstrom saw the discolored spot and nonchalantly decided on a solution: Buy 2 gallons of canola oil and rub it into the grain to camouflage the stain.
"A little oil on the floor led to a great new look," he says. "Nothing that small is worth worrying about."