Devil's Punchbowl

For the briefest of windows in the fall, the inland mountains are perfect for adventures.  Most of summer is too hot and dry that we have to carry too much water and sweat out even more.  Winter has too much snow and avalanche danger to get very high up.  It's like I'm the Goldilocks of mountain adventures or something.  I am, however, anxious for the lower elevation winter snowy playtime to begin.


I had been feeling sick over the weekend, but soon realized that staying active helped alleviate the symptoms and with reassurance from my doctor, I kept myself moving.  In order to heal up as fast as I could, I decided to revert all my miles to easy ones.  Of course, there really aren't easy miles in the mountains, are there?

After last year's trip to the Pierson cabin on Bear Basin Butte, Matt and I decided we would return to complete the trail to Devil's Punchbowl this summer.  I'd already squandered most of Matt's precious four-day weekend writhing on the couch, so when we decided to do entirely too much driving for just an overnight trip, it seemed justified. 

We arrived at the trail just before midday and ran easily on the gentle downhill trail.  When we hiked this trail last year, it alternated between being a river and snow.  Now it was perfectly dry, kicking up dust with every footfall.  There were also a lot more rocks.  What the heck.

Although it was nearly noon, temperatures beneath the canopy on this northern slope were moderate.  Matt and I chatted leisurely as we mostly power hiked the rocky portions.  My technical trail running skills are still recovering from the fall in Marquette.  Eventually I'll regain my confidence, but for now it remains as visible as the giant scars on my knees.  I have become a stronger hiker this summer, likely from the trip to the Alps.  Matt made note of that and frequently asked me what the rush was.  Without realizing it, I was traveling faster than it felt. 

Our trail eventually contoured and began switchbacks downhill.  Something was wrong.  Neither of us remembered this part from the previous trip.  When we reached a bend in the trail, I pointed skyward, "you know, we're supposed to be up there.  I think we missed the trail junction."  We backtracked up the mountain as I angrily cursed my inattention.  Why can't we ever take a wrong turn on an uphill or flat section? I thought.  Seriously, now.

Trying not to look dead while I catch my breath.

Eventually we found the trail junction, hidden between three large downed trees.  I remembered seeing this spot earlier and assuming the steep trail up through the branches was just from when the workers removed them from the trail.  Soon we were back on the spur trail to Devil's Punchbowl.  Just as I thought I couldn't possibly climb the steep switchbacks any further, the trail emerged from the trees and a gentle breeze blew across the rock.  Like most of the other local ranges, once you emerge above the treeline, it becomes a stark, rocky place that is much slower to hike.  The trail disappeared and only small rock cairns marked the route as we picked our way through the boulders.

Just under two hours and seven miles into our day, we reached the first of two lakes.  It was mid afternoon and the hot rocks burned the soles of my feet as I approached the water's edge. 

Lake #1 and the warmer of the two.

Any idea what this is? It was swimming underwater and has four legs.

I slipped around on the glossy film that covered each underwater rock and teetered until I reached water deep enough to actually swim.  By the time Matt and I made a lap around the lake, the running outfit I had left on the rocks was already dry. 

We continued on, hiking higher until we reached the larger lake and the trail's namesake, Devil's Punchbowl.  This cirque lake pooled at the base of Bear Mountain, the highest in Del Norte County, and its great jagged peaks reflected in the calm waters.  I was already warming up again and just before my skin produced its first trickle of sweat, I was back in the water once more.  Matt sat on the shore taking in the view and watching fish literally jump from the water as they caught bugs.

Our route home was slightly shorter without the wrong-turn detour and we soon found ourselves back at the car, dutifully waiting in the shady spot where we left her.  Matt and I enjoyed lunch overlooking the coastal mountains.  We split a large sandwich, bag of chips, and a hard cider.  If I could make this my everyday, I doubt I'd get sick of it.  I love me some mountains, even ones in hard to reach places such as Devil's Punchbowl.

14 mi.
4:05:52 (not including the swims).
about 4,000 ft. gain.