Imagine my surprise at actually getting to SCRAMBLE on this sailing adventure! I admit, it was a SHORT scramble, but a scramble nonetheless, so I was indeed overjoyed!
We motored into Punchbowl Cove on Tuesday, 6/7/11, which was supposed to be just a "hit-and-run" stop on our itinerary which called for us to anchor at Manzanita Bay. There is ONE USFS mooring buoy at this cove for people to use for an hour or so while they explore the area. As we approached, we pulled out the binoculars looking for this elusive buoy in the distance. We scanned back and forth but simply could not see it.
We had just about decided that the guide book was either wrong or that the buoy had possibly been removed. (The USFS puts buoys out at places where the bottom is so deep that most people shy away from anchoring.) That's when we realized there was a sea kayak tied up to it such that the kayak completely obscured the buoy. I was livid! What? No way am I letting a stinking little kayak hog that one and only buoy! NO WAY!
So I convinced Brad we should just attach ourselves to the buoy too and that is just what we did. About 20 minutes later, while Brad and I were wolfing down some lunch, a kayaker paddled over to us. We feared he would be upset with us but we were prepared to stand our ground. The kayaker said he was a guide and that his group would be spending the night camping out there along the shore, and that he hoped his kayak wouldn't bang our boat and bother us. Whew! It turns out that the kayak attached to the mooring buoy is their food kayak. They have to paddle out and retrieve it for every meal and then put it back afterwards. Bear protection! It all made sense now. That was a relief!
We read in the guide book that there was a short, but steep, hike that leads up to Punchbowl Lake. The kayak guide told us the trail was nearly impossible to follow now due to a whole bunch of blowdowns that have completely obliterated the trail. He didn't recommend trying it. Hmmmm! Sounds like a scramble to me, I thought. This guide also volunteered that boaters who are lucky enough to snag the buoy in the afternoon usually go ahead and spend the night. Cool! That decided it for us: we're spending the night and enjoying this beautiful place to the fullest!
After we finished lunch, we put our kayaks in the water and paddled ashore. Some of the kayakers were still there so they pointed us toward the start of the trail. That was most helpful as are no signs and lots of tall grass along the shore so finding the start was a bit difficult.
Before disembarking on the trail, we carried our kayaks, paddles and assorted safety gear about 200 feet up slope, stumbling over barnacle and mussel-covered rocks and slimy sea grasses that went pop as you stepped on them. We went all the way to where the grass (NOT sea grass) started and tied the kayaks to a log that looked as if it was partially buried in the sand. At the time it seemed perhaps a bit excessive, but we knew the trip would take a minimum of 2.5 hours roundtrip and more if we took many pictures. Since the tidal change was 17 feet, it seemed the prudent thing to do.
The guide was right. There were so many sections with blown down trees, smashed and splintered and laying like pick-up-sticks, that I simply lost count. We crawled under a few of them, and crawled over some of them, but many more required us to climb between and through them, so that we were walking, then crawling it seemed in mid-air, our feet dangling in the air when we lost our footing, hanging like monkeys by our arms. It was a blast! The evergreen branches were literally in our faces, giving us a heady aroma therapy in our noses and showers of needles on our sweaty necks, backs, arms and legs.
The slope was quite treacherously steep in one section and we were both wishing we had ice axes, but we got by with digging our fingers into the slope, watching each footstep, practicing careful weight-shifting to ensure good balance. A fall here would have ended with a very long "agony of defeat" tumble down several hundred feet to the ravine below with no doubt many broken bones.
Somewhere along the way, Brad grabbed a devil's club to check his balance and got pierced nicely by about a half-dozen of the spines (bleeding like a stuck pig, according to him) and I gouged myself on numerous protruding branches. This then is where the bloodied came in for both of us. I think the muddied you can figure out. (It rains a lot up here!)
When we returned three hours later, the sea was only five feet from the grass so we were pleased to see that our kayak-lifting efforts had not been just gratuitous weight-lifting. By now it was 5:30 and the air temperature was 75. All of the kayakers were either long gone kayaking for the afternoon or were scrambling up to the lake we had just been to, so we giddily removed our clothing and took a shower together on the swim platform of our boat. I affectionately call it skinny-showering or showering skinny, if you prefer! (I wanted to go skinny-dipping back at the lake but the shore was either too steep to climb up out of or too muddy to come out without needing another bath, so this turned out to be a fun alternative).
After getting fresh and clean, we dressed and enjoyed another lovely pre-dinner soiree on the lido deck in shorts and t-shirts. This was our second time sunbathing on the roof and the views were even more spectacular than those at East Inlet. The granite face of Punchbowl Cove made me wonder why there weren't any world-class climbers up there giving it a go! Another lovely day in cruising paradise, folks. Wishing you were here!
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