A moderate trek around one of the most breathtaking natural landmarks in the region. A hike to Devil’s Chair gives you panoramic views of what happens to the ground near one of the most active rift zones in the world. A great winter trek, I got to do this trail after a fresh coat of snow, with clear air giving great views in all directions.

The Basics:
- Distance: 7.48 Miles
- Elevation Gain: Only 594 feet from low to high points, but there is both elevation gain and loss on the way in and out. The Devil’s Chair is only slightly higher in elevation than the trailhead.
- Time: It took me about 3 hours, but if you’re going when the trail isn’t covered in snow, it shouldn’t take you more than 2 and a half.
- Trail Condition: Excellent. The opening section of the trail is on fire-road, but the Punchbowl Trail / High Desert National Recreation Trail is a great, well-maintained single track trail. The only junctions on this route are at the trailhead, the Burkhart Trail, and the spur to South Fork Camp, all of which are clearly marked. The area near the Devil’s Chair itself may inspire a bit of vertigo in some hikers. You’ll be thankful for the guard rails.
- How To Get There: Take Interstate 5 North to California 14N toward Palmdale. After about 30 miles, take exit 30 to the Pearblossom Highway. Continue on this road until 87th Street East, where you’ll take a right. Take a left onto Fort Tejon, a right onto Longview, and a left on Tumbleweed. Parking at the Punchbowl is free, but the park closes at sunset.
- Map It

The Notables:
- Amazing geologic formations of the Devil’s Punchbowl.
- High San Gabriel backdrop.
- Sweeping, panoramic views from the Devil’s Chair.
- Opportunity to add on a short, one-mile nature walk in the Punchbowl itself.

More Pictures:
- On Flickr.

Devil’s Chair at EveryTrail

Map created by EveryTrail:Share GPS tracks

The Devil’s Punchbowl County Park is one of my favorite areas in the San Gabriels. Hidden on the northeastern range of the San Gabriels – far away from us city slickers – the otherwise flat high desert is slowly being ripped and bent into odd angles by the tearing of the San Andreas and Punchbowl Faults, with the resulting canyons further eroded by the wind and water from the 8000+ft peaks right to its south. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and every time I catch the first glimpse of the formation from the road, I’m still awestruck.

On this particular day, I came after a weekend of on-and-off precipitation, which at this elevation was snow. The Punchbowl was lightly dusted, which served to highlight the jutting slabs of sandstone.

There is an easy, mile-long loop trail that leaves the excellent Nature Center and dives right into the Punchbowl Canyon, but my destination was the Devil’s Chair – a rocky promontory overlooking the eastern Punchbowl. So I took off from the southeastern corner of the parking lot and hitched onto the beginning of the Burkhart Trail — a path I’ve had a little bit of unpleasant experience with before.

Here, there was about an inch, maybe an inch-and-a-half of snow. The sound under my boots was soothing, and the cold air filling my lungs was better than any cup of coffee I’ve ever had.

The first mile or so of this trail is where you’ll be doing most of your ascent, along a relentless but gently graded fire road. You will have a few opportunities to peer over the edge of the Punchbowl, as well as look out over the immense flatness of the Antelope Valley to your north. After that first mile, you’ll reach a clearly marked trail junction, where the paths split to Burkhart Saddle and Buckhorn Camp or the Devil’s Chair and South Fork Camp. Continue down the path toward the Chair … and try not to think about how this is almost your peak elevation for this trip.

Try instead, like I did, to focus on the transitional flora as you skim the border between high desert and subalpine forest. Or just enjoy the great single-track trail. Or, if you’re lucky enough to be walking in the dead of December after a recent snowstorm, think about how great it is that this is just a short drive away from downtown L.A.

I also took ample opportunities to look off my left shoulder at the Punchbowl’s plates as I stomped through the snow. It’s always nice to see new this place from different angles.

As the trail continued, it seemed like every time I had a stretch of elevation gain, it’d be immediately countered by a quick decline … which makes sense, as the trail was basically hugging the lower north face of the mountains as it crawled eastward. The scenery and fresh air were great, but I’m not sure how much of that just had to do with the fresh snowfall …

After reaching and passing several mini-summits that seem like they’re the end of the trail, the pathway finally peaks out just in front of Holcomb Canyon. From here, you won’t be able to see the Devil’s Chair itself, but you will get broad, sweeping views of Holcomb behind you and the Punchbowl in front of you. You’ll also see a beautiful, gnarled old tree husk that a certain Northern California hiker/blogger would definitely stop to take a snapshot of.

Here, the trail makes a quick dive in elevation down a series of short, steep switchbacks. When the High Desert National Recreation Trail keeps heading on to the South Fork Camp, you’ll hug the cliff-side and see – for the first time – the Devil’s Chair. It’s a tiny rock promontory jutting deep into the Canyon. And you’re headed there.

Say what you will about adding artificial safety devices to the wilderness, but this whole area is fenced in and I’m glad. The narrow, winding approach to the Chair itself would have been unhikeable in these conditions without them. Also, I’m guessing, there probably wouldn’t be an established trail here if it weren’t for the fence.

The Chair itself is an incredible place to soak in the views of the eastern Punchbowl formation. There’s a whole lot of geology at work here.

Wherever you are on this trail, make sure you stop every once in a while to take a look down at the Punchbowl formation. You never know when you’re going to get those angles just right.

On the way back down to the trailhead, I turned back to see a bright light shining out of Holcomb Canyon. While all around me was covered in slate gray snow clouds, a part had formed just south of the Canyon, allowing the rays of the setting sun to shine only in that location. The overall effect was incredible, and I had to stop and just watch for a few minutes.

And then, as I returned to the trailhead, I was treated to another beautiful sunset. I’ll have to say, the decreased daylight hours are a drag, but if I keep getting these brilliant sunsets at the ends of my hikes, I think I’m sold on winter hiking.

Southern California Vacations

A lengthy trip from the high desert to the high peaks of the San Gabriels. This trail will take you through several California Climate zones – from Joshua Trees to Jeffrey Pines – and show off some weird and wonderful geologic features along the way. A great, rarely-used path, nice for a long day hike or backpacking trip deeper into the mountains.

The Basics:

- Distance: About 15 miles roundtrip to the Saddle. 18 if you go for Will Thrall, too.
– Elevation Gain:
From trailhead to saddle, the straight gain is 2193ft. But the ridge trail adds 500 feet each way, so it’s actually 3193. On this hike, I scrambled a bit up the side of Will Thrall, so my actual elevation gain was 3637 feet.
– Time: This took me 7 hours, with time for rests and snacks along the way.
– Trail Condition: Well-marked and easy to follow up to the Saddle. The use trails past the saddle can be tough to spot. If you’re aiming for Will Thrall, look for a fallen tree directly to the west of the saddle marker.
– How to Get There: The address of the trailhead is at the Devil’s Punchbowl State Park. 28000 Devil’s Punchbowl Road in
Pearblossom, CA 93553. Parking is free, but the park does close at sunset.

- Map It

The Notables:

- Incredible range of climates and environments – from Joshua Trees at the bottom to Jeffrey Pines at the top.
– Fascinating geology at the Devil’s Punchbowl and on the rocks of Will Thrall.
- Long-distance solitude. I didn’t see a single soul when I was hiking.
- Access to several peaks from the saddle, as well as an opportunity to through-hike to the Angeles Crest Highway.

Extending Your Stay:

- If you’re begging for punishment, a trip to the summit of Will Thrall Peak and nearby Pleasant View Ridge will add three miles round trip to your distance.
– Pallett Mountain, directly to the east, will add under two miles round trip.
- You can also continue on the Burkhart Trail to Buckhorn or Cooper Canyon campgrounds, near Mount Waterman on the Angeles Crest Highway.

More Pictures:

- Lots on Flickr.

We’d gotten a healthy amount of rainfall here in Southern California over the past week, which usually translates into snow in the higher elevations. I was feeling a bit nostalgic for winter and wanted to try to get up and into the white stuff before too much of it melted away.

At the last minute, I picked out a trail on the far east end of the San Gabriels – the Burkhart Trail. It rises up from the fault-inspired oddworld of the Devil’s Punchbowl and up to the Burkhart Saddle. From there, it looked like it’d just be a short distance to Will Thrall Peak and Pleasant View Ridge – both on my peak list. The skies looked great Sunday morning as I made the long drive to the high desert, and there was virtually no traffic.

People must have been sleeping in to prepare for the Oscars…

The trailhead is right at the parking lot to Devil’s Punchbowl State Park, and is clearly marked with little fanfare.

I suited up and set out just as an interesting-sounding lecture on Zen and Western Thought was firing up on the ol’ public radio (my iPod’s in the shop). The lecturer used the saying, "we must taste the water to know how cold it is." Appropriate, as here I was about to climb a peak to see how high it was. Or at least until I got blisters.

The trail started out winding south through some low trees before reaching the edge of the Devil’s Punchbowl.

I’d been to the Punchbowl a while ago. Even though I couldn’t hike to the Devil’s Chair due to fire hazard, it’s still a fascinating place to explore. And no, pictures really don’t do this place justice – these slabs of rock are hundreds of feet tall, twisted and folded in impossible directions by the nearby San Andreas Fault. You may be tempted to leave the Burkhart Trail and crawl down inside, and no one would blame you. But me, I had snow to see. And thankfully it was clearly visible behind the broken landscape.

The trail turned away from the Punchbowl and moved toward the southwest, following the rim before meeting up with a dirt road and forking away from the trail that heads toward the Chair. The Burkhart Trail turns north here, heading distinctly away from the mountains.

I had to actually stop and check my map here, as it just felt wrong to be going away from the mountains … but it looked like my eyes were set on the peaks a few miles east of my target, so on the north trail I went.

Very quickly, this trail curved around a ridge and began a steady climb upward. I was climbing up out of the ‘high desert’ environment and into the low alpines, as the trees grew larger and thicker around me.

The ridge ran parallel to the San Gabriels, but most of the closer mountains were hidden from view on this section of the trail. I could, however, see very clearly into the desert to the north, which provided some great views of the San Andreas Fault at work … even if its movements are mostly imperceptible to us, you can clearly see the bent ridges and valleys tearing through the otherwise flat landscape.

The trail reached a plateau, and with a few minor gains and losses stayed relatively level for a few miles as it passed through some of the manzanita found on the upper elevations of the front range mountains. The scenery was pleasant but unremarkable, until I came upon the east bank of Cruthers Creek and saw this beautiful and awful sight:

Beautiful because it was my first glimpse of Will Thrall Peak and the Burkhart Saddle, dusted with snow and beckoning from a distance. Awful because I could also make out the trail on the other side of the stream, and I could see that it dropped down a pretty significant distance before coming back up again.

There’s something extra nasty about a descent when you’re trying to make your way up a mountain. Not only does it feel like you’re being counterproductive, but you know that for every easy downward step you’re taking now, you’re going to be hating it tenfold on the way back up. Especially when the trail you’re doing is over 15 miles. As I snaked down the east bank of the creek down to an elevation lower than the trailhead, I knew this area was going to put me in a bad mood on the return trip.

… and it was even worse seeing the clear, unobtrusive path I could have taken to this part of the trail, had a rancher not fenced it off from all forms of movement. I mean, I guess it’s his right as a private landowner … but seriously, if you don’t want to deal with hikers, don’t buy land right next to a trail in a national forest. Or leave a little path for us to get through. We won’t trash your property, we promise. Most of us outdoorsy types are very considerate of the landscape by default — especially those of us who are attempting to peakbag remote mountains.

But I digress …

I dropped down to the creek bed, which had a good amount of flowing water from the recent snow, and started another long, hard slog up the side of a ridge. As this part of the trail rose, all the residual grumpiness from the chain link fence – and the knowledge that the return trip wasn’t going to be fun – melted away as I passed through a large grassy meadow in full view of the peaks before me. Pallett to the left and Will Thrall to the right, the Burkhart Saddle in the bullseye center.

Eventually, I climbed back out of the desert haze and onto another ridge that branched up into the mountains. It was still very much scrub and brush, but there were a few scattered pine trees starting to carve out homes for themselves.

Further up the trail, the oddball geology of the Punchbowl below was mirrored in the sides of the mountains, as large sheets of bent and cracked igneous rock snuck their way out from beneath the dirt along the side of the trail. It’s always humbling for me to think about all of the countless slow planetary processes that had to happen to get the trail into the state it’s in today.

As the ascent continued up the north face of the mountains, the temperature cooled, and I started seeing snow on the trail. Nothing too bad yet.

But as the trail continued, the snow got thicker and deeper, and the drop offs on the side of the trail got steeper. Or at least they seemed to …

The single pair of day-old footprints I’d been following up looked like they put on snowshoes around here. I, however, was not so prepared, and instead did my best to stomp through the snow just above the trail, reasoning that if I slipped there, I’d still be able to land on the flat trail instead of tumbling down into Cruthers Creek canyon. That’s a better option, no?

I will admit that my heart started pumping a bit faster than it necessarily needed to around this point in the trail. But I still thought I had my situation under control.

Then I saw this:

A faintly snowshow-printed trail, covered by more than six inches of slippery powder and dropping fairly quickly down a long snow-covered stretch of canyonside. I looked ahead. The saddle was tantalizingly close. I looked down. The canyon floor was quite a ways away.

I took a deep breath and told myself I didn’t come all this way to not even reach the saddle and – against better judgment – pressed on.

I fell a few times on the steep incline, but managed to steady myself by burying my ungloved hands in the snowpack. Thankfully, this was the worst of the snowed sections, and when the trail rounded a bend into a more well-lit west-facing slope, the snow disappeared again … but I did have to stop for a few minutes afterward to calm myself down.

Also, I was getting what felt like giant blisters on both heels.

After that harrowing cliffside adventure, the trail wound up through some more lightly snowed switchbacks to Burkhart Saddle. As the wind whipped around me from all directions, the sweeping views were 100% worth the trouble of getting up there in the first place. Looking north, the entire flat Mojave spread out before me, vanishing in a distant cloud of haze.

And to the south, the snow-capped alpine summits of the San Gabriels, with windswept clouds brushing up against their southern faces. It still blows my mind that I’m able to see these two incongruous landscapes standing in the same spot.

It’s for scenes like this that I go hiking in the first place. The fact that I had to fight my way up the mountain to see it only made it more rewarding.

I sat down on a fallen log and tried to shield myself from the wind as I downed some granola and a Clif bar. After a few moments’ rest, I looked at the steep slope directly to my west. A faint use trail led up the side, partially obscured by snow and ice. I was about a half mile away from the summit of Will Thrall Peak, and I wanted it badly.

It took a lot of effort to stand up, and even more to signal my blistered feet to shuffle forward, but I began up the summit slowly but surely. I sure as hell wasn’t going quickly, with the trail gaining several hundred feet of elevation in very little distance. The snow and ice started to thicken, and I started slipping again.

As the trail rose, so did the angle of the slope. Each potential slip got more and more dangerous, and with the ice on the ground getting increasingly sheer and solid, more likely, too.

And so, after crawling up a few hundred more feet, huffing and puffing the entire way, I stopped. It may have been my tired legs, painful blisters, or some residual common sense that was catching up with me from the snowbanks, but I didn’t think it was safe for me to keep climbing up the icy peak. I let out a deep sigh, turned around, and started back down.

The mountain beat me.

Or, if I want to look at it in a less defeatist attitude (and I do), Will Thrall Peak was giving me some clear signals that I wasn’t supposed to climb it yet.

Say what you will about the perseverance of man, and I’ll counter with my healthy respect for the cold indifference of nature. Also, I’ll bemoan my crampon-purchase-procrastination.

On the way back down, though, I did get to pass several marks I’d made in the snow while slipping and falling. That was more than enough evidence to let me know I’d made the right decision.

… I’ll be back when it’s warmer.

The seven mile shuffle back down to the trailhead went a bit slower than usual, due to the blisters, the soreness, and the extra incline on the way. But I will say that getting back to my car and taking off my boots ranks as one of my favorite parts of this hike … even though I had trouble walking later on that night.

Click here to view the embedded video.

The drive home into the low desert sunset wasn’t bad, either.

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