Devils Punchbowl State Natural Area

Author's Comments

The bowl does what its name suggests. At high tide with a moderate swell coming in from the northwest, the ocean pushes through the seaward openings and the water inside churns against itself, white on green on slate, foam piling up and slipping back out before the next surge arrives. I have stood at the rail in February with the wind coming sideways and watched this cycle for an hour without growing bored. There is something almost mechanical about it, and something not mechanical at all. The trick is timing two things at once. The tide needs to be high enough to fill the bowl with violence rather than just water, and the light needs to be soft enough that the spray reads as texture rather than blown highlight. Morning is the answer in winter, when the sun comes from behind the cliff and the bowl sits in even, indirect light. A long exposure here is a different photograph than a fast shutter, and I would not choose between them. The slow frame gives you the milk and the mood. The fast frame gives you the moment a wave breaks against itself and throws a shape into the air that will not exist a second later. At low tide the place becomes something else entirely, and worth the second visit. You can walk in through the cave from the beach to the south and stand inside the bowl with the floor exposed, looking up at walls that an hour ago were underwater. It is quieter than you expect. The Marine Gardens tide pools are right there, and most people miss them.

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