Miss Dish and the Volcano by Ian McCluskey
S
even years after the historic eruption of Mt. St. Helens, the mountain was finally opened again to climbers.
A team from the Seattle Times went to report. On the summit of the new crater rim, they saw something they weren't expecting: a vivacious woman on skis, wearing a red chiffon dress and white pillbox hat. Accompanying the woman in the red dress were five female friends who danced a can-can. “After climbing the rugged mountain for four and a half hours,” wrote the reporter, “no one expected a party.” Fast forward three decades: the annual Mother’s Day Climb of Mount St. Helens has become one of the Northwest’s most beloved outdoor recreation traditions— perhaps the most colorful, irreverent, and playful day in the entire Cascade Range. Climb permits are always sold out each year, and since the tradition started an estimated 15,000-20,000 people have climbed Mt. St. Helens in flashy dresses. Yet few have heard of the original woman in the red chiffon dress and pillbox hat. Her name was Kathy Phibbs. And she had a mission: get more women in the mountains—and do so in a colorful, creative, and inspiring way. With wit, charisma, and dogged determination, Kathy set a new example of mountaineering. She created opportunities for women to have fun, challenge themselves, and become mentors to each other in the mountains. As a gay woman, she also created an inclusive community in an era of widespread discrimination. She led women to the summits of some of the world’s highest peaks, in the Andes,
18 MAZAMAS
the Himalaya, and Denali. But it was her grassroots leadership in her own backyard of the North Cascades where she made her greatest contribution. Tragically, her story was cut short, and has gone untold too long.
HER FIRST REAL MOUNTAIN When Kathy was a high school senior, she had a chance to climb Mount St. Helens—her first real mountain. Before the 1980 eruption, St. Helens had been one of the most beloved Cascade peaks to climb. It rose 9,677’ in a perfect symmetrical cone, so elegant that it was often compared to Mt. Fuji. Northwesterners pointed to photos of the snow-capped St. Helens reflected in the glassy water of Spirit Lake, framed by towering old-growth trees, and proudly thought it was even prettier than Fuji. Even the earliest legend of St. Helens spoke of the mountain’s beauty. Known as Loowit, she had once been a woman so lovely that she caused two brothers to fight over her. All three were turned into mountains. Kathy must have been both excited and anxious before her first attempt to climb a glaciated peak. But about a week before the climb, a group of students from the University of Puget Sound were caught in an avalanche while climbing St. Helens. Five were killed. This news hit close to home. The family had moved from the East Coast for her dad, Phillip Phibbs, to take the role of
Clockwise, from top: Kathy and friends on Mt. St. Helens in 198. From left to right: Liz Alberti, Mary McCallum, Jane Culliton, Paula Ehlers, Deb Petersen, Kathy Phibbs (in red dress). Photo: Unknown. Kathy Phibbs gives a hand-up to Nacy Czech (Mt Stuart, Washington). Photo: Ruth Nielson. Kathy enjoying the snow. Photo: Unknown.
president of the University of Puget Sound. Now he had the sad duty of addressing the student body and calling the parents. Adding to this grief: he knew exactly what
