Mount St. Helens

Perhaps sensing their tort liability as much as any actual danger to the public, the authorities immediately evacuated Johnston Ridge. During the subsequent evacuation, I managed to push my way forward behind a geologist speaking at a live press conference. Grinning like an idiot, with my bouffant teenage hair bobbing up and down, I managed to make an uninvited guest appearance on local television. It did not go unnoticed by classmates, parents, and exasperated teachers.

I basked in my glorious 15 seconds of fame. In retrospect though, the deserving local celebrity should have been a guy cruising down Spirit Lake Highway in an RV blasting Jimmy Buffett’s “Volcano” from a boombox.

Mount St. Helens is like an extended family member to us. We fought snow banks and nasty blackberries to make it to the Arch on Coldwater Peak. We traversed the Blast Zone to Loowit Falls in scorching summer heat.

Nothing was more miserable, however, than the arduous hike between Ape Canyon, the Plains of Abraham, and Windy Ridge. Subsequently named “the Bataan Death March” by the children who endured that multi-family day expedition, that infamous hike only reinforced the mountain’s constant presence throughout childhood. At least Burgerville milkshakes sort of compensated for that character-building exercise.

The years continue; we summit every couple of years, in light of fierce competition to obtain a climbing permit. For all the loss and devastation the mountain inflicted, we are truly blessed to have it as our neighbor.

Happy 43rd Eruption Anniversary, Mount St. Helens!