Thirty years ago Mount St. Helens went on the offensive, showing the region all it could do.
Recently I went on the offensive against the volcano. I wanted to show it all I could do.
In the battle of man vs. mountain, nature vs. nurture, good vs. evil …evil prevailed.
My friend Sam and I set out to conquer Mount St. Helens on April 24, less than a month from the 30th anniversary of its devastating eruption.
When we set foot on the trail, around 10 a.m., we were ready to make it to the top. The reports we’d read suggested we’d make it to the crater’s rim and back in anywhere from six to nine hours: We had plenty of time.
Little did we know, we also had plenty of snow. And as it turned out, we certainly did not have plenty of gear.
In the parking lot we saw about a half-dozen other folks preparing to trek up the crag, all of them outfitted in snowshoes or skis. Sam was wearing his Gortex-lined, vibram-soled Asolo hiking boots — and I my synthetic fiber running shoes.
Luckily he had an extra pair of Gators (what look like leg warmers but really keep snow out of your shoes). That helped.
“We’re minimalists,” he said. Or fools... who really knows?
Soon into the trip up the mountain’s south side, I realized the workout was going to be extreme. My training included a long walk and a round of disc golf — not exactly heavy duty. Also, neither of my two warm-ups included snow.
We found ourselves occasionally sinking to mid-shin in the snow, which really hampers a climb.
On our ascent through the timberline, we didn’t see or hear many woodland creatures. While many of the mountain’s creatures were wiped out 30 years ago, several species of birds, amphibians and mammals have returned. They were keeping warm on this day — smart idea.
“Now we’re going to start going up the mountain,” Sam (a much more experienced mountaineer than myself) said an hour or two in. The thing about that was, I thought we already had. And, we were nearly up to our knees in snow.
So far, views of what lay below and behind us left us wanting more. Thanks, gray skies.
However, the snow swirling around us did create a magical ambiance amid the silver fir trees. Jimmy Stewart’s snow globe wouldn’t compare.
But after we got out of those fir trees and above the timberline, the mountain became steep. Very steep. Steep enough that we stopped to eat.
Even the raisins in the trail mix tasted good on this day.
This Eugenian was smart enough to bring the proper equipment on his trip up the mountain. The left side of the picture shows the remnants of a lava slide down the south side of Mount St. Helens.
From here we had a great vantage point of a pumice-filled valley created from a lava flow.
After our mini-lunch break, it was time to head up the ridge, aiming for the top.
We scaled one tall ridge amid the clouds and moved on to the next one. But while tackling this one, my joints were acting up, my legs were heavy, and it was becoming very difficult to see.
We found a pair of rocks to give us something of a landmark, but they were just a pair of pepper grains inside a salt shaker at this point.
Just then we saw a snow-shoer heading down the mountain. A 30-time climber of the mountain, he said these were the worst conditions he’d ever seen. He was turning back. It was then we decided we weren’t going to make it to the top today.
At this point, my hands started thinking they didn’t want my brain to know they were there. I wiggled my fingers more than St. Helens High School students do while Zach Sweeney’s shooting free throws.
The two of them – brain and hands – made contact again.
Somewhat defeated – though not entirely, as this was the first mountain for either of us – we slipped and slid back down St. Helens. Much of the trip down came in the sitting position. We enviously watched the skiers glide past.
About 3 p.m. we reached the parking lot, changed into dryer clothes and headed to the clam chowder store for refreshing drinks and warm food. There, we learned we’d climbed about 2,000 feet and made it basically half way to the caldera.
In pretty deep snow.
So, Mount St. Helens, you may have won this time, but it’s not over. We’ll be back. And this time we’re coming when your layer of defense has disappeared, leaving nothing but rock and trails for slipping and sliding.
