Friday: July 23, 1999

Rise and shine, packed and off...but to where? No specific planned destination for the day, and a red-eye to catch in the evening... Oh well, let's go to Mt. St. Helens via Randal and forestry Route 99.

Steve and I had attempted this road many years ago, shortly after the mountain's big bang. However we had turned around at the 1st pull-off beyond the sign Entering Mt. St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. The weather had been terrible, the road had seemed endless and the visibility was about 50 feet. At the pull off, all that could be seen was a couple of dead trees. Frustrated, we left. That experience left me with the impression that there would be little of interest this 2nd time around. Wow! was I ever wrong!

Route 99 was just as narrow, windy and endless as I had remembered. The surrounding scenery was just as green and untouched by violent natural activity as I thought it would be... That is, until we passed that same Entering Mt. St. Helens National Volcanic Monument! Rounding the corner we encountered that same "scenic" pull-off... and came face to face with a grey lunar landscape. Visibility was such that we could see all the way to Mt. Hood, but who was looking there? Before us sat a mightly giant, baring the grotesque scar of its critical wound. While snow had softened the rough edges of Mt. St. Helens, it had a ghastly grey pallor from tons of both residual and new volcanic ash.

Surrounding this wounded vetran lay a vast field of unimaginable destruction. Trees as far as the eye could see, blown over like toothpicks. Only here and there were any brave patches of green gaining a foothold, and this after 19+ years!

Not only did the landscape change dramatically, so too did Route 99. It turned from a meandering path through the trees, to a treacherous trace, clinging tenaciously to the hills to which is seemed attached. No guard rail, no burm, road bed erosion, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet, throw in the occasional rock slide and I think you have a pretty accurate description.

This road took us past Spirit Lake, that once picturesque home of the local legend Harry Truman. This man had no chance, as the side of Mt. St. Helens slide down into the lake, raising the water level by nearly 200 feet (more than doubling its size). Apparently, this resulted in an 800 foot Tsunami which battered the ridges on the opposite side of the lake. The lake's outlet had been plugged by an enormous log jam. How eerie to see this lake lying placid under its acres of 20 year old logs.

Mt. St. Helens herself was a mere 4 miles away (the closest view point accessible by car). It's enormous crater was clothed in a mantle of grey snow. The surrounding landscape stood as a silent testimony to the power of Mother Nature. And even this unfathomable power is under God's control. I stand in awe.

Even though the rest of the day stretched before us, I had seen all that I had come to see, and was counting the hours to boardng the flight home. A final dinner at SeaTac International, and off we went on a red-eye bound for Hometown, USA.

Thus, we ended our long, tiresome, but pleasantly eventful vacation.

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