Sunday, August 14, 2016

Meteors and Fog on Mt. Saint Helens

Way back in February, some friends asked if we wanted to climb Mount Saint Helens, you know, that active volcano that erupted in 1980. Of course we did. It was on my bucket list. We drove down to the Climber's Bivouac where the trailhead is and spent a couple of extra days and nights doing a bit of exploring, but mostly eating and hiding in our tent from the rain and chill that made no sense for mid-August. The group visited the lower Ape Caves (huge lava tube) and this fun little trail with a tunnel to crawl through. I picked wild blueberries and huckleberries to throw in my oatmeal. Yum!
The goal for climbing the volcano was to start late at night, climb under the light of a thousand staaaaars (sorry, I had to sing that like Ed Sheeran), and enjoy sunrise from the rim of the crater. Seven of us were in the group including two teenage boys. We started hiking at 11pm Monday night. The first two and a half miles were on a fairly typical PNW trail through tall trees hanging with moss towering over burned and broken stumps. A huge mudslide is visible from parts of the trail. Wildflowers dot the brown earth as if the Mountain is trying hard to make one of her many scars into something pretty.
The tree line marks a stark transition into a boulder field of volcanic rock. Parts of the mountain that blew off in one eruption or another ring the volcano. The way up is marked by wooden posts with reflective tape wrapped around the tops. I won't say it's a path or trail at this point. We were simply looking for a reflective beacon to appear in the beam of our headlamps and finding a way to get there, scaling boulders and winding around ridges. That continued for about another mile and a half. Mike, mountain goat and monkey mutt that he is, decided to go straight up a ridge rather than follow a steep, but semi-defined track to the side.
Rain and mist, clouds and fog came and went. The weather was moody, constantly in flux. The group was damp and cold. We stopped among the boulders to rest and watch meteors streak across the sky during one period of clear skies. The stars were amazing! More than can ever be seen with all of the light pollution at home. The peak of the meteor shower was a few days away, but that didn't make the ones we saw any less exciting.
Shortly after this point, the younger of the two boys was freezing and struggling to move forward. The night had cooled to somewhere in the 30s with gusting winds. He and his parents opted to find shelter and hunker until light to warm him up. The other four of us continued on. Eventually, the mountain plateaued slightly and the boulders disappeared. The fog surrounded us heavily so there was no point in looking at anything above the ground. This is the last mile. It is an ash field with fairly defined paths. There's no getting lost because you just go up and up and up. It's steep, the wet sand sliding beneath my feet. I was glad to have my trekking poles. I strove for one hundred steps at a time.

Finally I reached the rim (first!). It was 515AM. The sky was beginning to lighten, though fog hung heavy and oblivious to the cold winds ripping through it. I bundled the older cold teenager up in a space blanket and went exploring. There was nothing to see, but it felt good to be doing something. At 550AM the sky was light and sunrise had clearly come though we couldn't see it. Now there was some detail in the frozen rim of the volcano. I could see icicles hanging from the glacial outcropping above the crater. It was time to head back.
The route down took less time, about 4 hours. The fog persisted until we neared the boulder field. At that point, there were clouds below and fog above. The view was breathtaking and disorienting. The clouds below appeared to be sloping downward into the volcano on the west side. On the east side, rays of warm morning sunlight stabbed through the cloud layer.
One particularly exciting moment was when a boulder I was standing on rolled out from under me and into the back of my leg. Somehow it turned a different way than I did rather than breaking my ankle. I have some solid bruising. Within a few seconds another rock above me dislodged and barely missed both me and Mike. No one was hurt, but it cleared our tired minds. The tree line and trail back to the bivouac were a welcome sight. The bright greens of the trees and mosses were almost startling after the lunar landscape I'd been staring at for the past 8 hours. I really want to do this hike again when it's a little warmer and a lot more clear. Last time the group we joined climbed St. Helens, the temperature was in the low 80s and it was beautifully summer. Next time, Ms. Volcano, let's see all the beauty you can offer.

*photos in no particular order or even relevance to the story. Sorry, but the first 2/3 of the hike was dark, and photos of nothing are not exciting.