Hot Rocks

My bro, cuz & I climbed Mt. St. Helens the other day. As you may or may not recall, it was the volcano that blew up in 1980 and hasn't been quite the same since. Last month, they started allowing in 100 hikers per day despite the constant volcanic activity. We decided to take our chances.

We got an early start, but it took us over 5 hours to drive there, not because it was far away, but it was difficult to find:


Lost in Washington, moments before I lost my hearing:


We eventually found the mountain, and signed our names to the day's list of hikers. We were warned that rescue crews would be deployed if we did not sign out again at the end of the hike. Ominous.

So climbing a mountain is basically heading uphill for as long as there is uphill to tread upon. This means you ascend straight into the clouds.


But once you are above the clouds, the sense of accomplishment is tremendous -- your own two legs have gotten you to a place where you get to see the tops of the clouds. And you are among the other few things that are above the clouds: other mountaintops and planes.


It feels like the only thing between you and the sun is just some gravity.


I mistakenly thought I was in decent shape, and would be capable of the 5 mile incline no problem. However, towards the end, I could only take 100 steps at a time before I was doubled over & breathless, and then only 50 steps, and then only 30. But I rallied and did an uphill run for the final few feet to the summit and collapsed, camera in hand.


This shows the St Helens cornice and Mt. Rainier in the distance.


The crater & lava dome. A lot of volcanic activity was happening -- smoke, ballistics, small landslides, constant adjustments.


I was so very very exhausted that I couldn't stand. This is the view from my roost. It still makes me queasy to see this picture.


I think that sitting on top of a mountain is the most fantastic thing in the world. In fact, it is now my preferred seating when possible. We hung out at the peak for quite some time, watching occasional small eruptions from our perch.

Note our expressions of triumph:


Heading back down takes half the time. My bro and I slid down partway on a glacier and got soaked and then caked in ashy dust.


We timed our return to flat ground perfectly for a particularly kickass pink mountaintop sunset which also served as a review of the day's events.