Chapter 3: Moving Mountains
On the second day of our vacation, I lovingly took my family as close as I could get to an active volcano.
Mmmmm...sulfur...
We drove on I-5 south of Olympia and then turned east on Rt. 504, a drive of roughly 50 miles that we’d have to completely backtrack later. For someone who loves efficiency in a touring plan, backtracking is like nails on a chalkboard, but I found that there was often no other choice on this trip. Many destinations had only one road in or out.
We drove a windy mountain road to the Johnston Ridge Observatory, which sits only about 5 miles or so from Mount St. Helens and has a direct view into the crater of the volcano. The observatory is named for David Johnston, a geologist who called in the eruption of May 18, 1980 and then perished not long after.
If you were alive, you probably remember hearing about the eruption at the time. I was only 5 ½ years old, but I remember seeing reports on the news and looking over and over at photos in the article of
National Geographic that my grandparents had about the eruption. An event of that magnitude tends to leave a big impression.
Mt. St. Helens had been a picturesque peak in the Cascade Range, and a popular vacation spot in Washington. It had sat dormant for decades before showing signs of life about 2 months before the May eruption. In March of 1980, the mountain began venting steam and a series of earthquakes were recorded that steadily became more frequent. But none of these warning signs really prepared anyone for the actual eruption.
When the eruption finally came, the mountain literally blew its top. The peak and entire north face of the mountain collapsed, causing an enormous mud-and-landslide that wiped out hundreds of thousands of acres, snapping the trees of the forest like matchsticks. This was followed by huge blasts of ash clouds, which blackened the skies as far east as Spokane. It ultimately left significant deposits in 11 states and two Canadian provinces.
The landscape in the area has never really been the same since.
We timed our drive so that we arrived at the observatory visitor center right when it opened at 10:00 a.m. There’s a large overlook just outside that gives a great view of the crater. Even now, there’s a lava dome that rises and falls in the center of the crater. Steam pours from vents around the crater, another sign that the mountain is still alive.
There is a fee to enter the visitor center, but we were able to get in using our annual National Park pass. The museum itself wasn’t huge, with just a few exhibits on the eruption and volcanoes in general. They had a theater which showed a couple of different films showcasing different aspects of the eruption. One was on the effects to nature and the wildlife, and the other was more generally about the eruption itself. We went with the latter option.
We chose….poorly.
I remembered visiting as a kid (before this visitor center was built) and going to a museum that had a stellar slideshow about the eruption. It was presented as a ticking clock, giving all of the details of the earthquakes and signs the eruption was imminent before finally showcasing the volcanic blast. It must have made a huge impression on me, since I remember it all these years later.
This film, on the other hand, felt less urgent. They tried a “you are there” approach—literally. We got a lot of shots of what we called “landslide cam”, as they flew a shaky-cam over the slopes of the mountain to the valley. I guess they were trying to show what it looks like from the landslide’s perspective as it overtakes the ground. Really, all it succeeded in doing was making us seasick.
Staggering out of the theater, we worked for the next hour or so on completing Drew’s workbook to get his Junior Ranger badge. He had to attend one ranger program, so we sat and listened to a ranger talk that basically repeated everything we learned in the film. The big kids and I were hanging out at the edge of the crowd, so eventually we got bored and wandered up a hiking trail to see the view on the other side of the ridge. We only made it partway before being overtaken by swarms of bloodthirsty gnats. So we turned around and went back down to sit through the rest of the ranger talk.
It was still better than visiting Flamingo, Florida.
Once Drew got his badge (he was especially proud of this one—I guess 5-year-old boys being impressed by volcanoes runs in the family), we made lunch in the parking lot and then backtracked to I-5, turning south when we hit the highway.
Less than two hours later, we entered our 49th state.
The view was better out the other window, as Mount Hood was visible.
Even though it was early afternoon, the traffic around Portland was terrible, so we crawled across the Columbia River. Eventually we got through the bottleneck and were able to reach the Historic Columbia River Highway.
This road is cut into the side of the ridges bordering the famous Columbia River Gorge east of the city of Portland, Oregon. It’s a popular tourist route in the summer, as it takes you to some beautiful overlooks and several long waterfalls.
Right off the bat, I messed up. I had meant to stop to get a photo of
this famous view (that’s Vista House in the foreground), but I completely missed the overlook. It’s called the Portland Women’s Forum State Scenic Viewpoint, which I had looked up and should have remembered. But I didn’t. Anyway, the problem is that the actual sign looks more like this:
PORTLAND WOMEN’S FORUM
State Scenic Viewpoint
I took one glance, saw the first three words, and thought, “Well, that’s not for me,” and sped off. Whoops.
We did stop at the actual Vista House, from which we could at least see this view:
So we had that going for us, which was nice.
A little ways down the road, we stopped at the parking area for Latourell Falls. An overlook gave us a nice view of this 249-ft. drop.
Just to the east was another parking area for Bridal Veil Falls (I’m pretty sure every state has a Bridal Veil Falls somewhere—let’s get more creative, people). Here we actually had to work for the view. We took a fairly short (1 mile roundtrip) but steep trail down to a man-made viewing area. The worst part was that the downhill portion of the hike came first, meaning we’d have to climb out later. Still, the double-decker falls were very nice.
On the not-so-nice side, dozens of people had decided to leave the path and swim or sunbathe at the base of the falls, which made it very difficult to get photos without random strangers in the shot. Win some, lose some.
The next stop was the most famous waterfall, Multnomah Falls. We pulled our van into the parking lot…
…and promptly pulled out. No spaces available anywhere. We debated trying to circle around and stalk some poor tourist, but decided we could make a return trip later in the day. We drove further east. A couple of miles down the road, we could see Horsetail Falls (another original name) right off the side of the road.
Continued Next Post