Mt. St. Helens
A jagged, blasted hole remains where a proud, dominant mountain once existed. The massive cleft where once stood a towering juggernaut of rock and mineral now sits silent and covered by a fine white blanket of ice and snow. Once a demanding and formidable presence, the utter ruination that came after its impending destruction was all that was left for a time. The absolute fury that tore such a mountain in half was heard, as well as felt, for miles upon miles around. On that day Mt. St. Helens became not only an active volcano, but a legend that endures decades later.
Located in the wilds of Skamania County, the Mt. St. Helens is still to this day an imposing structure of nature. There is more to the description of the mountain than its slightly less than imposing stature, but that goes into the reason behind why it is still to this day the mountain is spoken of in almost reverent tones. To those who live within the surrounding area the history is not without caution, nor is it bound to lack any feeling concerning the destruction of the once proud and observant peak. It is difficult to forget a history so tragic as that fateful day in May of 1980 when the mountain split almost in two, spewing noxious clouds of volcanic ash into the air and affecting the surrounding landscape for miles around.
warning of the impending damage to come. Yet regardless of this the mountain remained largely
intact, while beneath its rocky surface the churning morass of lava continued to build, driven by
pressures that were never content to be restrained. As the rumblings continued nature responded as the surrounding flora and fauna took note. Yet for all the signs, there were still those that did not decide to acknowledge the impending doom that was to come.
On the 18th of May, St. Helens’ otherwise peaceful façade was shattered as the northern face of the mountain blew upward and outward in a sudden and blinding storm of ash. There was no chance for those caught in the blast zone to flee as billowing clouds of choking ash and crushing, tumbling rock were scattered in all directions. Mudslides covered over homes, lakes, and cascaded down the Columbia River as the destruction was spread wide and far. The mountain continued to shake and roar long after the initial blast, and even rumbled further as its disgorged contents settled upon the landscape as far away as Montana and Colorado. In its seeming death throes, or perhaps an outburst of epic proportions, it managed to create a swath of ruin that devastated not only its closest surroundings but others for many miles around.
The mountain has lain dormant now for some time since the fateful day when it was split asunder, though it still continues to speak deep beneath its surface, grumbling away now and then as though alluding to another incident that might be set to occur. Experts have noted these grumblings in the recent past and tend to lean towards the belief that St. Helens is still quite active and highly capable of the same wanton destruction that was felt decades before. More to the point, St. Helens is still a young presence when compared to other mountains throughout the world. Its destructive potential is second only to Mt. Kilauea in Hawaii, and more the point it is directly in line to both damage and cover several metropolitan areas within a very short time.
Looking upon the mountain as it sits now is deceiving. To all appearances it seems to be
a shell of what it once was, a half-forgotten relic of a landmark that sits within the wilderness
that surrounds it not unlike a rotting stump. Yet for all that it seems to rest in its dormant state, it
is without a doubt still quite dangerous. Any who can recall the day the mountain blew will quickly point out that by no means is its broken appearance able to diminish its current threat.
The sound was unlike anything ever recorded before, as it traveled nearly 200 miles away, alerting thousands to the massive shifting of earth as the mountain tore itself apart. With the entire north face of the mountain sliding away the eruption of St. Helens added to the cacophony in such a way that the sound could not be fully appreciated by those nearest to the blast. Others would describe it as a series of deep, resounding booms as the mountain continued to tear itself to pieces. Sheets of lightning emerged within the ash clouds as even nature seemed to revel in the ensuing chaos, shooting forth in such fury as had never been seen in the history of mankind.
For miles upon miles ash fell like filthy snow, coating everything with its touch as the mountain continued to thrash and buck against its earthen roots, disgorging rocks the size of cars and laying waste to anything in its sight. Many still remember the dark snows that coated their neighborhoods and homes that day, and some still talk of it. When it was finally spent, Mt. St. Helens was no longer the proud, majestic peak it had once been, but instead a broken, carved out hunk of rock barely identifiable to what it had been. What remains now to this day is the same beaten and battered remnant, an example of how nature can so quickly destroy what it takes so long to create.
The forest has grown back, life has returned to the mountain in the past decades since it’s
fateful expulsion of its mass, but the memory remains. The tranquility of the mountain as it sits
still beneath its icy white mantle of snow is deceptive but peaceful, a reminder that for all nature
brings about in its destructive and ruinous ways it is also capable of great harmony, a settling of
the land in which St. Helens is once again allowed to rest and become yet another part of the
surroundings. Visitors to St. Helens can take note of the devastation that was wrought through story boards, guided tours, and climbs that take them as close to the crater as is possible to witness what nature has done. Despite the calm nature of the mountain, it holds a certain secret within its many folds and crevices, a dark promise of what could come again.
The majesty of St. Helens was a wondrous thing in its earliest days, something wondrous and quite breathtaking to behold. Once upon a time it was even a mystery to those who looked upon it, a snowcapped juggernaut that towered over the lands surrounding it, keeping watch it would seem upon the wilderness in the manner that nature intended. None could have predicted until the advent of science that it might one day seek to desert its post, crumbling beneath the internal pressures that brought about its downfall. The ruin that took place in 1980 was in fact predicted by mankind, but the sheer magnitude might well have never been imagined until it was realized.
There was no way to fully predict how the mountain would react, nor in which direction it would blow, not to a certainty that would have spared anyone the trouble of what occurred. St. Helens alone knew the direction it would blow, and what the aftermath would bring, and it told no secrets, divulged no further warning other than what its physiology revealed. The mountain kept its own counsel concerning when and how it would blow, and in doing so condemned almost sixty souls in a matter of minutes upon its eruption. Never once did St. Helens give up anything other than what its nature demanded.
As of now it sits, waiting, patiently resting until it feels the need to speak again. St. Helens is a tapped commodity of nature, but one that can easily be reinvigorated to put to use again. It can be called one of the most powerful volcanoes in the world, but always it will be a mainstay of the Pacific Northwest. It will remain, and in its current form it will be a reminder.
