Climbing Mt. St. Helens, September 5-6, 2004

Dean Campbell

View of Mt. St. Helens from Climber’s Bivouac and approximate route.

I made this climbing trip with my brother Dace and his wife Susan (each with 1 previous climb), and their friends Ted, Tina, and Laura (all, like me, with no climbs up this mountain). Dace had taken me on a number of training hikes, varying in rigor, to prepare me. These hikes included trips to Granite Mountain, Mailbox Peak, and Annette Lake – all in the Snoqualmie Range – and a trip to Spray Park at Mt. Rainier. All of those hikes had attractive features but Mailbox Peak was the most strenuous and Spray Park was the most beautiful. None these hikes took as long, went as far or as high, or even had as much altitude change as the Mt. St. Helens hike.

We left Seattle on Sunday at about 2 p.m. for the base camp. At about 6 p.m. we picked up the climbing passes and ate at Jack’s Restaurant (Dace had reserved the passes online months ago – only 100 people are allowed to climb each day) and proceeded to Climber’s Bivouac. This was a small campground at the end of a gravel road at the south foot of the mountain (elevation 3800 ft.) Darkness and the temperature rapidly fell and after a campfire we went to bed. There were zillions of stars out initially and we saw a few satellites. There was a bright half-moon out later which lit up the snow patches near the summit of the otherwise dark mountain. I think we were all pretty cold and I don’t think any of us slept very well – I know I didn’t. 5:30 a.m. came too soon. We were shocked to find frost on a couple of the camping chairs. We ate some breakfast, got geared up, and hit the trail at 6:30 a.m. The first couple miles were through forest with only 1000 ft elevation gain. It was nice, with green lichens (“witches hair”) hanging from the trees and other signs of altitude gain, but the trees were not the biggest and the bear grass flowers were gone. Around the one mile mark we skirted an old lava flow from the mountain.

Jack’s restaurant and old lava flow near the forest.

At around 4800 ft the forest quickly thinned out as we started up one of those old flows. This part of the climb follows Monitor Ridge. (Interestingly it did not look like much monitoring was going on since the instrument platforms we saw appeared to be empty.) The trail was a mix of gravelly spots and all different sizes of boulders. No previous hike I had been on was quite like this. The best I can come up with to describe it is like climbing around on large rocks used in so many places to prevent shoreline erosion. Bouldering was more fun than I anticipated. I referred to it as thinking man’s hiking, because I needed to plan and strategize – especially as the trail became less well defined during the ascent. The rocks looked sort of like basalt and scoria, rough and very easy for a good set of hiking books to get a grip on. I’m guessing the bouldering continued for another 2 miles up to about 7200 feet. There was no really well-defined upper boundary for the boulders. The rocks sort of just got smaller and smaller. By this time we were pretty tired and took frequent breaks – though I really got a shot of confidence about halfway up. It was a beautiful day for a climb. I was prepared to climb in just about any weather – but this exceeded our expectations. The sky was clear but temps only made it to the 70s. As we climbed we could see Mount Adams looming quite large to the east and Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson in the distance to the south over in Oregon.

Bouldering.

The last half mile was sandy ash and small pieces of pumice, with an occasional snowfield. I had been warned from a variety of sources that this was nasty – the ash got softer as we ascended and it was very much like climbing a large sand dune. The altitude was really clobbering us now. I tried to keep occupied with thoughts like: “OK Dace estimated this last part would take an hour and I’m taking about one step per second and if I go six inches per step that’s 2000 steps and is that less that an hour let’s see 60 times 60 is 3600 so I’m good but wait I think my steps look more like three inches per step oh crap”. I should point out that I purchased a pair of hiking poles the previous weekend and they were SO helpful. I had used a single walking stick on previous hikes, but these poles enabled me to stabilize and push with both arms. Of course, the real Helper was acknowledged when I reached the rim at around noon, at which I gasped out something like “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” Phil 4:13.

My fellow climbers making the final push.

What a view! The crater carved out by the May 18, 1980, landslide and eruption is at least a mile wide. The titanic explosion was directed northward (with tragic results) so the crater is missing its north wall. We had arrived at the south rim at 8281 feet. I could not imagine trying to climb an additional 1300 feet to reach the pre-1980 summit. Nearly 1800 feet below us in the crater floor sat the lava dome, which has not really done anything for years. Looking farther north we could see Spirit Lake (about 6 miles away), the edge of the blast zone (about 10 miles away) and Mt. Ranier (about 50 miles away). Somebody up there told us that a couple times a year the weather is so clear you can see all the way to Mt. Baker (roughly 150 miles away).

Crater view (looking north).

Once we had all caught our breath we began to relax, eat lunch, drink our celebratory beverages (mine was Mountain Dew, a nice change from water), walk along the rim a little, and take a lot of pictures. There were maybe 50 people perched up there, including a rather large college geology class. We technically did not summit. I had read on the web that the summit was only a quarter mile away, but most people opt not to go. Once I reached the rim I understood why: there is a gouge in the rim (carved out by Dryer Glacier, I think) between the typical trail end and the summit. To go down and then back up in soft ash near a steep drop-off to gain a mere 84 feet of altitude was not appealing. NOBODY ventured over there that I saw, though there was a trail. The crater walls are still unstable after 25 years and we saw a few small rockslides trickle down those walls. NOBODY was sufficiently insane to venture into the crater.

After an hour at the top in was time to head down. A gentle breeze had begun, and when sometimes ash got kicked up we got it in the face. I’m not an advocate of running downhill on trails, but the soft ash was almost bouncy on the way down. We took a little side trip to a snow field and Dace and I attempted glissading (sliding) down the snow. It did not work that well, but was fun.

Bouldering downhill was tough. I had a real hard time finding the trail going down. I kept thinking “I’m pretty sure this is the way, but I do NOT remember it being this steep.” I did not use the poles much here, but I had a pair of gardening gloves that had little rubber bumps attached to the fabric. These worked like a dream to grip the boulders and protect my hands. Some of these rocks can very abrasive. I’m glad it was not raining, making the rocks slippery and soaking those gloves. About halfway down though the boulders I began to feel some uncomfortable dehydration effects, but I tried to boost my water intake and they passed.

We finally made it back to the forest, which was uneventful, and back to the trailhead at 6 pm. It took 10.5 hrs (including the hour at the top) to hike 9.5 miles. We were all tired and sore, but in a festive mood. We broke camp, signed out at Jack’s Restaurant, and ate dinner in Woodland, WA. (As first in the group to the rim I had to buy a round – of ice cream!) We made it back to Seattle at 11 p.m.

Suprisingly, although this was one of the biggest physical exertions of my life, I was not super-sore afterward, certainly not like after Mailbox Peak. I attribute that to the training hikes Dace dragged me on, a slower pace on this hike, and the dual hiking poles. The hike is do-able, but without the training and preparation it would have been a lot harder. I fulfilled a lifetime dream with this hike, another step in my decades-long fascination with this volcano. I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to do it.

Me and an instrument platform.

Dean Campbell is an Associate Professor of Chemistry and Biochemistry with Bradley University, Peoria, IL. He is currently on a sabbatical as a visiting scholar at the University of Washington, Seattle, WA. Posted 9-13-04