The route to the crater rim of Mount St Helens is 5 miles in length, but this year's trek began 7 months and 250 miles ago. It was actually decided a year ago that I would be making the journey for a third time, when my sister fell ill just a few days before last year's scheduled trip. Her own Mt St Helens story began 18 years ago, and I was determined to help her see it through to the end. In January of this year I resumed my conditioning in preparation for another trip to the top. With my physical limitations, I have known all along that this would likely be my final trip to her summit - my body really struggles to meet the demands of Mt St Helens. But meet them it does.
Our group awoke pre-dawn, attached permits to their packs and hit the trail long before the sun began to peek over the horizon. Most of us had headlamps to maneuver through the mountain forest easier. If you have never hiked in the dark, you need to try it just once - headlamps cast an eerie light on the forest, illuminating only the path in front of you, casting shadows into the obscurity of the blackness. We hiked in absolute silence, the chattering of our excited group the only sound breaking through the darkness. We reached the tree line in time to watch the sun rise over Mt Adams in the distance as planned. We sat on the boulders at gateway to the Climber's Route, bathed in the early morning sunlight, and ate breakfast.
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| Sunrise with Mt Adams in the distance |
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| Evie strikes a pose among the boulders |
Having fueled ourselves, it was time to get down to business and start our climb. The route to the top can be broken down into three distinct and vastly differing sections. We had already completed the forested section. We now faced an imposing 2-mile boulder field that is beyond description and to which photos do no justice. It's really a series of boulder-riddled ridges, some running up the mountain, other's running perpendicular, or horizontally across the mountain. They are made up of boulders ranging in size from basketballs to Volkswagen Beetles. Some are granite, others are igneous (or volcanic) in nature, still others are shale. Most are covered in loose 'scree' (sand and gravel). As soon as you crest one ridge, you see another, and another, in front of you. Up, over and around the boulders we scrambled, the group breaking up into smaller groups travelling at different rates. There is no actual trail through the boulder field, just a series of marker posts set into rock cairns - you have to make your way from marker to marker as best you can. The crater rim is often visible, but never seems to get closer. The boulder field is my own personal hell.
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| One of the sections of boulder field. Look closely for the trail marker! |
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| Heidi surveys the scree field |
After successfully navigating the boulder field, you are now facing the third and final section of the route - a scree field that is over a mile long. I affectionately refer to it as a vertical beach ... and purgatory. The last half mile ascends roughly 1,000' in elevation, which means you are climbing at a 45 degree angle, through scree that is a foot deep in places. For every step forward you take, you slide part way back again. You are over 7,500' above sea level here, so your lungs are screaming for oxygen. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, working double time to keep up with the demand, which was made worse by the direct summer sun. Your calves start burning, as do your quads. You stop to wipe the sweat from your eyes and look up only to realize you've made it about half a city block. Still, we pushed on. 30 steps. Rest. 20 steps. Rest. 10 Steps. Rest. 25 Steps. Rest. Look up ... "Are you kidding me????" We 'lost' a member of our group here. She looked up at one point and said ... "Nope, I don't think so. This is stupid." She turned around and waited for us at the boulders.
For those who persevere and survive the trials of the mountain, the most beautiful reward awaits you at the top. The vast crater opens up before you, its walls dropping sharply to the bottom. From your vantage point on the southernmost edge of the rim, you look down at the ever-growing dome. In a few decades it will be visible from the south. Looking across the crater and dome you see the 'breach' where the mountain actually blew out her entire northern wall when she erupted. Beyond the breach is the renewed Spirit Lake, which evaporated during the 1980 eruption, and, rising beyond that on the horizon, Mount Rainier. Turn your back to the crater and you have Mount Hood to the southwest, and Mount Adams to the southeast.
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| View from the top. (photo by HIWalker Photo) |
We celebrated our victories and ate a quick lunch. The blistering sun was getting hot and the day was only half done - we still had the return trip to make. My favorite part of the way down is the step-slide process to descending the scree field. What took forever to go up, took about 20 minutes to go down. Then, however, comes that cursed boulder field. I can't bear weight on my right hand, and my quads/hip flexor issues come into play. I have to slowly pick my way down over the boulders, which, I'd like to remind you, are covered in loose scree. Try picturing coming down steep stairs covered in marbles and you'll get the idea. The sun had reached the hottest part of the day and beat down on us unrelentlessly; its heat radiating back up at us from the boulders.
We were a little over half way through the boulder field when it happened. I stepped onto a boulder and slid on the scree. This had been ongoing throughout our descent, so I didn't think anything of it. I just hopped down onto the next boulder ... which was also covered in scree. From here things progressed quickly. I slid uncontrollably off that second boulder and started a stumbling course down the mountain. Somewhere along the way I went airborne, then landed on my forearms, skidding down the rocks until my slide was stopped abruptly by sliding headfirst into a rock. I had just fallen 10 feet down the mountain. I saw stars, literally, but thankfully wasn't knocked out, and sat myself up on a nearby rock. The resulting gash in my head bled profusely, as head wounds do. I immediately applied pressure until my sister was able to reach me. Fortunately we both carry first aid kits, and I had the foresight to pack 'VetWrap'. Heidi was able to stop the bleeding and bandage up my head, then cleaned out the rest of my wounds, which were numerous but not serious. She checked for signs of a concussion and had me take a few deep drinks of water to hydrate while we waited for the rest of our group to catch up. We radioed ahead to camp that I had fallen and was walking myself out. Stan took my pack from me so I could focus on getting myself down the remaining three miles to camp.
Once back at camp I was able to be cleaned up more and checked out more closely. Our camp Angels had a fabulous hot meal ready for us, so everyone ate and rehydrated while sharing stories about their own adventure on the mountain. Nobody stayed up very late as we were all exhausted. I, for one, was never happier to see my sleeping bag. I crawled in and quietly gave thanks that I wasn't more seriously injured, that my sister was prepared for providing wilderness first aid, and for this glorious life I live. I may have walked off the mountain with a handful of injuries, but I walked off the mountain, and for that I am extremely thankful. My injuries included a minor concussion, a couple pulled muscles, a cracked rib and multiple abrasions and bruises.
For my sister, this trip culminated an 18-year journey with six failed attempts. I was so happy to have been a wee part of her story. Seeing the smile on her face when she finally reached the crater rim was worth every ounce of pain.
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| Heidi and I (with Trail Turtle) at the summit |
Hike 43 of 52.
Distance: 10 miles
Elevation gain: 4500'
Highest elevation achieved: 8,327'
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