A mountain I had to climb
Mount St. Helens became one of the most memorable adventures of my 1987 road trip. It was the first year the mountain had reopened to climbing after the devastating 1980 eruption, and simply being there felt historic. The landscape still carried the raw evidence of what had happened only a few years earlier.
I registered for a permit the evening before and prepared for an alpine start around four in the morning. The climb would be a huge day—roughly 5,000 feet up and another 5,000 feet back down—through loose volcanic scree and a barren landscape that looked almost like another planet.
Meeting Kelly Ryan before dawn
At about 3:30 in the morning, while standing at the trailhead in the dark, I met Kelly Ryan. She noticed something about my T-shirt, started a conversation, and within minutes we discovered an almost unbelievable connection.
Thousands of miles from Massachusetts, I learned that Kelly had grown up near my hometown and knew my sisters. She had gone to school with one of them. We laughed at the coincidence, hugged, and decided to climb together.
It was exactly the kind of chance meeting that defined my road trip. I was traveling alone, but I was almost never lonely. The freedom of traveling by myself made room for people like Kelly to suddenly become part of the adventure.
The long climb to the crater rim
Kelly and I climbed together through the darkness and then into the growing morning light. The mountain was steep, loose, and exhausting. Every step on the volcanic scree seemed to slide partway backward, making the climb feel longer and harder than the mileage suggested.
Eventually we reached the rim of the crater. Standing there was completely different from reaching the summit of an ordinary mountain. Mount St. Helens felt geologically alive. The crater, the broken landscape, and the enormous scale of the eruption were all visible at once.
That climb helped deepen my fascination with volcanoes. Years later I would seek out other volcanic landscapes in Central and South America, including Pacaya, Arenal, and Cotopaxi, but Mount St. Helens was one of the places where that fascination truly took hold.
From the summit to the Cougar Tavern
After the climb, Kelly and I continued hanging out and camping together. That evening, the four of us went to the Cougar Tavern to watch the New England Patriots play on Monday Night Football.
It was a perfect ending to the day: an alpine start, a major volcano, an improbable connection to home, and then a football game in a local tavern with people I had only just met.
And after climbing Mount St. Helens, my reaction was exactly what it often was in those years: now I should climb Mount Hood too.