Mount St. Helens

And so onward we drove from Olympia in the afternoon drizzle, straight on to the Mt. St. Helens visitor center. Unfortunately, the cloud ceiling was far too low for us to get a look at the mountain, but that didn't stop us from having an awesome time exploring the area! From the visitor center, it was an incredible drive that topped out at a snow drifted 3,800', the highest elevation yet on our trip. Though the drive took us through a good deal of rain, by the time we reached our first hike around Coldwater Lake, it was overcast but without rain. It was amazing to consider the fact that within only 30 years, the lake has an ecosystem much like other lakes that are 1000's of years old. The lake was formed when the eruption damned up an end of a river. Other than the park service cutting a channel through the lake to prevent the flooding of thousands of homes further down the mountain, the lake has been allowed to flourish on its own, and it is now teaming with life and surrounded by mountains that are doing the same. Charred stumps dot the hillsides, remnants of an old forest that used to thrive. We wondered whether the trees that once belonged to those stumps had been burned following the eruption or washed into the lakes and rivers, leaving their stumps as grave markers. Compared to the forests that we had previously explored, the mountain forests around Mt. St. Helens are young and full of vibrant green energy. Saplings abound, taking root and pushing upwards. Beautiful birds flit here and there, hiding as we neared. There were no other hikers out on this lovely Memorial Day. We had the entire lake to ourselves, well, ourselves and several bald eagles that we watched soaring majestically above the lake and ridge lines. Gwen's sharp eye even caught a glimpse of a beautiful little northwestern salamander, saving him from imminent death by way of being trampled under my boot! The hike would have been a little over ten miles, but because it was already late in the day and we still had to find a campground and set up camp, we opted to cut it short. We did however make time for one more short hike before heading back to camp. Our next hike was a 2.5 mile hike through a hummocks field. Hummocks are the debris that a volcano throws out when it erupts, which have been found up to 30 MILES away from some blast sites! The hummocks field that we explored was roughly 7 miles out from the center of the mountain. The landscape was characterized by lots of uneven mounds of dirt and volcanic rock. Many of these mounds had recently sheared away, as evidenced by newly exposed dirt. As it rains and rivers flow past, the hummocks break down. Pools of water in the craters between them turn into unstable ponds where new life takes hold. Over time, weather will smooth the landscape and soften the jagged edges of the hummocks. As we hiked the trail, we saw many signs of elk (poop and lots of hoof prints traversing our trails) but no elk. The weather was on and off rain and sun. We kept hoping to see a glimpse of the mighty mountain, but no opportunity presented itself, and a steady rain set in by the end of the hike. At times, it seemed like we were in Ireland. We even got lucky with the weather as a rainbow unfolded right before our eyes. Sadly there was no pot of gold at the end . . . nor was there any jiffy pop! It truly was an incredible hike. Getting to see a landscape that is in such a state of constant change was really exciting and gave an up close look at how nature takes its course following an eruption.

We drove back through the snowy mountains in heavy fog and rain, hoping for clearer skies when we got to camp. Our hopes were realized when we pulled into Seaquest State Park just across the road from the visitor center. We found a great campsite and got the tent set up under a canopy that wasn't so different from the rainforest that we had called home just a few nights before. We churned out a post draft that we saved for future uploading to the blog. Yes, we realize that sounds crazy - we were sitting in a tent in a pseudo (pronounced "sway-dough" or "sue-dough," you decide) rainforest writing a blog post on an iPad . . . we are dedicated, people! Make our craziness worth it by continuing to follow us! By the time we were ready to eat dinner at our status quo dinner time: 9:00PM, it had started to drizzle. By the time dinner was ready, that drizzle had turned into a steady rain, so we had dinner in bed, which was quite cozy in the light of Anderson's headlamp and the sound of rain on the tent fly. The rain was no big deal, save for the fact that it meant we would have to forego our newly discovered dessert delicacy of apples roasted on a stick over the fire - mmm mmm mmm. Sleeping in the rain was lovely - having to leave the tent to go to the bathroom (multiple times, in Anderson's case) was not. No, momma Gould, in case you were wondering, we did not use an old coffee can as a urinal in the tent for the night!

The next morning did not bring with it a return to sunny skies. The rain definitely deterred our exit from the tent, but we eventually got ourselves moving and quickly stuffed our wet items into the trunk and opted to get ready for the day and cook breakfast under the dry shelter of the area outside the volcano visitor center. With not even a hint of shame, we cooked our oatmeal and hot tea as visitors shuffled past to see the exhibit inside, and Gwen even gave herself a little birdbath in the ladies room. Gwen is a master at cleanliness on the road. She might be the best smelling camper traveller out there! We decided to use our last day at Mt. St. Helens to explore Ape Cave, a 2 mile long 2,000 year old basalt lava tube that was first explored and named by a boy scout troop. This seemed like a good option for the day, as it was not weather dependent, and the rain did not seem to be going anywhere fast. From the visitor center it is roughly a 90 minute drive through twists and turns up through the mountains to get to Ape Cave.

Ape Cave has two sections: a .8 mile easy lower section, and a 1.2 mile upper more difficult section. It is recommended that you take three light sources and wear sturdy boots. We had one light source (Anderson's headlamp) and Gwen was wearing her hiking sandals. We quickly realized upon entering the lower section of the cave that it was going to be wetter than anticipated, with lots of puddles, and that one headlamp was going to be a worthy test of team Gwanderson's teamwork! A quick return to the car to put on Gwen's (waterproof) hiking boots and grab a cellphone as a second light source should the trusty headlamp fail us (it's ok, you can laugh here, but don't worry, we make it out alive) and we were on our way into the cave. The cave is literally pitch black, and it maintains a cool damp 42 degrees year round. The walk through is a gradual downgrade going in, and the tunnel is wide and tall, roughly 25' at its highest point. We encountered three other hikers on our walk, and a ranger. There are constants drips from the ceiling of the cave, and walls are lined with a slimy white fungus, which we later learned is a symbiotic relationship between a fungus and bacteria that is invisible at temperatures above 42 degrees and exists in dirt and is recognizable only by its smell (earthy and rich, like dirt). At the furthest end of the cave, it narrows down to about 2'. We stopped at this point; going further would necessitate crawling through mud, and we weren't really feeling that. The cave closes to such a narrow opening at that point because of the mud flow that filled the lava tube when Mt. St. Helens erupted in the 1980's. The tube was originally 4 miles long and had a lake at one end. The rest of the tube can be accessed past the constriction, but is off-limits to civilians and is one of the only places in the US Park System that is not subject to the Freedom of Information Act, so unless you can find the skylight into the cave, which is on protected land, you're not getting in there without some heavy credentials! The reason for the secrecy surrounding the cave is that it is a protected habitat for bats.

On our return trip to the entrance of the cave, we ran into the other three hikers and the ranger, who was giving them a spiel about the cave. He was a younger ranger and very interested and informed about cave life. He told us that within the next month, the cave would be crawling with hundreds and thousands of visitors, and that it would echo with a deafening cacophony. We were grateful to realize what a special opportunity we had in getting to experience the cave in its true serenity. The ranger also told us about how to read the flow and lines in the cave, citing erosion and deposits left by lava flows, places where smaller lava flow tubes had formed and collapsed within the larger tube, and how to notice grooves cut into the ground from drips that blow in the shifting wind in the cave. As temperatures outside the cave rise and fall, the winds in the tube shift from blowing into and out of the cave (into the cave when outside is warmer and out of the cave when outside is colder), which are most noticeable in the narrow sections of the cave as the air flow is constricted, much like water flowing from a wide section of river being calm and turning into a torrent as they squeeze through a narrow section. Over the course of just a few months, the drips carve grooves into the muddy deposits on the floor that were left by the Mt. St. Helens eruption some 30 years ago. During the months when tourists are more popular, these grooves will disappear under heavy foot traffic, only to be recut again over the less popular winter months. Another major part of the ranger's talk was about white nose syndrome, which is a condition that is killing millions of bats in caves all across the eastern half of the United States. Bats go into caves to hibernate, and while they are asleep a fungus grows on the sleeping bats that eventually kills them as they awake too often from temporary hibernation, depleting their fat and energy stores and depriving them of the necessary energy to seek out food when they awake from hibernation. Scientists are still researching this condition in an attempt to understand just where this condition came from and what the long term implications could be. In order to stop the spread, which occurs from bat to bat contact and from humans brushing up against surfaces in caves where the fungus lives and then brushing against surfaces in uninflected caves, caves all across the eastern half of the country are being shut down to visitors. The ranger seemed pretty nervous when he learned that we are from Virginia, but neither of us have been in any caves in Virginia recently, so we are pretty sure we are all clear. If you have been in caves in the eastern half of the country, don't freak out - white nose syndrome is harmless to humans and you simply need to disinfect any clothes, boots, or gear that you were using in the cave. Fish and Wildlife Departments have a disinfecting process that you can access, or you can wash your clothing, etc. at a temperature above 120 degrees, which kills the fungus. So, if you didn't know, now you know! Running into the ranger definitely enriched the experience for us, and the hike out was even more exciting as we were armed with so much extra knowledge.

Given our limited lighting and the lateness of the afternoon, we opted to not risk it in the upper cave, and relished in our excitement about how amazing caves are. While Ape Cave really has zero to do with the Mt. St. Helens eruption, it is an incredible piece of the National Volcanic Monument that we were glad to experience. During the long and winding drive down the mountain, the sun broke through, sending shafts of light through the glistening trees and steam rising from the road. We even caught a fleeting glimpse of another rainbow over the river below us. A quick stop near Starbucks for some internet access got us set on our directions and had us en route to Beaverton, OR, which would become home base for 5 nights.