My Epic Adventure

I have certain "to do's" on my bucket list; that is, a list of things to see and do before I die (stolen with pride from the movie The Bucket List).  On that list was to see the famed volcano Mount St Helens, which exploded way back in 1980 and proved to be quite devastating to the surrounding countryside for a number of years.  There were also fifty-seven deaths attributed to the eruption; a memory plaque was placed in 2000 at the Hoffstadt Bluff Visitor's center dedicated to those lost souls.

My opportunity to view the volcano came this week as work travel pointed me to Portland, Oregon, a measly nintey-three mile drive en route to another check mark on my list.  My plane arrived rather early on a rare sunny and beautiful day in Portland.  I anxiously watched out the window of my plane as we broke through the cloud deck some ten thousand feet above ground, admiring the luciously green and mountainous terrain.  I looked around in hopes that I could catch a glimpse of the famed volcano to no avail.

The runway at PDX was getting closer and I was getting more excited!  My flight uncharacteristically arrived almost thirty minutes early and a gate was available.  My hotel was a mere two miles from the airport, so checking in and dropping off my bags would be quick.  I called and checked in with the wife who remained in Chicago letting her know I had safely arrived, de-planed, hit the restroom for some much needed relief, then took off to baggage claim.  After grabbing my bag from the carousel I hurried to the Hertz rental center, got my keys and drove to my hotel.  I managed to get checked in very quickly and drop my bags in my room; the stars were certainly lining up for me as the sun continued to shine and everything was clicking. 

I googled Mount St Helens, committed my journey to memory, jumped in my rental and headed north up the 205 then the 5 finally turning east on highway 504 toward the Cascade Mountains.  I was immediately stunned at how beautiful the drive was.  Breathtaking views of large pines over rolling hills gave way to a valley and the Toutle River winding along the base of the mountains.  Small communities lined the highway and I thought about how lucky they were to live in such a gorgeous place.

My drive continued up and up the mountains, following the ever growing Toutle River, across mile long bridges suspended several hundred feet above the valley floor. 

I snapped my head back and forth in search of the behemoth volcano, knowing I could easily identify its soft curved top, now mishapened after the eruption.  I also noticed some low lying clouds beginning to form around the tops of the mountains in view, but unfortunately I hadn't reached my goal just yet.

Up and up I drove, rain now beginning to fall.  To my surprise, snow was still lying on the ground.

Up and up I drove and deeper and deeper the snow became.  Now it was getting very foggy and I was getting nervous because I know how quickly the weather can change at higher elevations. 

I was six miles from my destination and the fog was so thick I couldn't see more than a hundred feet in front of me.  I saw the base of Mount St Helens, pulled off the road and kicked a rock, mad that the mountain had hidden itself from me and wondering if God truly wanted me to be miserable.

Suddenly I realized that not only had I seen what seemed like two feet of Mount St Helens (at the base), but now my toe hurt from kicking a large rock.

I turned around and headed back to my hotel.

Fail.