The Narrative Image

Water has been falling out of the sky continuously now for …I don’t know…maybe a hundred forty two thousand days (or maybe it just seems like it). Hiking at the base of mountains at this time of year means any significant storm front can drop a foot of snow on you in almost no time at all. The consequent scarcity of intelligent/cautious hikers makes for uncrowded trails - with little hope for rescue. Spiteful winds and rain try to strip the trees of their golden leaves. Failing to denude the deciduous victims, the jealous clouds hang low and hide the brilliant colors in a dull gray blanket. Here and there, autumn’s fire bursts through the gloom. I know Mt. St. Helens is ahead, because I saw it at the end of September (above) when I broke my bicycle on this very same trail. …but today… I walk in eerie limbo, consorting with the souls of unbaptized children and all the rightous who died before the arrival of Jesus (Roman Catholic theology is endle...

The same rains that wiped out portions of the Ramona Falls trail also played havoc with the area around Mt. St. Helens (See also Ramona Falls Trail (Super-sized) Part Two - http://thenarrativeimage.blogspot.com/2007/05/ramona-falls-trail-super-sized-part-two.html ) . Road 83, the 11.3 mile road that terminates at the Lava Canyon trailhead is washed out at about the 7 mile mark. There is a closed gate at the six mile mark (it’s locked…I checked) so access to June Lake, Ape Canyon and Lava Canyon require extra hiking or biking. It can be somewhat disheartening to plod mile after mile along a broad road where posted signs sarcastically remind you to take the next curve at thirty-five miles an hour. There isn’t much to see besides trees until mile ten or so when one begins to approach a massive lahar spawned by Mt. St. Helens’ 1980 eruption. It seems our human attention span is just not long enough to register the antics of volcanoes. We think the ground beneath us is stable and permanent...