APE CANYON TRAIL

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 endlessly fascinating).

The much photographed, constricted throat of Ape Canyon.

A pair of mountain-bikers (to the right) reveal the scale of the canyon relative to hominids.

When the volcano blew, melted glacial ice made a dangerous slurry of rock and ash which poured down the mountain’s flanks like a cataclysmic belt-sander.

The Plains of Abraham – a vast sterilized pumice landscape which now serves as an immense Petri dish in which to examine the re- propagation of life.

Tell-tale red bushes delineate the arterial flow of life giving water.

A tortured tree makes due with the only available shelter.

A line of cairns beckon me ever further into the apocalypse. I’m keenly aware of the warning I read earlier that says, “If you encounter ashfall or ballistics, seek cover and act quickly to protect your head, airway and eyes.” It ought to just honestly suggest, "...kiss your ass goodbye."

The contrast between the stark plains and the remnants of ancient forests, preserved behind sheltering ridges and hills is striking.

Further north, along windy ridge, Spirit Lake serves as a receptacle for thrown away trees - those that were unfortunate enough to be standing in the face of the eruption.

Tree limbo

Mt. Adams pondering the example of his sister

Kind of like looking down the barrel of a loaded gun

Editor's Note:

Dear Mr. Beck,

Thank you for your comment. I've highlighted the second biker (see above), but I wasn't able to find any yeti(s).

Editors Note:

Mr. Beck,

I have re-examined the photo of the bikers and determined that the rider of the first bicycle is Monkey-cam. In the fog, Monkey-cam might very well be mistaken for a Yeti, and, since that is not his bicycle, you may indeed have witnessed the throwing of poop as the second biker gained on him.

LAVA CANYON - Closed Until Further Notice

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 and dare to build roads and skyscrapers.

Occasionally, a spokesperson for geologic time - like Mt. St. Helens - makes an eloquent case for the temporary nature of our species and its accomplishments.

Even so, we biologicals share a certain kind of stubborn shortsightedness.

Probing for weaknesses, the mountain reaches out with a finger of water.

I knew the road to Lava Canyon was closed, but what I didn’t know was that the Lava Canyon trail was also closed due to storm damage.

After walking for five miles, I kind of had a hankering to at least see what sort of storm damage had occurred. However, not wanting to defy the forest service, and taking various warnings of imminent death at face value, I could see no alternative but to send in the Monkey-Cam.

According to the Monkey-Cam, this guardrail and the little metal footings are all that remain of the trail’s first bridge.

Also, various handrails and other guides have been displaced leaving hikers to rely on their common sense when making decisions about how close to stand to the edge of polished lava overlooks.

Posted signs warn that there have been a number of recent fatalities in and around these waters.

Lava Canyon’s story goes something like this: In the distant past, between major events, a big forest covered this canyon’s floor. Then, in the course of time, Mt. St. Helens erupted and sent a river of basaltic lava down the canyon (the thick black layer). Parts of the lava layer cooled slowly enough to form crystal-like vertical columns.

Eventually, the canyon was buried and covered with a new forest that thrived until 1980 when tributaries of the massive lahar (seen earlier) scoured out the valley and revealed the remnants of the ancient lava flow.

The Monkey-Cam refused to cross the suspension bridge because of the sign that explained about it being ‘under repair’. The Monkey-Cam also started to demand more bananas as a hazardous pay bonus. Since I only had so many bananas and was unable to strike a deal with my store of trail mix, I’m afraid I have no data for points beyond the suspension bridge and cannot confirm whether the route to Smith Creek is still passable.

The setting sun creates an evocative image, casting a reddish glow in the sky above the restless mountain – as if the atmosphere were illuminated by a crater full of molten magma.