I remember reading about it a few years after Mt. St. Helens erupted. I was in elementary school. You remember the "Weekly Reader"?
People who lived through it have some amazing stories to tell - there was a lot of innocent death, as my former editor, who won a Pulitzer for the coverage, told me.
I remember an argument with literally everyone in the newsroom arguing except me - over whether to spell out "Mount" or write "Mt." in a headline. I don't remember what everyone decided on eventually, but I thought, "What a fucking ridiculous argument!"
I finally went there today - more than 30 years later, the place still has a hazy, haunted, barren look. It reminded me of T.S. Elliot's poem, "The Wasteland."
It was in the 30s 4,000 feet up. Snow!
It was so foggy that we couldn't see much, but it was still breathtaking, eerie. The air almost seemed to glow.
We froze our asses off, but it was worth it. (And no, my hair did not cooperate, so please don't look at it.)
It was - well, the word that comes to mind is magnificent. I'm not a big fan of the great outdoors, but this was just amazing.
Our friends from NYC were visiting and we took some pics along the warmer bits of the drive. Are they cute or what?