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The Lament of Loo-Wit-Lat-Kla (Mount Saint Helens)

Early June 1974

I thought I was ready to move up to the next step in my Cascade climbing experience. So, I decided it was time to climb Cascade Volcanoes in 1974. Of the five major volcanoes of the Washington Cascade Range, Mount Saint Helens is the smallest and easiest to climb. So, Saint Helens was the first logical choice. My hiking partner Chris whole heartedly agreed. However, we needed at least a third climber to make a minimum size glacier rope team. So, that is how I met Mike. Mike was new to climbing, or more accurately, newer to climbing compared to the inexperience of me and Chris. Chris and I boldly helped put together Mike's equipment; only to find we didn't know that much about glacier travel equipment or even climbing at night. In a last minute scramble to get our own equipment together, Chris and I were both found packing late into the night. We never made it to bed and were still both up when we picked up Mike at half past six in the morning. I was way too tired to drive after reaching Olympia. So, I had Mike drive while I slept in the back seat of the Cortina. I was awaken when we stopped at Toledo for film, and then I drove on up highway 504 toward Spirit Lake. The day was clear and sunny. The view of the mountain was crystal clear. Our initial plan was to stay the night at Spirit Lake Campground. But, when we arrived at Spirit Lake, we found the campground still snowbound and closed to camping. When I slept in the campground in September of 1972 the place was full of recreational vehicles. We continued up to Timberline where we found a full parking lot and a few tents.

We packed light rucksacks and hiked up to the lower Forsyth Glacier for some much needed glacier practice. Once on the glacier, our nonexistent experience was clearly evident as we blindly told Mike how it was done. Chris crept out onto the glacier, peeped into a huge crevasse, and then soon decided not to have anything to do with it. We were all pretty much freaked out after that and all decided not to repel into the crevasse and practice with our new Prusik slings. Instead, we practiced a few belays, some self-arrest and I tested my newly purchased MSR snow fluke. I easily pulled it out when I gently set it in the snow. However, when I jumped down on it and packed snow around the snow fluke, I couldn't pull it out. I even tried with a twenty foot running leap. I couldn't get Chris or Mike to try it while we were still on the glacier.

When we started back down, we were soon passed by a large party of jubilant climbers coming down from the Lizard Route. I was extremely envious and jealous of the gleeful climbers as they came bounding by. It was a gorgeous day to be on the summit of Saint Helens. Further down we came upon a beautiful young girl, sitting on the slope carving pumice. We too where compelled to stop and take in the marvelous view; topped off with her gorgeous, sweet smile. We lingered long on the pumice slope above Timberline; shared our lunch and watched the snowmobiles play below us.

Back at the parking lot, two packs were overloaded with luxurious camping gear, including a two burner Colman stove and a twelve inch skillet. Chris and Mike packed the loads up. I drove down to Spirit Lake and registered at the closed ranger station.

In the emptying parking lot at Timberline, I locked the car and hiked up the short distance to the base camp in the chilling evening wind. The stiff southwesterly wind and the gathering alto stratus clouds told of a change in the weather. The tents were set in the lee of a pumice mound. The wind constantly threatened to extinguish the Colman stove as dinner was prepared. By ten o'clock I was in my bag; only to be awakened by summit climbers passing the tent four hours later.

In the pre-dawn darkness the gathering clouds had descended upon our base camp. So, after breakfast and with markedly decreased enthusiasm, we headed up into the foggy, misty snowscape. We followed fresh tracks in the snow and the fleeting glimpse of headlamps from the parties above us.

Part of the reason Chris and I had stayed up packing before we left for this climb, was due to the construction of our home-made headlamps. Mine was a small Mallory flashlight screwed to a slide box and mounted on an old rain visor headband. Phone cord connected the light with the battery pack. Ironically, the head lamps were only turned on for an hour or so.

When we stopped below the east lateral moraine of the Forsyth Glacier, I stowed my headlight in my pack and pulled on my Anorak. The weather had changed from a fine foggy mist to a light rain. As we gained the moraine the wind increased to a roar. At the crest, the wind stung unprotected flesh with a volley of wet gusts. We climbed up the icy ridge to a shadowed hollow that was only slightly protected from the menacing wind.

With me unable to hear his calling, Chris caught my attention and waved me over to talk. With a loud voice against the wind, he explained to me that; his feet were cold; he didn't like his rented boots; and he was all for going back down. This problem caught me slightly off guard. I had to think about it for a few minutes. I tried to think from Chris' perspective, but I also thought how disheartened I was after my brother and I were turned back; over on the Lizard Route two years before. I needed to convince Chris that we could climb above the weather. But, before I could make my case, and in the midst of the strongest of rain driven gusts, Chris convinced himself that he was going down. He abruptly turned around and quickly plunged down the moraine. I looked down sadly at Chris and for a brief moment I was indecisive whether I should follow. Yet I concluded he was going in the right direction to reach base camp and that he would be OK. I turned my attention back up the slope.

Further up the ridge was another small climbing party. I signaled to Mike, "We would catch them". With a quick burst of energy Mike and I caught up. I signaled the leader and explained our problem that being only a twosome. The Leader nodded to our acceptance and led out. Mike and I fell in behind. A little farther up the moraine, we stopped at the next sheltered spot. There was a slight familiarity to the short awkward discussion amongst the group members, and then the leader of the group said they had had enough and were going back down. I looked at Mike and we nodded in agreement to continue up slope.

Mike and I started up again and soon the rain tapered off. Our spirits rose as the weather improved. There seemed to be a congregating point just below the Dog's Head on the Forsyth glacier side. Here the climbing teams heading up the Forsyth Glacier where roping-up. When we arrived at the meeting spot, a man was calling out rope team leaders. I was hesitant to ask him if we could tie in. Another group going to the left was starting up the Dog's Head route. I picked out the leader and he gladly accepted our company.

As we started up, the sun broke through at times. Half way up the Dog's Head, I could see that we were getting above the weather. I started to sweat in my Anorak. Near the top of the Dog's Head, the leader came up from behind and signaled the younger man in front to stop for a rest. The young trailbreaker led out onto some steep ice. It was the thin brittle ice called "varglass". I looked at my rented boots and decided not to follow.

Mike followed me up the steep slope to the top of the Dog's Head. Then Mike said his feet were cold and he was going back down. I was conditioned to the procedure by that time. So, I wished him a good glissade before he left. I pulled off my rain gear and rigged a body harness. Then wool shirt and wind pants went over the harness. I was putting on Clown White when the rest of the party assembled on the flats above the Dog's Head. I looked to the leader for acceptance, and then he asked if I had a rope. I showed him my eighty feet of M.S.R. ten point five and then asked if I could tie into the end. He nodded and I obediently took my position.

The group was split into two rope teams; four on each rope. The other rope team was led by the young man that led up the Dog's Head. My team was first to angle up the Nelson Glacier. My first experience over a crevasse was captured on film. At the first rest stop, I went up and met the man on the rope ahead of me. His name was Bob Baird and he lived in Sixty-Oh-One in Kirkland. He told me that the group was from Bellevue and the leader (Jerry) was leading his daughter up her first volcano. I stopped wondering why the pace was so easy. Bob was like Chris in that he was always sorting his equipment.

At the next stop I was informed that it was hardest; up by the burgschrund. I felt some good vibes as they joked with each other. The area above the burgschrund was steep, but walking along the ice ramp above the Forsyth Glacier was more exciting.

Once on the summit crater we basked in the sun and ate lunch. I only had two hard boiled eggs and some lemon drops. Jerry gave me some frozen strawberries that were terrific. After lunch some of the people wandered off toward the summit, located on the far side of the crater. I waited for Bob and received reports of a chilling wind on the summit. We strolled over to the summit. The wind was cold and biting. Below us was a sea of dark and boiling clouds. It was definitely volcano weather. Only Mount Saint Helens older relations stood above the weather; Rainier to the north and Mount Adams to the east. I decided that my first volcano summit deserved a photo. Bob snapped the picture.

Arriving back at the lunch spot, the rest of the party was roping up to go down. While we were waiting for Bob to re-pack, Jerry asked if I would like to go first. I gave it a lot of thought and then decided I didn't want to. He explained why it was safest for the least experienced to lead down. Reconsidering, I took up my position at the bottom of the line and then led out across the exposed ramp. Going back down the ramp we passed a group of seated climbers. I felt bold and told them that they looked like an audience at a sports event. We stopped below the burgschrund and then one member of our team was hit by a snow clod. I led the way down through the crevasses of the Nelson Glacier and aimed for the top of the Dog's Head. We unroped above the Dog's Head. I forgot to say good bye, as I was lost in the anticipation of the glissade down. The glissade was as good as expected. At the base of the Dog's Head I followed Bob down some extra slides. Just above our base camp I stopped Bob for his phone number. At camp Chris was looking at his guide. When he saw me he turned green with envy. I broke open a quart bottle of 7-Up to celebrate. We ate before we loaded up. I drove from Timberline to Spirit Lake Ranger Station and signed out one hour late. Mike drove north on I-5 while I slept in the backseat to dream about the next volcano.

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