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About the Anniversary of Mt. St. Helens Eruption
Ends: May 18, 2022
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Today is the 40th anniversary of the May 18, 1980 eruption of Mt. St. Helens. This Plinian eruption was in the same category as the infamous Mt Vesuvius eruption of 79AD and ranked five on the Volcanic Explosivity Index. That index measures volcanos on a scale of 1-7. Seven would match the volcanic eruption 600,000 years ago that created the Yellowstone Caldera and covered over 100 cubed kilometers. By contrast, Mt. St. Helens blew out 1 cubed kilometers.
The blast cloud traveled as far as 17 miles northward from the volcano and the landslide traveled about 14 miles west down the North Fork Toutle River.
Prevailing winds blew 520 million tons of ash eastward across the United States and caused complete darkness in Spokane, Washington, 250 miles from the volcano. Fifty-seven people lost their lives as a result of the eruption, in addition to over 7000 big game animals and around 12-million salmon.
Personal note from Laura:
My family had just moved to Portland, Oregon from the Silicon Valley in January of 1980, when in February and March, rumblings began to be heard on the mountain. We traded earthquakes for volcanos it seemed. On May 18th, the mountain completely exploded. You could see the cloud from Seattle, Washington and Portland, Oregon.
That first major explosion blew east, rather than west where we lived. For weeks following it one could follow the ash cloud spread in a large funnel shape from its origin, over the Rockies and into the Dakotas. The cloud was so large and dense in ash, it could be clearly seen from outer space.
I remember my father loading us in the FIAT and taking us to the top of Skyline Drive, which runs along the hills separating where we lived from the city of Portland and the Willamette River. It seemed to go on and on, as high as the eye could see. The mountain seemed to cough up billow after billow of gas and hot ash. We’d never seen anything like it. The entire top of the mountain, we would later discover, had been blown off.
Over the next several months the mountain continued to erupt, with the wind not always in our favor. One particular Saturday my parents held a garage sale. When we walked outside, it looked like it was snowing. It wasn’t. It was ash, falling from the sky and covering it in several inches of grey, flaky dusk.
That dust got into everything and when it rained, it turned into a thick paste. We had to walk around for days with monkey masks (disposable medical masks), which as a young teen, I really hated. But, the air was too thick to breathe. One of the aspects I remember fondly was when my father allowed me to help him take apart the engine of the FIAT and clean it. Every part was caked in ash dust. Thank heaven it wasn’t as complicated as today’s engines. It had a manual choke, and no radio. It was a great learning experience and a great father-daughter project. Little did I know in a few years, that car would be mine.
For those of us who witnessed Mount Saint Helens and her eruption, it is something we’ll never forget. For us, far away, it was curiosity. For those close, fifty-seven people lost their lives. Most from inhaling scalding ash.
Round about the 25th anniversary I found myself in Oregon again. Now in my thirties, I drove my car up to the mountain, which was again open. The forest was beginning to come back. Animals had returned and for a moment it was difficult to believe the event ever happened. Until, one glanced skyward and saw. A crater where a rounded dome once stood, a mountain top shaved.
Oh yes, now, I remember. I remember well.
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