Loowit Trail: Around Mt St Helens on Foot, Day 2 (8-25-10)

Since I was sleeping on the west side of the mountain, I didn't need to get up early and rush around taking photos of sunrise.  So I got up leisurely and hiked up and over a ridge to the viewpoint I had visited the night before.  This area is a border area, where some of the trees were destroyed in the blast, and others were not.  I think mainly the smaller ones survived.

At the viewpoint, I took notice of a few things that I only glanced at the previous night.  First, in the distance is Mt Rainier.  Before that is Coldwater Peak (which I climbed last week), the devastated area north of MSH, and in the foreground is the top of the most spectacular washout on the mountain: the South Fork Toutle River.

Looking down into the washed out South Fork, you can clearly see the flat surface on the opposite side, which is solidified pyroclastic flow (or lahar).  I'm not sure how old this particular feature is, but there are blown down trees on it, so it's certainly not from the 1980 eruption.  From river to plateau it's about 600 feet deep.  There's a smaller flow at the bottom that requires a separate gully crossing from the larger one.

Before crossing, though, I first walked down an area that alternated between destroyed and untouched.  You can see the old growth in the background, beyond the blowdown area.  According to my guidebook (thanks, Mammer!) this flower is fireweed, in the evening primrose family.  It is found in disturbed areas and especially prevalent in burned areas.

I couldn't find a name for this stream, though I can guess it's called Cresent Creek (it flows from Cresent Ridge).  There is also a nice campsite right here by the stream.  One downside to being a backpacker/photographer is that I avoid the most comfy backcountry sites near lakes and creeks for more exposed sites with great views.

I walked from the campsite down into the valley of the South Fork Toutle, where I crossed over the creek inside an impressive eroded mudflow from the 1980 explosion.  You can see a similar mudflow right after the eruption here. 

This was the most dangerous of the scrambles of the trip.  It turns out that a more convenient and safe alternative was not far from where I crossed the creek.  However, in failing to mark the correct route in any way (no flagging or signage), the Forest Service consigned me to wandering downstream and out again just like the day before.  Oh well.  Like they say: "your mama ain't out there to take care of you."

From there, I wandered around a good bit more in escalating heat and sunshine, searching for the continuation of the official trail.  There were lots of footprints to follow, and plenty of marginal trails braided all over.  In the absence of clarity, most of us walk around following any path that looks possible.  Finally, I found the path heading steeply up a hot hillside.  Then it traversed another steep flow on a narrow and sometimes completely eroded bench cut.  Can you find the trail in this photo?

This section of the trail was a little more comfortable.

In spite of the rigors of heat and exposure to steep, unstable slopes, the scenery was captivating.  I had spent the previous night roughly up and over the ridge in the upper right corner of the photo.

After hauling myself up and out of the washout, I walked over flat slopes that were scraped clean by the force of the blast.

I saw this stick and couldn't help but think of Ansel Adams' photo of a twig in Haleakala National Park.

Here's Adams' original.  

The mountain looms up large where nothing else is taller than 6 feet.  From here for miles there is no regular shade and no water.

There are little bits of variety in the landscape.  Here is a small meadow of lupine.

In one of the gullies, there is enough moisture (none the day I was there, though) and shade to allow a small colony of vine like shrubs.  The coolness here was very nice.

This massive flow is on the west side of Studebaker Ridge.

A few trees are now colonizing the area. . .

. . . but it's still mainly a wasteland.  In the distance is Coldwater Peak.

While traversing around the north side, I started to get some views up into the crater itself.  From this side, one can see the numerous waterfalls that cascade down the rocky cliffs.  At this point in the hike I was desperately thirsty, and had only seen one water source: brown sediment-loaded water that I didn't really want to drink.

Here's one creek that I crossed (it was nice and cool!) but didn't drink.

After this, I got lost again.  Lost is probably a strong term for it, but I was definitely off track and off route.  I was headed for a waterfall on the map, and my maps didn't agree on the route to get there.  Since my topo map was made, trails have been rerouted and the map does not reflect this, and the newer one didn't have that level of detail.  So I wandered up off a hill and did in fact find a waterfall, but it was the wrong one!  Even though the water was cruddy, I was tired of waiting for water.  I filled up my bottles with three liters of the stuff.  That's two liters more than I normally carry.  Then I had to hump all that heavy water over rocky slopes for half an hour before locating the trail, guessing that my maps were wrong, and then deciding to find the fall by following the new trail.  This was all just a little much!

This large falls is called Loowit Falls.  Loowit

Taking a break in the meager shade of a bush.  By this time I was drinking that rock-water.  It was probably better for me than nothing.

After hitting the trail again for another hour or two, I discovered a beautiful spring, not in my guidebook or on my map.  The water flowing directly out of the rock was cold and crystal clear.  So I dumped two liters of the bad water, and filled the container up again with good water

Walking along grassy slopes on the Northwest side of the mountain.  Now it was getting into the time of day when the weather was more accommodating and light was more pleasing to my eye.  In the distance is Spirit Lake, and way beyond that is Mt Rainier.

From the rolling grassy plains I walked up a steep and narrow trail to Windy Pass.

As advertised, the pass was windy, but not too cold.  I cooked and ate my dinner up here, and decided where I'd like to sleep.  Beyond this sign, no over night stays are allowed.  However, there was plenty of space at the pass.  I decided to continue on after sunset, because I wanted a full frontal view of the mountain at sunrise, and this point was too close to see the whole thing clearly.  I did enjoy the sunset from up there, though.

Looking south to Mt Hood, I noticed an ugly smog cloud lifting up from the Willamette Valley over the mountain.  I'd never seen that before.

Looking north to Mt Rainier and Windy Ridge.

Looking West to Mt Adams.

Looking West again.  The sharp differentiation from pink to blue is the earth's shadow, and is called the "twilight wedge".  In the foreground is a pumice plain called the Plains of Abraham.

I was still at the pass when the mood rose over Mt Adams.  Normally, the moon's light comes down straight through the atmosphere and avoids diffraction.  But, when one is lucky, the moon rises just after sunset, so there's light on the ground on earth, while the moon's light is diffracted heavily by the earth's atmosphere.  It's a lucky shot, but also technically a little out of my range.  I don't have the best program for editing images, and didn't make the exposure with the best format (RAW).  So it's pretty, but not quite right.

I finished dinner and walked down the mountain in the dark.  I found a flat spot on the floor of the Plains of Abraham and watched the moon rise up over closer, lower hills in the foreground.

I also enjoyed views of MSH in the moonlight.  This image was taken from the comfort of my sleep bag.  I just set my tripod up and left the camera on it while I readied myself for bed.  It's not often I get to take photos straight out of the bag!

A view to the south shows the milky way.  You can click on the image to enlarge it if you need.

Next up, Day 3.