Mount St. Helens
5-18-80
Mount St. Helens is most notorious for its major 1980 eruption, the deadliest and most economically destructive volcanic event in the history of the United States.
Fifty-seven people were killed; 250 homes, 47 bridges, 15 miles of railways, and 185 miles of highway were destroyed.
A massive debris avalanche triggered by an earthquake measuring 5.1 on the Richter scale caused an eruption that reduced the elevation of the mountain's summit from 9,677 ft. to 8,363 ft., leaving a 1-mile wide horseshoe-shaped crater. The debris avalanche was up to 0.7 cubic miles in volume.
Beautiful Mt. St. Helens before photo
Mount St. Helens after the eruption (Two photos a friend took when he flew over the volcano a week later.)
MY STORY OF THAT DAY
May 18, 1980, was a Sunday. I was 21 years old and was outside in my back yard, about 400 miles east of Mount St. Helens, having a bbq with a few friends. The day was filled with sunshine, laughter, good food and fun. The dark clouds moved in across the horizon and we simply thought we were in for a rainstorm.
I took the photo with the turquoise sky and dark clouds from my back yard thinking it was just dark clouds with a cool sky color. It was about two in the afternoon, and we watched the dark and, what turned out to be, ashy clouds roll in over the town where I lived, Deary, Idaho, which is just ten miles from where I live now, in Troy, Idaho.
We had no idea what was happening. This is a time of no internet and no 24-hour news cycles giving breaking news. The sky just slowly turned completely black as night. Then . . . the black sky started falling. Bits and pieces of 'something' was falling from the sky. As it fell closer to earth, we could detect the smell of
something . . . 'burnt'. It was ash. From a fire? But, there had been sirens. No, not from a fire. It was hours later that evening that the news did break into regular programming announcing that the Pacific Northwest was having ash fallout because Mount St. Helens had erupted. Who could ever imagine ash would blow so far?!
The next day, Monday morning at 7 am, through six inches of ash, I drove my little Toyota Corolla to work, which was ten miles away, in Troy (where I now reside). When I arrived, my bosses were surprised I had even shown up and that I had driven my car in the ash. I had no idea the ash could possibly wreak havoc with the
car’s engine. I worked in the office of a cedar fence mill and the mill had been shut down for the day (and subsequently for the entire week following the eruption). My bosses promptly sent me back home and told me not to return until I was called, which was a week later. That afternoon, when the local paper was delivered, it was awash in headlines and stories about the eruption and the fallout in my area. Living 400 miles from the mountain, I cannot even begin to imagine living any closer and dealing with the devastation in the immediate area. It was bad enough dealing with six inches of ash here.
Below are pictures I took of the local newspaper headlines, photos, and articles. The newspaper is published in Moscow, Idaho, about twenty miles from where I lived in Deary, Idaho and about twelve miles from where I currently live in Troy, Idaho. Any person that lived here may very well still have a small container of the ash and will tell you it was likely the freakiest day of their life. It's a day I know I won't forget. Every year when May 18th rolls around, you can hear Pacific Northwesterners ask each other, "Where were you when the mountain blew?"
MOUNT ST. HELENS
TROY <10miles> DEARY
The local area was basically shut down for a week. This is why the title above in the newspaper says, "Seven Days That the Northwest Will Never Forget." Many businesses were closed for a week, at minimum, and in some cases even longer. And many people did not work during that period of time, including me. Not working for a week, financially for many people is rough, again including me, and I was relieved when I was called back to work after one week.
The accumulation of ash was anywhere from six inches to a foot, depending on the terrain and where the wind blew it. Much like wind in a snowstorm, the ash piled up like a snow drift would. Especially in rural areas with farmland. At my home, I had about six inches. And, that Monday morning after the explosion when I drove to work, it was a horrible 10-mile commute. Visibility was about twenty feet due to the ash just billowing in the air when driving through it. There were few cars on the road and due to the billowing ash we all had our headlights on. People wore dust masks for several weeks after the explosion because it actually took weeks and weeks and weeks to get rid of it. It was in every nook and cranny of life it seemed.
Because driving in the ash was unsafe due to poor visibility, not to mention the damage it could do to a vehicle engine, food and supply deliveries were halted to the area for about a week. The ash removal was a very difficult task for municipalities, as well as for homeowners who had no idea what to even do with it. I remembering using a snow shovel and putting in large garbage bags for disposal. Special services were made to residential homes for aid in hauling it away. Even for years after, the ash would surface in back yard gardens, farmlands, and open fields. It was certainly a most bizarre time for all us who lived as much as 400 miles away from the mountain. A time few will forget.