I live near Mount Saint Helens.

If it weren’t for all the trees I could probably see the peak from my house. On clear days I do see it as I drive into town.

Those of you who are old enough probably remember the eruption of Mount Saint Helens, forty years ago this week. I certainly do. I had just completed four years in the navy and returned home with my British wife, Lorraine, and infant son. I rented a house in town and got a job.

Kyle eats a hotdog during an eruption later in the summer.

The major eruption happened on Sunday, May 18, 1980. Fifty-seven people died that day. Many of the bodies were never found. But I knew nothing of the tragedy that morning, only the great show provided for our little town. Lightning and thunder resounded as ash rose sixteen miles into the sky and flowed east with the jet stream across the country.

But, because of the winds, none of the ash fell in our area. A few days later Lorraine and I climbed into our Volkswagen bug and traveled toward the mountain to see what we could. Uprooted trees, mud, and gray ash clogged the Cowlitz River, but I wanted to turn east and head up along the Toutle River, closer to the volcano. That was not to be. When I turned off the interstate highway, the State Patrol had established roadblocks and waved all traffic back onto the highway.

While the mountain remained technically active, I remember thinking that the eruption was over and our lives would return to normal. However, exactly one week after the first eruption the phone rang into the morning darkness of my bedroom. Lorraine picked up the receiver and offered a sleepy, “Hello?”

“Lorraine do you have the windows open?” I could hear my mother’s voice over the phone.

“Yes,” Lorraine answered. It had been a warm night and several windows were still open.

“Close them. The mountain erupted again and it’s covering our area.”

In her robe, Lorraine hurried to close windows as I jumped from the bed and pulled on jeans and a shirt. When dressed I headed straight for the front door and out onto the covered porch. I’ve forgotten the exact time, but I recall thinking that there should have been some hint of sunlight. I held my hand up. A dim light came from the house providing a shadowy image of my hand. Nothing else was visible. The power remained on, but why couldn’t I see streetlights?

With my unseen foot I searched for the porch steps and carefully moved forward into the front yard and a rain of ash so thick that I couldn’t see the street before me or my house behind me. I held out my arms and enjoyed the feeling of the unseen ash as it fell from the sky. I carefully moved forward, deeper into the darkness. Then, it occurred to me that I might get lost walking in my tiny yard. I turned around and, after several steps, found my house.

For the next several hours I watched and waited as the ash cloud lessened and morning sunlight finally pushed through to the ground. Well into the day the streetlights helped illuminate a now gray world. I ventured outside again. Like snow, the ash covered everything, but unlike snow this would not melt and disappear.

On the radio that morning, an official from the health department advised wearing masks to protect our lungs. Lorraine soon walked to a nearby store, but their limited supply had already been purchased. So, she folded cloth into bandanas and we used them for about a month.

The town council told residents to clear the sidewalks of ash so I used a snow shovel to pile it up. Cars on the road created gray clouds of ash and fine grit that seemed to get everywhere. I used old pantyhose on the air intake of our car to help keep it out. I’m not sure it worked. Lorraine seemed to be constantly sweeping and washing but the residue remained, even between the sheets of the bed.

There were more eruptions that summer, but they were all minor. Gradually, the grit and gray did disappear and the grass, shrubs, and trees grew emerald green. Even on the mountain, life returned and continued on.

If you have a memory of the Mount Saint Helens eruption, please share it in the comments section below.

Remembering the Eruptions