Camping and Hiking at Mt. St. Helens

Mt. St. Helens was beckoning us the whole trip

I had planned on taking a vacation day the day before Meg and I were to begin our celebration of 15 years married to each other, but Meg suggested just working through the day as she had class all morning and her job to attend to in the afternoon, and then taking the next Friday off and take the kids to the pool or something. The pool? Nah, I wanted to do something memorable, something they would remember for years to come. While that may seem like a tall order for my boring-routine lifestyle, I think I may have actually pulled it off.

Back to that conversation with Meg about going to the pool, I voiced my interest to go to Mt. St. Helens and camp and go on all-day hikes. Wow, that actually sounds really good; I better figure out how to make it happen. I searched semi-casually for a camping spot to reserve, but there was nothing, which wasn't surprising given the nature of the request. There were walk-in spots available, but there's the obvious risk of everything being taken by the time we would arrive, and I hate risks. Eventually I found a place owned by Pacific Power, and it wasn't far at all from great hiking and adventuring options on St. Helens. So I booked it and told the boys, who seemed genuinely excited at the prospect.

We spent Friday morning gathering gear and packing the space-wagon before departing with a goal to arrive at Ape Cave by noon. I packed a portable lunch for the four of us, but once I turned off the engine to the car, food was the last thing on their minds--let's go explore the cave already, dad! We had been spelunking through the lava tubes of Central Oregon last summer, but the kids had mostly forgotten the experience, I think. I'm glad we forewent renting a lantern, as it would have proved burdensome to our more-challenging-than-expected hike. The lower section of the cave was mostly flat, a little narrower and shorter than Central Oregon, and full of other people walking around--including a boy we ended up naming the creepy wall kid (he was just hanging onto a random section of wall, all by himself, with no lights, staring at people as they walked by). The lower section eventually dead-ended, so we turned around and headed back towards the entrance to go the opposite direction through the upper section of the cave. I had read about the cave in my guidebook, which I had even brought along on the trip, but I apparently hadn't read it very well.

Shortly after entering the upper section, which was devoid of all other human forms, we had to climb up and over a huge rockfall. I estimate it was 30 feet high and about 100 meters long, and it was full of huge boulders that we had to carefully scale. Edward zoomed ahead, as is his style; Aaron took the middle position; and Ian and I held hands while pulling up the rear. I had thought there was only going to be one such obstacle on this part of the cave--as well as thinking this was the shorter of the two sections--but it was the first, albeit the most difficult, of 10 such obstacles. Aaron worried a bit that we had to continually climb around a seemingly endless number of obstacles (including perhaps the most difficult, an 8-foot sheer wall with nary a foot or handhold--it looked like something out of an Indiana Jones movie), and maybe a little about Edward's well-being, as there were long stretches where our senses could not detect him nearby, while Ian stuck close to me and held the flashlight to light our way (at least through the flat sections; the light was often in my mouth, as I needed both hands to navigate us safely through the cave). We made our way through a huge portion of the upper section without meeting another soul, but soon thereafter a steady stream of people passed us going the opposite way. After about three hours in the cave we reemerged on the planet's surface and walked maybe for 30 minutes back to the parking lot--for a grand total of about five miles hiking.

With the cave in their rear-view mirror, the boys realized how hungry they were. We ate our sack lunches in the parking lot before driving 15 miles to our campsite at Swift Forest, a mostly tent camp site that sits on a reservoir created by a dam on the Lewis River. With the crazy drought we've experienced this year, the reservoir was super low (maybe that's why there were still camping spots available). I helped each of the boys set up their tent (we brought three, and had space for a couple more, if we wanted). We were all getting pretty hungry, so I pulled out the cooking supplies to begin cooking dinner. I had everything out and ready, but I couldn't find the camp stove's regulator, which is a long metallic piece that connects the stove to the propane tank. I had forgotten to verify that the regulator was inside the stove while I was packing and just assumed it was there. We hadn't been tent camping in a pretty long time (it's been mostly glamping in cabins), and the last time we would have used the stove was when the van died on us while traveling over the coast range last fall--perhaps it got lost then), so I hadn't realized it was missing. Because of the drought, there was a ban on all fires in the campground. We had lots of food, just no way to cook it. I took a few minutes to collect my thoughts and figure out how to handle the situation. We first visited the camp host to see if he could offer any help; outside of suggesting visiting the local store, he had nothing to offer. We walked around camp to see if anyone had our same type of stove, but that proved just as fruitless. I asked Aaron to watch his brothers, maybe take them to the reservoir, while I drove to the store to see what they had.

Your local 7-11 carries a greater variety and quantity of goods than did this local store. The proprietor laughed at me when I asked him if he carried any camp stove regulators. I don't blame him. I returned to camp feeling like the worst dad ever, and I didn't want to tell the boys that there wasn't going to be a hot dinner that night, or the next, or breakfasts, for that matter. But much to my surprise, they agreed to eat cold hot dogs--hey, at least the ketchup had been warming in the car, so it made them taste a little better. Luckily, we also had some leftover pizza from the night before, so by no means did anybody go to bed hungry that night. After eating we returned to the reservoir--Edward wanted to go swimming so badly. Aaron and I took pictures and played catch, while Ian, fully dressed, played near the water near Edward, who mainly sat, waist-deep in the water, contemplating life. After enjoying a lengthy and beautiful sunset, we hiked back to our camp and gathered in Edward and Ian's tent to tell stories--scary stories (Ian insisted on this last part)! Our stories didn't extend very long, and they were nowhere even borderline scary, and Aaron and I left shortly thereafter to our own tents to prepare for what I hoped was the boys' most challenging adventure of their lives.

Part of the appeal of camping near Mt. St. Helens was easy access to a plethora of trailheads that led the hiker on long trails. I could also take the boys hiking all day and not worry about driving home tired and hungry and in the dark. I let the boys sleep in until 9:00 a.m. or so--a baby in a neighboring camp site woke me up at 5:00'ish, but at least I had my music-filled-Zune to block out the distractions--before we drove 20 miles to Ape Canyon Trailhead. All of the parking spots had already been taken by mountain bikers from Oregon, but fortunately a quarter mile down the main road was another trailhead and tons of formal parking, so we left the spacewagon there. I grabbed the pack with all of the food and backup beverages, while Edward took the first shift was the water mule. We had to dodge several mountain bikers as they ascended the trail, but they were all courteous and patient with us. We had a few views of Mt. St. Helens along the hike, but with all of the haze created from innumerable forest fires, we never did see it in its full majesty. I didn't mind taking lots of breaks along the way--we had all day, with this hike being the only thing of concern. Edward eventually left us to scout the last two miles up the mountain; I figured it was the motivation he needed to make it to the end. For Ian, I motivated him by making him think I was more tired than him, and it soon became his mantra: "I'm not tired, dad." Aaron is self-motivating.

We stopped for lunch at about 5.7 miles up the trail, in the Plains of Abraham, with a prominent view of the sleeping volcano. We probably only saw a handful of other hikers the entire day, so we enjoyed the solitude as we ate and drank down the weight of our packs. I also forced the kids to rest, which went against their instincts to always be doing something, but perhaps it was more for this old man to make sure he had the energy to get everybody back to the car safely. Not five minutes into our return trip down the mountain, we heard a mysterious sound of water coming from up the mountain by the dry creek we had just crossed. Turns out the dry creek was becoming wet again, as we witnessed it slowly fill up with muddy water--dubbed "Chocolate Falls" by the boys. We watched the stream come back to life, throwing rocks and building dams along its receding shoreline. I may have had to coax them to get moving again--summer days just aren't as long as they were a few weeks ago. We easily made it down the trail--time seemed not to exist at all today--and were all surprised that the clock read 6:00 p.m. And still, Ian was not tired, despite nearly 11 miles of hiking.

Instead of driving straight back to camp to eat more cold hot dogs, we headed to the town of Cougar to visit their general store. I wasn't expecting to find my missing regulator, but maybe a second, complete camp stove or portable grill? But alas, nothing of the sort. However, they did have some hot-cooked dogs and taquitos and corn dogs--I bought all that they had--and I microwaved a burrito that reminded me of my teen-age years. Buy hey: hot food is hot food, and it more than satisfied all of our urges and instincts.

After returning to camp, Edward had mentioned wanting to go swimming again, but we were all somewhat tired and didn't want to venture far from our sleeping arrangements. We ended up playing catch and other simple games until the darkness took away our ability to see properly. Ian requested scary-story-time again in his tent, so we all got ready for bed and met up in his tent for round two. I don't think we shared any scary stories, but somehow it transitioned into me telling stories about my life as a child, teenager, and early adult, and maybe some Simpsons anecdotes mixed in for good measure. I couldn't believe how intensely Aaron and Edward clung to my every word (Ian had since fallen asleep, his head resting peacefully in my lap). They seemed genuinely interested in hearing about my life before them. We talked for about three hours like this until the midnight witching hour beckoned us once again. I felt like we bonded together like never before.

We arose Sunday morning with nothing on our agenda but packing things up and heading home. The baby woke me up again (to be fair, I am a light sleeper), but unfortunately I wasn't able to go back to sleep. At least listening to music provided a relaxing way to pass the time. We ate our last cold meal, packed up all of our gear, and headed west and south to our home, Aaron and I singing along to the radio for nearly every 80's song. I truly hope our last weekend before school starts will make memories that will outlast even this blog.