Before I ever ventured out to Mount St. Helens, the mountain came to me. I was 14 years old, out for a day of picking mushrooms with my family and friends when it happened. For the next 15 minutes, the air rattled with a sound like 100 planes going supersonic in the middle of a thunderstorm. Continue about 55 miles to the road's end at Johnston Ridge Observatory.
Purchase wristbands at the observatory.
We all knew instantly what it was. We rushed to the western edge of the ridge and stared at the horizon. There, some 250 straight-line miles due west, a vast, gray cloud smudged the horizon. We hurried back to our pickups and turned on the radio for confirmation of what we already knew - Mount St. Helens had erupted. The mushrooms forgotten, we set off for home to see the events unfold on television.