No turning back: Randle and the road to Mt. St. Helens

No turning back. Though the thought crossed my mind between the snow and the noro virus sweeping through the family. On this trip we headed south to Mt. Rainier and then east to a small town called Randle, the gateway to Mt. St. Helens.

When the mountain blew up on May 18, 1980, it was photographed from a little used road on the north side. All my research told me the road to that spot was open. I even called that morning and talked to a ranger. With 14 miles left to go, we ran into deep snow and it began to snow. We put on chains and beat it out of there. It won’t be until next May before we have another shot at it.

The road is not maintained during winter. Several trees nearly blocked the road. We came across a wide chaotic mess of a waterfall with uprooted trees in the midst of it. Today, when I asked Michele what her favorite part of the trip was, she said it was this waterfall.  With the dark of night upon us and snow falling in the passes, we made it to Yakima. It snowed all night long and the next day.

Randle is a small town with a post office and a convenience store. The area is like the land that time forgot. Like old, rural Washington with clear-cuts, lumber trucks, and humble woodsy houses with stuff in the yards. Always the smell of burning wood and the presence of smoldering fires. People here are a product of their surroundings with maybe a bit too much time in the woods. A population of hard working misfits. It's the Washington I love and see slowly disappearing.