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After his 1-hr. 15-min. tour, Carter excitedly told reporters: "The moon looks like a golf course compared to what's up there." At a meeting with townspeople in Vancouver, the President was being briefed by experts on the economic damage of the eruption when Governor Ray interrupted. "This is all very interesting," she said, "but the top priority is people." Replied Carter: "What do you need specifically?" Ray spelled out her answer: "M-O-N-E-Y." In fact, before leaving Washington, D.C., Carter had declared the mountain's vicinity a federal disaster area, making residents eligible for low-interest federal loans to rebuild their shattered houses and businesses. In addition, he rather oddly suggested that residents might eventually make some money from the catastrophe. Said he: "People will come from all over the world to observe the impressiveness of the force of nature.
I would say it would be, if you'll excuse the expression, a tourist attraction that would equal the Grand Canyon."
Mount St. Helens is something of a baby among volcanoes. It was born a mere 37,000 years ago, which is scarcely more than an instant in geological time. The mountain last erupted in 1857, when the area was an uninhabited wilderness. Last week's blowup ranked as middling, as volcanic eruptions go. But the people who stumbled off St. Helens' slopes, or were plucked to safety by helicopters, told tales that rivaled wartime survivor stories.
If the blast had occurred 24 hours later, it could have wiped out a crew of some 200 Weyerhaeuser Co. loggers who were to begin felling trees at 7:30 a.m. Monday. Many of the loggers lived with their families near the north fork of the Toutle River. Logger George Fickett was at home when the mountain erupted. Said he: "I heard the goldangest noise, like someone upending a bunch of barrels down the road. There was a roar, like a jet plane approaching, and a lot of snapping and popping. Those were the trees. We got out fast."
On the mountain were several geologists, hikers and campers. Those that rose with the sun reported that the morning was exceptionally quiet; no birds sang. Oddly enough, when the mountain blew, many of the survivors never heard the explosion, perhaps because concussive waves can travel faster than sound; by the time the sound reached them, they were too shaken to notice it.
Bruce Nelson and Sue Ruff, from nearby Kelso, had pitched tents at the Green River campground with four young friends. On Saturday they hiked through what Ruff called "an enchanted forest of moss and pine" and then set up tents 30 miles from the peak. On Sunday Nelson, Ruff and Terry Crall were beginning morning chores when they felt a searing wind. Recalled Nelson: "We were just cooking breakfast when my buddy said, 'Oh my God, the mountain blew!' " Ruff added, "We saw this thick yellow-and-black cloud rushing toward us. I remember thinking, 'I should take a picture of it.' Then I thought we'd better hide."