A year later, lethal Mount St. Helens blossoms with life
One of the wonders—and blessings—of the world is the immense power of nature to regenerate itself, the tenacity that all life shows as it tries to heal its wounds and survive. Nowhere is this capacity more evident today than in southwestern Washington. It is just a year since Mount St. Helens exploded with a blast releasing 500 times as much energy as the bomb that leveled Hiroshima, and sending a cubic mile of earth into the air. Torrents of hot mud went coursing down the mountainside, flattening trees for miles around and turning the Toutle River into a flood of sludge that swept away several bridges. The eruption killed 34 people, demolished 178 homes and devastated hundreds of thousands of acres, much of it rich timber land. By the time the dust cleared, 150 sq. mi. of once green countryside lay lifeless, under what looked like a heavy fall of gray snow.
Those who witnessed the devastation thought the land would never recover. "It was the most awesome thing I will ever see in my life," recalls Logger Carl McCrary. "It was gray everywhere, no sign of green." Yet today animals and plants are re-establishing themselves all over the ash-blanketed countryside. Residents of the region are putting their own lives back together too.
Evidence of the volcano's power remains abundant. The high slopes are still covered with tree trunks, some more than 400 years old, some a mere seven, their roots pointing back toward the source of the shock wave that flattened them. Just below the mountain stands Coldwater Lake. A year ago, it was the highly scenic source of a creek that fed the Toutle River. Now the valley through which the Toutle flowed is blocked by a 600-ft.-tall wall of volcanic mud and debris. The lake has been slowly filling with dirty water, threatening to overflow eventually and send a torrent of mud downstream.
Above this devastation towers the still threatening mountain itself. Because the explosion literally blew the top off Mount St. Helens, its height has been reduced from 9,677 ft. to 8,300. Its shape has changed from a symmetrical, Fujiyama-like cone to a lopsided pyramid that resembles a broken tooth. Occasionally it still puffs smoke and steam.
Only two months after the eruption, small green parsley ferns and skunk cabbage were found pushing through the volcanic ash in sheltered areas along a creek on the mountain slope. Now the pink flowers of fireweed, a low-growing bush that is traditionally one of the first plants to colonize disturbed areas, have begun to add a touch of color to slopes and clear areas, still covered with ash and mud. Lupines are beginning to grow along erosion channels. Tiny fir trees, freed from competition with their fallen parents, are expected to take advantage of the extra sunlight and make a quick comeback. Scientists say that nutrients from the volcanic ash—such as phosphorus and potassium—could actually enhance their growth. As if to prove the point, some farm areas that were dusted with ash had record harvests of wheat and apples last year.