Scary Mountains
Today marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of Mt. St. Helens' eruption. As a witness to the event it seemed an appropriate time to reminisce on the event, but I've already done that.
And then there's a post over at Pesky Apostrophe that sparked memories of another scary mountain from my childhood. It was the ying to St. Helens yang, but still bears remembrance.
From 1976-1979 my family lived in Clayton, California. You've probably never heard of it (current population is around 10,000). The town sits at the base of Mt. Diablo, and in August 1977 lightning sparked a fire on top of the mountain. The fire burned for several days and due to the fact that our housing development was LITERALLY at the base of the mountain many residents were evacuated.
In 1980 with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens the fear was on a societal level. To see the eruption itself was surreal. Because it is so unlike anything you've evern seen before it is difficult to comprehend what it means as you are watching a giant plume of ash comes out of the top of a mountain. And because the brunt of the explosion was to the northeast, and Portland is to the southwest, much of the damage was not as real to me. I saw video of Yakima being shrouded in darkness, but that town was just a speck on the map. I was eight, so I don't recall video of the mudslides and other destruction happening at the mountain itself. Ash is scratchy and messy and sticky, but walking in an ash-covered world is almost peaceful. It's like walking outside after a fresh snowfall, but the snow is grey rather than white.
In 1977 the fear was on a very personal level. Even at the age of five you know that fire is bad. And to look up at this mountain that is RIGHT THERE and see the fire burning -- that is scary. The evacuation line was just a few blocks from our home. I remember walking with my parents one night to the line. Friends of the family lived just one side or the other of it. I hadn't started school yet, but I'm sure once I did I knew kids that were within the evacuation zone. Had I been a little older I might have contemplated how arbitrary a line that was. What made my house inherently safer than those houses? Three blocks isn't that far a distance. But I was five. And although the evacuation line never made it closer than three blocks away there was a very real possibility that it would creep out to where our house was.
Mt. St. Helens was fast. There were rumblings in advance, but once the mountain blew it had its eruption and then it was over and the clean-up could begin.
Mt. Diablo's fire lasted for days. And there was the possibility that things could change at any moment. If we were asked to evacuate immediately, what would I bring with me so it couldn't burn? (OK, now that I'm a bit older I realize that we probably wouldn't be askedto evacuate IMMEDIATELY, but remember, I was FIVE). Should I pack a bag so I'd be ready to grab and go?
In the end they put the fire out, and I don't believe it ever got to any houses. It most definitely never made it near our house. But for days that fear was there. And once the fire was gone there was a big black mountain to remind you of the destruction.
Once Mt. St. Helens was done with its destruction you couldn't even see it anymore, since it had literally blown its top off.
Mountains have not been good to me over the years. I'm beginning to wonder if it wouldn't be better if I lived in a very flat state. But that would drive me insane, so I guess I'll just have to walk on the wild side.
And then there's a post over at Pesky Apostrophe that sparked memories of another scary mountain from my childhood. It was the ying to St. Helens yang, but still bears remembrance.
From 1976-1979 my family lived in Clayton, California. You've probably never heard of it (current population is around 10,000). The town sits at the base of Mt. Diablo, and in August 1977 lightning sparked a fire on top of the mountain. The fire burned for several days and due to the fact that our housing development was LITERALLY at the base of the mountain many residents were evacuated.
In 1980 with the eruption of Mt. St. Helens the fear was on a societal level. To see the eruption itself was surreal. Because it is so unlike anything you've evern seen before it is difficult to comprehend what it means as you are watching a giant plume of ash comes out of the top of a mountain. And because the brunt of the explosion was to the northeast, and Portland is to the southwest, much of the damage was not as real to me. I saw video of Yakima being shrouded in darkness, but that town was just a speck on the map. I was eight, so I don't recall video of the mudslides and other destruction happening at the mountain itself. Ash is scratchy and messy and sticky, but walking in an ash-covered world is almost peaceful. It's like walking outside after a fresh snowfall, but the snow is grey rather than white.
In 1977 the fear was on a very personal level. Even at the age of five you know that fire is bad. And to look up at this mountain that is RIGHT THERE and see the fire burning -- that is scary. The evacuation line was just a few blocks from our home. I remember walking with my parents one night to the line. Friends of the family lived just one side or the other of it. I hadn't started school yet, but I'm sure once I did I knew kids that were within the evacuation zone. Had I been a little older I might have contemplated how arbitrary a line that was. What made my house inherently safer than those houses? Three blocks isn't that far a distance. But I was five. And although the evacuation line never made it closer than three blocks away there was a very real possibility that it would creep out to where our house was.
Mt. St. Helens was fast. There were rumblings in advance, but once the mountain blew it had its eruption and then it was over and the clean-up could begin.
Mt. Diablo's fire lasted for days. And there was the possibility that things could change at any moment. If we were asked to evacuate immediately, what would I bring with me so it couldn't burn? (OK, now that I'm a bit older I realize that we probably wouldn't be askedto evacuate IMMEDIATELY, but remember, I was FIVE). Should I pack a bag so I'd be ready to grab and go?
In the end they put the fire out, and I don't believe it ever got to any houses. It most definitely never made it near our house. But for days that fear was there. And once the fire was gone there was a big black mountain to remind you of the destruction.
Once Mt. St. Helens was done with its destruction you couldn't even see it anymore, since it had literally blown its top off.
Mountains have not been good to me over the years. I'm beginning to wonder if it wouldn't be better if I lived in a very flat state. But that would drive me insane, so I guess I'll just have to walk on the wild side.
posted by Swankette at 9:52 PM
1 Comments:
Great post.
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