Left Little Vancouver this morning, only to drive back over the river into Portland, OR. Oregon was feeling snubbed, since we just did a drive-thru last night. But they've successfully lured Stephen back with a specialty booze store. Washington has government-owned liquor stores, and not only are the hours shorter, but also the prices are more expensive. Go figure. That'd never happen in Saskatchewan. ;-)
Downtown Portland seems like a nice place - very bicycle-friendly from what I could see. They had lots of bike lanes, dedicated and shared. At the pedestrian crossing, we pushed the button for the 'walk' light, and the pole said, "Wait." We found that funny, so we kept teasing him by pushing the button. "Wait. Wait. Wait." I'd like it better if it got angrier every time you pushed the button, but I guess they don't include a personality with the programming. Probably a good thing.
Stephen bought some whiskey for $70 (and he says it costs $140 in Canada). Yes, to all you lushes back home, it's definitely much more cost-effective to be a boozehound in the States.
All boozed up, we made our way back into Washington and headed to Mount St. Helen's, where there is both a state park and a national park. You arrive at the state park first - there's an admission fee to see their exhibits, but you don't have to pay anything to continue driving down the road towards the mountain. Eventually, you'll reach the national park, and that's where you have to pay to go further. "I believe there will be no charge for me," as I flash my magic National Park Pass. "Muahahah!"
I wonder how well the state park gets along with the national one. After all, the national park has occupied the prime spot, and once people realize they can drive there without paying the state, who's going to pay to see their exhibits? People with state park passes, maybe? There were some people inside. But I'll bet you the state guys curse the national park every time a car drives by. Add us to that list, because we get back into our car without giving any money to the state, and continue driving down the road towards Mount St. Helen's.
Mount St. Helen's erupted in 1980. When you're driving in, one side of the road is park space, the other side is owned by Weyerhauser. On the Weyerhauser side, you'll see signs by the side of the road, indicating when the trees were planted. 1985, and as you drive further along 1987 and 1991 and so on. The trees get shorter as you go, of course, but it's still very green. You'd have a hard time guessing that there'd been such devastation.
On the park side, however, there is no replanting of trees. They leave it as is. That side is definitely more sparse, more rocky, but it's still greener than you might expect.
About 14 miles from the mountain, you reach a sign that says "Entering the Blast Zone." This is the outer perimeter where charred dead trees were left standing after being burned by the heat. There's a very long, new-ish bridge (30 years old, I'd guess) leading into that area.
The road ends at the Observatory at Johnston Ridge, which is named after poor David Johnston, the geologist who was on the ridge when the volcano finally went off. When we parked at the observatory, it was a bit surprising to us how close it is to the mountain - just 5 or 6 miles away. However, at the time, that was considered a safe distance, since most volcanoes were expected to erupt upward, and not outwards.
When we went into the visitor centre to get our wristband, we had to wait in an unmoving line, because some Francophones were trying to get an audio tour in French. Meanwhile, in the background, I see a display telling us that the movie in the visitor centre begins in 47 seconds, 35 seconds, 22 seconds. I begin to get agitated: "You're in America! Speak American, dammit!" I yell.
Stephen is more philosophical: "It's not like we can't walk in after the movie starts," he says, as the counter runs down to 5 seconds, and then the time is up. Okay, fine, so I'll miss the first 15 seconds. I chill out.
We get our wristbands, walk towards the movie theatre, and yes, it is like you can't walk in after the movie starts. It's exactly like that. There's some automatic door that won't let you in, with a sign that says "No entrance after movie starts." Some poor woman in front of us got cut off from the rest of her family, who were now enjoying happy movie times without her.
Grr-argh! "Pourquoi?!" I cry, pounding on the closed doors. "POURQUOI??!?" It is a very sad moment: the French have ruined my vacation. C'est la ruined!
(Yes, Nic, I did include this part of the story just for you. Even from afar, I can feel you shooting me 'la look' and merde-y-pooing.) :-P
Eventually, we recover (slightly) from our tragic disappointment, and we go outside to look at the crater. Hmm, is that steam, or a wisp of cloud? Hard to say. However, the Ranger isn't running away, so we don't worry too much about it. We follow some of the pathways to the viewpoints to take a look at the surrounding landscape, but until we see the film AFTER THE FACT, it's hard to really appreciate it. We do notice, however, the surrounding peaks are still littered with fallen logs, all pointing in the direction of the blast.
Half the mountain blew away, with most of that material completely reshaping the valleys and rivers around the mountain. All the roads that we drove in on, all of the bridges, everything was rebuilt, because everything that was there before was destroyed. 57 people died, and 118 (I think) were rescued, among them campers and hikers who were supposedly in the safe zone, but the eruption was much bigger than anyone had expected. At the time, they didn't expect that anyone would be in danger when they were 25 or 30 miles away, but they were.
The film is really interesting and worth seeing (and it would have been even better if we'd seen it earlier). It talks about the changes in the area, and shows what it was like before. Must have been really difficult for the people who used to live here - they evacuated, and then had nothing to come back to. You'd just have to go away and start over somewhere else.
After Mount St. Helens, we drove to Mount Rainier National Park. Hey, guess what? Mount Rainier is another pretty snow-topped mountain, which is actually another stratovolcano, just like Mount St. Helens. One of these days... but not today.
Unfortunately, it's already later in the day by the time we're hitting this park. We stop for a hike, because I thought Stephen wanted to do it, and he thought I wanted to do it. Because time is of the essence, this might be our fastest speed-hike yet. It's uphill, uphill, and we're booting it up those hills so fast we hardly have time to see anything. There's the waterfalls - click-click, take the pics - and then we're running back down the mountain. This is harder than it sounds. Sure, you're not fighting gravity any more, but there are 22 billion tree branches and rocks that are just dying to take you out. Fortunately, neither one of us breaks an ankle or does a faceplant. We've done a 3.8 mile hike (that's supposed to take 2-3 hours) in about 55 minutes, but we're still short on time now.
We zoom to Paradise (one of the visitor centres) as fast as we can, and we get there in what might be called the nick of time. Or, on the other hand, it might not. We walk in, and we have 30 seconds before they start shutting things down. No gift shop for you! No ranger will speak to you! For God's sake, let me use the bathroom-- I wedge my foot in the door and get in there before they lock that up too.
Well, at least we can take a picture of the peak. Stephen is not mollified. This is his Zion* moment - he is filled with rage at the man who suggested the hike to us.
______
* This is referring to my massive hissy fit of last year, when we went to visit Zion, and then I realized we were inadvertently driving out of it before we'd seen it.
Now it's 6 p.m., which means we don't have time to drive out of the park on the other side, meaning we've seen less than half the park. I suggest that we stay somewhere near the park and come back tomorrow, but Stephen figures we should move on.
Okay, so it looks like Rainier is going on the do-over list for the next road trip. Sadly, we have to drive out the way we come in, because that's the shorter distance, and it's going to be getting dark.
Once we're out of the park, we're back on our way. Goodbye, Rainier! We'll be back.
Unfortunately, my speedy progress is stymied by the not-very-well-planned town of Puyallup. Not only do you have a dumb name, Puyallup, but funneling a highway onto this road of slow-moving traffic through a commercial district reminds me very much of Circle Drive at the north end. I didn't think anyone anywhere was stupid enough to replicate that traffic disaster, but here it is. Grr-arghh! I hate you, Puyallup! You are now my sworn enemy! Whenever anyone asks me, "What do you think of Puyallup?" I will spit on the ground and curse you.
Eventually, we got out of their red-light district (because that's the colour of all their traffic lights), and back onto a REAL highway, and we're eventually headed towards Seattle. We drive past downtown Seattle, and there's the Microsoft building. "Hello, Microsoft!" But we don't stop (no bikes to steal).
Originally, we had this idea that we were going to visit the over-priced Space Needle at night, but it's later than we anticipated (thanks a lot, Puyallup gridlock - I hate you), and it'll take too much time to drive back downtown. Not to mention factoring in the time we'd probably have to spend finding parking to accommodate an 8' vehicle. No Space Needle.
Instead, we decide to just go out for supper and relax. The GPS takes us on a needlessly circuitous path to an Outback Steakhouse. Whatever. It's a quirky GPS, but it navigates interchanges well, and it's never tried to actually kill us (just drive us crazy with its inability to find any kind of business).
Downtown Portland seems like a nice place - very bicycle-friendly from what I could see. They had lots of bike lanes, dedicated and shared. At the pedestrian crossing, we pushed the button for the 'walk' light, and the pole said, "Wait." We found that funny, so we kept teasing him by pushing the button. "Wait. Wait. Wait." I'd like it better if it got angrier every time you pushed the button, but I guess they don't include a personality with the programming. Probably a good thing.
Stephen bought some whiskey for $70 (and he says it costs $140 in Canada). Yes, to all you lushes back home, it's definitely much more cost-effective to be a boozehound in the States.
All boozed up, we made our way back into Washington and headed to Mount St. Helen's, where there is both a state park and a national park. You arrive at the state park first - there's an admission fee to see their exhibits, but you don't have to pay anything to continue driving down the road towards the mountain. Eventually, you'll reach the national park, and that's where you have to pay to go further. "I believe there will be no charge for me," as I flash my magic National Park Pass. "Muahahah!"
I wonder how well the state park gets along with the national one. After all, the national park has occupied the prime spot, and once people realize they can drive there without paying the state, who's going to pay to see their exhibits? People with state park passes, maybe? There were some people inside. But I'll bet you the state guys curse the national park every time a car drives by. Add us to that list, because we get back into our car without giving any money to the state, and continue driving down the road towards Mount St. Helen's.
Mount St. Helen's erupted in 1980. When you're driving in, one side of the road is park space, the other side is owned by Weyerhauser. On the Weyerhauser side, you'll see signs by the side of the road, indicating when the trees were planted. 1985, and as you drive further along 1987 and 1991 and so on. The trees get shorter as you go, of course, but it's still very green. You'd have a hard time guessing that there'd been such devastation.
On the park side, however, there is no replanting of trees. They leave it as is. That side is definitely more sparse, more rocky, but it's still greener than you might expect.
About 14 miles from the mountain, you reach a sign that says "Entering the Blast Zone." This is the outer perimeter where charred dead trees were left standing after being burned by the heat. There's a very long, new-ish bridge (30 years old, I'd guess) leading into that area.
The road ends at the Observatory at Johnston Ridge, which is named after poor David Johnston, the geologist who was on the ridge when the volcano finally went off. When we parked at the observatory, it was a bit surprising to us how close it is to the mountain - just 5 or 6 miles away. However, at the time, that was considered a safe distance, since most volcanoes were expected to erupt upward, and not outwards.
When we went into the visitor centre to get our wristband, we had to wait in an unmoving line, because some Francophones were trying to get an audio tour in French. Meanwhile, in the background, I see a display telling us that the movie in the visitor centre begins in 47 seconds, 35 seconds, 22 seconds. I begin to get agitated: "You're in America! Speak American, dammit!" I yell.
Stephen is more philosophical: "It's not like we can't walk in after the movie starts," he says, as the counter runs down to 5 seconds, and then the time is up. Okay, fine, so I'll miss the first 15 seconds. I chill out.
We get our wristbands, walk towards the movie theatre, and yes, it is like you can't walk in after the movie starts. It's exactly like that. There's some automatic door that won't let you in, with a sign that says "No entrance after movie starts." Some poor woman in front of us got cut off from the rest of her family, who were now enjoying happy movie times without her.
Grr-argh! "Pourquoi?!" I cry, pounding on the closed doors. "POURQUOI??!?" It is a very sad moment: the French have ruined my vacation. C'est la ruined!
(Yes, Nic, I did include this part of the story just for you. Even from afar, I can feel you shooting me 'la look' and merde-y-pooing.) :-P
Half the mountain blew away, with most of that material completely reshaping the valleys and rivers around the mountain. All the roads that we drove in on, all of the bridges, everything was rebuilt, because everything that was there before was destroyed. 57 people died, and 118 (I think) were rescued, among them campers and hikers who were supposedly in the safe zone, but the eruption was much bigger than anyone had expected. At the time, they didn't expect that anyone would be in danger when they were 25 or 30 miles away, but they were.
The film is really interesting and worth seeing (and it would have been even better if we'd seen it earlier). It talks about the changes in the area, and shows what it was like before. Must have been really difficult for the people who used to live here - they evacuated, and then had nothing to come back to. You'd just have to go away and start over somewhere else.
After Mount St. Helens, we drove to Mount Rainier National Park. Hey, guess what? Mount Rainier is another pretty snow-topped mountain, which is actually another stratovolcano, just like Mount St. Helens. One of these days... but not today.
Unfortunately, it's already later in the day by the time we're hitting this park. We stop for a hike, because I thought Stephen wanted to do it, and he thought I wanted to do it. Because time is of the essence, this might be our fastest speed-hike yet. It's uphill, uphill, and we're booting it up those hills so fast we hardly have time to see anything. There's the waterfalls - click-click, take the pics - and then we're running back down the mountain. This is harder than it sounds. Sure, you're not fighting gravity any more, but there are 22 billion tree branches and rocks that are just dying to take you out. Fortunately, neither one of us breaks an ankle or does a faceplant. We've done a 3.8 mile hike (that's supposed to take 2-3 hours) in about 55 minutes, but we're still short on time now.
We zoom to Paradise (one of the visitor centres) as fast as we can, and we get there in what might be called the nick of time. Or, on the other hand, it might not. We walk in, and we have 30 seconds before they start shutting things down. No gift shop for you! No ranger will speak to you! For God's sake, let me use the bathroom-- I wedge my foot in the door and get in there before they lock that up too.
Well, at least we can take a picture of the peak. Stephen is not mollified. This is his Zion* moment - he is filled with rage at the man who suggested the hike to us.
______
* This is referring to my massive hissy fit of last year, when we went to visit Zion, and then I realized we were inadvertently driving out of it before we'd seen it.
Okay, so it looks like Rainier is going on the do-over list for the next road trip. Sadly, we have to drive out the way we come in, because that's the shorter distance, and it's going to be getting dark.
Once we're out of the park, we're back on our way. Goodbye, Rainier! We'll be back.
Unfortunately, my speedy progress is stymied by the not-very-well-planned town of Puyallup. Not only do you have a dumb name, Puyallup, but funneling a highway onto this road of slow-moving traffic through a commercial district reminds me very much of Circle Drive at the north end. I didn't think anyone anywhere was stupid enough to replicate that traffic disaster, but here it is. Grr-arghh! I hate you, Puyallup! You are now my sworn enemy! Whenever anyone asks me, "What do you think of Puyallup?" I will spit on the ground and curse you.
Eventually, we got out of their red-light district (because that's the colour of all their traffic lights), and back onto a REAL highway, and we're eventually headed towards Seattle. We drive past downtown Seattle, and there's the Microsoft building. "Hello, Microsoft!" But we don't stop (no bikes to steal).
Originally, we had this idea that we were going to visit the over-priced Space Needle at night, but it's later than we anticipated (thanks a lot, Puyallup gridlock - I hate you), and it'll take too much time to drive back downtown. Not to mention factoring in the time we'd probably have to spend finding parking to accommodate an 8' vehicle. No Space Needle.
Instead, we decide to just go out for supper and relax. The GPS takes us on a needlessly circuitous path to an Outback Steakhouse. Whatever. It's a quirky GPS, but it navigates interchanges well, and it's never tried to actually kill us (just drive us crazy with its inability to find any kind of business).
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