Mount St. Helens (via Monitor Ridge)
route details
DATE: September 6, 2021
LENGTH: 8.5 miles out-and-back, with 4,655 ft elevation gain
TRAILHEAD: Climber’s Bivouac parking area (46.146695, -122.181703)
PERMIT: Climbing permits are required year round on Mount St. Helens. A climbing permit allows an individual or group (max size 12) to be inside the area defined as Closure Area #2 - including the portion of the Monitor Ridge climbing route beyond the intersection of the Ptarmigan Trail and the Loowit Trail - during the 24 hour period designated by the permit. Entry into the crater from all routes is strictly prohibited.
From November 1 to March 31, there is no limit on the number of climbers per day; permits are free of charge and self-issued at the trailhead. To reduce crowding, the number of climbers per day is subject to a quota from April 1 to October 31, and advance permits are required. For more information, visit https://www.recreation.gov/permits/4675309.
DIFFICULTY: Hard
WATER: There is no accessible water source beyond the trailhead.
TIPS: Above timberline, the route generally follows Monitor Ridge, climbing steeply through lava flows and loose pumice and ash. The route is marked with large wooden posts to approximately 7,000 feet elevation. The upper 1,300 feet is unmarked and covered with loose rock, pumice, and ash. On your descent, take care to stay on route; a minor detour may put you far off trail at timberline.
Thick, gardening-style gloves and ankle gaiters were welcome gear additions for navigating the boulder and ash fields.
trail notes
Mount St. Helens is an active volcano in the Cascade Range of Washington state. A massive eruption on May 18, 1980 - the deadliest volcanic eruption in U.S. history - blew off the entire northern face of the mountain, reduced its elevation from 9,677 ft (2,950 m) to 8,363 ft (2,549 m), and left a one mile wide, horseshoe-shaped crater in its wake. No significant volcanic activity has occurred on the mountain since 2008, and two climbing routes to the crater’s edge - one preferred in winter, the other in summer - make St. Helens a popular trekking destination year-round.
My mom - who in so many ways inspired my love of the mountains - summited St. Helens when it was still fully intact in 1968, at 16 years old. I was eager to follow in (some) of her footsteps here, and after carefully researching the details of this route online, applied for and received a solo climbing permit for September 6, 2021.
the hike
The trailhead to Monitor Ridge starts next to a small forested campground used almost exclusively by hikers and mountaineers. The fourteen primitive campsites at Climber’s Bivouac are first-come, first-served, and I was unsure I could find a free site on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. I luckily chanced upon a great spot a short walk from the trailhead after arriving around 5:30 pm, and - despite some enthusiastic revelers a few sites away - settled in for an early night.
I woke up and broke camp at 4 am Monday morning, signed the climbers’ registry, and was on the trail a few minutes before 5, with only my headlamp to illuminate the trail.
The first two miles of this route wind gradually through dense forest along the Ptarmigan Trail, before emerging above the tree line at the base of an expansive boulder field. The next 1.2 miles involve a steep climb (roughly 2,800 feet of elevation gain - oof) up the boulders, with a series of wooden posts at 200-foot intervals marking the route. I switched off my headlamp as dawn appeared about halfway up the boulder field, exposing a beautiful sea of clouds below, and lovely views of Mount Adams and Mount Hood on the distant horizon.
A significant portion of this section of the hike involved pulling myself up and over coarse pumice boulders, and I was hugely grateful for a pair of garden gloves my mom had lent me to accomplish this task.
An unusual object gradually came into view near the top of the boulder field, which - upon further inspection - turned out to be an EarthScope Plate Boundary Observatory, one of 1,100 GPS stations positioned throughout western North America to detect, measure, and transmit localized tectonic plate activity. Very cool!
The wind picked up considerably as I gained elevation and approached the top of the boulder field, and when I finally stopped to swap out gear (off with the garden gloves and on with some gaiters and trekking poles) it was gusting at 30+ MPH - just in time to take on the much-dreaded ash field.
The next mile - and 1,000 feet of gain - were brutal, climbing through a large field of volcanic ash and gravel. The 1980 eruption caused this entire section of the mountain to cease biological production, and - as my photos demonstrate - nothing grows here, 40+ years on.
Despite the blowing ash - at this point caked in my hair, covering every inch of my clothing, and uncomfortably lodged in my ears, nose, and throat - I felt so excited, as each step brought me closer to the summit, and to the edge of St. Helens’ living, breathing crater.
After slogging through the ash field for what felt like ages (but what was probably 45 minutes lol), I suddenly found myself staring straight down into the gaping expanse of the caldera.
I had done a lot of research on the eruption - and the subsequent geological developments inside St. Helens - before attempting this climb, but nothing quite prepared me for the sheer scope and magnitude of nature’s awesome and destructive power. The crater itself is one mile wide, with deep, unstable rock walls falling over a thousand feet into the newly formed, rapidly growing, debris-strewn Tulutson Glacier. At the center of the glacier sits a massive lava dome nearly 900 feet tall and 3,500 feet in diameter, from which steam and volcanic gases occasionally emit.
Standing on the crater’s edge, with wind-whipped ash blowing over the rim and the sound of near-constant rock fall into the glacier below, was a surreal experience, one that felt both awe-inspiring and deeply unnerving.
As difficult as the hike to this point was, more challenge lay ahead. The boot path cut from the false summit - where climbers view the inside of the crater for the first time - to the real summit 0.4 miles to the west, is often little more than 3 to 5 feet from the rim, and frequently sloughs away under foot. Watching the “trail” you’re on occasionally crumble and fall into a volcanic crater is frankly quite alarming, and at several points I considered turning back. But I forged on, slowing my pace and carefully choosing my footing, and eventually emerged at a small rock pile marking the post-eruption summit of Mount St. Helens, at 8,363 ft.
I was relieved to arrive back at the false summit, and settled in for a few minutes to enjoy my breakfast with a spectacular view across the crater to Spirit Lake and Mount Rainier. Truth be told, I also needed the time to slow my racing heart before starting my descent back to the trailhead.
I was particularly relieved to be wearing gaiters as I made my way down the ash field, sliding and sinking every few feet. I can’t imagine having done so with ash and gravel pouring into my shoes.
The journey from the crater back to Climber’s Bivouac was easier in some spots - and more difficult in others - than the ascent.
The ash field was a breeze (literally, because the wind finally diminished), but the boulder field took just as long going down as up. Route-finding was more of a challenge, as the wooden posts that marked the clearest “path” were harder to spot from above, and getting off-course required needless backtracking. I stopped briefly mid-field for a friendly chat (and permit check) with a park ranger before continuing my slow journey. At one point, I ripped the sole of my much-loved trail runners on the rough surface of a boulder, rendering them useless for future hiking. Needless to say, I was relieved to put it all behind me as I found myself back in the forested portion of the trail around 11:30 am.
The last two miles back to the campground were a lovely walk through the woods, and I enjoyed all the sights and sounds I missed while hiking through this portion of the trail in the pre-dawn hours of the morning.
I arrived back at my car - totally encrusted in ash - by 12:30 pm. Not bad for a half-day’s worth of hiking and climbing!
final thoughts
Despite my nerves almost getting the best of me going to and from the summit, this hike ended up being one of my favorites of 2021! I loved the challenging and varied terrain, the gorgeous sea of clouds at dawn, and the opportunity to channel my mom’s adventurous spirit on the mountain. Maybe Aleks would like to do the same one day? I hope so, and I’d surely love to join him!
