“Technically, the explosion that swept out of Mount St. Helens that morning is known as a pyroclastic density current. Most geologists refer to it simply as ‘the blast,’ though some prefer the term ‘surge,’ contending that it was not really an explosion. The blast cloud accelerated as it spread, drawing heat energy from the fragmented magma it contained. Inside the cloud were ash, pumice, lava blocks, snow, ice from the overlying glaciers, tree fragments, soil swept from the ground, and boulders as big as cars. It expanded at speeds of hundreds of miles per hour, but in a particular way…Mount St. Helens did not explode straight up. It exploded to the side, in the direction of the bulge. The avalanche created an amphitheater-shaped gouge in the mountain, and this gouge channeled the blast to the northwest, north, and northeast. It was as if the blast had emerged from the muzzle of a cannon…”
- Steve Olson, Eruption: The Untold Story of Mount St. Helens
Growing up, my parents had one of those old-fashioned, glass-doored curio cabinets filled with weird knickknacks that I was not allowed to touch, but which drew me to them because of their protected status within that ancient bit of furniture that smelled like days gone by. Among the oddities was an old pharmacist’s vial filled with a strange gray powder and stoppered with a cork. A frayed bit of masking tape on the vial’s side said: “Mt. St. Helen’s May 1980.” The powder within the vial was ash collected when the mountain – a stratovolcano made of layers of ash, rock, lava, and mud – blew her top, sprinkling debris over eleven states and five Canadian provinces.
It turns out that my family had a great deal of interest in Mount St. Helens and the surrounding wilderness. My grandparents had once vacationed at Spirit Lake, and we had family and friends in the area. As a kid, we visited a couple of times, and there are pictures of me – looking awkward as hell – standing next to the flattened remains of a vehicle caught in the horizontal blast.
When I got a bit older, I climbed Mount St. Helens itself with some friends, a relatively easy excursion made easier by dint of the fact that the mountain is a thousand feet shorter now than it was in 1980. We made the new summit on a lucky-clear day, so that we were able to see several of the other volcanoes that bided their time in the distance. Even then, ash filled the air.
All this is to say that the Mount St. Helens eruption has been a low key presence in the background of my life for a long time. Up until now, however, I had never read a book on it. Mostly, I assumed I knew the story. After all – and leaving aside the granular details of plate tectonics – it is not a complex tale.
Or so I thought.
In Eruption, Steve Olson goes to great lengths – not always convincingly – to prove that there is more going on than the mere release of thermal energy equivalent to twenty-six megatons of TNT.
***
Starting in March 1980, Mount St. Helens – located in Skamania County, Washington – began to rumble and smoke, an early announcement of her intentions. Scientists flocked to her slopes, followed by journalists and sightseers hoping to see the big show. On May 18, Mount St. Helens provided it, unleashing one of the largest eruptions in history, knocking down trees, causing extensive damage, and killing fifty-seven people.
Those are the bare facts. Its all you really need to know to have a working knowledge of the still-present danger on the west coast, or to get through a random question on bar-or-church trivia night.
But Olson wants you to know more. He wants you to know much more. And your willingness to learn the most tangential minutiae of the Mount St. Helens blast should dictate your decision on whether you want to read this.
In other words, I’m talking about filler.
***
Nonfiction filler is a fascinating component of history books. For a lot of people, it can be extremely annoying, even a deal breaker. For others, such as myself, a degree or two of stuffing can be quite complimentary to the main dish, if done properly.
In Eruption, Olson stretched the definition of relevance, and my patience along with it.
To explain: Eruption is divided into seven parts. The first three parts – totaling about 140 pages out of a total of 245 – is all about the leadup to the eruption. Some of the sections within these parts are vital and necessary, describing the formation of Mount St. Helens, the cause of the eruption, the responses of the scientific community, and the media’s fixation on local resident Harry Truman, a cantankerous bastard who owned a lodge at the base of the volcano, and who talked himself into a corner that he could not escape, buried as it was “under hundreds of feet of steaming stone, earth, ice, and mud.”
The problem – in my opinion – comes from Olson’s decision to keep cutting away from this clearly-germane material to give extended flashbacks about the Weyerhaeuser Lumber Company, which logged the beautiful forests that once carpeted the land around St. Helens. This includes a lengthy biography of the Weyerhaeuser family that reaches back one-hundred years, and which ultimately has no bearing on the events of May 1980.
This is part of a parallel track in which Olson tries to tie the conservation of the Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument into the eruption story. To that end, he extends a good amount of space to Gordon Pinchot, the creation of the Forest Service, and the Forest Service’s obeisance to the logging industry. After the explosions and the rescues – which take up two of seven parts – Olson decides to close the book with two more parts circling back to this topic. Thus, in simple mathematical terms, Eruption consists of two parts actual eruption, and five parts other elements.
Don’t get me wrong. With the exception of the Weyerhaeuser digression, some of this stuff was interesting. More than that, the conservation aspect is important. One of the big untold stories in American history is the transfer of public wealth – gold, silver, coal, oil, natural gas, and lumber – to private corporations, which has resulted in the exploitation of this wealth to companies and shareholders at the expense of everyone else. But that is a huge topic that belongs in its own volume. It just doesn’t fit comfortably here.
***
Despite its flaws, Eruption nails its central event. Olson does a wonderful job evoking the cataclysmic “pyroclastic density current” that managed to kill as far as thirteen miles away. Each of the victims get their own vignettes, describing where they were when the mountain let go, and why they were there in the first place. Along the way, he makes some salient points about the terrible state leadership that allowed the “danger zones” to be mapped according to the Weyerhaeuser Company’s liking. As a general life rule, you should not be anywhere in the vicinity of a smoking volcano. That said, some of the victims camping in the area had been lulled into a false sense of security by those compromise maps.
While I think this could have been trimmed and tightened, it worked for me in the end, because – as is required of all disaster yarns – it ably captured the human drama, etching people against the backdrop of an elemental force they could not really conceive or comprehend.