Day 9.165 A Blast

I was 33,000 feet above Mt. St. Helens when she blew on May 18, 1980. Every passenger crammed to the right side of the aircraft to catch an eyeful of the inorganic carnage, so much so that the pilot came on to ask everyone to return to their seats because we were creating an imbalance and should we not do as directed IMMEDIATELY, coffee service would be curtailed.

We sat.

It was incredible. My flight from LA to Seattle was an escape of sorts. Volcanic and eruptive.

Today I will drive down and shoot the route of the infamous Tour de Blast, hopefully reaching the rim at sunset. Dinner and a down bag and then the second summit by bike tomorrow at first light.

I probably will not have wi-fi there so this is today's modest post.

I am off.